This is part four of the “Twelve Posts of Christmas,” a series exploring twelve traditions of the Christmas season.
Lully, lullah, thou little tiny child,
Bye bye, lully, lullay.
Thou little tiny child,
Bye bye, lully, lullay.
The opening lyrics and distinctly melancholic tune of the “Coventry Carol” are familiar to most. The 16th-century English carol is a staple of traditional Christmas albums everywhere. The first verse of the tune, which seems like it could be referring to the little Christ child, reveals little of the song’s dark story. The next verses, however, make clear the song’s bloody context:
O sisters too, how may we do
For to preserve this day
This poor youngling for whom we sing,
“Bye bye, lully, lullay”?
Herod the king, in his raging,
Chargèd he hath this day
His men of might in his own sight
All young children to slay.
The carol mourns the death of the baby boys of Bethlehem when King Herod, having caught wind that one of them was destined to take over his job as king of the Jews, ordered their murder. The song itself was crafted for a medieval mystery play, performed annually in the city of Coventry from the late 12th century until Protestants shut down such rituals in the late 16th century.
The Coventry mystery plays, renowned in their time and attended by royalty and peasants alike, were performed by different guilds in the town. The Shearmen and Tailors’ Guild put on the Nativity play during Coventry’s annual thespian festival. They’d recount the story of the Nativity from the Annunciation to the death of the children of Bethlehem. The “Coventry Carol” thus began as a song performed by the actors (all male, as was traditional) who represented the mothers of Bethlehem lamenting the loss of their children in the play.
In the Catholic Church, the massacre of the babies of Bethlehem is commemorated each year as the Feast of the Holy Innocents. The feast is held every Christmastide on December 28 — today. The Innocents are venerated as the first Christian martyrs, for, in the words of St. Augustine, “they are the first buds of the Church killed by the frost of persecution; they died not only for Christ, but in his stead.”
According to the Gospel of Matthew, Herod feared for his throne upon hearing the purpose of the Magi’s journey to Judea: They had followed a star from the East in order to find the baby “who has been born king of the Jews” — a title Herod himself enjoyed holding. Herod ordered the Magi to search for the child in Bethlehem and to return with a report of the boy’s exact location so he, too, could “pay homage” to the newborn king. The Magi, having been warned in a dream to avoid the murderous King of Judea, never returned to Herod’s court.
Herod, furious that the Magi and the Christ Child slipped through his fingers, charged his soldiers to kill all baby boys under the age of two in Bethlehem and the surrounding hillsides. Even if Herod could not identify the child of the prophecies, the king wasn’t going to take any chances. (Of course, Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus had already fled to Egypt by the time of the massacre.)
While the Gospel of Matthew is just about the only text that details the slaughter of the children of Bethlehem, prominent ancient historian Josephus recounts other horrific acts of King Herod during his reign, including the ordered execution of three of his own sons.
According to early manuscripts of the Latin Church, the feast of the Holy Innocents has been celebrated since the 5th century, at least. While traditions vary by region, many churches in medieval Northern Europe practiced a role reversal of children and adults on the feast day. In particular, a boy-bishop was elected to officiate church proceedings — he wore a mitre and other pontifical insignia, sang the collect, preached, and gave the blessing. The boy-bishop also sat in the bishop’s chair while the choir boys sang from seats typically reserved for elder Church leaders. This kind of “topsy-turvy” exchange, while strange to the modern reader, was a community-wide way to honor the lives of the martyred children (and, undoubtedly, a way to incorporate pagan traditions into the Church calendar.)
The feast of the Holy Innocents is still widely celebrated today, particularly in Spanish-speaking countries. In countries like Spain, Guatemala, and Mexico, the annual celebration of the feast is known as “el Día de los Santos Inocentes.” The customs of el Día de los Santos Inocentes share much with April Fool’s Day, which the Anglo world knows as a day of childish pranks and giggles.
Many towns in Spain have unique traditions to commemorate the day. In a town in Valencia, the residents wear their clothes backward, apply gregarious makeup, and elect an individual to serve as the “mayor of the lunatics” for 24 hours. The small town of Ibi stages a “flour battle” annually, where the mayor, judge, and police chief of the town participate alongside locals. In a town in the province of Huesca, flour is replaced with eggs — the townspeople and streets alike become coated with the sticky substance. Despite the seeming chicanery, most of the shenanigans are geared towards charitable causes, often raising funds for a non-profit associated with children’s welfare.
Ultimately, today — the Feast of the Holy Innocents — is not a day of mourning, but a day to honor the divine gift of children. This tension — between the day’s murderous origins and the joyous festivities that commemorate it — is displayed and resolved in the Picardy third of “Coventry Carol.” In the closing line of the main verse, the minor tension is relaxed into a major triad: Bye bye, lully, lullay.