S3 E29 Jingle Bells and Peculiar Tales: The Strange History of Christmas Traditions

Dive into the chilling shadows of the holiday season with this special Christmas episode of Dark History. Beneath the twinkling lights and festive cheer lies a world of strange, eerie, and unsettling traditions that have shaped the way we celebrate. Join Rob as he unravels the mysteries of Christmas past—from the dark and dehumanizing jobs of Victorian mudlarks to the sinister legends of Greek Christmas monsters, the Kallikantzaroi.

Explore the ancient magic of mistletoe, its ties to Druidic rituals, and its surprising role in medieval justice. Discover the grim origins of mince pies, once crafted with meat and blood, and learn how leaving out milk and cookies for Santa evolved from acts of survival and generosity. And finally, delve into the unruly roots of caroling, where wassailers wielded songs as both festive pleas and thinly veiled threats.

This episode will forever change the way you see the holiday season. So, grab your hot cocoa, settle by the fire, and prepare for a journey into the dark heart of Christmas.

Merry Christmas, and remember—history is never as bright as it seems. 

Transcript

Hi everyone and welcome back to the dark history podcast where we explore the darkest parts of human history. hope everyone is well I’m Rob your host as always. Welcome to season 3 episode 29 Jingle Bells and Peculiar Tales: The Strange History of Christmas Traditions       . Merry Christmas, everyone, and welcome to a very special episode of Dark History, coming to you on this frosty Christmas eve. Wherever you are, I hope you’re warm, safe, and in good company. In todays episode, we’re going to pull back the shiny festive veil and explore the darker side of Christmas. Because, while many celebrate with gifts, food, and family, history has gifted us with some strange, chilling, and downright disturbing traditions. We’ll be taking you on a journey through Christmas ghost stories, disgusting and strange jobs that people were forced to do during this season, tales of monsters, and ancient traditions with sinister origins. So grab your hot chocolate, or maybe something stronger, warm yourself by the fire as we explore the shadows of Christmas past and more dark history

[Section 2: The Most Disgusting Jobs of Christmas Past]

We often think of Christmas as a time for giving and relaxation, but throughout history, it was also a season of brutal and grim labor, especially for those on the fringes of society. These jobs were not just difficult—they were downright dehumanizing. Let’s journey back in time, starting in the slums of Victorian London, where one of the most wretched Christmas jobs belonged to the “mudlark.”

Imagine the scene: it’s Christmas morning, and while others are enjoying the warmth of their homes, you find yourself knee-deep in the freezing, foul-smelling sludge of the River Thames. Mudlarks were scavengers, and most of them were children, elderly, or the utterly destitute. Their job? To sift through the filth of the riverbanks, searching for anything of value—coal, nails, scraps of metal, fragments of rope—anything they could sell for a few pennies. The Thames was a repository of the city's waste, human and otherwise, so every step was a gamble with disease. Cholera, dysentery, and typhus lingered in the murky waters, making this one of the most dangerous and disgusting ways to spend Christmas. There was no rest for the poor, no holiday respite—just a relentless fight to survive in the muck. For these desperate souls, Christmas wasn’t a time of joy; it was another day of toil and filth, with the freezing cold cutting through threadbare clothes and soaking through to the bone.

But life could get even worse. Enter the “gutter monger.” If you thought the mudlarks had it bad, the gutter mongers were scavengers who hunted the streets and markets for discarded scraps of food. Picture yourself in a bustling Victorian marketplace after Christmas Eve, not as a shopper, but as someone scrounging through the slop left behind—rotting vegetables, spoiled fruit, and piles of offal from the butcher’s stalls. The smell of decay would have been overpowering. Christmas Day meant desperately trying to scrape together enough rotting food to eat or, if lucky, sell to other starving souls for a meager sum. In a time where waste management didn’t exist, the streets ran with filth, and the gutter mongers were the human crows, picking at whatever remained. Christmas for them wasn’t a day of feasting; it was another grim battle to stay alive amidst the rotting refuse of society’s excess.

The idea of Christmas as a feast was a luxury for the few, but even behind the grandeur of the feast lay more horror. For those working in medieval kitchens, Christmas was a time of carnage. If you were unlucky enough to work as a butcher's apprentice during the holiday season, your task was to assist in preparing massive banquets for lords and kings. Hundreds of animals—pigs, cows, deer, and even swans—were slaughtered to feed the festive tables. As the apprentice, you were the one who would have to handle the blood-soaked aftermath. You’d be knee-deep in entrails, skinning and dismembering the carcasses. The smell of death was suffocating, the coppery scent of blood filled the air, and the endless procession of animals meant you’d be covered in gore from head to toe. While the nobility feasted, you’d be left in the kitchens, your hands trembling from the relentless work, your mind numb from the violence and horror of the slaughter.

Fast forward to the early 19th century, where the Christmas table was incomplete without the traditional plum pudding. Today, we think of plum pudding as a rich, festive dessert, but back then, it was far less appetizing. The pudding of the past was a revolting concoction, often made from whatever leftovers were available—rancid animal fat, dried fruits on the verge of spoilage, and even blood. It was mashed together, bound into a gelatinous mass, and then boiled for hours. The kitchen was a sweltering inferno, and the poor souls tasked with making these so-called “delicacies” would spend hours stirring and shaping them. The heat from the boiling pots, the rank smell of half-rotten ingredients, and the claustrophobic conditions of the kitchens made this one of the most miserable Christmas jobs you could imagine. And to make things worse, the final product was often far from a treat—it was a slimy, cloying mess that barely passed as food.

These jobs, among others, show us a very different side of Christmas—a time not of joy and comfort, but of hardship and survival. For the poorest and most downtrodden in society, Christmas wasn’t a day to look forward to, but just another grim reminder of their station. While others enjoyed the warmth of their homes and the richness of their feasts, these workers faced the bitter cold, the stench of decay, and the brutality of their labors. So the next time you sit down for a Christmas feast, perhaps spare a thought for those who, throughout history, had to work in the most hellish conditions, all for a few coins and a hope to survive another day.

[Section 3: King Wenceslas: A Tale of Charity and Tragedy]

No Christmas would be complete without carols, and one of the most famous is “Good King Wenceslas.” But beneath its cheerful melody and warm message lies a complex and tragic story. Let’s delve into the life of the real Wenceslas and the darker truths hidden behind this beloved song.

To begin with, Wenceslas wasn’t actually a king—he was the Duke of Bohemia, living in the 10th century. Born around 907 AD, Wenceslas was raised in a deeply religious household, heavily influenced by his grandmother, Ludmila, who was later canonized as a saint. His Christian upbringing shaped his rule, and he became known for his deep faith, compassion, and commitment to helping the poor. This is the Wenceslas we recognize from the carol, the benevolent ruler who goes out of his way to care for his subjects, even in the harshest conditions.

The carol itself is based on a specific story: one freezing winter’s night, Wenceslas spotted a poor peasant struggling in the snow, gathering firewood to survive the cold. Despite the freezing temperatures and the long journey ahead, Wenceslas was determined to help. Against the advice of his servants, who warned him of the dangers of venturing out in such weather, Wenceslas set off into the night. With his servant by his side, he walked miles to deliver food, wine, and firewood to the impoverished man. The carol paints Wenceslas as a figure of unwavering virtue, whose generosity warmed the heart even in the bitterest of winters. His servant, struggling to keep pace, found solace by walking in the very footprints left behind by the Duke, as the warmth of Wenceslas’ faith seemed to melt the snow beneath him. It’s a story of selflessness, one that has inspired countless generations.

But Wenceslas’ life, far from the serene image of the carol, was steeped in violence, betrayal, and tragedy. His rule was anything but peaceful. While Wenceslas tried to guide his people with Christian values—helping the poor, promoting peace, and building churches—his reign was marked by internal strife and political tension. Bohemia, at the time, was caught between the influences of Christianity and the old pagan traditions, and Wenceslas’ piety made him enemies within his own court.

Chief among these enemies was his own brother, Boleslaus, later known as Boleslaus the Cruel. Boleslaus represented a faction of Bohemian nobles who resented Wenceslas' Christian reforms and sought a return to their traditional pagan practices. Boleslaus saw his brother’s faith not as a virtue, but as a weakness, a dangerous departure from their ancestral ways. Fueled by jealousy and a hunger for power, Boleslaus began plotting his brother’s murder.

The betrayal came to a head on September 28th, 935 AD. On this fateful day, Wenceslas, ever-devout, was on his way to church for morning prayers. It was the Feast of Saints Cosmas and Damian, and Wenceslas planned to mark the occasion with his usual devotion. But as he entered the church courtyard, he was ambushed by Boleslaus and his co-conspirators. In a scene far removed from the image of the benevolent king in the carol, Wenceslas was brutally stabbed to death by his own brother’s hand. Some accounts suggest that Boleslaus struck the first blow with a sword, while others say it was a group effort, with Boleslaus’ men joining in the assault. Either way, Wenceslas was left to die at the doors of the church he so loved.

Wenceslas’ murder was not just an act of personal betrayal—it was a political coup. Boleslaus seized the throne, and Bohemia was plunged into a darker, more violent chapter of its history. Yet, despite his cruel end, Wenceslas’ legacy lived on. Almost immediately after his death, he was hailed as a martyr and saint. Legends of his kindness and piety grew, and he became a symbol of Christian virtue, venerated not just in Bohemia but across Europe.

Fast forward to the 19th century, where the figure of Wenceslas was immortalized in the Christmas carol we know today. The song was written in 1853 by John Mason Neale, an English hymn writer who found inspiration in the story of Wenceslas' legendary generosity. Neale was fascinated by historical figures whose actions echoed the teachings of Christ, and Wenceslas fit perfectly into this mold. The carol, however, glosses over the darker aspects of his life—the betrayal, the violence, the political intrigue—and instead focuses on the idealized version of Wenceslas as a perfect Christian ruler.

In the centuries since, “Good King Wenceslas” has become a staple of the Christmas season, its catchy tune and heartwarming message embodying the spirit of giving and charity. But as we sing it today, it’s worth remembering that the real Wenceslas lived in a world far removed from the peaceful, idyllic Christmas scenes we imagine. His was a world of brutality and treachery, where even the most noble and pious could fall victim to the darkest of human impulses.

So the next time you hear the carol, let it remind you not just of the warmth of giving, but also of the fragile line between goodness and evil, and how even those who strive to do good can find themselves engulfed by the shadows around them.

[Section 4: The Greek Christmas Monster: The Kallikantzaroi]

While some countries celebrate Christmas with joy and laughter, in Greece, there’s a much darker side to the festivities. For twelve days, from Christmas until Epiphany, the Kallikantzaroi emerge from the shadows, ready to wreak havoc. These creatures are not your typical jolly elves or cheerful spirits; they are malicious, goblin-like beings steeped in folklore, causing chaos and fear wherever they go.

The Kallikantzaroi spend most of the year underground, where they engage in a nefarious task: sawing away at the world tree, which is believed to hold up the earth. Their aim? To bring about the destruction of the world as we know it. However, during the twelve days of Christmas, a time when the sun is said to “stand still,” these malevolent beings rise from the depths of the underworld, free to torment humans.

Once they emerge, the Kallikantzaroi are notorious for sneaking into homes, where they spoil food, extinguish fires, and even kidnap unsuspecting children. Their shapeshifting abilities allow them to take on various forms, often appearing as innocent animals or even familiar faces, only to reveal their grotesque and terrifying nature when it’s too late. This ability to disguise themselves adds a chilling layer to their menace, as no one can be sure who or what they might be letting into their homes.

Fortunately, there are ways to keep these malevolent creatures at bay. In some parts of Greece, people would leave a colander on their doorstep, believing the Kallikantzaroi would become confused, trying to count the holes. This superstition suggests a mix of wit and fear, as it’s thought that their inability to complete a task would delay their mischief. Others would burn an old shoe, as the foul smell was believed to repel them, a reminder that sometimes the most effective defenses are unconventional.

However, the surest way to protect oneself from the Kallikantzaroi is to keep a fire burning throughout the festive season. These creatures are terrified of fire, which symbolizes warmth, safety, and purity. The sight and sound of flames can deter them from entering a home, reinforcing the idea that light is a powerful force against darkness.

In my podcast's Season 1 Christmas special, we delved into the lore of various Christmas monsters, not # including the Kallikantzaroi. These creatures serve as a reminder that not all holiday tales are filled with cheer and goodwill. Many cultures have their own versions of dark entities that emerge during the festive season, often reflecting the fears and challenges faced by communities in the past.

These stories were not just for entertainment; they were cautionary tales meant to instill a sense of vigilance during a time when the nights were long, and dangers were real. The Kallikantzaroi remind us that while we gather with loved ones, the spirits of chaos and fear lurk just beyond the warmth of our fires, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

[Section 5: Strange Christmas Traditions and Their Dark Origins]

Christmas traditions often carry an air of festivity and cheer, but many of these customs have peculiar origins and unusual practices that tell a much richer story. Let’s explore some of these strange traditions, from mistletoe's intriguing history to the surprising origins of Santa’s milk and cookies.

Mistletoe, that green sprig hung above doorways, is perhaps one of the most well-known symbols of Christmas. Today, it invites kisses and playful affection, but its history is steeped in ancient magic and significance. In Druidic culture, mistletoe was revered as a sacred plant with protective qualities. The druids believed that mistletoe, particularly when found growing on oak trees, could ward off evil spirits and promote fertility.

The custom of kissing under the mistletoe likely evolved from these ancient rituals. In Norse mythology, mistletoe was associated with the goddess Frigg, who believed it could protect her son, Balder. After his death, the mistletoe was used to symbolize love and reconciliation, leading to its adoption in festive celebrations.

Interestingly, mistletoe also played a role in the justice system during the Christmas season. In medieval England, it was customary to hang mistletoe in the homes of prisoners as a sign of temporary pardon. If an inmate was fortunate enough to be visited during the holidays and find mistletoe in their cell, they could expect to be granted a day of release to spend with family. This unique practice highlights how the spirit of Christmas, with its themes of forgiveness and redemption, extended even to those who had erred in the eyes of the law.

Then, we have the iconic Christmas treat—mince pies. Today, they are often sweet, filled with dried fruits, spices, and a splash of brandy. However, their origins are much darker and more complex. When the tradition began in medieval England, mince pies were made with actual minced meat, combined with dried fruits, suet, and spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. These hearty pies were crafted to symbolize the bounty of the harvest and were often eaten as a way to celebrate the birth of Christ.

The original recipe, which sometimes included ingredients like rabbit or lamb, reflected the more austere Christmas feasts of old, where the emphasis was on preserving meats and using every part of the animal. Over time, as taste evolved and palates changed, the meat was phased out in favor of the sweetened versions we enjoy today

And then there’s the tradition of leaving out milk and cookies for Santa Claus—a practice that has become a cherished ritual for children around the world. The origins of this custom are not entirely clear, but it seems to have evolved from various cultural practices that emphasize hospitality and generosity. In the United States, the tradition gained popularity during the Great Depression as a way to instill a sense of hope and giving in children. Leaving out treats for Santa was a way to show gratitude and appreciation for the gifts he brought.

Interestingly, the concept of leaving food for a mythical figure isn’t exclusive to Santa. Various cultures have their own versions of this tradition, where children leave offerings for other gift-giving figures. In some Scandinavian countries, for instance, children would leave out porridge for the Tomte, a gnome-like creature believed to protect the farm and ensure a good harvest.

The modern image of Santa Claus—complete with his red suit, snowy beard, and cheerful disposition—was solidified in the 19th century through literature and illustrations. The popular poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas," written by Clement Clarke Moore in 1823, helped shape the character we know today. This friendly, jolly figure brought gifts and joy to children, and leaving out milk and cookies became a way to encourage good behavior and create a magical connection between children and the spirit of Christmas.

[Section 6: Carol Singers: Uninvited Guests of the Past]

Carol singing—today it’s a festive tradition, with groups of cheerful singers going door to door, spreading joy and goodwill. Yet, centuries ago, carolers were far more unruly and, frankly, a little scary. In medieval England, wassailers roamed from house to house during the holiday season, but they weren’t merely singing for the sake of festivity; they were demanding food, drink, and money.

The origins of wassailing trace back to ancient pagan customs, where communities would celebrate the winter solstice and the coming of the new year with merriment and feasting. This tradition evolved over time, and by the Middle Ages, wassailing took on a more raucous tone. Wassailers would often be inebriated, and their antics could quickly turn from joyous celebration to rowdy mischief. Instead of spreading cheer, they were known to intimidate homeowners, wielding their songs as tools of persuasion and threats.

When the wassailers knocked on a door, it was customary for homeowners to invite them in, offering a drink or some food as part of the festive spirit. However, if the residents were unwilling or unable to share their bounty, the consequences could be dire. The songs they sang were often laden with veiled threats, hinting that refusal to give generously might lead to misfortune or bad luck for the household in the coming year. This coercive element added a menacing layer to the tradition, blurring the lines between celebration and extortion.

In some more extreme cases, these groups would force their way into homes, taking what they wanted and helping themselves to whatever they could find. This included food, drink, and even valuables. The song “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” reflects this darker history, with its repeated demands for figgy pudding—an early indication of how these carolers expected to be treated. If homeowners refused to comply, wassailers might resort to acts of vandalism or even violence, threatening to curse the household or invoke the spirits of the season if their demands went unmet.

As we consider the evolution of caroling, it becomes clear that today’s carolers, with their cheerful renditions of holiday classics, stand in stark contrast to their unruly ancestors. While modern traditions emphasize the joy of sharing music and spreading holiday cheer, the historical roots reveal a more sinister practice where survival often dictated behavior.

Wassailing was not just a form of entertainment; it was a matter of livelihood for many, especially in a time when communities faced harsh winters and scarce resources. The act of caroling was sometimes a last resort for those in need, forcing people to confront the uncomfortable reality of economic disparity during what was supposed to be a season of goodwill.

[Closing: A Dark Christmas Wish]

Thank you for taking the time away from your turkey and alcohol to listen to this dark episode. That’s it for today’s special Christmas episode of Dark History. I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey through the stranger, darker, and often unsettling side of Christmas. From grim holiday jobs, strange monsters, and the odd origins of our traditions, it’s clear that Christmas isn’t always as innocent as it seems.”

“As you gather with loved ones today, remember that history is filled with shadows, even during the brightest of holidays. And perhaps, as you hang your stockings or listen to the crackle of a fire, you’ll think of those old traditions, and the people who once believed in the magic—and danger—of the season.” Today marks the final episode of Season 3 the maybe a little bonus episode coming in the next few day so make sure your on santas good list. I'll be back in January to kick off Season 4! I want to extend my heartfelt thanks for your support throughout the past year. Merry Christmas to all, and as always—stay safe, stay curious, and if you hear a knock on your door tonight… well, maybe think twice before answering it. Join me next year for more dark history!