Have I talked about jack-o’-lanterns before? Absolutely. Am I going to do it again? You bet your ass I am.
If you haven’t heard by now that the first jack-o’-lanterns were carved into turnips, I don’t know where you’ve been. But you may not know that they were probably carved into whatever root vegetables were available wherever people were carving these things – potatoes, beets, whatever. But why start carving faces into the musty stuff in your cellar at all?
The Celts may or may not have been a head cult (no jokes, please.) From the religious iconography we have, it appears that they may have viewed the head as a source of divine power and the seat of the soul. And we have rumors from the Greeks and Romans that Celts were headhunters. They probably took the heads of their foes as trophies during wartime. No biggie.
The idea that Celts would believe something with a face carved into it would hold similar otherworldly power isn’t too much of a stretch. A Celt left to scrounge for a way to scare off roaming spirits on the night when they were said to walk the earth could make do with a potato or two. (Of course, the carving of fruits and vegetables wasn’t limited to Scotland and Ireland. They’re just the most direct line we have from turnip to jack-o’-lantern.)
Apotropaic magic – or protective magic, the kind designed to ward off evil spirits, misfortune or ill will – is one of the funny little building blocks of culture. This kind of magic has a way of becoming so emblematic of a culture that it becomes removed from its superstitious meaning (whether through appropriation or developing views on spirituality).
But also. Making a jack-o’-lantern serves as a fun activity, right? Hand the kids some turnips and a knife and let ‘em entertain themselves for a couple hours. If we scare away the spirit of Great Aunt Étaín, the more’s the better (probably not, but whatever.)
Then again, the lantern part was no mistake. Carved root vegetables offered a cheap way to place a light in homes. So no doubt, some had faces year-round, casting an eerie glow on a boring Tuesday night. You had to get your kicks somehow!
An Irish folktale about Stingy Jack the blacksmith may have inspired the name. The tale goes that Jack tricked the devil twice – thus barring him from both Heaven and Hell upon his death. The devil sent him packing with a lump of coal to light his turnip lantern as he wandered the earth forevermore. (This tale is also used to explain the will-o’-the-wisp.) These sorts of tales appear all across Europe.
How did jack-o’-lanterns get their orange upgrade? On North American soil, pumpkins were the autumn/winter vegetable (fruit, akshully, and also maybe a berry?) of choice. Large, plentiful and easier to carve into interesting shapes, pumpkins were pretty much made for this – especially since they ripen up at just the right time. Plus you can still salvage a bit of meal from one, so win-win.
While the Irish and Scots were determined to hold onto this Samhain tradition in the Americas, Washington Irving probably did the most to cement this tradition into our culture – and only by accident! The text of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” insists always that the horseman is truly headless – a smashed pumpkin is discovered by Ichabod Crane’s abandoned hat. Illustrations and adaptations of the tale have always placed a flaming jack-o’-lantern atop the horseman’s shoulders as he pursues Ichabod through the woods.
If you’re anything like me, you can’t imagine an October without the soft, squelchy, stringy guts of a pumpkin between your fingers. While you hollow out your squash, spare a thought for the spirits or misfortune you hope to chase away in the night… they’ll be waiting.
The turnips in my neck of the woods are, maximum, about the size of my fist. Also a turnip is very solid root vegetable, like a potato or carrot or parsnip. If our ancestors were taking the trouble to turn turnips into lanterns... well.. then they're not *our* ancestors any more. They're yours. I'm not laying claim to them.