by Walter Gregor.

I.

Safeguards against the Witch.[1]

(A) Cows.

CROSSES made of "rawn-tree" (rowan, mountain ash) were placed over the doors of all the houses of a farm on Lammas day (August 1st, O.S.) at noon. This ceremony had to be gone through by the one that did it without the knowledge of any one, and without the utterance of a word to any one that might be met. (Tyrie.) In Strathdon pieces of "rawn-tree" were put into every byre on the Reed day"—Rood day—(May 2nd, O.S.) by the goodman after sunset. This had to be done in secret.

Pieces of it were placed over the stable door to prevent the witches from entering to take out the horses for their midnight rides. (Strathdon, Corgarff.)

On Beltane eve a cross made of rowan tied with red thread was placed in each opening in the walls of the byre. Next morning the crosses were tied to the tails of the animals when they were driven to the grazing grounds on the hills, and each "hird" received a rowan wand to drive them. My informant told me that on one occasion when the "hirds" were driving home. their cattle they were obliged to leave a weakly one behind them. After housing the animals the "hird" to whose care the animal was committed set out to bring it home. An old man called him back, gave him a rowan club with a cross cut on the end of it, and told him everything would now go well. (J. Farquharson, Corgarff.)

To save a newly-calved cow from the power of the witch:—

(A) The apron of a married woman who was a mother was placed for a short time over the horns or head of the cow, and a "seal," i.e. a binding, was tied round her neck. This "seal" was allowed to remain round her neck for some weeks. The first draught of water that was given her was warm, and into it was thrown a live coal. (Corgarff.)

(B) Some made it a practice to cut off a little of the hair of the cow's tail just as she was going out through the door for the first time after calving. (Pitsligo.)

(C) Others put both salt and a shilling into the milkin' cog the first time the cow was milked after dropping the calf. (Pitsligo.)

(D) To keep away the evil influence of the witch in butter-making, some had the habit of putting salt on the lid of the churn round the hole through which the stalk of the "plumper" passed. This was done in Pitsligo by a farmer's wife who died some years ago.

(B) Horses.

When a mare was taken from the stable the first time after foaling, a rowan cross was tied with red thread to her tail. My informant, J. Farquharson, has seen mares ploughing carrying such crosses. (Corgarff.)

A horse would not have been put into an open shed over night lest witches might come and take him for their dark purposes. If necessity compelled a horse to be left in such a house over night, a cross of rowan tied with red thread was tied to the animal's tail. (Corgarff.)

Mr., Corgarff, bought a horse, and when the servant brought the animal home he tied him up in the shed, as there was no room for him in the stable. 'Tahr (where) ha'e ye pitten (put) him?' said the farmer to the servant. "I' the shed," was the answer. "He winna (will not) need t' be there a' nicht," rejoined the farmer. The animal was accordingly taken to the stable of a neighbouring farmer.

(C) Man.

If one gets the "first word" of a witch, or of one having an "ill fit," or any supernatural being bent on evil, all power to injure is taken away. J— R—, a farmer in Strathdon, was returning home one wild stormy night in winter. When he came to a place called Dabrossach, he saw a creature that looked like a child cross the road in front of him. He at once cried out, "Peer (poor) thing! Ye're far fae hame in sic a stormy nicht." The creature disappeared. The farmer was convinced that mischief was intended to be done to him. (Told by Mr. Michie, Strathdon.)

Take a silver pin, conceal it between the finger and thumb of the left hand, contrive in some way to meet the witch in the morning "atween the sin (sun) an the sky," pass her on the right side, in passing draw blood from above the eyes with the pin; keep the pin covered with the blood, and the witch has no power over you. (J. Farquharson, Corgarff.)

II.

How to find out the Witch.

1. Put a quantity of new pins into a pot, and as much of the milk of the cow which is under the spell as can be drawn from her over the pins. Place the pot with its contents over the fire, and let them simmer, but not boil. The one that has wrought the evil, if an opportunity can be snatched, will go to the house and take the pot off the fire. (Peathill, Pitsligo.)

2. When a cow's milk failed, and the work of a witch was suspected, a pair of the "gueedeman's breeks" was put over the cow's horns. She then made straight for the house of the witch and lowed at the door. (Strathdon.)

III.

Modes of undoing her Work.

1. Mrs. Michie, Coull of Newe, Strathdon, began one day to make butter, but no butter could she get, though she churned from three o'clock in the afternoon till late at night. The cream was given to the pigs, but they turned away from it. On three separate occasions the same thing took place. Something was judged to be far wrong. Peter Smith, a man of skill, that lived in the adjoining parish of Towie, was sent for. He was fond of a glass of whisky, and on his arrival he was treated to one and a little more. So refreshed, he said, "Noo (now), a'm (I am) fit for wark (work)." He asked if there was any myrrh in the house. There was not. My informant, Mr. W. Michie, the present farmer, then a boy, was sent to the gardens of Castle Newe—not far distant—in search of the herb. He got a small quantity. The "skeely man" examined it, smelt it, and said, "There's nae muckle o't, bit (but) its gueede (good)." He then ordered a large copper to be placed over the fire and half filled with water. He put the myrrh and some ingredients he took from his pocket into the copper. He sat down and watched the mixture boiling for about three hours. The copper was then removed from the fire, and the mixture was allowed to cool. When it was cooled, a bottleful of it was given not only to each cow, but to each of the cattle on the farm. A small stream, or "burn," runs alongside the farm. He asked Mrs. Michie to go to it and to gather from it a quantity of "water-ryack" and to place it over the door of the cowbyre. He gave instructions that if there was any difficulty (which there might be) in the butter -making when the cream was next churned, a little rennet should be put into the churn. He asserted there would be no difficulty again.

Mrs. Michie asked Peter if he knew who had wrought the mischief. He said he did, but he refused to tell her as "it wid (would) only cause dispeace amon' neebours (neighbours)."

He was in the habit of saying that he had got the secret from his wife before she died, and that he could give it before he died to a woman. It was the common belief with regard to these occult powers that they could only be given just before death to one of the opposite sex. (Told by Mr. Michie.)

2. H— S—, Peathill, Pitsligo, when a girl, was one morning churning butter. A woman that lived close by, and was noted for her uncanny powers, came in at the time. On entering, her eye caught the cotton curtains of the bed, and she made the remark, "Eh! Sic a bonnie print." She then cast a quick glance on the churn, and, without speaking another word, rushed from the house. The cream was churned all that day, into night, and all next day, but no butter was got. The cream did only "ramp," i.e. rise in froth. Several churnings were tried as the cream was collected, but there was the same result. A man noted for his skill, who went by the nickname of "Sautie," was sent for. He came. After hearing all the facts of the case, he got a three-girded cog and a half-crown. With these he went to the well from which the family drew the supply of water, and went through some ceremonies. He returned, and went to the byre and performed some other ceremonies with the cow, which my informant unluckily could not describe. He ordered the "gueedewife" to get every morning from a neighbouring farmer's wife a mutchkin (an imperial pint) of newly-drawn milk and "sey" it amongst her own cow's till she was put forth to grass, for the thing took place in the early part of the year not long after the cow had dropped her calf. When the animal was put to grass, the "seal" or binding that bound her to the stall had to be fastened or tied as when round her neck every time she was driven forth to graze. (Told by H— S—.)

3. In the houses of the common people up to a period not Yery far back the couples were placed on upright posts fixed in the ground, and built into the walls. These upright posts were called in Corgarff "couple-reets," i.e. couple-roots. In many if not almost in all houses one of the couples was made of rowan-tree.

When a cow's milk was taken away, "the canny woman" of the district was called in. On her arrival slie took the "milkin' cog" and seated herself beside the "rawn-tree couple-reet," in the attitude of milking a cow. She got a knife, and with it cut three holes in the "couple-reet." Into these three holes she inserted three small pieces of wood, not necessarily of rowan; the first one in the name of the Father, the second in the name of the Son, and the third in the name of the Holy Ghost. She then drew each piece of wood three times, as if she had been milking a cow. She next went to the cow, and drew each of the cow's paps three times; the first in the name of the Father, the second time in the name of the Son, and the third time in the name of the Holy Ghost. The paps were drawn gently, so as not to bring milk from them. The next thing she did was to kindle "need fire," put it into an old shoe and burn it below the cow, and repeat the words, "May the Almichty smoke the witch in hell as T am smokin' the coo." She then poured some holy water on the beast's back and rubbed it along the backbone from head to tail. This was done three times, with the repetition of some words my informant could not give. Last of all she sat down and milked the cow. (J. Farquharson, Corgarff.)

The animal was measured by spanning. The spanning began at the point of the nose, was carried up the face, and along the backbone and tail. Whatever part of the tail was over a full span was cut off. A draught of water off a shilling was given. (Granton-on-Spey.)

IV.

Some of her Deeds.

1. A fisherman in Portmahomack had played false with a young woman. Her mother resolved to be avenged of him. He had occasion to sail with some other fishermen to a port at some distance. The mother and daughter went to a hollow between two high headlands round which the boat had to sail. They carried with them a tub and a "cog." Both took their station in the hollow within sight of the sea. The tub was filled with water. After waiting for such a time as was thought necessary for the boat to come round the first headland and get under the hollow, the mother asked her daughter to go to look if the boat had rounded the headland. The young woman did so, but came in a short time running back with the news that the boat was floating keel uppermost and with the men clinging to it. The mother was standing beside the tub with the cog in it bottom up. The men were rescued. The man who had been the cause of the mishap came to know that it was his forsaken lady-love and her mother that had caused the disaster, and he resolved to protect himself from the power of the offended mother. He, accordingly, watched his opportunity, fell upon her, and drew blood from her "abeen the breath," i.e. he cut her in the forehead in the form of a cross. The man was punished for assault, and the woman ever after wore a black band round her forehead. (Told by one who knew the man and has often seen the woman.)

2. A mole "abeen the breath" in a woman shows she is a witch.

G. Scott's father, who was a servant on the farm of Tillywharn, Aberdour, lived in a house near the farmhouse and steading. He had to be removed from that house, as it was inconveniently placed for the farmhouse. To make room for him, a woman who lived on the farm in another house, to which a small croft of a few acres was attached, had to be removed. She had "a mole abeen the breath," and much woe did she work to the man who displaced her from her home. Within a short time she by her power killed four cows belonging to him one after the other, as he bought them. Two of the animals he did not see die, but found them dead when he entered the byre in the morning. "He never got abeen't" (above it), as his son, now an old man, said to me in telling the story.

3. The Laird of Skellater^s Witch.

The old Laird of Skellater (Corgarff) had a witch that gave him help in his difficulties On one occasion he laid a wager with a neighbouring laird that his reapers would beat his by a long way at "shearing," i.e. cutting the crop with the sickle. The day of trial was fixed, and the reapers began. Skellater's reapers were soon left far behind. Old Janet appeared on the field and took the place of one of Skellater's reapers in the "kemp" (contest). Before she began work she turned three times round against the course of the sun, crying out, "Black nickie, you and me; and di'd tack the hinmost." The laird whose reapers were foremost in the "kemp " was standing behind them with his ^ace turned towards the sun. The devil in passing caught his shadow instead of himself, and he was ever after shadowless.

4. The Witch of Badachallach; or Jeanie Marae Alise.

(A) This woman, famed as a witch, was one day during a year of great scarcity passing a neighbouring farm. She observed the ploughman lying on the ground behind the plough. Going to him she asked what was the matter with him. He told her he was unable to stand from want of "meat," i.e. food. "Oh! peer (poor) man," said she, "I'll gee (give) you meat." So saying, she sat down, gathered together her apron as if in the form of a "milking cog," and repeated the words: "Froh (froth), milk, froh, milk, black stick, you an me, froh, milk." She then bade the man bring her a handful of mould from between the coulter and the sock. The man did as he was bidden. She took the mould from him, and dropped it slowly from her hand into her apron among the "froh milk." She gave the man the dish, apparently so prepared, for "meat." (Corgarff.)

(B) During another bad year a man was ploughing near a birch wood in the neighbourhood of the witch's house. He saw a fine roe grazing in the wood. He hurried home for his gun, and stalked the animal very carefully till within range. On looking up to take aim he saw no roe, but Jeanie gathering the dew into her apron.

(C) a farmer had for several evenings noticed a fine fat hare eating his briard. On more than one occasion he had shot at the animal but without hitting her. One evening he loaded his gun with a sixpence having a cross on it. He fired, the shot took effect, away rushed the hare, and disappeared down the "lum" (wooden chimney) of Jeanie's house. The farmer entered the house and found Jeanie on bed. "Ye've got sehr hips the nioht, Jeanie," said he. "Aye," answered she; "bit (but) your wife 'ill ha'e sehrer, or she get quit o' faht ye ga'e 'er." The wife died in childbed.

(D) On one occasion she paid a visit to a farmer, a great friend of hers. He had a son in bad health. A cow was ill and almost at the point of death at the same time. About midnight Jeanie heard a voice calling, "Will I tack the coo or Duncan?" (the son). "The coo, the coo, an leave Duncan," answered she. Next morning Duncan was restored to health, and the cow was dead.

(E) Jeanie's house caught fire one day when she was from home. Some neighbours were doing their best to save the house when the old woman arrived. She at once went into the smoke, crying, "If a'm yours, give me three puffs an three blaws, an in the diel's name oot it goes."

(F) She was passing a house after a heavy rain and whilst it was raining heavily. The river Don was in high flood. The gueedewife and children were standing in the door "greeting sehr" (crying bitterly). "Faht ails you?" quo' Jeanie. "See my peer man (husband) gan (going) to wide (wade) the wattir, an he'll be droont," said the weeping wife. "Gee me yer corn-riddle," quo' the witch, "an I'll tack 'im ower." The corn-riddle was brought and given to her. She launched it, stepped on it, and reached the middle of the stream without any mishap. When in mid -stream the riddle began to shake, and toss, and whirl to such a degree that it looked as if it would upset. The man saw what he thought the danger, and cried out, "God save you, Jeanie." In a moment Jeanie disappeared with the riddle and was never seen again.

(g) Jeanie had a son. He was a glutton and had a liking for milk. If a gueedewife refused to give milk when he asked it, her cows yielded little or no milk for the season. My informant assures me many firmly believed this. (Corgarff.)

5.—(A) L— D— had the reputation of being a witch. On several occasions J— F—, of P—, observed a hare in his garden. He tried to shoot the animal at three separate times, but to no purpose. He tried it a fourth time, loaded his gun with a sixpence, took aim, and fired. The shot took effect, and away limped the wounded hare and escaped. The witch when she next appeared was lame, and walking by the help of a stick, which she was obliged to use ever after on account of her lameness.

(B) One day she asked money from the man who had wounded her when in hare-shape. He was afraid to refuse her, and gave a half-crown piece. It was his usual assertion, on speaking of the matter, that he never "waart" (spent) money to better purpose, for whatever he took in hand afterwards throve beyond expectation. He tried to keep her favour by giving her year by year "a fraucht o' peats," i.e. two cart-loads of peats, to keep her warm during winter.

(C) One day she went into a house, and, seeing curds prepared for making cheese, she asked for a little. The gueedewife for some reason or other refused the request. Lizzie left the house in no kindly humour. The gueedewife in the doing of her work had shortly after to go outside for a little. She left the door standing open, the dog entered the house and ate the curds. Said the gueedewife, "A miclit as weel ha'e geen (given) some o' them t' Lizzie, as latten (let) the dog eht (eat) them."

(D) On another day she went into a house and begged for a little butter. The request was refused. Next time the cows were milked they gave no milk, nor did they give milk till Lizzie's favour was gained by a present, and so she would allow the cows to give their milk. My informant, Mr. Wm. Michie, farmer, Coull of Newe, Strathdon, knew the woman. (Strathdon.)

Walter Gregor.

by Walter Gregor.

ADVIE lies on the River Spey, and formed the eastern portion of the parish of Cromdale till lately, when it was disjoined, and formed into a parish quoad sacra. The following superstitions from the district have been furnished me by Mr. M. Macpherson, M.A., a native, to whom they have been familiar from boyhood. The others have been gleaned by myself.

Bird-Cherry.

The wood of the "hackberry" or bird-cherry (Prunus padus) is not used as a staff or for any other purpose, as it is looked on as the witch's tree.—(Advie.)

Rowan Tree.

The rowan tree is used, as in many other places, as a preventive of witchcraft. It is the common belief that adders avoid the tree.—(Advie.)

The Aspen.

A curse is believed to rest on the aspen. The cross was made of the wood of this tree, and ever since its leaves are in constant motion in consequence of the curse. In parts of Banffshire it goes by the name of "quackin' aish," i. e. quaking or trembling ash.

The Holly.

Pieces of holly along with rowan were placed inside over the door of the stable to prevent the entrance of the nightmare. My informant has cut the tree for this purpose.—(Strathdon.)

The Birch.

There used to be hung up in every stable a crooked stick, on which to hang the harness. Its name in Gaelic was "Obair-latha," i. e. a day's work. It must be a natural growth, and had to be searched for by a woman. If she found one of the proper shape during the first day's search, she came to the marriage bed a maiden. A stable was not considered lucky, if it had not such a natural -grown hook. It was commonly of birch, but it was not essential that it should be of that tree.—(Advie.)

The Hedgehog.

It is very unlucky to meet a hedgehog on the road, particularly after nightfall.

Mr. Macpherson says: "This I discovered to be the case in the summer of 1886. I was returning home about midnight, and, when on the bridge crossing the Tulchan Burn at Straan, met a hedgehog. Next day, I, in jest, asked some of the older people if there was any superstition connected with such a meeting. They told me it was unlucky, and seemed to predict some calamity to myself. Two nights after a girl was drowned in the Spey, not far from the scene of my meeting the hedgehog." The hedgehog and the drowning of the girl were connected, and no amount of arguing could drive the idea from the minds of the people. The girl went in place of the one that met the animal.—(Advie.)

The Toad.

It is considered very unlucky for a toad to enter a house.

An old man, named C— N—, who died at Dalvey about twelve years ago, one day found a toad in his house. He immediately cast it out. It however returned. Again it was removed. It made its appearance the third time. The old man seized it with the tongs, threw it on the fire, with the words: "God! my lad, I'll mack ye ye winna (will not) come in again," and burned it to ashes,—(Advie,)

The Adder.

The adder's skin is believed to have curative properties. If rubbed over the wound made by an adder, no fatality follows.—(Advie.)

The Hen.

A hen crowing is a sure omen of the death of one of the household. The saying is:—A whistling maid an a crawing hen Is neither fit for God nor men.—(Advie.)

Corncraik.

If the corncraik is frequently heard, it is regarded as the sign of a "sappy," i. e. a rainy, year.—(Advie.)

Wild Goose.

When the wild geese are seen making their way towards the North for breeding purposes, it is looked upon as a sign that frost has passed out of the air.—(Advie.)

When they were flying high it was regarded as a token of fair settled weather.—(Keith.)

The Cuckoo.

It is unlucky to hear the cuckoo for the first time during the season before partaking of food. It is indicative of misfortune of some kind or other during the year.—(Advie.)

The Small Tortoise-shell Butterfly.—(Papilio urticce. Linn.)

This butterfly goes by the name of "cut-throat" in Pitsligo, and surrounding district. It gets this name, because it is believed that it cuts human throats. The fisher boys of Pittulie used to chase it to kill it because of its murderous propensities. (Told by one who has done so.)—(Pittulie.)

Fishing Superstitions.

If a bird fly across the line there will be luck. It is considered lucky for the fisher to wet his feet.

Trout-fishers after baiting the hook spit on the worm. This act brings luck.

If the "black swallows" (Hirundo Apus. Linn.) are out, there will be no luck.

It is unlucky to tread on the line.

It is unlucky for the fisher to meet one with "red" hair.—( Advie).

SPECIMENS OF "TRADE" CHARMS.

by E. Lovett..

Read at Meeting of 20th June, 1902.

A few years ago, whilst preparing a paper upon the evolution of coinage and prehistoric trading, I considered that the subject would not be complete without a reference to trade beads. With this end in view I placed myself in communication with some Bohemian manufacturers of these articles, and readily obtained what I required for my purpose. I noticed, however, in going over samples of their glass work, that there were many objects of considerable interest besides beads; and upon further inquiry I learnt that these objects were known as "charms," and that they enjoyed, from a commercial standpoint, the same value and advantages as the beads already referred to.

These specimens were very varied, and in most cases represented objects quite familiar to me. In many instances, however, the colouring was abnormal, and even absurd; but I shall consider this more fully, later on, in describing the specimens upon the table.[1] Meanwhile I will briefly deal with the subject of charms and amulets in general, and then with the very interesting differentiation of form and design which obtains in these objects.

I think we may take it as a fact that the human dread of the unknown is practically universal, though it is naturally far more general amongst primitive races than amongst civilised people. This fear may, for our purpose, be subdivided into dread of the directly mysterious, such as death by lightning; secondly, of death, or injury and disease, from intelligible causes; and lastly, of the power of one person over another by what is known in a general way as the "Evil Eye"; that is, "overlooking," and thus causing mischief of some kind. The natural result of such a state of terror prompted the seeking of an antidote, and such antidotes are to be seen in the varied forms of charms and amulets to be found in every country of the world. These charms are as diversified indeed as the superstitions themselves, or even more so, but for the purpose of the present paper they may be roughly classified under three heads, all of which may be regarded as prophylactic. Firstly, we find a group of charms and amulets representing either in a concrete or abstract form the deity, fetish, unknown power, or origin of life; secondly, objects of a sympathetic form; and thirdly, objects which from their abnormal appearance are regarded as of mystic origin, and in consequence regarded as possessing the power of warding off the Evil Eye, protecting their owner from lightning, and such like.

The charms under the first head take the form of the solar disc (sometimes the svastika, as representing the rotary motion of the sun), the lunar crescent, and the large variety of well-known phallic symbols.

Of the second type there are very numerous forms, of which we may mention for our purpose the following. Thunderbolts, as a safeguard from lightning. The sub-silicate cornelian, regarded by the Arabs as a preventive of injury to the flesh. (In Northern India, the garnet enjoys the same repute, and the turquoise, I believe, in Persia: see exhibit No. 1). In like manner, too, the teeth and claws of certain predatory animals are worn as charms against the animals themselves. I have ascertained that men engaged in menageries and wild-beast-shows wear upon their watch chains teeth and tusks of dangerous animals as a "danger charm," which brings this belief down very close to our own doors.[2]

Of the third group, I may mention such abnormal objects as arrowheads, polished celts, &c., certain fossils, such as ammonites, belemnites, &c., stones perforated (probably fossil sponges), nodules of iron pyrites, and many others, all of which, being unintelligible to the primitive mind, are usually regarded with superstitious awe, and worn as luck charms, or as a defence against the power of the Evil Eye."[3] Charms of this latter group are usually worn in such a position as to be readily seen; they act, or are supposed to act, as a sort of lightning conductor, so that the first glance of the Evil Eye, which I believe is the dangerous one, is received by the charm instead of by the individual wearing it On the other hand, amulets, which usually take the form of some extract, however small, from the holy books of the wearer, are invariably hidden from sight, as in the case of the phylacteries of the Jews and the scrolls in silver cases worn by the warriors of the Soudan. Every Neapolitan carries a charm (in some cases several), but they are likewise hidden away, and not even referred to or talked about. This has all been fully described by Mr. Elworthy in his book upon the Evil Eye.

The types, however, to which my paper specially refers are worn by the races of various parts of the African continent and the islands of the South Pacific. They are undoubtedly charms and not mere ornaments, for it is a most significant fact that an object possessing the mystic power in the eyes of one tribe has no value or meaning at all with the people of even a neighbouring part of the country or of an adjacent island.

As will be seen from the specimens before you, a considerable number of forms are symbolised; I am speaking now of the original forms selected, altered, or adapted by the natives. Large discs are cut from the great shells of the Tridacna; the apex of the shell of the genus Conus is cut so as to show the spiral of the whorl (No. 10). Both these forms seem to suggest the solar disc, the spiral pattern of the latter suggesting rotary motion. The teeth and claws of certain animals, besides the symbolism already alluded to, are, I consider, worn as a protection against the very animals represented by these teeth and claws, as in the case of the menagerie attendants already referred to. The human teeth worn so abundantly by certain tribes in the neighbourhood of Ashanti are, in my opinion, so worn with the idea of absorbing the bravery of the slain foe by the wearer. The same principle is found to exist in the case of cannibalism. The fish-charm (No. 17) is curiously interesting, as also are the arrow, or spear, heads. This latter object has always apparently been regarded as of mystic origin by those who did not understand what it was; usually under the titles of "Elf-darts" and "Thunderbolts," in Europe. It is, however, curious to find natives of Africa holding this superstition, as the knowledge of iron in a crude form seems to have been of great antiquity, and the African native was using a native-made many-barbed arrow when the North American Indians were "making arrowheads of jasper, arrowheads of chalcedony," (Hiawatha).

Beads, although generally regarded as merely ornaments, are also charms. Indeed, I am of the opinion that all beads were originally worn as such, for I think & may take it that the first bead worn by prehistoric man was simply a stone with a hole through it, which being in his opinion uncanny and unaccountable, was at once invested with mystic power; besides, many naturally perforated stones are exceedingly suggestive of eyes, and even now holed stones are worn as charms against the Evil Eve. The cretaceous fossil organism Porosphora globularis, has been found in France as a necklet associated with a burial of the Neolithic period; and portions of the stems of Encrinites, sometimes called St. Cuthbert's beads, help to throw light upon the origin of modern beads. But this is too wide a subject to discuss in this paper.

Having thus referred to the various charms and amulets bearing upon the remarkable revelation which I came upon with such surprise, and at the same time with such real regret, I will now proceed to describe the collection of specimens before you.

It seems to have occurred to some dreadfully ingenious individual that if he could only get a quantity of the highly-prized objects worn by the natives of countries where such things as ivory, skins, gold-dust, and similar trifles were obtainable, it would be uncommonly good business. So original specimens were got and copies carefully made—in Bohemia, of course! Curiously enough, the native took to the innovation, although with that keen sense of his he must have known that his tiger-tooth or his shell-disc was not of the orthodox material.

But now comes a still more remarkable point. Not content with really beautifully-made facsimiles of these charm objects, in which even the colours showed that those who copied these teeth and shells were real artists, fancy colours became introduced, so that we find cone-shell tops, cowries, tiger's teeth and claws made up in variously coloured glass—blue, green, pink, &c., &c.

And what is still more remarkable, the natives, I understand, positively prefer this novel idea! Again, glass is giving way to celluloid, also in varied colours! and also to the, apparently, great satisfaction of the native. In respect to amber, however, this material is very effective as a substitute, and I very much question if a native, unaware of the electric test, would be able to detect the fraud. Real amber beads of large size are of considerable value, so that here we have an appreciable example of the advantage to the trader in such a cheap substitute as the example before us.

Perhaps, however, the most interesting examples of the collection are to be found in the series of arrowheads. Some of them are really large enough to be regarded as spearheads, but I think this merely an exaggeration in size. This form seems to have commenced as a fairly accurate copy in glass of an arrowhead of white chert, chalcedony, or red cornelian, but with the curious addition of a hole, which, I understand, is for the finger, these charms being worn on the hand. A very important feature, indeed the only mark of decoration, consists of three parallel lines across the base of the arrowhead, doubtless a survival of the lashing by which its prototype was fastened to its shaft. We next find this arrowhead merging into blue and other coloured glass, quite unlike any natural stone, and therefore becoming devoid of meaning (Plate IV., fig. 12a). The next type is of white glass, bearing the Ottoman symbol of the Star and Crescent in gold (fig. 12b.) Then we have gorgeous colouring of no apparent motive, one bearing the picture of a horseman, another a view of an African settlement, another a star arrangement, another the sign of the Christian Cross, two others again have the Crescent mixed up with other designs. Then we get still further advanced types in metal to imitate gold, one of which has a sham diamond let into the Star and Crescent device. Now in all these remarkable ramifications in which the arrowhead has run riot, one thing remains persistent throughout, and that is the three lines symbolical of the lashing to which I have referred. This persistent retention of an obsolete part of an object undergoing a process of evolution is very interesting and has been observed in many other forms, and indeed may be seen in designs of decorative art common around us.[4] Again, we have here also the introduction of the celluloid article, and undoubtedly in a very degraded form. The shape is becoming confused, the colours are unnatural for the most part; they bear no decorative ornament, and even the three "fibre" lines are absent (fig. 13). I should have mentioned that most of the glass forms bear notches on their cutting edge; this I consider to be a survival from the serrated chipping of the original arrowhead of flint.

There are one or two points for consideration suggested by this curious collection. We have seen, even in this small series, how a type differentiates, and how such changes and innovations meet with the approval and even the encouragement of the natives. When and where will it stop? Will it be possible, in a few years, to say what a certain charm originally was? Will the native, if he remains as he is long enough, be able to recognise the rubbish made for him in the European markets, or will these charms, as is usually the case, become degraded into mere ornaments to be worn by the natives upon the inartistic European clothing which seems to be the inevitable costume of the future? Another regrettable feature is the lamentable destruction of aboriginal design by these cheap European trade goods. Already our museums are gradually acquiring specimens illustrating the influences of the European markets; and necklets and ornaments chiefly composed of German beads, but of native arrangement, are commonly met with. The traveller of the near future will, I fear, find in his anxiety to obtain collections illustrative of aboriginal art, that his most valued examples will prove to have simply been "Made in Germany."

Edward Lovett.

↑ See list of exhibits, supra, pp. 337, 338.

↑ A marine-store dealer, who looked out for curious things for me, ha some teeth roughly mounted as pendants. He told me that they were purchased by wild-beast-showmen, who wore them for luck and to save them from being attacked by the animals.

↑ I once heard of a collector of flint implements who labelled all his specimens with oil colours upon the flint itself. He was overhauling his collection and threw several specimens away. The country people found these, and not understanding the mysterious marks upon them, regarded them as charms, and treasured them accordingly.

by Moses Gaster.

(Read at Meeting, 20th June, 1905.)

One of the central figures in the Arthurian cycle is that of the uncanny prophet and magician Merlin. His whole history is surrounded with so much mystery, and so many inexplicable incidents are interwoven in the relation of his birth and his further activity that they have baffled the ingenuity of many a scholar. I now endeavour to make a contribution towards the elucidation of some of the most prominent features of the romance. We must not forget that we are dealing with a written and not with an oral literature. The individuality of the author is more pronounced and the personal equation much easier to determine than in the anonymous remnants which have been retained by the memory of the folk. Each poem is a literary monument which must be critically examined, in the same way as we are now examining and dissecting every other literary remains of ancient times.

And here the personality of the author ought to occupy the first place. I may not have seen all that has been written on these mediæval romances, but as far as I know there is nowhere a critical study of the personality of their authors. We do not find any clear description of their lives and learning, of the circumstances under which they wrote, the influences to which they were exposed and the range of knowledge at their disposal. What did they know and how did they know the things of the past, and what kind of knowledge was popular (i.e. acceptable to their readers and listeners)? The atmosphere of a society colours every product and moulds, consciously or unconsciously, the mental activity of the bard and of the poet.

Two or three points deserve our close attention. In the first place, what was the occupation of the authors, especially the authors of the prose romances which we rnay assume precede every romantic poem? (For the story is first written down, and afterwards taken up by the trouvére and versified, as it is to be sung before the barons at the festive board and later on, when it has become a popular tale or a shorter ballad, among the lower bourgeoisie.) The art of writing was in that early period known to but few. The little knowledge which the Middle Ages possessed was almost a monopoly of the clergy. The clerk, as the name denotes, was in most cases a cleric. The historiographers and chroniclers were as a rule monks and priests, and they wrote as often as not for the special edification of those readers and for the praise and honour of those places, with which they stood in close contact. Every clever writer would enhance and extol the virtues of his special saint and of the church devoted to the memory of that saint. His miracles would be retailed to a believing and loving public almost to the exclusion of any other saint, and the worship of the local shrine was thus continued from olden times in a new setting. The clerical authors drew their inspiration from the religious literature with which they lived in daily connection. They saw things only and solely through the glasses of ancient legendary lore and could not find greater praise for their own saints and heroes than to liken them to those that shone to them from the pages of the old books they so much revered and whose personages seemed to them the acme of human and divine achievement.

The second point to which I must draw attention is that the records of olden times, of persons and places, were not understood by the people unless translated into their own surroundings, dressed in their garb, speaking their language, and behaving in the same manner as their contemporaries were behaving. The heroes of the Homeric poems, the exploits of Alexander, were viewed from a standpoint of the knight and the tournament. Unless Alexander, or say Ajax and Achilles, accommodated themselves to put on the armour of the knight and to act the way the people acted they would have been ignored. The whole ancient world became a living contemporary; the heroes obeyed the code of chivalry with all its complicated etiquette. One can scarcely recognise the old heroes under the new disguise, and it requires a whole system of reconstruction and rearrangement in order to recognise old acquaintances in the knights of the mediaeval romances. Yet the difference is one of detail and setting, not of incident or motif.[1]

And thirdly, what were the literary methods of these authors? A close investigation of the whole romantic literature reveals, side by side with great poetical force, a surprising poverty of invention. The situations and incidents told of one hero are repeated ad nauseam by every subsequent poet. Nay, whole cycles of romances are bodily taken over and applied to other heroes than those of whom they were originally composed. Too well known to be emphasised again is the transfer of the whole Merovingian cycle to the Carolingian. The old kings and knights gave way to new kings and knights, but only the names were changed, the rest remained almost unaltered. The same process of transfer from older and more or less forgotten heroes takes place continually; new names are substituted for the old, and local considerations play a decisive rôle in the transfer. The trouvère who sings the exploits of the ancestor of this baron will use the same language and ascribe the same exploits to the ancestor of another baron when he sings in his hall and at his banqueting feast. The same tendency prevails everywhere and at every time. We meet with it at almost every turn in the epical poetry of the East, and of the West. It is one of the constant factors in the development and evolution of the ballads. Sufficient attention has not been paid to this point. Here and there this transfer and change has been admitted, but not recognised as an universal law, only as an exceptional incident. I on the contrary find in this practice of constant substitution, the very key to the problem of the sources from which the ancient writers have drawn their inspiration. Their skill consisted in giving a thorough local character to a tale borrowed from elsewhere and in so changing the colouring as to impress their contemporaries and to win their applause.

This, then, is my starting-point in the investigation of the sources of the Merlin legend. Our earliest authority for it is the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth.[2] I therefore ask myself:—Given a monk at a local shrine, endowed with some poetical imagination, to what kind of literature could he have had access in England at the end of the eleventh or twelfth century? What mass of tradition could be floating about him, to be caught up and fixed in his writings? and for what kind of audience did he write in the hope of appealing to their sentiments and winning their approval? How great was his naiveté and their credulity? As for the last there is no limit to either, but as for his learning we must take it as restricted within a very narrow compass. Primarily his mind must have been saturated with Christian religious literature largely composed of legendary matter; the innumerable lives of saints and holy anchorites, the vast apocryphal literature, were the great storehouse of his information and inspiration. The Golden Legend was not only the first book printed by Caxton, but also one of the earliest with which every cloister was familiar. It must also not be forgotten that the Apocrypha found their earliest home in England long before any other country in Europe. The oldest poems of Caedmon and the oldest Mysteries written here go back primarily to these apocryphal tales and legends. The very centre of the Graal legend rests ultimately on these uncanonical writings, modified, no doubt, to some extent by other motives and interpretations of a mystical nature, which again have their root in mediaeval Christian mystical speculation upon transubstantiation and the spiritualisation of the Mass and Sacrament.

Can we then find anything in that religious literature which, if stripped of its modern accoutrement and changed into its more primitive form, could be considered as one of the sources for the legends clustering round the name of Merlin? which may briefly be related as follows:

Vortigern, king of Britain, determined to erect an impregnable castle, in which he might defy all attempts of his enemies. Having made this decision he pitched upon a spot on Salisbury Plain, traced out the plan of the fortifications, sent for artificers, carpenters, and stonemasons, and collected all the materials requisite to building; but the whole of these disappeared in one night, so that nothing remained of what had been provided for the construction of the citadel. Materials were, therefore, procured from all parts a second and a third time, and again vanished as before, leaving and rendering every effort ineffectual. Vortigern inquired of his wise men and astronomers the cause of this opposition to his undertaking, and of so much useless expense of labour. They replied: "You must find a child born without a father, put him to death, and sprinkle with his blood the ground on which the citadel is to be built, or you will never accomplish your purpose."

In consequence of this reply the king sent messengers throughout Britain to search for a child born without a father. After having inquired in all the provinces, three out of seven came to the field of Aelecti, in the district of Glevesing, where a party of boys were playing at ball. And two of them quarrelling, one said to the other, "O boy without a father, no good will ever happen to you." Upon this the messengers drew their swords, conceiving they had found what they sought. But Merlin—for he was the boy—after rebuking his companion for his indiscretion, ran to the messengers, and, to their great astonishment, told them the whole circumstances of their mission, assuring them at the same time that Vortigern's wise men were fools, and that all the blood in his veins would not in any way contribute to the solidity of the intended castle. He then conducted them to his mother, who told them the history of his miraculous birth, which is, in short, as follows:—She was one of three sisters, of whom the two first went astray, and she herself was deceived by a (devil) semi-demon in shape of a man. As soon as this was found out she was brought before the Judge to be condemned to death. But St. Blaise, her confessor, believed her, and interfered in her favour to postpone the judgment until two years after the birth of the child. When that event took place St. Blaise baptised it immediately, and counteracted the wicked purposes of the devil. After a time, when the mother was bewailing her fate, the new-born child opened his mouth, and said to his mother, "Be not dismayed, for you shall never be judged to death for my cause."

When the two years were expired, she appeared in court with her child in her arms, when, to the astonishment of all, the infant undertook her defence. He then proceeded to tell that he was the son of a devil of great power, though fortunately rescued by an expeditious baptism from the vicious dispositions of his paternal relations; that he could prove his preternatural descent by revealing all things, past, present, or future. And at the same time he told the Judge some very unpleasant truths about his own descent, which convinced him of the prophetic power of Merlin and of the innocence of his mother. Five years after this, by the advice of Merlin, she assumed the veil of a nun, and spent the remainder of her life in acts of devotion.

Merlin was just seven years old when he was met by the messengers, who, at his entreaty not to shed his blood, promised to spare his life, and they decided to bring him alive to Vortigern.

The journey lasted three days, and each of these added to the admiration of the messengers for their young companion. I will mention here only one of his acts. They passed the first night in a market town, the streets of which were crowded by merchants; and here Merlin after a long silence, burst into a sudden and violent fit of laughter. On being questioned about the cause of his mirth, he pointed out to the messengers a young man who was bargaining for a pair of shoes with uncommon earnestness. And he said: "See you not that young man that has shoon bought, and strong leather to mend them? He thinks that he will live them to wear; but, by my soul, I dare well swear he will be dead before he enters his gate." The event immediately followed the prediction. So also, in two other cases, his prophecies came true.

When he knew of Merlin's arrival, Vortigern rode forward to meet him in great magnificence. The following day Vortigern conducted the child to the site of his projected castle. Merlin, before answering, wished to be confronted with the astronomers who had thirsted for his blood, and asked them why they had counselled the King to slay him. At the same time he revealed to them that they dreaded him, and that they feared he might cause their death if he should live, and therefore they had devised to kill him. He then asked the permission of the King to question them as to the cause of the destruction of the castle, and why it could not be built; and requested that if they should not know it, whilst he did so, he might then do with them what they thought to do with him. The King consented to every thing he asked, and the astronomers felt abashed, and declared humbly that their art had certainly deceived them, but the signs seen in the heavens could not admit another interpretation. They also did not know the cause of the tumbling down of the walls. Merlin proceeded then to say that immediately below the soil were two deep pools of water; below the water two huge stones, and below the stones two enormous serpents, the one white as milk, the other red as fire; that they slept during the day, but regularly quarrelled every night, and by their efforts to destroy each other occasioned an earthquake which demolished the building. Merlin ordered the workmen to dig away the earth. The water was soon discovered, and, by sinking wells, was wholly drawn out. The two stones were found at the bottom, and being removed, exhibited the tremendous serpents, which looked like fiends of hell. The struggle between the two began, and ended with the victory of the white serpent, which, however, disappeared after the combat. Merlin explained the symbolical meaning of this fight, and this forms his famous prophecy, composed or versified by Geoffrey of Monmouth, which forms now the eighth book of his History. It was delivered by a child, and remained obscure until to-day.

To start at once with the final result which it will be my duty to prove, Vortigern and Merlin are here the late and somewhat confused outcome of a more ancient Oriental tale which belongs to the cycle of King Solomon and Ashmedai or Asmodeus. The history of Jovinian in Gesta Romanorum,[3] compiled in the thirteenth century, offers us also one side of that same cycle and shows that the series of legends connected with Solomon had already reached Europe some time before and had become completely assimilated by the writers of the Middle Ages, following the principles of transformation I have sketched above. The differences between the oldest version of the Solomon story and that of Geoffrey show unmistakably that the form only reached Geoffrey after it had undergone many a change in the course of time, for only after the belief in the Incubus had taken deep root in the minds of the people could such an origin as that of Merlin be believed in. In a former stage another origin would be ascribed to the wonderful child. We find one of these intermediary stages in a remarkable book, in which is related the legendary history of Jesus ben Sira, the author of the collection of wise sayings which forms part of the biblical Apocrypha.[4] This legendary biography agrees in the main with the child history of Merlin. Almost every incident is found there, naturally differently set, but all the vital points are there. His mother is the daughter of the prophet Jeremia and the latter is his father in a miraculous manner. One can easily detect that either name is there of a late origin and has been substituted for another now efifaced. In the Slavonic version of the history of the Sibylla,[5] we find another parallel to this peculiar miraculous birth. She is the daughter of King David begotten in a supernatural way, and this origin explains in both cases the ulterior prophetic wisdom of the offspring. (Incidentally I remark here that the Sibylla has been identified with the Queen of Sheba.) In the latter case the child becomes the prophesying Sibylla, and in the former the history goes on to tell marvellous adventures which bring the Sira story in closer similarity still to the Merlin legend. For Sira or Sirach speaks to his mother immediately after birth and comforts her, protecting her against the abuse of the world, almost with the same words as used by Merlin, who also protects his mother and proves her innocence. Sira's wisdom spreads far and wide and excites the envy and animosity of the astrologers and magicians at the court of king Nebuchadnezzar. They decide therefore on his destruction, and induce the king to send armed messengers to bring him, and to put to him such questions as he would be unable to answer; and thus hope to compass his death. The messengers find him, and after some trouble bring him to the king. He is then just seven years old, exactly the same age as Merlin when he appears before King Vortigern. At the court he easily discomfits his adversaries and causes their death instead of his by means of clever riddles. After that a discussion arises between the king and the child, who answers all the questions put to him, as well as cures the daughter of the king who is suffering from a strange disease. He then remains as the trusted counsellor of the king. His further fate is left as mysterious as his birth, and no mention of his death occurs.

We have in this legend a late and modified version of a much older tale, in which the principal actors are on the one side King Solomon, whose place has been taken here by Nebuchadnezzar, who is already turned to a kind of buffoon, and on the other a demon, whose place has been taken by a wonderful child with prophetic powers and of a half-human and half-demoniacal nature.[6] This version proves that at the end of the seventh century (for I place the date of the history of Sira at that period), the old legend had undergone sufficient change to approximate it to the legend of Merlin. But we must assume the existence of a fuller text of this form of the legend in which some of the older incidents had been preserved which have dropped out of the Sira version. In the old Solomon version we find the following incidents, which occur again in the Merlin version but not in the intermediate oneof Sira. Solomon is anxious to build the Temple, but must not use any iron for cutting the stones. The only person that can help him is the king of the demons, Ashmedai, whom his general Benayah captures by a clever trick and who fastens a chain round him upon which the ineffable name of God had been engraved, so that he could not break it. On the way to the king the demon meets a bridal pair, and he weeps; he sees a wizard prophesying and promising to others riches, and he laughs; he sees a man bargaining for a pair of shoes and asking whether they would last him for seven years, and again he laughs; and so he does many strange things until brought before King Solomon, where he continues to act in a similar manner. When asked a few days later to explain the reason of his weeping at a bridal procession and his merriment at the man asking for a pair of shoes that would last a long time, he replies that in the former case the bride would die soon, and that the buyer of shoes which are to last for seven years would not complete seven days.[7]

I pass over other incidents which do not touch our question. It is only important to notice the strange behaviour of the demon and the dialogue which follows between him and the king. This later portion has been influenced afterwards by other legends of such witty dialogues and the putting of riddles to Solomon, or by Solomon to other reputed clever people, and is the ultimate source of the whole cycle of Solomon and Morolf, or Saturn and Marculph.[8] The legend related by Josephus[9] of the riddles put by Solomon and King Hiram through Abdemon may have contributed to introduce a demon into the legend. The Queen of Sheba, who is the hero of other witty contests with King Solomon, according to widely spread Oriental legends, partakes also of the character of a demon or a genie. She has the feet of a demon, and is thus half human and half demoniacal, and she is also identified later on with the prophesying Sibylla. This form is then transplanted into the next development of the legend in Europe, of which we have the Romance of Solomon and Morolf in German and the still more important Slavonic version of Solomon and Kitovras, which Vesselofsky in his exhaustive study[10] of this cycle of legends has proved to be a corruption from Kentauros, the half-human half-animal creature of Greek mythology. The contest then is between Solomon and a being which in consequence of the Christian colouring could no longer be a heathen Kentauros, but follows the lines of the Sirach version, and becomes a child in which the demoniacal half is represented by the father and not by the actual semi-human form.

How did this old legend then come over to England? No doubt in one of those collections of religious legends and tales which formed the library of the cloister, and reveal clearly the atmosphere in which the writers of those times moved. Their scholarship could not be very extensive, and we must therefore try and find the sources of such legends in such books as could be within the reach of the writers of the age. I need not again emphasise the fact that in the so-called Gesta Romanorum (which, according to Oesterley, the greatest authority on the subject, were first collected in England), we find other stories of the Solomon cycle.[11]

I will now give, in as faithful a translation as I can command, a legend which I have found in an old Rumanian manuscript, embedded among miracles of the Virgin Mary and of St. Nicholas. It will prove, I hope, the existence of the missing link between the Oriental tale and the Western Christian counterpart and indicate the way and the possibility how such legends could have become known to the monks in the West. The tale in itself I consider a gem from a purely poetical point of view, and were it not that I bring it forward in this connection I intended publishing it separately as one of the most beautiful tales I have found among the Exempla and Gesta of old.

The tale (in my MS. 71) is called: "How it came to pass that the Archangel Gavriil served an abbot for thirty years," and is as follows:

"Once upon a time it came to pass that the Lord sent the Archangel Gabriel to take away the soul of a widow woman, and, going there, he found her near death and two twins were suckling at her breasts. The angel seeing it took pity upon them and returned without having carried out His command, not having taken the soul of the widow. This happening he was asked by the almighty power of God, why he had done so. He replied, 'For the sake of those two children I did not take the soul of their mother.' Then the Lord told him to plunge into the depths of the sea and to bring up a stone from the bottom. When he brought it up the Lord told him, 'Cleave it in twain.' And the Archangel cleft the stone and he found therein two little worms. 'Who feeds these worms inside the stone at the bottom of the sea? 'asked the Lord. And Gabriel replied, 'Thine abundant mercies, O Lord!' And the Lord said, 'If mine abundant mercies feed these worms inside the hard rock, how much more would I feed the children of men whom I have saved with my own blood!' Whereupon He sent another angel to take the soul of the widow; and the Archangel he condemned to serve for thirty years as servant to an Abbot and to take care of him, and at the end of the thirty years he was to receive the soul of that Abbot and carry it up to the throne on high. And thus the Archangel became the servant of the Abbot, and during all the time he was very humble and meek and obedient, so that the Abbot marvelled at him and all through those thirty years no one saw him laugh. One day the Abbot said to him, 'My son, go and buy me a pair of shoes which are to last one year.' He then laughed. The Abbot, who did not know that the serving brother was an angel, wondered at it, and he sent another brother with him to watch whether he would laugh again. So the other followed him and they came to a place where a poor man sat who cried, 'Give alms, have pity on me,' and the angel laughed again. They met afterwards a carriage. In it sat the bishop and the governor of the town with great pomp and pride and many people following after them. And the angel turned aside and laughed again. In the market place they saw a man stealing an earthenware pot and the angel laughed a fourth time. After they had finished their purchase they returned to the Abbot and the other brother told the Abbot that he had laughed three times more. Then the Abbot asked the angel and said, 'What can this be, what does this mean, my son? For thirty years thou hast been serving me and I have never seen thee laugh, and to-day thou hast laughed no less than four times.' And the angel replied, 'I am the Archangel Gabriel and I was once sent by the Lord to take the soul of a widow whom I found suckling two children at her breast; taking pity on them I spared her, and as punishment for this my doing have I been sent by the Lord over all to serve thee thirty years and to protect thee from all evil, and at the end of the thirty years I am to receive thy soul. Now the thirty years have come to an end and I will then tell thee the reason for my laughing. I laughed first when thou didst order me to buy thee a pair of shoes which were to last for a year, whilst thou hast barely three days more to live. I laughed a second time when I heard the beggar asking for alms whilst he was sitting on a rich treasure without knowing it. I laughed for a third time when I beheld the bishop and the governor riding about with so much pomp and pride, for these were the twins of the widow on whose behalf I had been punished, and for a fourth time did I laugh when I saw clay stealing clay. And this is the reason why I laughed. But do thou now prepare thyself, for the time of our journey has arrived.' The Abbot, hearing these words prepared himself and on the third day he gave up his soul to the Archangel who took it with him on high, where he joined his heavenly band rejoicing. Amen."

Thus far this wonderful tale, full of deep faith and moral beauty, with its impressive lesson of divine providence and not wanting in human pathos and poetry. You will observe that one of the incidents which cause the angel to laugh is absolutely identical with the incident in the legend of Merlin, and as I have already pointed out forms part of the older version of the Solomon Ashmedai cycle. The Rumanian story goes back, as does all Rumanian religious literature, either directly, or indirectly through Slavonic intermediaries, to a Greek source, and from thence it could have reached England at an early period, sufficiently early to form part of the literary repertory of the church or cloister. By means of this religious literature the legends of the East travelled and found a ready home in the West.

But there are still incidents in the life of Merlin which require elucidation. He is forcibly summoned before the king because he is to explain the reason of the falling of the foundations of the new castle. The suggestion of the magicians to sprinkle the foundations with his blood reminds one forcibly of similar devices and legends in the East and in the West. They go back to the practice of human sacrifices which have been practised far and wide and have not yet entirely died out, though in modern times the shadow is immured in the foundation in the belief that the person whose shadow is laid in the foundation of a house is sure to die within the year of the erection, and he would then be the protecting genius of the house. I know this practice as a living one in Rumania, where the gipsies, who are the bricklayers, try to take the measure of the shadow of any person that passes by and build it into the foundation.

More important is the solution of the riddle by Merlin, who orders the builders to dig up the foundations, where they would find two dragons fighting one another, and sure when thus liberated to destroy another and thus remove the cause of the constant falling in of the walls. There is a curious old legend connected with the building of the Temple according to which when they dug for the foundations they came upon the waters of the deep, which surged up and threatened to drown the world, until the advice was given to David (Solomon) to write the wonder-working name of God upon a stone and to place it upon the mouth of the waters of the deep. They would sink and the stone would close the orifice and thus save the world.[12] Yet another legend is current in Europe, due to the teaching of the Elucidarium, that curious handbook of the Middle Ages into which all the natural science of the period with all its fantastic embellishments flowed, and from which many a scholar of the time drew his information about the phenomena of nature. We are told there, in the cosmography of the world, that the earth rests upon water, the water upon a mighty rock, the rock upon two whales, and when these whales move there is an earthquake. There is yet another source, and this approaches the Merlin legend too closely not to be considered the true source of the history of the two fighting dragons. This also is found in a book with which every priest in olden and modern times might be expected to be quite familiar, for it is nothing else than the famous dream of Mordecai in the Apocryphal additions to the book of Esther. The passage in question runs as follows: I am giving here the rendering of the more elaborate Aramaic version (De Rossi),[13] corresponding to XI, 5-11 Greek. "Behold there was a great noise and tumult and the voice of terrible uproar upon the whole land and terror and fear seized all the inhabitants of the earth; and behold there appeared two mighty dragons and they came one against the other to fight and all the nations of the earth trembled at the noise of their fury. And there was a small nation between those two dragons and all the nations of the earth rose up against it to swallow it up. And there were clouds and darkness and obscurity upon the face of the earth . . . and the dragons fought one another with cruel fury and frenzy and no one separated them. And Mordecai beheld and lo! a fountain of living water sprang and flowed between the two fighting dragons and stopped their fight. And the small fountain swelled into a mighty river and overflowed like a mighty sea and swept everything off the face of the earth. And the sun rose up and the rays lighted up the whole earth."

Here we have the floods at the bottom of the castle and the two fighting dragons. The small nation may be represented by the small child. The interpretation by Mordecai of that symbolical dream, just as Merlin interprets afterwards the appearance of these two fighting dragons and their symbolical meaning for the future of the house of Vortigern, and the Sibylla, Sheba, prophesies the future when leaving King Solomon.

Let us now briefly sum up the results at which we have arrived. A king is engaged in the building of an important house (temple, castle). He cannot carry it out without the assistance of a being endowed with supernatural powers (a demon, a half-and-half human and demoniacal being, a child born under extraordinary circumstances and endowed with supernatural wisdom). This being helps the king in his undertakings and defeats the machinations of its enemies (the demon becomes the friend, wife, of the king); the cause of the trouble is found in unquenchable floods or in dragons shaking the foundation; the cause is laid bare and the event is invested with a symbolical meaning (a prophetic utterance), foretelling the future. On the way to the king the supernatural being acts in a curious and apparently unaccountable manner, but in the end his wisdom and foreknowledge is vindicated by subsequent events. All these elements the Merlin legend has in common with the Oriental traditions which cluster originally round Solomon and which have been elaborated in the course of time and in many recensions, the latest of which stands nearest to the Merlin legend.

What then is more natural than to assume that these latest versions lie at the bottom of the legend as elaborated in England by Geoffrey or any of his immediate predecessors, who had, as we have seen, ready access to these masses of legends and tales. They are an essential and highly prized part of the vast religious legendary material, that formed the storehouse of information in those times. Given the practice of assimilating old legends to new surroundings and spelling the past in the letters and ideas of the present, of substituting better known names for less known ones and making a romance out of the ancient tales of Greece and Palestine, then this legend can only be the reflex of the oriental tales and motives, not even skilfully worked up. One can easily detect the seams in the coat. The latter part of the Merlin legend entirely belies the first. There is absolutely no connection between the later adventures of Merlin at the courts of Vortigern, Uter, and his son, and the incidents at the beginning of the tale.

The Lives of the Saints and the tales of pious anchorites, the Bible with its apocryphal additions, suffice completely to explain the origin of the legend and I therefore do not see why we should go outside the immediately possible and probable and venture upon hypothetical assumptions of Celtic or other tales, the existence and higher antiquity of which have still to be proved. Above all it must be shown how any religious writer came tc know of such legends and mythical tales, which to his eyes must have appeared as heathen abominations, which he was bound to suppress and to banish, being the work of the Evil Spirit, and not to be supported by his religious zeal and devotion. I do not wish to exclude the possibility of some lay trouvére introducing later on into the versified poem some other trait of a local origin, and embellishing his tale with elements drawn from different sources, but the proof for this must first be adduced and the premisses from which I started must not be lost sight of nor slightingly pushed aside. Not only must we take cognizance of the atmosphere in which poets and romancers moved, but also recognise that the same forces which act in modern times operated also in those days. A man can only be the product of his time, he cannot soar far above the limitations of education and surroundings. If in order to understand a poet we must go to the poet's land, so also must we go to his library, to his spiritual armoury, to know whence he has taken his spiritual weapons. The genius of the poet does not shine so much in what he says as in how he says it, how he transfigures the elements with which he deals. He is the true alchemist who changes the base metals of spurious and wondrous tales into the gold of immortal poems. Out of simple apocalyptic visions of Heaven and Hell grew the immortal poem of Dante, and from very inferior Italian novels some of the most beautiful dramas of immortal Shakespeare. Lesser geniuses have transformed older Oriental tales into romances of chivalry, religious tales into phantastic compositions which delighted the masses of the mediæval public, prone to listen to everything supernatural and wondrous, not over-critical nor fastidious about the fare placed before them, and satisfied to get a glimpse of another world of men greater and braver and nobler than themselves, and of learning, indistinguishable at the time from witchcraft, by means of which the future could be read as easily as the past, and the dark powers that surrounded them could be subdued and made to serve the best and highest interests of kings and nations.

M. Gaster.

NOTE ON THE ABOVE.

I cannot agree with Dr. Gaster's theory that the prose romances preceded, and were the sources of, the poetical. The main body of expert opinion inclines to the other view; i.e. that lais and metrical romances preceded, and were elaborated into, the longer prose works. Of the authors of these prose works we know nothing; it is doubtful whether Walter Map, to whom the majority of them has been described, ever wrote anything of the kind. M. Gaston Paris has shown that Helie de Boron and Lucas de Gast, the reputed authors of the Tristan, are merely assumed names. Such biographical details as Dr. Gaster sighs for are in the present state of our knowledge quite unattainable.

Nor is there any reason to believe, save in the case of the Grand Saint Graal and Queste, that the author of any one of these romances was a monk. Nor were the monks unfamiliar with secular traditions. They were not born and bred in the cloister, but in many cases came thither after a long experience of court and camp. Why should they have forgotten what they knew in the world?

With regard to the Merlin story, Layamon, who certainly had access to insular and local traditions, gives a very different account of his birth. His father was no "demon," but a glorious golden-clad knight, who appeared to his mother in a dream. The story discussed by Dr. Gaster only touches a very small part of the Merlin-legend. It affects nothing in his later life and offers no parallel to the shape-shifting which was so marked a feature of his career; nor for his "wood-abiding" madness and his prophecies. It is quite as likely that a sage of his fame should have been fitted with a birth-story drawn from a world-wide tradition, as that the whole Merlin story should have sprung from such a tradition. All that Dr. Gaster can claim is to have shown that his birth-story is based upon a tradition not specifically insular, but world-wide, and of great antiquity.

Jessie L. Weston.

[See further, p. 462.]

↑ How the new chivalry came to life at that time is a problem with which I cannot deal here, nor is it an easy task to trace its origin to an indisputable source. Suffice it for us to note the fact that the refined form of chivalrous adventures, the beloved theme of the subsequent romantic literature, does not appear in Europe before the end of the eleventh century, and follows as it were in the wake of the Crusades and as a sequel to the exploits in the East and to the close contact with the new world which opened to the European knight.

↑ See my article on Jewish Sources and Parallels to Early English Metrical Romances, 1807.

↑ Ed. Oesterley (Berlin, 1872); No. 59, p. 360.

↑ Alphabetum Pseudo-Siracidicum, ed. S. Seinschmeider (Berlin, 1858), f. 16b, sq.

↑ V, Gaster, Literatura poptilara romana (Bucuresti), p. 338; L. Miletici, Stornikǔre (Sofia, 1893), vol. ix. pp. 177-180.

↑ It is not here the place to discuss a possible and very plausible connection between this version of the legend and other legends current at that and at earlier times, in Asia, about the virgin birth. Suffice it to remark that in the infant history of Jesus the son of Sirach we find surprising parallels to the apocryphal "Gospel of the Infancy," notably in the incidents of the precocious child and the teacher, which child instead of being taught takes the rôle of the teacher.

↑ Talmud; Treat. Gitten, f. 68.

↑ Gaster, Lit. pop., p. 79, ff.

↑ Josephus, Antiq., viii., 53.

↑ A. N. Vesselofsky, O Solomone i Kitovras (St. Petersburg, 1872).

↑ Such as the contest of Solomon with the demon Asmodeus and his obtaining the miraculous stone-cutting worm Tamir or Shamir (so already in Petrus Comestor's Hisioria Scholastica and in other writers, such as Vincent of Beauvais, etc.); the humbling of Solomon through this very demon, Solomon being changed into King Jovinian. To this cycle belongs also the "Angel and the Hermit," inculcating similar moral teaching.

↑ Talmud; Treat. Succah, f. 53 a, b.

by Walter Gregor.

THE following folk-lore on the weather has been collected for the most part from the fisher-folks along the north-east of Scotland, The village or villages in which the observation has been met with are recorded. Reference has been made to two works on folk weatherlore—viz., Signal Service Notes, No. ix; Weather Proverbs—prepared under the direction of Brigadier and Brevet Major-General W. B. Hazen, Chief Signal Officer of the Army, by H. H. C. Dunwoody, First Lieutenant, 4th Artillery, A. S. O. and Asst., quoted as D., and On the Popular Weather Prognostics of Scotland, by Arthur Mitchell, A.M., M.D., member of Council of the Meteorological Society, etc., quoted as M.

I.—The Sun.

A "low dawn"—i.e., when the rays of the sun, before the sun comes above the horizon, illuminate the clouds only a little above the horizon—indicates foul weather (Pittulie). On the other hand, "a high dawn" indicates a fair day.[1]

Daybreak is called "sky-casting" or "sky-making". If the "sky cast" pretty far towards the south, the day is not to be depended on (Pittulie); if well to the east, it is to be depended on.

When the sun rises "fiery" it is a sign of drought, when "white", "sick", or "sickly", of rain[2] (Pittulie,[3] Macduff, Rose-hearty).

When it rises "white and sick", both wind and wet follow, with the wind from the south or south-west (Rosehearty).

If the sun rises with a glaring, glassy sort of light accompanied with small glittering clouds, stormy weather is looked for that day.

If after the sun has risen for an hour and a half or two hours his rays appear to shoot down to the horizon, the wind in a short time blows from east by south or south-south-east Such rays go by the name of " back-stays" (Findochty). In Macduff they are called "staanarts".

When the sun rises "red as blood" a gale is at hand, mostly from the south[4] (Rosehearty). When it appears red, but not very red, about "man-heicht" above the horizon, a fine day follows, with the wind from the south or south-west (Rosehearty).

If the sun comes up unclouded, shines brightly for a time, and then becomes hid by clouds, a common remark is, " He's p——, an gane t' bed". Such a thing is an indication of dull cloudy weather[5] (Pennan).

When the sun appears "sick and foul", that is, when the sun is covered with a grey or "aisy" (ashy) haze, rain follows in summer, and snow in winter (Rosehearty).

In rainy weather, if the sun sets behind heavy black clouds with "clear holes" in them, "roving", i.e., unsettled, weather follows with the wind westerly.[6]

A black cloud rising in the west towards sunset is called "a growan-up", and is a precursor of a near burst of stormy weather (Pittulie).

A large black heavy cloud in the west when the sun is not far from the horizon is called "a bank", and is the forerunner of a strong breeze from the west. The following are the formulæ:—

"When the sin sets in a clear, Wasterly win' ye needna fear; When the sin sets in a bank Wasterly win' ye winna want." (Buckie.)

"If the sin set in a bank, A westerly ween ye winna want; If she set clear An easterly ween is near." (Macduff.)

A variant of the last line is: —

"An easterly ween will seen be here." (Pennan.)

" Fin the sin sets in a clear, A wasterly win' ye needna fear; Fin the sin sets in a bank A wasterly win' ye winna want." (Crovie.)

"A clear in the nor' never hairm nae man," said a Portessie man. It is a common opinion that all the bad weather " makes up" in the south-west (Portessie).

"When it thickens in the wast," said a man of Portessie, "it will be southerly winds in the firth."

Of a summer afternoon the rays of the sun stretch at times down to the horizon. The sun is then said to be "shaftit", and there is a formula:—

"A shaftit sin That's the sign o' a staanin win'." (Crovie.)

Of a summer afternoon, when the sun is westering, there is at times a peculiar glassy-like glitter on the sea. Some fishermen say that it is an indication of coming stormy weather or of rain (Pittulie).

A halo[7] round the sun is called "a sin-bow", and is regarded as the forerunner of rain. The opening in the halo indicates the point from which the wind is to blow (Pittulie). It indicates foul weather (Rosehearty).

A mock-sun goes by the names of:—Dog (general), falcon (Buckie, Portessie), ferrick (general), sin-ferrick, sin-dog (general). The fishermen of Buckie speak of a "falcon" hunting the sun, and say that it indicates stormy weather. The following rhymes give the folk-notion of its appearance and position with regard to the weather[8]: —

"A sin before, The gale is o'er; A sin behind, The gale ye'll quickly find." (Buckie.)

"A sin afore Ye see no more; A sin ahin' Ye'll shortly fin'." (Crovie.)

"A sin before You'll find no more; A sin behind You're sure to find." (Port Errol.)

"One behind You soon shall find; One before You see no more."

"A dog afore I'll gar you snore; A dog ahin' I'll gar you fin'." (Rosehearty.)

At times the order is reversed:—

"A sin behind Ye soon shall find; A sin before Ye get no more." (Macduff.)

"A sin behind Ye soon shall find; A sin before Ye shall no more." (Footdee.)

"A ferrick a-wast the sin, A sin a-wast the sea; A'll clivv heuks t' nae man, An nae man 'ill clivv heuks t' me."

Inland, about Ordiquhill, among old folks the rhyme was:—

"A ferrick afore, Ayont the score; A ferrick ahin' Ye'U shortly fm'."

II.— The Moon.

"A Saiterday's meen An a Sunday's fill (same moon), Is never good, Nor never will."[9] (Pittulie.)

If the new moon is seen shortly after her incoming, unsettled weather is looked for (general).

The new moon lying on her back,[10] and having the points small, is looked upon as a bad moon (St. Comb's).

The new moon lying on her back,[11] is likened to a cup to hold water, which is emptied during her course. On the other hand, if the new moon stands well up, it is regarded as a sign of good weather (general).

When the new moon is "sharp i' the corners", the saying is: "She's nae a good moon." When she is blunt and round she is a good moon. There is another saying: "She's ower like a coo's horn to be good" (Rosehearty).

When she appears "stracht (straight) and fair-set" she is looked upon as a good moon (Rosehearty).

If there are heavy clouds about the time of moon-rise the fishermen watch what will follow. If the clouds disperse the weather remains good, but if the clouds remain there is foul weather at hand (Rosehearty).

A circle round the moon is called: A broch (general), meen-bow (Rosehearty, Broadsea), meen-ring, the rim (Nairn), the wheel, and the big wheel (Nairn).

In St. Comb's the expression is: "The bigger the bow, the nearer the weather"; and in Cove, "The bigger the ring, the nearer the breeze".[12]

When there is much of a green colour in the circle it is an indication of rain; but if its colour is pale, windyweather is at hand (Cairnbulg).

If the inner edge of the circle is pretty bright in green and yellow, it is an indication of rain (Nairn).

Often there is an opening in it. It indicates the direction from which the wind is to blow (general).

The small halo that appears round the moon, somewhat like a corona goes, by the name of "Cock's Eye" (general) and "Keelan's Ee", i.e., the eye of the small cod-fish. It is believed to indicate stormy weather.

III.—The Stars.

When the stars twinkle much, or when they look near, a change of weather is looked for (Rosehearty).

When the stars in a calm, during weather without frost, begin to twinkle—"lamp"—with more brightness, wind is not far distant[13] (Pittulie).

When the stars are reflected very brightly in the pools left by the tide, and twinkle much—"lamp"—during frosty weather, it is regarded as an indication of a change of weather (Pittulie).

When a large star is near the moon stormy weather is looked upon as not far off (general). It goes by the name of "Madge" in Macduff, and the saying is: "Madge is ower near the meen."

In Portessie the position of the star is taken into account, whether "afore" or "ahin" the moon. If before the moon, i.e., to the west, stormy weather follows; but if behind or to the east, fair weather; and one speaks of the "ship towin the boat", and the "boat towin the ship".

Shooting stars, "sheetin or fa'in starns", indicate the direction to which the wind will blow (Rosehearty).

IV.—The Rainbow.

"A rainbow in the morning Bids the sailor take warning; A rainbow at night Is the shepherd's delight."

"A rainbow in the morning, Sailors take warning; A rainbow at night Is the sailor's delight."[14] (General.)

A piece of a rainbow on the horizon is called Bleerie (Macduff). Bleeze, i.e., blaze (Macduff). Bonnie thing (Macduff). Fire (Buckie). Fiery Ee (Macduff). Fiery teeth, i.e., tooth (Macduff). Giltin (St. Comb's). Rawnie, i.e., small roe (Macduff). Rose (Nairn). Silk-napkin (Crovie). Teeth, i.e., tooth (general).

Robbie Buchan—this name was applied by an old fisherman of Broadsea, near Fraserburgh. He died about fifteen years ago, at the age of eighty. This seems, however, a mere fancy name.

Its appearance is looked upon as forecasting unsettled or "royit" weather, particularly if it is behind the sun (general). The fishermen of Macduff believe that a breeze will blow in a short time from the quarter in which it appears. Thus they say: "There's a rawn (roe) roastin' i' the nor'-wast; we'll hae a breeze shortly."[15]

If a "rose" appears in the south-east with a flood tide, i.e., a flowing tide, and the wind blowing from south-west, the wind shortly blows from S.E. If the tide is ebbing the wind will blow from north-west, with rain (Nairn).

V.—The Aurora Borealis.

The Aurora Borealis is called Dancers, Merry Dancers, Northern Lichts—i.e., Lights and Streamers.

If the Aurora appears during spring, some fishermen (Macduff) observe that soon after the wind blows "into it", that is, from the opposite quarter. When it appears in autumn the wind blows from the quarter in which it makes its appearance.[16]

The Aurora is the forerunner of southerly winds (Rosehearty).

If it remains pretty low on the northern horizon, it indicates no change of weather, but, in the opinion of some, with the wind from the north. If it rises high, and passes "the line", i.e., the zenith (Pittulie), or "the crap o' the air", towards the south-west, stormy weather follows (Pittulie, St. Comb's), with wind from the south according to some.

If the sky is dark below the Aurora, some fishermen assert that southerly winds are at hand.

VI.—Lightning.

Lightning at night without thunder is commonly called "fire flaucht", and is looked upon as the precursor of windy weather (general), "flauchty weather" (Pittulie). About the month of September it indicates a westerly breeze, and within no long time after its appearance. Thus if it appears early in the evening the breeze springs up by morning."[17]

VII.—Thunder.

Thunder in the forenoon is said to be followed by a breeze from the noith or north-east. Thunder in the afternoon is followed by fine warm weather (Rosehearty).

VIII.— The Sky.

"A strong sky" is when great clouds—cumulus—rise along the horizon. The sky is then said "to be growin", and a breeze is looked upon as at hand. The clouds themselves go by the name of "a growan up" (Pittulie).

"A greasy sky" is the indication of stormy weather within a short time (general). The sky has a peculiar glitter all along the horizon, and for a few degrees above it, and is flecked with light-coloured confused clouds having the same glitter. My own observation confirms this weather-sign.

"A stiff sky" is when it is filled up with large white clouds having their edges tinged with red, and indicates unsettled weather.

Forecasts are drawn from the colour of the sky at sunrise and sunset, as the following formula shows:—

"A red sky at night Is the sailor's delight; A red sky in the morning Is the sailor's good warning."[18] (Nairn.)

"An evening red and a morning grey Are certain signs o' a bonnie day."[19] (Rosehearty.)

IX.—Clouds.

If black clouds, shaped somewhat like a whale, and lying in one direction, appear to westward, a breeze from the west shortly follows (Pittulie).

Large blackish clouds on the southern horizon, with a few clouds or clear sky towards the north, i.e., over the sea, indicate a north wind. This sign holds good chiefly in spring and summer. If the sky in the morning is overcast, with the wind from north or north-west, and if there appears on the wind a small space of blue sky, "as much as make a Hielan' man's kilt" (Dumbarton), the clouds soon disperse, and the day proves fine[20] (general).

Small clouds coming up from the horizon in the early morning are called "pack-merchants", and are looked upon as an indication of a breeze from the quarter from which the clouds rise (Pittulie).

There is a kind of cirro-stratus that stretches from a point in each horizon, always widening to the zenith. Some say the wind will in a short time blow along it from one of the ends. If it lies north and south, the wind will shortly blow from the south, according to others; whilst, according to others (Rosehearty), it will blow from either end. There is at times a break in it, which is said to indicate the quarter from which the wind will shortly blow (Rosehearty).

In Shetland it is believed that if it lies from north-east to south-west in the morning the day will prove fine, but if it lies from south-east to north-west the day will be stormy.[21]

It goes by various names: Horn (Macduff), Purse moo (mouth). Skull gab. Skull i' the sky (Pennan), Weatherhead (Shetland), Wind-bow (Rosehearty).

The cloud called "Mare's tail" goes by the names of Goat's hair (general). Vapour (Nairn). Such clouds are looked upon as a sure indication of stormy weather. They for the most part rise towards the south and south-west, no matter from what quarter the wind blows. The storm may not come for two or three days, "as the sin conquers the clouds". For example, as my informants (Findochty) said, if they make their appearance on Monday, then on Wednesday, or at farthest on Thursday, between 11 and 12 at night, the bad weather comes.[22]

The cloud "Mare's tail", accompanied by "mackerel-back" clouds, indicates stormy weather:—

"Mackerel backs and mares' tails Makes lofty ships carry low sails."[23]

There is a particular form of the "Mare's tail" cloud called by the fishermen about Peterhead "the white mare's tail", which they look upon as the sure indication of a coming gale.

When "the sky upsets" towards the north, that is, when large masses of cloud of different hues rise towards the north, or, according to an expression sometimes used, "when rawns are roastin'", from the reddish hues in the clouds, with the wind from the south, the wind for a time overcomes the clouds; but the saying is: "There's warin' atween the north an the south, an there 'ill be nae peace till the north get the victory." The wind goes round to the north, and blows a breeze, it may be for a day or two. When it appears as a big solid mass—as some call it "a kiltin"—and, as it were, not far off, the storm is close at hand[24] (Rosehearty).

When a haze covers the whole sky during moonlight, so as to partially darken the moon, the saying is: "The meen's wydin'" (wading)—rain follows, or snow, if during winter (Keith, inland).

X.— Mist.

A black, wetting mist always goes off with a breeze (Rosehearty).

When mist appears on Mormond, the saying is: "Mormond hiz on 's caip (cap) and rain is near at hand" (Pittulie), particularly if the wind blows from the south. When mist appears on the Knock and Bin, two hills in Banffshire some miles inland, during spring and summer, with the wind blowing from the north-west, the wind commonly goes out to the north.

Mist on Troup Head, a high headland in the parish of Gamrie, Banffshire, with the wind from the south or southeast, indicates a standing wind (Macduff).

XI.— Seasons, etc.

A common saying is: "As lang foul, as lang fair." It is a general belief that a severe winter is followed by a fine summer.

The wind blows for three months from the same quarter from which it blows at twelve o'clock on the Rood Day. This refers to O.S. As the fisherman said: "Man may change and styles, but not seasons" (St. Comb's).

During the month of March the saying is, that however long the wind blows from the south-east the north-west pays it back (Pittulie).

If the wind does not change on Easter Sunday, "Paiss Sunday", the wind will blow for six weeks from the same quarter (Pittulie).

The first twelve days of January indicate the kind of weather for each month of the year (Pitsligo, inland).

XII.— Wind.

When a soft, warm wind blows from the south in the Moray Firth, the wind will shortly veer to the west and rise to a breeze.

In fine weather with a land wind, if the "sang o' the sea" arise and come towards the land, that is, against the wind, and if the wind "answers the sang an' goes roon t' the back o' the sang", that is, goes out to seaward after the course of the sun, fair weather follows next day. If the wind does not "answer the sang", then a breeze is at hand (Pittulie).

If the wind backs at sunrise, which the fishermen of Pittulie call "harsin the sin", a breeze follows (Pittulie).

If the wind blows from the west or north-west, and towards evening goes to the north, it is called the "wife that goes out at even", and soon springs up into a breeze (Macduff).

If the wind blows from the south-west, with blackness in the west and a bank of cloud to the east, the wind backs to the south before the blackness in the west, and rises to a breeze (Pittulie).

XIII.-Frost.

If hoar frost, or "white frost", continues for two days, it commonly ends on the third day with foul weather.

"Three white frosts all in a row Ends either in frost or snow",

is a Kincardineshire rhyme. It is looked upon as a forerunner of a breeze (Rosehearty).

The fishermen have a saying that frost "grips doon, or conquers, the ween and the sea" (general).

XIV.— Hills.

If distant hills are seen clearly, rain is not far off. When the hills on the north side of the Moray Firth are seen from the south side in Banff and Aberdeenshire, a change of weather is looked for within a short time (general).

XV.—Living Creatures.

The dog[25] eating grass, and the cat washing its face,[26] are indications of rain not far off (general, inland).

The "louper-dog" (the porpoise) plunging through the sea indicates approaching stormy weather (St. Comb's, Pittulie, etc.). It goes against the wind.

When sea-birds fly high stormy weather is not far off (Portessie).

When sea-birds fly high and wheel round and round before the wind, a breeze is not far on". When the breeze comes the birds face it (Macduff).

When sea-birds fly high in circles stormy weather is at hand. When they fly to sea eastward it is a sign of settled weather (St. Comb's).

Birds flying high and wheeling round and round indicate a "changin win" (Pittulie).

If the scratt (cormorant) fly through the wind at night it is an indication of fair weather, but, if the bird fly before it, stormy weather is looked for (Macduff).

When the mawr or queet, in the early morning, utters out at sea the notes ur-r-r-r, "a fine easterly haar is comin up" (Pittulie).

When gulls fly high "in the top of the air" a northerly breeze is not far off (Macduff).

If ducks dart through the pond they are swimming in and flap their wings, it is looked upon as indicating a coming breeze (Keith, inland). When doing so, they are said to be "leukin for ween."[27]

When swallows fly low stormy weather is at hand.[28]

A larger number of midges than ordinary is an indication of rain.

When herring rise and swim in shoals on the surface, which some fishermen (Macduff) call "brushin", the saying is: "The herrin's brushin; they'll get a gale i' their tail."

When mackerel rise to the surface and rush through the water flapping their tails, a breeze is approaching (Pittulie, Rosehearty).

If salmon are seen leaping in numbers a breeze is approaching (Macduff).

When the "saithe"—the young of the cod-fish—comes to the surface in shoals, a breeze is looked for (Rosehearty).

Appendix.

The Milky Way is called "The White Strip" (Nairn).

John Stro is the name of the "Man in the Moon". He is the Jew that gathered sticks on the Sabbath day in the Wilderness, and was stoned to death (Keith); and he is spoken of as "the man wi' the birn o' sticks on 's back".

The three stars of Orion's Belt bear the name of "The Lady's Elvan" (ell-wand); and the Hyades that of "The Sawen Starns" (Keith).

Venus, as the Morning Star, is called "The Star of Bethlehem" (Nairn).

Walter Gregor.

↑ D., p. 78, under "Low and High Dawn".

↑ Ibid., p. 78, under "Pale Sunrise".

↑ D., p. 78,

↑ D., p. 78.

↑ D. p. 75, under "Sunrise".

↑ D., p. 76, under "Cloudy Sunset and Dark Clouds".

↑ D., p. "77, under "Halo".

↑ D., p. 79, under " Sun-dogs". M., p. 16 (7).

↑ D., p. 59.

↑ D., p. 61, under " New Moon".

↑ M., p. 16 (14).

↑ D., p. 60, under "Halo", and p. 6i, under "Moon Halo". M., p. 16 (6).

↑ D., p. 73, under "Flickering," and p. 74, under "Twinkling".

↑ D., p. 71, under "Night and Morning Rainbow". M., p. 16 (8).

↑ M., p. 16 (13).

↑ M., p. 16 (9)

↑ M., p. 16 (11).

↑ M., p. 13 (3).

↑ D., p. 44 under "Evening and Morning".

↑ D., p. 43, under "Blue Sky".

↑ Compare D. p. 47, under "Salmon Clouds".

↑ M., p. 14 (5).

↑ D., p. 45, under "Mackerel Clouds".

↑ D., p. 42, under "Black Clouds".

↑ D., pp. 29, 30, 31, under "Cats and Dogs".

↑ M., p. 20 (B.) (4). Biblioteca de las Tradiciones Españoles, vol. iv, pp. 87, 89.

↑ D., p. 40, under "Waterfowl".

by Eliza Gutch.

FIVE years ago, "as I walk'd through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place" called Hanover, and tarried there awhile. Encouraged by the assurance of Browning, that—

"Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city,"

I formed an enthusiastic resolve to tread in the footsteps of the "Pied Piper", and to do what I could to investigate the history of that old North-German tradition, smiled on by the genius of our great poet, and added within the last halfcentury to the common stock of English nursery-delights. The undertaking was greater than I anticipated. I had not realised that to one with a scarce school-girl knowledge of the language of the country, research would prove even more difficult than it is wont to be; and I had trusted too blindly to Browning's exactness in the matter of topography. That "Hamelin Town's in" Hanover, and not in Brunswick, was of no real consequence; but that "by famous Hanover city", translated into prose, should signify over twenty-five miles off—fifty there and back, to be impressed on the memory by the "calm deliberation" of a State railway—was a fact of serious importance to one who had but little leisure for excursions. However, I did contrive to trot my hobby thrice to Hameln, and I set my seven senses loose on the track of the Piper. Of course they were at fault: the Pied One ran to earth six centuries ago, and may not since then have visited "the glimpses of the moon"; but, in spite of that, I derived some sort of satisfaction from my introduction to the place; and as I have since, personally and per alios, taken much pains to get at the literature of my subject, I hope I may be borne with as I attempt to set a portion of the result before the readers of Folk-lore.

Hameln is a charming old town, and if you go there knowing that it is one of the shrines of folk-lore, and go in sympathetic mood, you will feel as if you had passed out of every-day environment into story-land, and may wonder whether you have done so in a dream, or whether the bliss be yours in tangible reality. If in a dream, that would account for divers incongruities, and take away the shock of intrusive modernisms for which it were folly to blame the 11,000 who make the place their home, and whose main care it cannot be to live up to the picturesque tradition of which it is the scene. A very little make-believe, an equal knowledge of the history of architectural styles, and then, when you are in the quaint main street, whatever season and whatever year it be for other folk, it is with you the festival of SS. John and Paul, the 26th of June 1284; and you set your ears to catch some echo of the strain which wiled the lost but never-yet-forgotten children forth. Shortly after the Osterstrasse is entered on, a fine early 17th century dwelling, on the left, is safe to claim attention; it goes by the name of the Rattenfanger (i.e., Ratcatcher's) Haus, and is probably so called because the end which abuts on the Bungelosestrasse has an inscription,[1] in German, more archaic than the building itself, commemorating the Outgoing. At the other extremity of the Osterstrasse is a similar record[2] on the Wedding- or Hochzeitshaus, a fine structure erected between 1610 and 1617 for marriage festivities, but diverted from its purpose since 1721.[3] Behind rises the spire of the parish church of S. Nicholas, which may still enwall stones that witnessed how the parents prayed, while the Piper wrought sorrow for them without. On Sunday morning, too, some of the story-tellers say it was; but June 26th, 1284, was Monday; and in 1376, S. Mary Magdalene's Day, July 22nd, another alleged date (acceptable to Browning), fell on a Tuesday, if tables in Sir Harris Nicolas's Chronology of History be trustworthy. An ancient minster greatly rejuvenated, formerly the collegiate church of S. Boniface (Bonifatiusstift), is some little distance off on the left, hard by the bank of the Weser, which flows west of the town, not south, as Browning says, and goes with a sweep that would soon carry a horde of rats out of reach of flesh-pots. Golden mice were made by the Philistines[4] in Samuel's time when they were delivered from the plague that marred their land; but that may have been a golden age: this is an age of gingerbread, and the Hameln people manufacture rats accordingly. It will be understood that I use the word "gingerbread" generically: the artists work in sugar, chocolate, and other plastic materials, as best it pleases them. The card conveying "Grüsse aus Hameln" is nibbled round the edges to show its authenticity. In short, in tourist-season the staple trade seems to embody itself in rodents, for which the noted flour-mill on the river, in more senses than one, provides the raw material. I must also add that if the sapid sewers be quite free from rats, the rats neglect an opportunity.

In one window tin whistles, which bore token of being of British origin, were ticketed as "Rattenfanger Pfeifen", and though, when a lad with me put one of them to his lips, not a ridiculus mus came forth, it was plain that the children around were all alert and curious. Possibly, however, being warned by their elders against Pipers, as perils peculiar to the district, they may have planted their feet firmly and looked about for the police. In 1887 photographs of the beguiler abounded; not of course of the original Bunting, but of a well-fed burgher who personated him in June 1884, when Hameln made the best of her loss by celebrating that most famous incident in her history with pageant, speech, and pleasantry, thus causing, as somebody has observed, a tragedy to be the motive of a festival.[5] Two days the revels lasted: on the first, Herr Pietsch stood out and piped, and a multitude of children dressed in grey, with rat- like masks and india-rubber tails, swarmed after him; on the second, his music gathered little ones, in old-world garb, and he led them to a quasi-"Koppenberg"—but, like the King of France's army, "they all marched back again"! Julius Wolff, who has woven a charming poem[6] out of the Rattenfanger story, was there, and so was Victor Nessler the Alsatian composer, whose very popular opera[7] is for the most part a musical rendering of Wolff It were vain to speculate how many shades of other Hameln-stricken authors were hovering around. I think this festival may have quickened Holbe, the sculptor's remarkable figure, of which I have a miniature reproduction here; as also a photograph which shows the expression of subtle malignancy far better than the cast. At the time of my visits the town sought money to have this figure erected in the Pferdemarkt. A companion statuette was of Gertrude, the fisher-girl, who was Singuf's—so Wolff calls him—love. The pair are already honoured in the fountain here represented.

When I came to seek for the Koppel, or Koppenberg, where the children of 1284 are said to have vanished, it seemed to me as if I were directed in turn to all points of the compass; and I thought then, and have thought ever since, that there is something in the atmosphere of Hameln which tends to bewilderment and suggests enchantment. I sometimes felt there as if I were the victim of a spell; and maybe some tricksy Ariel was making me his sport. The fact that I and my companions spoke as barbarians had possibly something to do with the difficulties; then, too, certain of the people appealed to may have fancied we were in quest of the Klüt, the hill to which Pietsch led his followers on the festal day; and others may not have known—as at the outset I did not—that what is now called the Bassberg was, according to some, the mediaeval Koppen. Koppen is suggestive of heads, and Dr. Otto Meinardus, Royal Archivist at Berlin, who has bestowed much research on the records of his native Hameln, believes that the scene of the Disappearance was the two-headed Teutberg, which commands the Hildesheim and Hanover roads, and bars the end of the Weser valley,[8] This would be a far cry for the little children; but the Bassberg is within a stroll from the town, and I have but little doubt that I meditated on its summit on the occasion of my third hunt at Hameln. I am not as easily convinced as were the writer and the illustrator of a pleasant paper in the Magazine of Art[9]; the hill was pointed out to them from a distance, they seem to have gone by instinct to the proper knoll, and (to quote) "we pitched at once on the spot where we felt sure the laughing children had disappeared; a huge wild rose-bush, glowing with scarlet hips, was growing there. It must have been a lovely sight of flowers some months before. We gathered a bunch of the scarlet fruit as a memory of our visit. There was nothing besides this rose-tree to mark the scene of the mysterious catastrophe."

It is a curious coincidence that about 1654 roses[10] were all that Erich could discern on a sculptured stone on the Koppen, which was regarded as a memorial of that Exodus Hamelemsis of which he was writing. Only a few years ago there were old people who professed to remember two stones in the form of a cross upon the hill[11]; and I myself fell in with a young man, of some twenty summers, who seemed to assert that he had often seen the record; yet I looked and looked in vain, and was scarcely solaced when Dr. Meinardus wrote to me[12]: "A memorial stone with an inscription on the so-called Koppen you will never find. If such a thing ever existed, which is doubtful, it is no longer there."

Is the episode of the Pied Piper credible? is the question that has been for some time before me; and, at the risk of incurring your scorn, I answer that it is. A few accretions, such as no tradition or even frequently re-written story is likely to avoid, must of course be cleared off; but this may easily be done, and then I think nothing will be found remaining that any reverent-minded folk-lorer need decline to hold.

Early in the present century an account of the Hameln disaster was distilled from ten different sources (four only of them to be sipped of at the British Museum) by the Brothers Grimm, for their Deutsche Sagen[13] where it runs essentially as follows. In the year 1284, a strange man appeared at Hameln wearing a many-coloured coat, which is said to have earned for him the name of Bundting. He gave himself out to be a rat-catcher, and promised to free the town from mice and rats for a stated sum, which the burghers agreed to pay. He drew out a little pipe, sounded it, and straightway all the rats and mice ran from the houses and gathered round him. He led them to the Weser, and, when he trussed up his garments and entered the water, they rushed in after him and were drowned. Then the burghers, being freed from the plague, repudiated their contract with Bundting, who departed in hot anger. On the Festival of SS. John and Paul, the 26th of June, at seven o'clock in the morning, or, as some say, at midday, he appeared again in the guise of a hunter with a curious red cap on his head, and he sounded his pipe in the lanes. At once came forth, not rats and mice, but children—boys and girls of four years old and upwards—and, moreover, the Burgermaster's grown-up daughter. All followed him, followed him out till they came to a hill, where he and they disappeared. So said a nursemaid, who, babe in arms, had felt the attraction from afar. Parents hastened, crowding through the gates, to seek their darlings, messengers were sent over land and water to pursue the guest; but everything was vain. In all, 130 children were amissing. Some have it that two—one blind, the other dumb, and apparently also deaf—came back again: the former, unable to point out the place of disappearance, could yet tell well enough why the Piper had been followed; while the mute knew the place, but had been insensible to the sound. A little lad who set off running in his shirt, and returned to fetch his coat, took up the pursuit too late to share the lot of his playmates.

This I believe to be a fair presentment of the story as it would now be told by one whose memory had not been led astray by latter-day literary adepts, who have elaborated the theme. The curious in chronology may perhaps take exception to my date, for authors offer a bewildering variety, ranging from 1259 to 1378. Sometimes a theory is accountable; sometimes the habit of there or ness. 1531 and 1556 were dates that, in earlier times, appeared one under the other at Hameln upon its Neuethor,[14] above a legend stating that the gate was erected 272 years after the Outgoing: 272 subtracted from 1531 gives 1259; from 1556, 1284; result, uncertainty. A writer in 1556,[15] speaks of about 180 years ago; another, in 1568,[16] puts it at about 190; while in 1643[17] it is a matter of 250 years since. 1284 has, at present, vogue in Hameln. I fancy Browning's direct authority for 1376 was Verstegan.[18]

I have an impression that I range myself with a very small minority in accepting the account of the Outgoing just given as being approximately true. The explanations that have been offered to make it more credible to the majority may be glanced at. (1) It has been elaborated out of a possible mock-fight on the Koppen, in which earnest succeeded jest, and many young men were slain, and so lost to their parents. (2) An earthquake or a landslip engulfed the 130. (3) Tilo Colup, pretending that he was the Emperor Frederick II returned from the Holy Land, attracted many followers in the latter part of the 13th century, and missing Hameln lads may have been among them. (4) In 1286, Jews are said to have murdered children in a mill at Fulda: Hameln being originally Quern Hameln, the sorrow was possibly imputed to her by error. (5) There was strife in Brunswick in 1281 between Duke Albrecht and his sons. One of them, being arrested and imprisoned without warning, his sudden removal may have been multiplied by 130.[19] (6) Fein[20] believed that he unmasked fable when he maintained the slaughter of many sons of Hameln at the battle of Sedemünde (1259), and the carrying of others into captivity, to be the groundwork of the legend. He observed that on a sculptured house in the Papenstrasse the Piper was followed by youths bearing spears.[21] Still, setting aside the fact that it is hardly likely the glory and fate of war would be reduced to anything as ignominious as the Koppen catastrophe, the two events were recorded as separate items in one of the municipal registers[22]; and the result of the fight was annually commemorated in the parish church of S. Nicholas[23] and at the Bonifatiusstift[24] on S. Pantaleon's Day. (7) Some authors give a mystical interpretation; Dr. Busch,[25] for instance, regards the Piper as the Aryan death-god; and others talk of Dame Hulda, and see souls in the rats as well as in the children. (8) Our own countryman, Mr. Baring-Gould, writes: "The root of the myth is this: the Piper is no other than the wind, and the ancients held that in the wind were the souls of the dead."[26] (9) I do not recollect whether those universal resolvents—Dawn and Darkness—have been called into requisition, but, if I myself were asked to give the mot d'énigme, I should say with confidence Bunting is an apt designation for the source of colour, and Kockerill, another name applied to him in story,[27] suggests "the bird of dawning". We need not hesitate to recognise the sun in the pied musician, who banishes those nocturnal marauders, rats, and renders minor heavenly bodies invisible by his brightness. It is on such lines that the story of Apollo Smintheus is interpreted.[28]

But now let us turn from these ingenuities, and set ourselves to consider what claim the story of the Pied Piper may have to be received as an essentially true if not wholly unvarnished tale. How does it appear when we seek for a record of it in writings of the 13th century, in books which must have been penned before this more than nine-days' wonder had ceased to interest, and long ere wounds in Hameln hearts would heal? Martin Schoock, who essayed to demolish what he called the Fabula Hamelensis in 1659, assures us that no contemporary left note of the event, and gives us to understand that there was an ominous consensus of silence concerning it for some 250 years, until 16th century authors busied themselves to make it known. He delivers himself in Latin; but, being interpreted, he seems to say: "Under the Emperor Rudolf of Hapsburg, who began to reign A.D. 1272, lived the compiler of the Annales Colmariensium, who with his continuator reaches 1302; of all those whom I know, he is the most ignorant of the laws of history, and descends even to such poor matters as the details of the harvest and vintage, and of the sale of ripe strawberries, cherries, and pears in the June of 1283. Who would believe that an author relating such minutiæ would neglect a prodigy whose fame ought to have filled, if not all Europe at least all Germany? Also Werner Rolewinck a Laer, a Westphalian, a man deeply learned in the Scriptures, and in matters secular .... though living near Hameln and stopping at 1464, does not gather this flower, the exit of the children from that town, into his nosegay (Fasciculi Temporum). Like remark might be made of the author of the Magnum Chronicon Belgici, ending 1474, who revels in all kinds of historic trifles; of Trithenius, Abbot of Spanheim, who snatched from darkness whatever was worth remembering in his Chronicon Hirsangiense ending 1370, and Spanheiniense ending with 1502; of Hartmann Schedel, author of the Nuremburg Chronicle, down to 1492; Nauclerus, Chancellor of the University of Tubingen, whose record goes through several generations to 1500: and of Albert Crantz, author of a Saxon history reaching to 1520. Even Paulus Langius, though there be rare things in his chronicle, which ends in 1515, omits this story, nor is there a trace of it in Johannes Aventinium. Hence we are of opinion," adds Schoock, "that this affair is an invention of superstition and monkish ignorance."

Well, possibly it may be all this; but I cannot myself allow that an alleged event of medieval times ought to be stamped out of credence, merely because it was not chronicled by certain contemporary scribes, whose works we happen to know, but of whose idiosyncrasies, disabilities, motives, and scope we cannot adequately judge. A case in point is the following: I confess I began to sympathise with the incredulity of Schoock when I learnt from Sprenger[29] that John de Polde or Pohle takes no notice of the Outgoing in his Chronicon Hamelense, for he worked at it as an aged man in 1384, and if he came of native stock,[30] his own father may have been in peril from the Piper, may have been the very babe who kept the nursemaid back from joining in the rout. This consideration loses cogency when we know the limit of the undertaking. Meinardus[31] tells us that we ought not to wonder at Pohle's silence, because he was merely engaged on a history of the Collegiate Church at Hameln, of which he was a canon, and that he did not meddle with municipal matters or speak of political events. Let us give the good man credit for minding his own business, and acknowledge that he had nothing to do with ours. We should remember, too, that although the narrative in which we are interested did not engage the pens of the aforesaid writers, it may nevertheless have put in motion those of other scribes whose parchments have been less successful in the war with Time. When we reflect how strangely rare copies of whole editions of comparatively modern books have grown, we ought not to find it difficult to realise that hundreds of unique MSS. would utterly pass out of being through fire, water, and violence in the blustrous Middle Ages. With them would perish the sole record of some episodes which our after-times have never heard of, and likewise the only documentary evidence of others that, until the invention of printing, would be handed on to later ages by tradition. It is with these latter that I would have you class the Hameln story, if I should fail to show there is reason for thinking that its preservation was never for long, if indeed at all, confided to the popular memory alone.

From the 16th century, when men's minds were roused into fertility by great religious agitation and by the impulse of the new learning, and when the fresh faculty of multiplying copies had encouraged the making of books and lessened their chance of extermination, we have abundant testimony that concerns us. The earliest I can quote is that of Fincelius, a Doctor of Medicine, who—to translate the quaint German of his Wunderzeichen[32] (1556). says: "Of the Devil's power and wickedness will I here tell a true history. About 180 years ago, on S. Mary Magdalene's Day, it came to pass at Hammel on the Weser in Saxony, that the Devil went about the streets visibly in human form, piped and allured many children, boys and girls, and led them through the town-gate towards a mountain. When he arrived there he disappeared with the numerous children who had followed him, and nobody knew what became of the children. Thus did a girl who had followed them afar report to her parents, and thereupon diligent search and inquiry was soon made over land and water to find out whether the children had possibly been stolen and led away. But nobody could tell what had become of the children. This grieved the parents terribly, and is a fearful example of divine anger against sin. This is all written in the town-book of Hammel, where many persons of high standing have read and heard it."

"Written in the town-book of Hammel", he says, and so say not only Hondorff[33] (1568), who took Fincelius on trust, and later men who nourished themselves on Hondorff; but the assertion is confirmed by Wier, who visited Hameln in 1567,[34] and seems to have made personal examination of all the evidence it could adduce in support of its fame. He had published his book on the "Delusions of Devils", De Præstigiis Dæmonorum, in 1563, the second edition in the following year, but showed no sign of knowing anything of that "modern instance", the Pied Piper. He had heard of it, however, before a third issue of his work was ready at Basle in 1566, and he made it the subject of a short paragraph. A few months later, he sought the locus in quo, and became as enthusiastic a believer as even I could wish in the authenticity of all that he was shown and told. The 4th edition of De Præstigiis, which came out in 1577, gives token of this: after repeating the narrative, he says in Latin, what amounts in English to: "These facts are thus written in the annals of Hammel and are religiously guarded in the archives; they are to be read also in the sacred books of the Church, and to be seen in the painted panes of the same; of which fact I am an eye witness. Besides, as confirmation of the story, the older[35]magistracy was accustomed to write together on its public documents: "in the year of Christ and in that of the going out of the children," etc. Moreover, care is taken to this day that there should be a perpetual memorial of the event, for the sound of a drum [tympanum] is never allowed in that street along which the children went forth, and even if a bride be led from it, there must be no music till she has passed out, nor are dances performed there. In consequence of this the street is actually called Burgeloscstrass"—or, as Meinardus corrects, Bungelosestrasse, or Drumless Street, Bunge signifying Trommel. In 1634 Richard Vestegan[36] writes that "no Ostery" is "to be there holden."

There is a Bungelose,[37] or Bungenlos[38] (the name is variously spelt) Street now at Hameln in which no kind of music is permitted, excepting that which steals in through the air, as I have heard it do, from some player otherwhere. I thought I had caught the burghers napping; but no; the notes were for the enlivenment of an adjacent street, and no by-law could forbid them to creep over and through the houses into the lane sacred to a never-forgotten grief. That the Bungelosestr. was not invented, as some have suggested, in the middle of the sixteenth century, to furnish a substantial background to the Pied Piper is evident, since Dr. Meinardus's discovery[39] of a document at Hameln, in which, under the date Friday, the 16th of September 1496, occurs the phrase "uppe der bungehelosenstrate". It is, of course, open to anyone to say that an odd, because probably corrupt, name was pressed into the service of our legend. My own doubt hovers, rather, over the point that a tuneless thing like a drum should be taken as the representative musical instrument, in a case where a pipe would have been far more typical and suggestive.

The memorial-glass "on the great church window painted", which Browning sang, was probably of that which Wier saw. It was not in the Minster, but in the parish church of S. Nicholas, at the east end. "Anno 1571" is at the base of the inscription, as quoted by Schoock from Erich's Exodus Hamelensis, a work not in the British Museum Library, and at present beyond my reach. This must refer to a restoration of the glass at the instance of Friedrich Poppendieck, which Bunting notes.[40] Wier's visit was four years earlier than that, namely in 1567. By 1654, when Erich wrote, the legend was somewhat imperfect,[41] but one can see that it told of the leading forth of the Hameln children to the Koppen on that fateful day of S. John and S. Paul. The "storied window" was turned to good account by Pastor Letzner, 1590, who, in his Chronicle concerning the foundations at Hildesheim, exclaims with reference to it,[42] "O you dear Christian parents, do not behold and gaze on this painting, merely as a cow or some other irrational beast looks at an old door; but ponder it in your hearts in a Christian manner, and do not let your children run astray, so that the Devil gets power over them, as may soon and easily happen." If you ask me what became of this interesting glass, which Seyfrid in 1679 mentions in the Medulla as then existing, I think I can give you a hint. I supposed the French—who are the "Oliver Cromwells" of the Continent—had made an end of it during their occupation of Hameln, when they used the Marktkirche as a hospital; but I fear the blame is more likely to be our own. The building served as a storehouse for booty after the battle of Minden in 1759, and that being disposed of, the English turned it into a flour-magazine. According to the indignant Sprenger,[43] "they destroyed pulpit, altar, and organ, an outrage which the French, though enemies, had not permitted. The paintings were burnt, and many of the organ-pipes stolen."

We will next consider what written testimony the men of Hameln could present to the enquiring Wier. He speaks of Church books in the plural, and there is no reason to doubt that he saw them; but they are all gone somewhither by this time, and, as far as I know, only a single volume has been specifically named,[44] a Passioniale of the Middle Ages, the title-page of which was inscribed in red ink, with an invocation to the B.V.M., and some poor Latin verses[45] about the swallowing up of the children, that had a prose version[46] underneath. These things are attributed to the fourteenth or fifteenth century. I cannot help the vagueness, though I regret it. The Passionale belonged to the Minster, and the entries were copied from it by Pastor Herr (who died 1753) into one of the two books of miscellaneous matter about Hameln, which it was his pleasure to collect.

Among municipal archives, it is likely that Wier saw, because from their very raison d'être they were just what he would seek to see, the Brade and the Donat, the former a book of historical documents, the latter the Codex Statutorum. Now it is important to note that he went away satisfied with the evidence set before him in 1567, because, eighteen years later, Franz Müller copied the Brade into a new book, and the old one, that inspected by Wier, which dated from 1350, and contained memoranda relating to yet earlier times, disappeared, as Hameln things have a trick of doing. The Donat, also held to be a transcript of one gone before, begins with the thirteenth century. Good Pastor Herr made a translation of it in the eighteenth, but that, de more, has vanished. In the Donat we have examples of dates being accompanied by a reference to the "Outgoing", and perhaps these may be the instances which impressed themselves on Wier. It so, the fact must be regretted, for they have been denounced as interpolations and forgeries by competent judges.[47] The handwriting of the entries and of the memorial date are said to differ, and that of the latter to be of the sixteenth century. The Brade does contain a paragraph anent the children, and that, for many reasons, it is important I should quote. It may be Englished thus: "In the year 1284, on the day of John and Paul, on the 26th day of the month of June, 130 children, born in Hameln, were brought out of the town by a piper,, dressed in many colours, led through the Osterthor to the Koppen by Calvary, and lost." To this effect are all the inscriptions I have ever seen, or ever read of anybody else seeing in "Hamelin Town" itself, always excepting the verses in the Passionale which run "omnes eos vivos Calvaria sorpsit, that may be the result of poetical licence; the sober prose gloss attached to them does not venture beyond "qui intraverunt montem Calvarium".

But what of the rats? Yes, what of the rats? When did they creep into the story? I believe our friend Wier was the first to assert in print that the Piper was actuated by anger against the town-council for its repudiation of his claim as vermin-destroyer. He said it before he went to Hameln, in the third edition of De Præstigus, and after his return he repeated it, in the fourth. Now he would scarcely have done that if his version had been at variance with that current at head-quarters. That he, or we, should find the tale of civic chicanery set forth in municipal records, and engraven on public buildings, would be to expect too much of human nature. But Wier said the Piper was hired to entice away glires, dormice; and Kirchner of Fulda—he wrote[48] in 1650—spoke of the folk being plagued by mice and shrew-mice (murium soricumque agminibus), but in the meantime, 1588, Pomarius had introduced his readers to die grosse Ratzen, which infest most modern accounts of the comedy that had such tragic close.

The question as to the kind of rodent that raged at Hameln is one of much interest, though I must not do more than glance at it. Rats are rare in folk-tales, I believe, and even when there, have often been evolved out of original mice. Gubernatis has bare mention of them in his Zoological Mythology. Naturalists have taught that mus rattus, the black rat, found its way to Europe only about the beginning of the sixteenth century, and that the brown, m. decumanus, did not reach the western countries of the Continent until the middle of the eighteenth. How did either contrive to swarm at Hameln some hundreds of years before it got there? This is really the most incredible part of our story! Is Science at fault, and is Literature keener at smelling a rat than she? Mohammed Tabari[49] says that the voyagers in the Ark were put to straits by rats, so Noah passed his hand down the back of the lion, who sneezed, and the cat, which did not exist before then, leaped out of its nose, and went for the rats—but perhaps we have hardly time to go back as far as the Deluge. It may suffice to remind the reader of what a friend[50] has pointed out to me, that, in the eleventh century, Norman mures et rati annoyed the blessed Lanfranc,[51] who on one occasion conveyed a demonstrative cat in a bag ad comprimendum furorum illorum; whilst in the twelfth century, Giraldus Cambrensis[52] twice mentions. mures majores, qui vulgariter rati vocantur. Thirteen hundred and sixty-two gave us that notable passage in the prologue of Piers the Plowman[53] touching the project of belling the cat, where we have

"a route Of ratones at ones And smale mys mid hem";

and it is plain that the distinction between the two is more than one of size or age, because a wise mouse stands forth and contrasts the habits of himself and his brethren, the masses, with those of the burgher-like rats. It is unnecessary to construct a catena of authors from Langland's time to Shakespeare's, in order to prove that rats were perfectly familiar then, instead of being as strange as bandicoots would now be in London backyards and basements.

So, in spite of the naturalists, I think there might well be rats in Hameln in 1284, and, indeed, the memorable swarm may actually mark the epoch of their first appearance there. We do not wonder that the civic fathers were disturbed, and that somebody was ready to help them out of the difficulty; the trial to faith comes in when we hear how he set about it and succeeded. For myself, I frankly confess that I do not regard the performance of the "Pied Piper" as being indubitably "a fond thing vainly invented"; I want more proof that it is so than the poor thing, popular belief. When I was young, oil and troubled water were associated only in a figure of speech, supposed to be born of the ignorance and poetical exuberance of the ancients; whereas now the rule of oil over the waves is considered less questionable than that of Britannia. Multa renascentur. That the lower animals are affected by musical sounds has been known for centuries; and rats, from what one reads of the rhyming[54] of the Irish contingent, and of the survival of poetical conjurations in France and elsewhere,[55] may be specially susceptible to the influence of the Muses; if we did but know the Piper's tune, it may be fin-de-siècle rats would rush forth with the same mad eagerness as those of old. The very strain it ought to be: "open Barley" had a goodly sound, but it served not Cassim's turn when he failed to think of "open Sesame".

Our Hameln artist does not stand alone. Once upon a time the district about Lorch[56] was delivered from ants, crickets, and rats by three pipers, who being defrauded of the guerdon, played off pigs, sheep, and little ones respectively; and in 1240 a Capuchin named Angionini[57] lured into the river all kinds of domestic animals and stock at Draucy-les-Nouis near Paris, because the villagers refused him the reward for freeing them of rats and mice by means of a small book and a little demon. Other cases might be found for the comfort of those who, instead of agreeing that recurrence of an alleged experience goes to confirm the reality of it, regard multiplication of examples as tending to the discredit of them all. It is only when such students have collected half-a-dozen "variants" that they feel their incredulity justifiable, range their treasure in a "cycle", and account their attitude as being truly scientific!

If what is told of more than one place, cannot be told with truth of any, and what has never happened in our time never happened at all, the exodus of the Hameln innocents is in " a parlous state". We have just glanced at the musical kidnapping of Lorch[58] and Baring-Gould also reports how Brandenburg was once visited by a man who went fiddling through the streets till he had a troop of little listeners whom he wiled to the Marienberg, which opened to enclose both him and them. Nearer home, according to Dr. Kirkpatrick in The Sea Piece, a narrative, philosophical, and descriptive poem published in 1750, a like tradition is attached to Cave Hill near Belfast,[59] though I believe the memory of it is now grown dim.

"A blinking Piper once with magic Spells And Strains beyond a vulgar Bagpipe's Sound, Gathered the dancing Country wide around,"

and led the way into the gaping, yawning mountain, which in due course

"closed the greedy Womb, Where wide-born Thousands met a common Tomb."

Now the veracity of this tale, and of the rest, is not at present my affair; I must mention them lest I should be accused of keeping, what some may consider damaging facts, in the background; but it is my claim for the Hameln story, of which we have many data, wanting to the others, that it stands alone, and should be judged apart from them. There was nothing supernatural, believe me, in the leading away of the children, indeed nothing, putting scale out of the question, that was not commonplace. Imps continue to rush after men, of whom the Pied One is a type; and, when they do not come to grief, let the praise belong to the piper. If it be not a thing incredible that in 1211 "a multitude amounting as some say to 90,000 chiefly composed of children" ["for the most part from Germany"] "and commanded by a child, set out for the purpose of recovering the Holy Land",[60] we may surely swallow the assertion that 130 young Hamelners ran away after an attractive gaily-garbed musician in 1284. Though mediæval chorea was promoted by fifing and red colours,[61] it is not necessary to believe with Meinardus[62] that they were affected by dancing-mania like the 100 children of Erfurt,[63] who in 1237 skipped and jumped along the road until they came to Arnstadt, where they fell to the ground in utter exhaustion. Neither do I think the wild rites of Mid-summer, or S. John Baptist's, Eve should bear the blame, as three nights had passed between them and the fresh morn of the festival of S. John and S. Paul—Roman brothers, and Martyrs— when the Piper piped his summons, and the joy of many households sped away. Nothing more than childish curiosity and excitement, freedom from suspicion, carelessness of consequences, was wanted to produce the effect. Very ordinary causes brought about a kind of Kinderausgang in London in 1643; it led Howell[64] the traveller and letter-writer to relate the Hameln story to his correspondent. He prefaces it thus: "I saw such prodigious things daily done these few Years past, that I had resolved with myself to give over wondering at anything, yet a passage happened this Week that forced me to wonder once more, because it is without parallel. It was that some odd Fellows went skulking up and down London Streets, and with Figs and Raisins allured little Children, and so purloined them away from their Parents and carried them a Ship-board far beyond the Sea, where, by cutting their Hair, and other Devices, they so disguised them that their own Parents could not know them." Given another Age, and a chronicler of different temperament, and these embodiments of diabolic craft had, like the Pied Piper, painted a moral and adorned a tale, as Diabolus himself.

Do I presume too much in hoping that, thus far, you are all with me? I expect to be asked with some sign of sarcasm whether the going into the Koppen is also to be regarded as a natural occurrence. Certainly not, if into must needs imply subterranean entry; but I take it in the sense in which it is familiar to us in the New Testament and out of it, when "into a mountain" denotes no more than exterior or superficial access, and I stagger not. Love of the marvellous and misapprehension were parents of the fancy that Bunting and his audience were actually absorbed by the hill, and it was probably fostered by the misreading of Calvaria, a praying-station, as cavaria, a hollow place or cave, of which I saw an instance during the preparation of this paper. The historical nursemaid, who beheld things from afar, must be answerable for something—"I know that girl, she comes fra' Sheffield"—whilst the blind boy and the mute would add their quota to the wonder.

Whither Piper and children went, when they vanished from sight of the two watchers, into the Koppenberg, it is at this time impossible to determine. The leader gained a start, gained it in a day when electricity could not head a fugitive, and had everything but the number of the convoy in his favour. It is as likely as not that the wily fellow doubled as soon as the lie of the land furthered his purpose, came down to the river and, by pre-arrangement, was able to use it as a silent highway, on which the children passed easily with the current to some district beyond the hue and cry. Once at Bremen there were, what Samuel Johnson might call "potentialities" of evasion, on which I need not dwell.

In 1650, Kirchner, a Jesuit, stated on the alleged authority of a Transylvanian chronicle[65] that the folk of Siebenburge came of the kidnapped Hamelners, and spoke their tongue. The theory had been referred to by Verstegan nearly half a century before Kirchner's Musurgia Universalis appeared, but he discredited it, attributed the likeness of language to Saxon colonisation of Transylvania by Charles the Great, and seems to have known nothing of the chronicler relied on by the later writer. "Some doe report", says Verstegan,[66] "that there are divers found among the Saxons in Transilvania that have the like surnames unto the Burgers of Hamel, and will thereby seem to infer that this jugler or pied piper might by negromancy have transported them thither; but this carrieth but little appearance of truth, because it would have been almost as great a wonder unto the Saxons of Transilvania to have had so many strange children brought among them they knew not how, as it were to those of Hamel to lose them; and they could not but have kept memory of so strange a thing, if indeed any such thing had there hapened."

It is not unlikely, I think, that some relic, real or supposed, of the children found in Siebenberge in the Hameln district may have given colour to the belief that they had been traced to Siebenbürge in Transylvania. So a certain correspondence led Schoock to imagine that he had found the epitaph of the Pied Piper in S. Laurence's, Padua. The memorial had been erected by the German nation, and the subject of it, a Transylvanian named Valentine Graeirus or Bacfort, had died at the age of forty-nine in 1524; but as his "rare skill in pipe-playing" had led to his being "admired as another Orpheus", no one could doubt—so thought Schoock—that he was the performer usually credited to 1284!

After all this, is it not somewhat startling to learn, from Mrs. Gerard's Land beyond the Forest,[67] that the story of the juvenile immigrants is still credited in Transylvania? The journey is said to have been performed through subterranean passages, and the Almesche Höhle, in the north-east of the country, is pointed out as being the place where the travellers reissued to the light of day. At the village of Nadesch[68] the arrival of the German ancestors is annually commemorated, but I do not feel sure that they are supposed to have come from Hameln, though Mrs. Gerard so expresses herself that I think it not unlikely such may be the case. On a particular day all the lads dress up as pilgrims and assemble round a flag. Headed by an old man, they go about the streets in procession singing psalms, stopping to dance and to refresh themselves at intervals. When questioned, they say, "Thus came our forefathers, free people like ourselves, from Saxonia into this land, behind the flag and drum and with staffs in their hands. And because we have not invented this custom, neither did our ancestors invent it, but have transmitted it from generation to generation, so do we, too, desire to hand it down to our children and grandchildren."

One word in conclusion: I have made great inroad on the reader's patience, though I have by no means exhausted my subject, and humbly apologise for being as long-winded as the Piper, without, at the same time, being able to exercise a corresponding charm.

Eliza Gutch.

↑ "Anno 1284. Am Dage Johannis et Pauli War der 26. Junii Durch einen Pieper mit allerly Farve bekledet Gewesen cxxx Kinder verledet Binnen Hameln geboren To Calverie bi den Koppen verloren." As given in Hameln und Bad Pymont: Wegweiser (Hameln, Fuendeling), p. 5.

↑ "Nach Christi Geburt 1284 Jahr Gingen bei den Koppen unter Verwahr Hundert und dreissig Kinder, in Hameln geboren von einem Pfeiffer verfürt und verloren." (Fuendeling's Wegweiser, p. 6.)

↑ Sprenger's Geschichte der Stadt Hameln, bearbeitet vom Amtmann von Reissenstein, p. 153 (Hameln, 1861). Sprenger published in 1825.

↑ I Samuel, vi, 4, 5.

↑ Das Rattenfängerfest in Hameln, p. i, etc. (Hameln, Niemeyer, 1884). Information about costumes from a letter from Fuendeling( 1892).

↑ Der Rattenfänger von Hameln: Eine Aventcure, 25te Auflage, (Berlin, 1885).

↑ Der Rattenfänger von Hameln. Oper in fünf Akten (Leipzig, 1887).

↑ Neues Material zur Geschichte dcr Rattenfängersage, in Zeitschrift des historischen Vereins für Niedersachsen, 1885, p. 267.

↑ Hameln, the Town of the Pied Piper or "Der Rattenfänger" (vol. for 1890, p. 192), by Katharine M. Macquoid.

↑ Sprenger, p. 15, note.

↑ "Alte Leute in Hameln wollen diese Kreuze noch gekannt haben."—Letter from Herr Fuendeling, 1887.

↑ "Einen Gedenkstein mit einer Inschrift am sogenanten 'Koppen' warden Sie wol nie finden. Wenn ein solcher vorhanden war, was man bezweifeln muss, so ist er jetzt keineswegs mehr dort."—1887.

↑ Vol. i (2nd ed.), pp. 290-2.

↑ Passim; but see Sprenger, pp. 14 and 152. The inscription ran: "Centu ter denos cum magus ab urbe puellos duxerat ante 272 condita porta fui."

↑ Fincelius.

↑ Hondorff.

↑ Howell.

↑ A Restitution of Decayed Intelligence, 1605 (1634, pp. 85, 86). Mr. Arthur Symons (An Introduction to the Study of Browning, p. 50) says, "North Wanley's Wonders of the Little World, 1678, and the books there cited", were the authorities. Wanley gives 1284, and two out of the three writers on whom he depends, never so much as mention 1376; the third, Schot, Phys. Curios, I have not met with. Wier and Howell are the others.

↑ First five suggestions in Martin Schoock's Fabula Hamelensis (1659), of which I have an abstract.

↑ Die entlarvete Fabel vom Ausgange der Hamelschen Kinder (1749). I know this only at second-hand.

↑ Von Reissenstein's note to Sprenger, p. 15.

↑ Die historische Kern, by Dr. Meinardus (1882), p. 49.

↑ Sprenger, p. 10.

↑ Meinardus, p. 24.

↑ Die Grenzboten, i. Semester, 1875, p. 505.

↑ Curious Myths of the Middle Ages, p. 427.

↑ Die Wunderpfeife, oderdie Kinder von Hameln, by Gustav Nieritz.

↑ Curious Myths, p. 435.

↑ Pp. 16 and 268.

↑ This, his surname does not encourage us to suppose.

↑ Der historische Kern, p. 14.

↑ C., v.

↑ Promptorium Exemplorum, p. 60b.

↑ This and what follows concerning Wier is gathered from Aleinardus's pamphlet, Der historische Kern, pp. 14, 15. Wier's work is not in the British Museum Library.

↑ Subsequent to 1379 a change in the local government took place, and enactments in the statute-book (Der Donat) customarily begin "de olde rad un de nye hebbet ghesateghet". (Sprenger, pp. 31 and I77-)

↑ P. 86. I have not seen the Restitution of 1605.

↑ Plan issued by Schmidt and Suckert.

↑ Gier's Plan.

↑ Die Bungelosestrasse, in Zeiitschrift des historischen Vereins für Niedersachsen, 1884, pp. 271-2.

↑ Braunschweigisch-Lübieburgische Chronica, p. 52 (vol. i, 1584; ii, 1584).

↑

AM . DAGE JOHANNES UND . PALI SINT . BINNEN HAMMELIN . GEBAREN . THOK VARIE . UNDE DORCH ALLDRLEI . GEDEN . KOPPEN. Anno 1571.

↑ Die Grenzboten, No. 26, p. 500.

↑ P. 208.

↑ Die historische Kern, pp. 7, 8.

↑

" Post duo C. C. mille post octoginta quaterve —Annus hic est ille, quo languet sexus uterque— Orbantis pueros centumque triginta Joannis Et Pauli caros Hamelenses non sine damnis, Fatur, ut omnes eos vivos Calvaria sorpsit, Christi tuere reos, ne tarn mala res quibus obsit."

↑ "Anno millesimo ducentesimo octuagesimo quarto in die Johannis et Pauli perdiderunt Hamelenses centum et triginta pueros, qui intraverunt montem Calvariam."

↑ Herr Sebastian Spilker, Junior Councillor of Hameln (1654?) and Dr. Meinardus in our own time.

↑ Quoted by Schoock.

↑ The authority referred to by Baring-Gould, who gives the story in Legends of Old Testament Characters, vol. i, p. 113.

↑ This was the late E. A. Freeman, D.C.L., etc., who died the week after this paper was read.

↑ Lanfranci Vita, cap. II in Opera, ed, D'Achery, 1648.

↑ Topographia Hibernica, Dist. II, Cap. xxxii; Itinerarium Kambriæ, Lib. 11, Cap. ii. Welshmen nowadays call rats French mice, and so do the folk of Connemara.

↑ Lines 146-207.

↑ As You Like It, Act iii, Sc. 2, 188; Of Poetry, Temple's Miscellanea, p. ii, p. 244.

↑ Rolland, Faune Populaire: Les Mammiferes Sauvages, pp. 24-7.

↑ Cited in Curious Myths, pp. 422, 432, from Wolf's Beitrage zur deutschen Mythologie, i, 171.

↑ Sprenger, p. 16, from Le Corsaire, of December 1824.

↑ Curious Myths, p. 422.

↑

"Here, as Tradition's hoary Legend tells, A blinking Piper once with magic Spells And Strains beyond a vulgar Bagpipe's sound, Gathered the dancing Country wide around; When hither as he drew the tripping Rear (Dreadful to think and difficult to swear!) The gaping Mountain yawn'd from side to side, A hideous Cavern, darksome, deep, and wide; In skipt th' exulting Demon, piping loud. With passivejoy succeeded by the Croud; The winding Cavern, trembling, as he play'd, With dreadful Echoes rung throughout its Shade; There firm and instant clos'd the greedy Womb, Where wide-born Thousands met a common Tomb. Ev'n now the good Inhabitant relates With serious Horror their disastrous Fates; And as the noted Spot he ventures near, His Fancy, strung with Tales and shook with Fear, Sounds magic Concerts in his tingling Ear; With superstitious Awe and solemn Face, Trembling he points, and thinks he points the Place."

↑ Hallam's State of Europe in the Middle Ages, vol. ii, p. 359, note.

↑ Hecker's Epidemics of the Middle Ages, Part ii, pp. 8, 49.

↑ Die historische Kern, p. 30, etc. I believe Schoock was the first to suggest this.

↑ Hecker, p. 27.

↑ Epistolæ Ho.—Elianæ, B. i, Sect. 6, Letter XLIX, dated Fleet, 1 Oct. 1643.

↑ I gather this from an abstract of Fabula Hamelensis.

↑ I copy from the edition of 1634, but the passage also occurs (I am told) in that of 1605.

↑ 1 Vol. i, pp. 52, 54.

by Walter Gregor.

The following beliefs regarding Guardian Spirits of Wells and Lochs were collected in Strathdon and Corgarff, Aberdeenshire, by the help of Mr. William Michie Farmer, Coull of Newe, and Mr. James Farquharson, Corgarff. Distance from libraries and want of books of reference have prevented me from quoting similar beliefs among other nations and tribes except in the very slightest way. I have contented myself with merely stating the beliefs.

Tobar-fuar-mòr, i.e., The Big Cold Well.

This well is situated at the bottom of a steep hill in a fork between two small streams on the estate of Allargue, Corgarff There are three springs that supply the water, distant from each other about a yard. The well is circular, with a diameter of about twelve feet. The sides are about five or six feet deep, with an opening on the lower side through which the water flows out.

The water running from these springs is of great virtue in curing diseases—each spring curing a disease. One spring cured blindness, another cured deafness, and the third lameness. The springs were guarded by a Spirit that lived under a large stone, called "The Kettle Stone", which lay between two of the springs. No cure was effected unless gold was presented to the Spirit, which she placed in a kettle below the stone. Hence its name of "Kettle Stone". If one tried to rob the Spirit, death, by some terrible accident, soon followed. My informant, James Farquharson, more than fifty years ago, when a lad resolved to remove the "Kettle Stone" from its position, and so become possessor of the Spirit's gold. He accordingly set out with a few companions, all provided with picks and spades, to displace the stone. After a good deal of hard labour the stone was moved from its site, but no kettle-full of gold was found.

An old woman met the lads on their way to their homes, and when she learnt what they had been doing she assured them they would all die within a few weeks, and that a terrible death would befall the ringleader.

Tobar-na-glas a Coille, i.e., The Well in the Grey Wood.

This well lies near the old military road, near the top of the hill that divides the glen of Corgarff from Glengairn. In a small knoll near it lived a spiteful Spirit that went by the name of Duine-glase-beg, i.e., the Little Grey Man. He was guardian of the well and watched over its water with great care. Each one on taking a draught of water from it had to drop into it a pin or other piece of metal. If this was not done, and if at any time afterwards the same person attempted to draw water from it, the Spirit resisted, annoyed, and hunted the unfortunate till death by thirst came. My informant has seen the bottom of the well strewed with pins. Last autumn (1891), I gathered several pins from it.

The Bride's Well.

This well was at one time the favourite resort of all brides for miles around. On the evening before the marriage the bride, accompanied by her maidens, went "atween the sun an the sky" to it. The maidens bathed her feet and the upper part of her body with water drawn from it. This bathing ensured a family. The bride put into the well a few crumbs of bread and cheese, to keep her children from ever being in want.

Tobar Vacher.

This is a fine well, dedicated to St. Machar, near the present farm of Corriehoul, Corgarff, Strathdon. A Roman Catholic chapel was at one time near it, and the present graveyard occupies the site of the chapel. This well was renowned for the cures it wrought in more than one kind of disease. To secure a cure the ailing one had to leave a silver coin in it. Once there was a famine in the district, and not a few were dying of hunger. The priest's house stood not far from the well. One day, during the famine, his housekeeper came to him and told him that their stock of food was exhausted, and that there was no more to be got in the district. The priest left the house, went to the well, and cried to St. Machar for help. On his return he told the servant to go to the well the next morning at sunrise, walk three times round it, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, without looking into it, and draw from it a draught of water for him. She carried out the request. On stooping down to draw the water she saw three fine salmon swimming in the well. They were caught, and served the two as food till supply came to the faminestricken district from other quarters.

Ben Newe Well.

There is a big rugged rock on the top of Ben Newe in Strathdon, Aberdeenshire, On the north side of this rock, under a projection, there is a small circular-shaped hollow which always contains water. Everyone that goes to the top of the hill must put some small object into it, and then take a draught of water off it. Unless this is done the traveller will not reach in life the foot of the hill. I climbed the hill in June of 1890, and saw in the well several pins, a small bone, a pill-box, a piece of a flower, and a few other objects.

In Roumania each spring is supposed to be presided over by a Spirit called Wodna zena or zona. When a Roumanian woman draws water she spills a few drops to do homage to this Spirit.—The Land beyond the Forest, vol. ii, p. 8, by E. Gerard (1888, Edinburgh).

Lochan-nan-deaan.

This is a small loch on the side of the old military road between Gorgarff and Tomintoul. The road passes close by its brink on the west side. On the other side of the road is an almost perpendicular rock, between 400 and 500 feet high. On the opposite side of the loch rises a very steep hill to the height of about 1,000 feet. The road in a snow-storm and after nightfall is very dangerous, and tradition has it that many travellers have lost their lives in the loch, and that their bodies were never recovered. It was believed to be bottomless, and to be the abode of a Water-Spirit that delighted in human sacrifice.

Notwithstanding this bloodthirsty Spirit, the men of Strathdon and Gorgarff resolved to try to draw the water from the loch in hope of finding the remains of those that had perished in it. On a fixed day a number of them met, with spades and picks to cut a way for the outflow of the water through the road. When all were ready to begin work, a terrific yell came from the loch, and there arose from its waters a diminutive creature in shape of a man with a red cap on his head. The men fled in terror, leaving their picks and spades behind them. The Spirit seized them and threw them into the loch. Then, with a gesture of defiance at the fleeing men, and a roar that shook the hills, he plunged into the loch and disappeared amidst the water that boiled and heaved as red as blood.

Lochan-wan, i.e., Lambs' Loch.

Lochan-wan is a small loch, in a fine grazing district, lying on the upper confines of Aberdeen and Banffshire. When the following took place the grazing ground was common, and the tenants that lived adjoining it had each the privilege of pasturing a certain number of sheep on it. Each one that sent sheep to this common had to offer in sacrifice to the Spirit of the loch the first lamb of his flock dropped on the common. The omission of this sacrifice brought disaster, for, unless the sacrifice was made, half of his flock would be drowned before the end of the grazing season.

An attempt was at one time made to draw the water from the loch, and so dry it, that the burden of the yearly-sacrifice might be got quit of. A number of men met and began to cut an outlet for the water. They wrought all day without hindrance, and, when night came, they retired. On returning next morning they found that their work of the day before had been all undone during night. Again they busily applied their tools, and did a good day's work. This day's work was again undone during night. The third day was again spent in hard toil, but it was resolved to watch during the night how it was that the work carried out during each day was undone at night. A watch was accordingly set. At the hour of midnight there rose from the loch hundreds of small black creatures, each carrying a spade. They immediately fell to work on what the men had done during the day, and, in the course of a few minutes, filled up the trench that they had dug three times before. The grazing common is now a deer-forest, and so the Lambs' Loch no longer needs the sacrifice of lambs.

Loch Leetie.

This is a loch in Nairnshire. It was the common belief that a bull lived in it. He was often heard roaring very loudly, particulariy during frost. (Told by Mrs. Miller.)

At one time there lived near the Linn of Dee, in Mar Forest, a man named Farquharson-na-cat, i.e., Farquharson of the wand. He got this name from the fact that his trade was that of making baskets, sculls, etc. One night he had to cross the river just a little above the linn. In doing so he lost his footing, was carried into the gorge of the linn, and drowned in sight of his wife. Search was made at once for the body, but in vain. Next day the pool below the linn, as well as the river further down, was searched, but the body was not found. That evening the widow took her late husband's plaid and went to the pool below the linn, "atween the sun and the sky". She folded the plaid in a particular way, knelt down on the bank of the pool, and prayed to the Spirit of the pool to give up the body of her drowned husband. She then threw the plaid into the pool, uttering the words, "Take that and give me back my dead." Next morning the dead body, wrapped in the plaid, was found lying on the bank of the pool. Tradition has it that the widow soon afterwards bore a son, and that that son was the progenitor of the Farquharson Clan.

The river Spey is spoken of as "she", and bears the character of being "bloodthirsty". The common belief is that "she" must have at least one victim yearly.

The rhyme about the rivers Dee and Don and their victims is:

"Bloodthirsty Dee, Each year needs three; But bonny Don, She needs none."

The Roumanians believe that in the vicinity of deep pools of water, more especially whirlpools, there resides the baleur or wodna muz—the cruel waterman who lies in wait for human victims. (The Land beyond the Forest, by E. Gerard, vol. ii, p. 9.)

Mr. A. Oldfield, in his account of The Aborigines of Australia, says that the natives believe that every deep muddy pool is inhabited by a Spirit called In-gnas, whose powers for mischief seem particularly active during night. Some such pools they will not enter for any consideration, even in broad daylight. (Transactions of the Ethnological Society, vol. iii, pp. 238, 239. New Series.) See Grimm's Deutsche Mythologie (3rd edition), vol. i, pp. 549-567.

by W. A. Craigie.

____________

THE Landnámabók, or History of the Settlement of Iceland, a document such as no other country can boast of, is of value not only for the student of Northern history, but also for the folk-lorist. The interminable genealogies which form the bulk of the work (comprising over 5,000 names in all) are relieved now and then by anecdotes concerning the persons named, and in most instances these stories, when they are not merely ones of quarrel and bloodshed, contain some trait of popular belief, which is thus at least as old as the eleventh century, and may very well go back to the tenth or ninth. In general, these tales agree with the common folk-lore of Scandinavia, at least as we find it in the other sagas of Iceland and Norway ; and, beyond the few Christian elements in connection with Christian settlers from the Hebrides, etc., show no trace of the Celtic influence which some have thought must have resulted from contact with Celts and from settlers of Celtic descent. These latter, however, do not number one per cent, of the persons named in the Landnáma, and so their influence was not likely to be very extensive.

To extract and arrange these tales is the object of this article, and, beyond the translation, few notes have been added ; but the exact meaning of the original terms is explained in the index. In some cases the stories apparently do not go back to the original version of the Landnáma, but have been inserted by later scribes, sometimes perhaps from local tradition, but sometimes from other sagas. The most striking of these are also included in this collection.[1]

A. — Landing in Iceland.

1. A number of the early settlers carried with them the posts on either side of their "high seat" in the hall or temple (öndvegis súlur), and, on coming near to Iceland, threw these overboard, and afterwards settled where they found them on the shore. Among those mentioned are Ingolf (1. 6), Thorolf mostrarskegg (2. 12. Thor was carved on his[2]), Lodmund (4. 5), Thord skeggi (4. 7), and Hrollaug (4. 9). Kveldulf, who died on the voyage, ordered them to throw his coffin overboard and tell his son Grim to settle where it landed (i. 18). Flóki hallowed three ravens before leaving Norway (v. No. 12), and let them off when out at sea : the first flew backwards ; the second up in the air and back to the ship again ; the third forward in the direction of land (1. 2).

2. In some cases the settlers were directed beforehand where they were to find a home, as in the case of Orlyg, who was told by his foster-father Bishop Patrick, in the Hebrides, that he was to settle where he saw two fells from the sea, with a dale in each of the fells, and he was to take up his abode under the southmost of these, and there make a church and dedicate it to St. Columba.[3] Some accounts add that, as he was sailing along the coast, an iron bell fell overboard, and was found among the seaweed where he landed (i. 12). In other cases, wise-women were the directors or foretellers (v. No. 24).

B. — Beliefs connected with religion, heathen or Christian.

3. The famous Aud the wealthy "was buried between high and low water, as she had previously ordered, because, having been baptised, she would not lie in unconsecrated earth". (2. 19.)

4. Thorkell máni the law-speaker "had lived the best life of all heathen men so far as is known. During his last illness he made them carry him out into the sunlight, and commended himself to the god who had shaped the sun" (1. 9. So in the extract from Vatnsdæla Saga found in some MSS. "Thorsteinn called on him who shaped the sun, that the berserksgang should pass off Thórir", 3. 4).

5. "When Hjalti's sons went to the thing, they were so splendidly arrayed that men thought the Æsir were come. This verse was made on the subject : —

'Never a man thought anything else than that the allglorious Æsir fared there, when hardy Hjalti's sons came to Thorskafirth thing with their helms of awe.'" (3. 10.)

6. Helgi the lean went to Iceland with his wife and children, and his son-in-law Hámund hell-skin. His religion was rather mixed; he believed in Christ, but called on Thor for seafaring and adventurous acts. (3. 12.)

7. Thorolf took land from Stafá in as far as Thorsá, and called all that Thorsness. He had so much faith in the hill that stood on the ness, and which he called Helgafell, that no man was allowed to look on it unwashed, and it was so great a sanctuary that no harm could be done to anything on the fell, whether man or beast, unless it left it of its own accord. It was the belief of Thorolf and his kinsmen that they all passed into the fell at death. On the ness there, where Thor came ashore, Thorolf held all the courts, and there was set the district-thing. While men were at the thing there no one was allowed to ease himself[4] on land; for that purpose there was assigned the reef called Dritsker, because they would not defile such a sacred piece of ground. But when Thorolf was dead, and his son Thorsteinn was young, Thorgrim Kjallak's son and Asgeirr his kinsman would not go to the reef for their errands ; the Thorsness men would not stand this, and so they fought with them there at the thing, and some fell and many were wounded before they were separated. Thord gellir reconciled them, but, since neither of them would give way, the place was made unhallowed with blood of vengeance. (2. 12.)

8. Aud had her home at Cross-knolls, and there she had crosses set up, because she was baptised and a good believer. Her kinsfolk after that had great faith in the knolls. An altar (hörg) was raised there when sacrificing began : they believed, too, that they passed into the knolls at death. Thord gellir was led into them before he rose to honour, as is said in his saga. (2. 16.)

9. Thorhadd the old was temple-priest at Thrandheim in Mæri : he took the idea to go to Iceland, but first he took down, the temple and carried off with him the temple-earth and the pillars. He came to Stödvarfirth and laid the Mæri sanctuary on all the firth, and allowed nothing to be killed there except home- cattle. (4. 6.)

10. Thorir the voyager had a ship built for him in Sogn (in Norway), which was hallowed by Bishop Sigurd. From that ship come the beaks before the door at Miklagarth (in Axarfirth) which foretell the weather. (3. 19.)

11. Ketill, from the Hebrides, a Christian, lived at Kirkjubæ. Papar had been there before, and no heathen men could live there. . . . "Hildir wished to shift his homestead to Kirkby after Ketill's death, thinking that a heathen could live there, but when he came near to the farmyard enclosure, he fell down dead." (4. 11.) C. — Closely connected with the foregoing are the passages referring to sacrificial and other religious ceremonies, denoted by blót and the verb blóta (with accusative = to worship or hallow ; with dative = to sacrifice). A full account of the procedure at a great blót is given in the Hákonar Saga, c. 14. 18. When Hjörleif is murdered by his thralls, his friend Ingolf attributes it to the fact that he would never blóta, (1. 7.).

12. (Floki on his voyage to Iceland) resorted to a great religious ceremony (blót), and hallowed three ravens, which should show him the way, because seafarers had no loadstone at that time in the North. They built up a cairn where the sacrifice had been, and called it Flokavarda : it lies at the meeting of Hördaland and Rogaland. . . . Then he sailed out to sea with the three ravens that he had hallowed in Norway, (1. 2. in some MSS.)

13. Hall the godless, son of Helgi the godless. Father and son would not worship (blóta), but trusted in their own might, (1. 11.)

14. Thorolf Smjör was the son of Thorsteinn Skrofi, son of that Grim who was worshipped after death on account of his popularity, and was called Kamban. (1. 14.)

15. There (on Thorsness) stands still Thor's stone, on which they broke the men whom they sacrificed, and near by is the judgment-ring where sentence of sacrifice was passed. (2. 12.)

16. Hallstein, son of Thorolf mostrarskegg, lived at Hallsteinsness. He sacrificed [and gave his son for the purpose] that Thcr might send him high-seat pillars. Thereafter a tree came ashore on his land, sixty-three ells long and two fathoms thick, which he used for his pillars, and from which those in nearly every farm there were made. (2. 23.)

17. Geirr was a distinguished man in Sögn (in Norway) : he was called Végeirr (sanctuary-Geirr) because he was a great blót-man. (All his children were called by names beginning with Vé-.) After his death his son Vebjörn quarrelled with Earl Hakon, and so the brothers and their sister went to Iceland. They had a long and hard voyage, and landed in autumn at Hloduvik to the west of Horn, and thereupon Vebjörn began to sacrifice a great blót, for he said Earl Hakon was that day sacrificing for misfortune to fall on them, but, as he was engaged on it, his brothers urged him to leave again ; he neglected the blót, and they put out to sea, and the same day their ship was wrecked in a storm under great cliffs. (2. 29.)

18. Thorsteinn sent his attendant to As to get information (about Hrolleif) : he recited twelve verses before going to the doors, and saw a heap of clothes on the door-beaks, and a red dress sticking out beneath them. Thorsteinn said that Hrolleif had been there, and Ljót (his mother) must have sacrificed for long life for him (v. No. 25). (3. 4.)

19. Thorsteinn red-nose was a great blót-man : he worshipped the waterfall, and all remnants had to be thrown into it : he was also very skilled in the future. . . . The night he died all his sheep drove down into the waterfall. (5. 6.)

20. Lopt went to Norway every third summer to sacrifice, on behalf of himself and Flosi, his mother's brother, at the temple of which his mother's father, Thorbjörn had been custodian. (Flosi could not go in person, being at enmity with King Harald.) (5. 8.)

D. — Frequent mention is made of magical arts, as practised by witches (völva, fjölkunnigkona), or more rarely by men (fjölkunnigr madr). The art itself is generally called fjölkyngi (much knowledge), or fródleikr (wisdom, learning). There are also persons who have the second-sight (are ófreskir) or have supernatural strength (rammaukin), or who can change their shape (hamrammr). To these beliefs the following series relates.

21. Asolf came from Ireland to the Eastfirths. He was a Christian, and would have no dealings with heathen men, would not even take food from them. He made a hut for himself under Eyjafell, and dealt with no one. They were curious to know what he had to eat, and saw many fish in the hut, and on their going to the stream which ran past the hut, they found it full of fish, so that they thought they had never seen such a marvel ; but when the men of the district heard of it they drove him away, and would not let him enjoy this good. Then Asolf shifted his dwelling to Midskáli, and stayed there. All the fish disappeared from the brook when men went to take them, and when they came to Asolf the waterfall beside his hut was full of fish. Again he was driven away, and went to the westmost Asó1fsskáli, and things went just the same as before. . . . [The longer version adds : "The settlers called that sorcery, but Thorgeirr (who had driven Asolf away) said he was of the opinion they were good men."] (1. 15. 16.)

22. A whale was driven ashore on Lón-Einar's beach, and he had cut up part of it, when a storm carried it off and drove it ashore on the land of Einarr Sigmundarson. Lón-Einarr attributed this to the magic of Hildigunn. (He went in search of the whale, and found Einarr with his men cutting it up, and killed one of them, but retired, as he had fewer men. He again came to attack Einarr, and found him from home. Einarr returned immediately and pursued him.) Then Einarr ran as hard as he could, and as he came by Drangar he saw a troll carl sitting up there, rowing with his feet so that they struck the surf, and beating them together so that the spray rose from them, and he repeated a verse. (The verse is very obscure and corrupt, but to all appearance is unimportant.) Einarr gave no heed to this. They met at Mannfallsbrekkur, and fought there. No iron could cut Einarr's kirtle (which he had got from Hildigunn). (2. 7. in some MSS.)

Einarr was buried a short distance from Sigmund's mound, and his mound is always green, wdnter and summer. (Ibid.)

23. Thorbjörn the stout summoned Geirríd, daughter of Bægifót, on a charge of witchcraft, as his son Gunnlaug had died from injury when he went to learn (magical) wisdom from Geirríd. She was the mother of Thorarinn in Máfahlid, . . . who took an oath by the altar ring, and so stopped the case. (2. 9.)

24. (Of Ingimund.) Held the witch predicted that they should all settle in a land as yet undiscovered, west over the sea.[5] Ingimund said he would take care of that, but the witch said he would be unable to prevent it, and told him for a token that a hlutr (see below) had disappeared out of his purse, and would be found again when he dug the holes for his hall-pillars in that land. [Ingimund assisted King Harald at Hafrsfirth; the king encouraged him to go to Iceland, as he was discontented with Norway.] Ingimund said he had not intended to do so, but he sent two Finns in charmed shapes (hamfarir) to Iceland, to look for his hlutr; it was an image of Freyr, and made of silver. The Finns returned, and had discovered the hlutr, but were unable to get hold of it. They directed Ingimund to a dale between two woods, and told him all the lie of the land where he was to settle. [The place was Hof in Vatnsdal, in the N. of Iceland.[6]] (3. 2.)

25. [Thorsteinn and his brothers attack Hrolleif, and chase him away from his own house.] By this time Ljót (his mother) had come out, and walked backwards with her head between her legs and her clothes over her back. Jókull cut off Hrolleifs head and threw it in her face ; then she said she had been too late, or the earth would have turned round before her eyes,[7] and they would all have gone mad (v. No. i8). (3. 4.)

26. Groa invited Thorsteinn and his brothers to a harvest-feast. Thorsteinn dreamed three times that he should not go. Then Groa by witchcraft brought down a landslip on all the men that were there. (3. 4.)

27. Steinnraud the strong . . . who did good to many a man to whom other evil spirits did injury. There was a woman called Geirhild, a witch, and one who injured others. Second-sighted men saw Steinnraud come upon her unawares, but she turned herself into the shape of a leathern sack full of water. Steinnraud was an ironsmith, and had a large iron rod in his hand. This verse was made about their meeting.

"The sounder of hammers lets the rod resound on the water(?)-bag of Geirhild ever the more with all his might. The troll's ribs are swollen ; the high iron staff shapes a heavy shower for the carline's side at Hjalta-eyri." (3. 14.)

28. Lodmund the old . . . was superhumanly strong and a wizard. He threw his hall-pillars overboard and said he would settle where they came on shore. He took Lodmund's firth, and lived there that winter ; then he heard of his hall-pillars to the southward. He put all his possessions on board ship, and when the sail was drawn up he lay down and said that no one was to venture to pronounce his name. He had only lain a short time when a loud noise was heard, and they saw a great landslip rush down on the homestead where Lodmund had lived. Thereupon he sat up and said, "That is my spell, that the ship that sails out here shall never escape safe from the sea." Then he held south by Horn, and then west along the coast, and took the land where his pillars had come ashore, between Hafr-river and Fúla-brook, which is now called Jökul-river, at Solheimasand. He lived in Lodmund's vale, and called it Solheimar. When he was old, there lived in Skógar one Thrasi, who was also a wizard. One morning Thrasi saw a great rush of water coming down, and by magic turned it east toward Solheimar. Lodmund's thrall saw it, and said that a sea was coming down on them from the north. Lodmund was blind by this time, and told the thrall to lead him to this bucketfull that he called a sea, and when he returned, said, "I don't think this is a sea." Then he bade the thrall accompany him to the water, "and stick the point of my staff into it." There was a ring on the staff, and Lodmund held the staff with both hands, and the ring in his teeth. Then the water began to fall west again toward Skogar, and so both he and Thrasi continued each to turn the water from themselves until they met at some deep clefts, and agreed that the water should flow down there the shortest way to the sea. That is now called Jokuls-river, and separates the districts. (4. 5.)

Thrasi was also rammaukinn. (5. 1.)

29. Thorarinn korni was very "hamrammr" (2. 8.)

30. [Arngeirr had two sons, Thorgils and Odd.]

Arngeirr and Thorgils left home in drift to search for their sheep, and did not return. Odd went to look for them, and found them both dead, killed by a white bear, which was drinking their blood when he came on it. Odd killed the bear and took it home, and it is said that he ate the whole of it, saying that he avenged his father in killing the bear and his brother in eating it. After this he became ill-tempered and difficult to deal with ; he was so hamrammr that he left home one time in the evening, and reached Thjórsárdal next morning to help his sister, whom the Thjórsdale men were going to stone to death. (3. 20.)

31. Dufthak was very "hamrammr" (5. 3); so was Thorkell bundinfoti (id.).

Dufthak of Dufthaksholt was the freedman of the brothers Hildir and Hallgeirr (who came from the British settlements). He was very hamrammr, and so was Stórólf Hængsson, who lived at Hvoll ; the two of them quarrelled about pasturage. A second-sighted man saw one evening, just about sunset, a huge bear going from Hvoll, and a bull from Dufthaksholt : they met at Stórólfsvöll, and fought fiercely, but the bear had the best of it. In the morning it was seen that the dale where they had met was as if the earth had been turned up. Both of them were severely injured. (5. 5.) E.—The following relate to the landvættir, or guardian spirits of the country, and other such beings. The first does not belong to the Landnáma proper, but is evidently of very early origin.

32. [It was the beginning of the heathen law that no one should have at sea a ship with a carved head on it; if they did, they were to take it off before they came in sight of land, and not sail to land with gaping heads or yawning snouts, lest the land-spirits might be frightened. (4. 7.)]

33. Björn dreamed one night that a hill-giant came to him and asked him to enter into partnership with him, and he thought that he assented. After that a buck came to his goats, and his stock increased so rapidly that he was soon very rich. Second-sighted men saw that the land-spirits followed Hafr-Björn to the thing, and Thorsteinn and Thord his brothers when they went hunting or fishing. (4. 12.)

34. Olver, son of Eysteinn, took the land to the east of Grims-river, where no one had ventured to settle since Hjörleif was killed, on account of the land-spirits. (4. 13.)

35. In the autumn, Grim rowed out to fish with his men; his boy Thorir lay in the bow in a sealskin bag, drawn close round his neck. Grim caught a merman (marmennil), and when he came up Grim asked: "What can you tell us about our future, or where we shall settle in Iceland?" The merman answers: "There is no need for me to foretell about you; but as for the boy who lies in the sealskin bag, he shall settle and take land where Skalm your mare lies down under her load"; and no more could they get out of him. (2. 5.)

36. In the autumn, Audunn saw an apple-grey horse run down from Hjardarvatn to his stud-horses, and overcome the stallion. Then Audunn went up and took the grey horse, harnessed him to a two-ox sledge, and drove all his hay together The horse was easy to manage during the middle of the day, but as the day wore on he sank into the field up to his pasterns, and when the sun had set he broke all the harness, ran to the water, and was never seen again.

[In the margin of one MS. is "Waterhorse, which some now call Nikur-horse".] (2.10.)

37. Thorvald holbarki "went up to Surt's cave and there recited the poem he had made about the giant in the cave". (3. 10)

F. — There are few remarkable dreams, but the following two may be given :

38. When Asolf grew old he retired and lived by himself. His cell was where the church now stands, and there he died and was buried at Holm. When Halldorr, the son of Illugi the red, lived there, one of the byre-maids was in the habit of wiping her feet on the mound which covered the grave of Asolf. She dreamed then that Asolf came and rebuked her for wiping her dirty feet on his house, "but there will be peace between us", he said, "if you tell Halldorr your dream." She did so, but he said women's dreams were of no importance, and never heeded it. When Bishop Hrodolf left Bæ, where he had lived nineteeen years, three monks remained behind, and one of these dreamed that Asolf said to him, "Send your servant to Halldorr at Holm, and buy from him the mound that is on the byre-path ; give a mark of silver for it." The monk did so ; the servant bought the mound, dug in the earth, and found a man's bones, which he lifted and took home with him. The next night Halldorr dreamed that Asolf came to him and said that both his eyes would start out of his head unless he bought his bones for the same amount as he had sold the mound for. Halldorr bought Asolf's bones, and made a wooden shrine for them, and placed it over the altar. He sent his son Illugi out to get wood to build a church, and on his return, when he came between Rekjanes and Snjofjallsnes, the steersmen would not let him land where he wished. Then he threw all the wood overboard, and bade it come ashore where Asolf willed. The night after the wood came ashore at Kirksand in Holm, except two trees which landed at Raufarnes. Halldorr had a church built, 30 ells long, and roofed with wood, and dedicated it to Kolumkilla (St. Columba). (1. 15. in some MSS.)

39. Hrafnkell came out late in the settlement time. The first winter he was in Broad-dale, in the spring he went up by the fell, and stopped to rest in Skridudal, where he fell asleep. Then he dreamed that a man came to him and told him to get up and go away as fast as he could. He woke up and left the place, and before he had gone far, all the fell came rushing down, burying under it a boar and a bull that he had. (Hence Skridudal = Landslip-dale.) (4. 3.)

G. — Most of the settlers were pretty quiet after death, but some of them, like Asolf, were not quite at peace. Other two are mentioned besides him.

40. Asmund was buried in Asmund's-grave, laid in a ship, and his thrall beside him. A man as he went past heard this verse repeated in his grave-mound :

"Alone I dwell in the stone-heap,

In the sea-raven's stem-room ;

No throng on the deck is standing

Of men : I dwell on the sea-steed.

Room for the brave one is better

(I know how to steer the wave-deer ;

Long shall that be remembered

By men) than a bad companion."

Then they searched the mound, and took the thrall out of the ship. (2. 6.)

41. [Thorkell farserkr, who had supernatural strength (was rammaukinn). He crossed half a sea-mile on an old gelding.] Th. was buried in the farmyard in Hvalseyfirth (in Greenland), and has always haunted the homestead. (2. 14.)

H. — In this the croaking of a raven is an omen of death.

42. One morning a raven lighted on the light-hole at Brekka and croaked loudly. Hromund said :

"Out in the dawn of morning

Croaking I hear the black-feathered

Swan of the wound-thorn's sweat-drops

(Prey wakens the wary-minded).

So came the war-hawk croaking

Of old when the princes of people

Were death-doomed, and birds of Odin

Foretold the boding of battle."

Thorbjorn said :

"The mew of the war-heap's billow

Cries with hail besprinkled

When it comes to seek the corpse-sea

(Its mind craves food at morning).

Thus of yore sat croaking

The bird of sword-slain corpses

On ancient tree, when ravens

For warrior's mead were thirsting." (2. 33.)

(These verses are among the finest of all those composed in the skaldic metre dróttkvætt ; the first in particular shows great feeling and poetic taste.)

I. — Two stories on the common theme of buried treasure.

43. Thorsteinn Asgrim's son. — In his days there came a ship into Rángárós with great sickness on board. No one would help the crew, but Thorsteinn went to them and removed them to the place now called Tentstead, and made tents for them there, and attended to them himself so long as they lived. All of them died, however, and the last survivor buried a great quantity of treasure, which has never been found since. (5. 6.)

44. Ketilbjörn was so wealthy in money that he offered his sons to make a cross-tree of silver for the temple that they had made, but they refused it. Then he drove the silver up to the mountain on two oxen, along with Haki, his thrall, and Bót, his maidservant, and there they buried the money, so that it has never been found. Then he killed flaki at Hakaskard and Bót at Bótarskard. (5. 12.)

K. — An anecdote of a child protesting against being exposed to die, a practice abolished at the introduction of Christianity into Iceland. (Kristni Saga, c. ii.)

45. Thorkatla, Asgrim's wife, gave birth to a male child, which Asgrim ordered to be exposed. A thrall was sharpening a hoe to dig a grave for it, and the child was lying on the floor, when they all heard it make this verse :

" Let the child to its mother !

It is cold for me here on the floor.

Where for a boy more fitting

Than by his father's hearth ?

No need to sharpen the iron.

Nor to cut the earth-turf

Cease from a work so hateful.

I shall yet live among men." The child was then sprinkled with water, and called Thorsteinn. 5. 6. in some MSS.)

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INDEX.

álag (on-lay), a spell or imprecation pronounced on a place. (28.)

álfreka, hafa, to defile a place so that the elves are driven away from it. (7.)

bergbui, an inhabitant of the hills, a giant. (33.)

blót, a religious ceremony, a sacrifice, or sacrificial feast ; blótmadr, one addicted to such observances ; blóta, to worship, hallow, or sacrifice (12-20). blóta til óthurftar, to perform ceremonies for another's harm. (17.)

brandir vedrspáir, ship's beaks, which foretell the weather. (10. 18.)

bregda sér, to change one's shape by sorcery. (27.)

deyja i fjall, i hóla, to pass into the fell (knolls) at death. (7. 8.)

fjölkyngi (much knowledge), magic, knowledge of magical arts (21. 22. 23); also adj. fjölkunnigr, possessed of magical knowledge. (27. 28.)

framsynn, gifted with insight into the future. (19.)

fridr, sanctuary, inviolability. Mæri fridr, so named from the Temple of Marl at Thrandheim. (9.)

fródleikr, learning, knowledge, with added idea of sorcery. (23.)

hamfarir, in the phrase i hamförum, travelling in an assumed shape, a power possessed by wizards. (24.)

hamrammr, having the power of putting on other shapes. (29. 30. 31.)

hlutr, a small image (e.g., of Freyr or Thor) carried about as a talisman (24). Hallfred was accused of carrying one of Thor after he had become a Christian (Flateybk., i, 329).

hörgr, a heathen place of worship, being an altar erected on some high place. (8.)

landvættir, the guardian spirits of a country (fairies, etc.). (32. 33. 34.)

marntennill, a merman, man of the sea. (35.)

meinvættir, spirits who do injury to one. (27,)

nikurhestr = vatnshestr, a river-horse, "kelpie". (36.)

ófreskr, second-sighted, in the sense of being able to see things going on in the spiritual world which are hid from ordinary mortals. (27. 31. 33.)

rammaukinn, possessed of more than mortal strength. (28. 41.)

trollkarl, a male-troll, a giant. (22.)

völva, the general name for a witch. (24.)

W. A. Craigie.

↑ ! A few of the quotations, along with similar passages from the Sagas, are given in Du Chaillu's Viking Age, vol. i, c. 20-22, etc.

↑ A longer account of Thorolf's pillars is given in Eyrbyggja Saga, C.4.

↑ * Some of his friends are said to have believed in "Kolumkilla, though they were not baptised". (Hauksbook.)

↑ ^ The phrase used is hafa álfreka', elf-drivings, i.e., the defilement drove away the elves.

↑ Similarly it is said of Thorsteinn lunan, "it was foretold him that he should die in a land which was then uninhabited." (5. 7.)

↑ The details of his finding of the image are given in Vatnsdæla Saga, c. 15.

by May Robinson and M. J. Walhouse.

I.—In Jamaica.

THE mystery with which the professors of "Obeah" have always surrounded themselves, and the dread negroes have always had, and still have, of their power, have made it very difficult to find out much about the worship or superstition.

The best account is that contained in Edward's History of the British Colonies in the West Indies, published in 1793, and was transmitted by the Agent of Jamaica to the Lords of the Committee of Privy Council, and by them subjoined to their report on the Slave Trade.

"The term Obeah is now become in Jamaica the general term to denote those Africans who in that island practise witchcraft or sorcery, comprehending also the class of what are called Myal-men, or those who, by means of a narcotic potion made with the juice of an herb, which occasions a trance or profound sleep of a certain duration, endeavour to convince the deluded spectators of their power to reanimate dead bodies.

"As far as we are able to decide from our own experience and information, when we lived in the island, and from the current testimony of all the negroes we have ever conversed with on the subject, the possessors of Obi are, and always were, natives of Africa and none other; and they have brought the science with them to Jamaica, where it is so universally practised that we believe there are few of the large estates, possessing native Africans, which have not one or more of them. The oldest and most crafty are those who attract the greatest devotion and confidence; those whose hoary heads and a somewhat peculiarly harsh and forbidding aspect, together with some skill in plants of the medicinal and poisonous species, have qualified them for successful imposition on the weak and credulous. The negroes in general, whether Africans or Creoles (i.e., born in Jamaica), revere, consult, and fear them; to these oracles they resort, and with the most implicit faith, upon all occasions, whether for the cure of disorders, the obtaining revenge for injuries or insults, the conciliation of favours, the discovery and punishment of the thief or adulterer, and the prediction of future events. The trade which these impostors carry on is extremely lucrative; they manufacture and sell their Obies, adapted to different cases, and at different prices. A veil of mystery is studiously thrown over their incantations, to which the midnight hours are allotted, and every precaution is taken to conceal them from the knowledge and discovery of the white people. The deluded negroes, who thoroughly believe in their supernatural power, become the willing accomplices of their concealment, and the stoutest among them tremble at the very sight of the ragged bundle, the bottle, or the egg-shells, which are stuck in the thatch, or hung over the door of a hut, or upon the branch of a plantation-tree, to deter marauders.

"In cases of poison, the natural effects of it are, by the ignorant negroes, ascribed entirely to the potent workings of Obi. The wiser negroes hesitate to reveal their suspicions through a dread of incurring the terrible vengeance which is fulminated by the Obeah-men against any who should betray them. It is very difficult, therefore, for the white proprietor to distinguish the Obeah possessor from any other negro upon his plantation; and so infatuated are the blacks in general that but few instances occur of their having courage enough to impeach these miscreants. With minds so firmly prepossessed, they no sooner find Obi set for them, near the door of their house, or in the path which leads to it, than they give themselves up for lost. When a negro is robbed of a fowl or a hog he applies directly to the Obeah-man or woman; it is then made known among his fellow-blacks that Obi is set for the thief, and as soon as the latter hears the dreadful news his terrified imagination begins to work; no resource is left but in the superior skill of some more eminent black man of the neighbourhood, who may counteract the magical operations of the other; but if no one can be found of higher rank or ability, or if, after gaining such an ally, he should still fancy himself affected, he presently falls into a decline, under the incessant horror of impending calamities. The slightest painful sensation in the head, or any part, any casual loss or hurt, confirms his apprehensions, and he believes himself the devoted victim of an invisible and irresistible agency. Sleep, appetite, and cheerfulness forsake him, his strength decays, his disturbed imagination is haunted without respite, his features wear the settled gloom of despondency; dirt, or any other unwholesome substance, becomes his only food; he contracts a morbid habit of body, and gradually sinks into the grave.

"A negro who is taken ill inquires of the Obeah-man the cause of his sickness, whether it will prove mortal or not, and within what time he shall die or recover. The oracle generally ascribes the distemper to Obi, the malice of some particular person, and advises to set Obi for that person....... Considering the multitude of occasions which may provoke the negroes to exercise the powers of Obi against each other, and the astonishing influence of the superstition on their minds, we cannot but attribute a very considerable portion of the annual mortality among the negroes of Jamaica to this fascinating mischief In the year 1760, when a formidable insurrection of the Koromantyn, or Gold-Coast negroes, broke out in the parish of St. Mary's, and spread through almost every other district of the island, an old Koromantyn negro, the chief instigator and oracle of the insurgents in that parish, who had administered the fetish or solemn oath to the conspirators, and furnished them with a magical preparation which was to render them invulnerable, was fortunately apprehended, convicted, and hung, with all his feathers and trumperies about him, and his execution struck the insurgents with a general panic. The examinations which were taken at that time first opened the eyes of the public to the very dangerous tendency of Obeah practices, and gave birth to the law for their suppression and punishment. But neither the terror of this law, nor the strict investigation which has ever since been made after the possessors of Obi, nor the many examples of those who from time to time have been hanged or transported, have hitherto produced the desired effect. We conclude, therefore, that either this sect, like others, has flourished under persecution, or that fresh supplies are annually introduced from the African seminaries. The Obi is usually composed of a farrago of materials, most of which are enumerated in the Jamaica law passed in 1760, viz., blood, feathers, parrots' beaks, dogs' teeth, alligators' teeth, broken bottles, grave-dirt, rum, and egg-shells."

Obeah practices of the present day seem similar to those of a hundred years ago, and information about them has been kindly supplied to me by Mr. Thomas, Inspector Jamaica Constabulary, and gleaned from his interesting pamphlet, Something about Obeah. In addition to the law of 1760, another law for the suppression of Obeah was passed in 1845, which gave to the executive authorities very comprehensive powers to deal, not only with the Obeah-men themselves, but also with those who sought their services. This Act was further amended, and the powers increased. Under these Acts, prosecutions are brought up to the present day. So the fangs of the Obeah-man have been drawn, and cases of murder are rare; but he still exercises an evil and wide-spreading influence, and the difficulty of getting evidence against them is extreme:—"A strong man will turn the colour of ashes, and sweat will run down his cheeks, while in the witness-box, having the evidence wrested from him piece by piece, and having constantly to be ordered to look at the bench instead of at the Obeah-man at the bar fixing him with a stony stare."

Professional Obeah-men may be divided into two classes. First, the grossly ignorant, generally an African by birth or parentage, who firmly believes in the art which he professes; he usually has a "wall eye", or a "sore foot", or some deformity, and is miserably poor, to outward appearance; and his fee is small, but he does a good trade. The second class of Obeah-man is often of strikingly good physique, respectable appearance, and always decently dressed. He does more in the "duppy-catching" line, and does not accept a small fee; and generally has too much intelligence to believe in the efficacy of his charms, his motives for adopting the calling being the ease with which it earns for him an ample competence, and the facilities it affords him for gratifying his animal passions, debauchery being the principal feature of his ceremonial. Of that ceremonial little is really known, and the orgies on grand occasions are said to be beyond description, and any white man venturing to intrude on them would do so at the peril of his life. "Duppy-catching" finds a great many votaries. A child suffers from epileptic fits, a woman is barren, or a man has an incurable ulcer; the "duppy-catcher" is consulted, and they are told so-and-so has "set a duppy" on them, which he, for a consideration, undertakes to catch. A night is fixed for the operation, rum is provided, perhaps a white cock is killed (one of the breed known as "senseh"), feasting, drinking, and drumming, with occasional intervals of manipulation of the body of the patient, continue all night, and, if successful, the duppy is caught, enclosed in a bottle, taken away, and buried.

This little Obeah figure was brought to England in 1888 by Com. Hastings, R.N., and had been taken from a negro named Alexander Ellis, who was arrested in Morant Bay, Jamaica May 1887. The police had suspected him of being an Obeah-man, and his possession of this little figure proved it. Ellis was tried on the 11th May before N. S. Haughton, Esq., acting stipendiary magistrate, under a local statute which renders any person,

"being by habit or repute an Obeah- or Myal-man", who is found in possession of charms, liable to imprisonment for two months with hard labour. Ellis was convicted, and sentenced to fifteen days' imprisonment. The figure was regarded as a particularly powerful and evil Obeah, and no negro would willingly touch it, or be in the room with it. It is decorated with "senseh" fowls' feathers. The figure was sent out again to Jamaica, to form part of Mr. Thomas's collection of Obeah-charms at the Jamaica Exhibition, where at first it proved an attraction, and was described, outside the building, as "Amphitrite, the living Obeah"; but, after a short time (ten days or so), the Executive Committee requested it might be removed, as they considered it an "undesirable exhibit"—a recognition, no doubt, of its malign influences, which, fortunately, since its return to England, it no longer exerts.

May Robinson.

Examples of Obeah Charms seized in Possession of various Obeah-men.

1. Horn of a young antelope, filled with snake and alligator fat, and a jegga, or small shell, with a threepenny-piece on top.

2. A number of blood-stained pieces of calabash strung together, called a "jeggeh".

3. A bag containing pieces of horse-shoe nails and broken bottle.

4. Phial containing quicksilver, the cork stuck with pins.

5. Packet containing myrrh, grey human hair, bladder, assafoetida, and herb roots.

6. Doll's head, bandaged with black cloth.

II.—Some East Indian Obeahs.

The Nilgiri mountains, in the south of the Madras Presidency, near the Western or Malabar Coast, have long been interesting to the antiquary and anthropologist as abounding in cairns and megalithic remains, and the abode of that remarkable picturesque race, the Todas, and other peculiar hill-tribes. They include a lofty and extensive table-land, with forest-clad sides descending steeply to the plains below. In 1849 I was for some time on these mountains, and made frequent excursions amidst their ridges and valleys in search of game, but always with an eye to any prehistoric remains I might meet with.

When at the delightful station of Coonoor, near the southern range of the plateau, and inquiring after cairns and the like, I was told by a Toda that something of the kind existed near his mand or village. So setting forth one morning, crossing a great ravine, and ascending the other side, I reached a cleft between two peaks, where the Toda met and guided me by an extremely steep and difficult track for fully 1,000 feet down to a secluded hollow, where on three sides the slopes descended precipitously, enclosing a small platform in front of which the mountain-side fell steeply to the low country. On the middle of the platform stood a large cromlech, or rather row of cromlechs, forming five compartments: three large ones in the centre, of equal height, covered with overlapping capstones, closed in with upright slabs at the back, with the front or southern side open, and a much smaller cromlech at each end. A man could easily have sat inside the central compartments, on the supporting slabs of which some indistinct figures were rudely carved, and in the middle partition lay a polished piece of the leg-bone of the large deer known as the elk or sambur, apparently much hacked with a knife.

I had some of the hill-people with me, and whilst examining this curious structure I noticed they all stood aloof, and on telling them to bring me out the leg-bone, all shrank back, looking aghast. I then found out that the hollow and cromlech were the haunt and abode of the most dreaded and malignant of the hill-deities, who was believed to be represented by that bone, which carried her power, and any meddling with it would be resented.

The bone had been laid there by the Kurumbars, a half-savage dwarfish race, few in number and seldom to be seen, inhabiting the thick, feverish jungles on the sides of the range, where only they can live. They seem to be a remnant of the primitive possessors of the plains, driven thence at some unknown period by waves of invasion to the almost inaccessible jungle fastnesses. The tradition of them still survives, and all over the low country circles of stones and entrenched mounds are popularly called Kurumbar forts.

The few communities existing in the jungles are extremely shy, shunning intercourse with the people cultivating the table-land, who, whilst hating, hold them in great awe as witches and enchanters having an understanding and influence with the malevolent village deities. Yet at the beginning of the cultivating season one of this despised race must be called from his jungle habitation and guide the plough that turns the first furrow, and also be present at the initiation of some other village ceremonials. One of these Kurumbas was believed to have placed the bone in the cromlech, commissioned by the evil demon of the spot, who had invested it with her power. On certain occasions deputations from the villages on the plateau above came down and laid flowers, rice, and turmeric before it. After all this I said no more to the Hindu villagers with me, but turned to a Mussulman shikarri, who carried my gun, and told him to take up the bone; but he too shuffled uneasily and hung back; so I said to him, "Why, Cassim Sahib, you a true believer, are you afraid of these idolators' devils?" He answered, "True, Sahib, these are idolatrous pigs, and their shaitans accursed; but this shaitan is most spiteful, something bad might happen."

I record this incident as showing how the superstitious ideas of one tribe may infect others of a vehemently antagonistic race and creed. The only man who seemed careless of the genius loci was my Toda guide, who stood apart, wrapt toga-wise in his mantle, almost gigantic in stature, looking scornfully on the others. He and his tribe, of unknown origin, immemorially masters of the Nilgeris, acknowledged as such by the other hill-races, have their own gods and worship, and care nothing for other deities.

I proceeded onwards; most of the people with me hurrying on in advance to escape from that spot of ill-omen. I had, however, a strong wish to get that magic bone, and some days after opened negotiations with my Toda friend, who, without many words or express agreement, signified that it might be brought for a consideration—I suspect, too, with some secret feeling of contempt. In effect, a few days after, he met me mysteriously, and produced the bone from under his mantle. I heard no more at the time, but, to end the story, some few years after I again visited the spot, and found the curious cromlech all thrown down, broken and scattered, the work, I am afraid, of European planters, who had been opening a coffee estate in a neighbouring forest. The bone now on the table seems in the days of its power to have been analogous to the West Indian and African Obeahs.

Human bones, too, are often used in the Madras districts. to form "a spell of powerful trouble" still more resembling Obeahs: a bone must be taken from a native burial-ground, where skulls and bones are always lying about, and the man who desires to kill or injure his enemy must take it by night to some lonely spot, and, holding it in his right hand and his chain of rudraksha beads (i.e., "tears of Siva", a magical ornament) in his left, must recite a hundred times over the bone the powerful Malayala Mantra or spell, "Om, Hrām! Hrām! Swine-faced goddess! seize him, seize him as a victim! Drink, drink his blood! Eat, eat his flesh! O image of imminent death, "Bhăgăvăti of Malayâla, let his destruction be swift!" The bone thus charmed, thrown or hidden in an enemy's house, will cause his death or ruin. Malayâla, or Malabar, is the land of sorcery and magic, and the most malevolent demons reside there. Seven of the most powerful and most dreaded have their abode in the Dharmastâla Temple, in a remote jungle tract of South Canara, where round stones, into which the power of the demons is transfused, are sold by the officials, carrying the power with them, and can be used, it is believed, with deadly effect. These stones, too, seem to rank with Obeahs. I can also adduce another instance of how an object used for evil purposes may become something very like an Obeah.

Whilst officiating as judge in the South Canara district a very cruel murder-case was brought before me, in which a man was proved to have been held down by three or four others and his throat cut or sawn through with a little sharp instrument five inches long—in fact, a steel spur, such as is attached to the heels of fighting-cocks. The charge was conclusively proved; and some time afterwards it came to my ears that the spur with which the murder (which was shown to have been prompted by jealousy) had been effected, had been abstracted from the Court, to which all things employed in murders were forfeited, and been deposited in a Bhūtastān or Devil-temple, and was being much resorted to with vows and offerings by persons stung by jealousy, especially women.

It should be explained here that, though the Brahmanical gods are known and reverenced, demon-worship is the popular country cultus in Southern India. The demons are malignant spirits or ghosts, commonly known as Bhūtas, and are very generally the ghosts of notorious bad characters, robbers, or men dreaded in life for violence and cruelty. Such persons after death become Bhūtas, as dreaded and malignant as they were in life. Those, too, who have met with violent deaths in any way are liable to become Bhūtas, and afflict their neighbourhoods; children are often named after them, as it is believed they will spare any who bear their names.

I remember an instance of a notorious leader of dacoits in the Trichinopoly and Madura borders, who had been guilty of great cruelties, and, after being at last captured and executed, the children born all over that country-side for many months were named after him, as it was believed he would surely become a most terrible Bhūta. So in the case just described, the murdered man was believed to have become a Bhūta as ruthless as the manner of his death had been, and his power had been concentrated in the little instrument with which he had been so cruelly murdered. So people who wished to wreak revenge came and made offerings at the little shrine in which it had been placed, in the faith that some evil would thereby befall their enemies. I sent to bring the spur away, for it properly belonged to the Court, and so broke the spell.

I remember, too, a Brahman Munshi attached to me, an intelligent man, well versed in English, being in great perturbation at finding, on coming from his house in the morning, a parcel containing sticks, hair, and some other objects, wrapt in a plantain-leaf, laid upon his threshold. He believed it had been placed there by an enemy with incantations meant to bring misfortune or sickness on himself or family. That, too, appears to have been essentially an Obeah, and on the same lines as the curious clay object, laid not long ago with malicious intent upon the threshold of a house in Scotland, and now placed by Dr. Tylor in the Pitt-Rivers Museum at Oxford.

by Charlotte S. Burne.

(Read at Meeting, March 20th, 1912.)

The recrudescence of old customs in modern shapes, and the assumption of common forms by practices which have different origins, are matters of firstrate importance to the proper understanding and appreciation of folklore. The changing forms of a given custom, and the history of the circumstances and influences which have led to changes in any ascertained case, are therefore worth noting and recording.

The observance of the Fifth of November has an interest of its own. It shares with the Twenty-ninth of May, and with that alone, the peculiarity of being a specially English Calendar festival, referable to a known political event. But the distribution of the observance seems to be somewhat unequal, and the manner of it varies in different places. In the following notes I propose to call attention to these variations, and to suggest that some features at least of the celebration may have descended to it from an earlier festival

To begin with London:—We are all familiar with the. sight of parties of little boys carrying effigies about the streets on the fifth of November, shouting rhymes and hoping for coppers. What eventually becomes of the effigies I know not, but on November 5th, 1910, I saw children eagerly collecting some clippings of trees and hedges from the little forecourts and gardens in Kensington. "What are you going to do with them?" I asked. "Why, burn 'em!" replied a little boy, hastily stooping to pick up another stick before his companions could get it. They were far too much engrossed for further conversation, but the sticks were not suitable for ordinary fire-lighting, unless in a much more poverty-stricken class than these children appeared to belong to, so I conclude that they were meant for bonfires, if any space for lighting them could be found.

There were, I think, more Guy Fawkes effigies than usual in London in the year 1903, a sign, too probably, of want of work among the casual labourers. One procession, which I saw from my window in Kensington about the middle of the day, deserves notice:

"The 'Guy,' an unusually large one, was mounted in a small cart drawn by a pony. It was preceded, first, by a man ringing a bell, and then by two dancers, wearing costumes resembling that of a clown and masks of the common painted kind sold in the shops at this season, who danced up the street in front of the effigy in the real old style, lifting the arms in the air alternately, in time to the motion of the feet. [They did not sing or shout.] For musicians they had a man playing on a shrill long tin whistle or pipe, and another following the cart beating a drum. A man in women's clothes walked beside the cart, occasionally cutting a clumsy caper, as well as his clinging skirts would allow. The rear of the procession was brought up by the clown, capering and curveting and shaking his money-box. It was a poor vulgar show, no doubt, but it retained in its debased state several of the principal features of the old morris-dance. There were the time-honoured figures of the Fool and the Bessy, accompanying the dancers; the drum and penny whistle represented the ancient tabor and pipe; while the bell which the Fool formerly wore hung at his back, was now carried in the van to inform the householders of the passing of the show (very possibly the original purpose for which the bell was introduced)."[1]

In 1911 again I noticed a similar party, obviously composed of the "unemployed." There were only two dancers, but one of them was dressed in woman's clothes, a most persistent accompaniment of morris-dancing parties. What the fate of the effigies was I cannot say, and there was no rhyme or "ditty" used in either case, but on November 5th, 1901, I noted the following debased formula shouted by parties of boys carrying "Guys" down the same street in Kensington:—

"Please to remember The fifth of November Should never be forgot. Guy, Guy, Guy! Hit 'im iu' the eye! Stick 'im up the chimney-pots, and there let 'im lie!"

In 1893 I came across Guy Fawkes in the watering-places of the south-eastern counties, where the observance of the day assumes much greater importance. At Hastings I saw placards announcing the grand procession which would pass through the town on the occasion, carrying effigies (if I remember rightly), and winding up with a bonfire, in which, as a quondam "Bonfire Boy" of Hastings afterwards told me, the effigies were burnt. The rhyme they sang he gave me as follows:—

"Remember, remember, the Fifth of November Gunpowder treason and plot; I see no reason why Gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot. A stick and a stake For King George's sake! Holla, boys! holla, boys! make the town[2] ring! Holla, boys! holla, boys! God save the King! Hip, hip, hooray!"

At Eastbourne, according to the same informant, the festival is postponed to the ninth of November (Lord Mayor's Day).

At Rye, in 1893, I saw placards similar to those displayed at Hastings

"announcing the intended doings of the 'Borough Bonfire Boys,' the route to be taken by the procession, and the place determined for the bonfire, in which the effigies would be consumed, and warning all persons against giving anything towards the funds for the bonfires if not solicited by the authorised 'Bonfire Boys.'

"At Folkestone I saw the procession itself, on Monday [evening, November 6th]. It consisted of carts or waggons (cars they were styled), decorated, and containing tableaux vivants contributed by the different Friendly and other Societies in the town. Thus, the Ancient Order of Druids sent a party of Ancient Britons; the car provided by the [late] Rev. E. Husband's Working Boys' Club represented 'Algeria,' where Mr. Husband [was then] staying; the Mutual Benefit Society's car represented 'Labour,' as exemplified by a blacksmith at his forge shoeing a live pony. The Butchers' Trade Car (sent, I fear, by one firm only, not by the trade) conveyed a live bullock, with a man with a pole-axe standing by his head. The Fire Brigades also took part in the procession, and so did no less than four fife-and-drum bands. The whole was lighted by torches and Chinese lanterns, and followed a prescribed route through the town, stopping at intervals to collect money, which was given to the Victoria Hospital. ... I learnt the following particulars [from the Secretary, Mr. C. Buzan, nursery-gardener]:—

"The 5th November was formerly kept in Folkestone with a great deal of rowdyism, squibbing in the streets, breaking windows, and mischief of all kinds, accompanying the usual carrying of effigies, and burning them in a bonfire on the outskirts of the town. Especially was this the case in the older streets, as High Street and Tontine Street. But I could not learn that the fishing population took any special part, or that there was any feud between them and the landsmen on that occasion. Some five or six years [before my visit] an attempt was made by the Friendly Societies of the town to remedy the disorder by organising a joint procession on the lines of the celebration at Eastbourne, which should occupy the [hooligans] by drawing them to its line of march. They retained the effigies and the bonfire, and paid their expenses and remunerated themselves by the collection made on the way. This only partially succeeded in checking disorder, and when, after November 5th, 1890 (as I understand), there was a difficulty about the accounts, this young man Buzan, and some friends, resolved to reorganise the affair on a plan which he had seen carried out by the Temperance Societies at Ashford, of which place he is a native. They got every society of working men or boys in the town to send delegates to form a Carnival Society, as they drolly call it. Every member of this society pays one penny a week through the year, which entitles him to a ticket for their annual dinner, and leaves a margin for the expenses of the procession. They also obtain subscriptions towards the expenses from the leading men of the town, so that all the money collected on the line of march is clear profit, and is handed over to the Victoria Hospital in the town. They carry no effigies, and 'strictly avoid personalities,' said Mr. Buzan; neither is there any bonfire. The result"

forms a marked contrast to the very decadent survival I witnessed in London ten years later. It

"is curiously like a mediæval [Corpus Christi] trades procession, such as lingered within memory at Shrewsbury, and, as I believe, still exists in some Midland towns. But the present form of the Folkestone custom is quite modern, though"

unconsciously to the performers it reverts to an old type.[3]Any expression of popular feeling seems liable to reproduce old traditional forms.

What sort of celebration lies at the back of the modernized Folkestone custom may be seen by the example of Lewes, where Bonfire Night is a perfect saturnalia which involves shuttering or boarding up windows and the importation of a hundred constables from Brighton. Several Bonfire Societies are formed in the town, which get up independent processions with bands, fancy dresses, tar-barrels, Bengal lights, and effigies filled with fireworks. Not content with Guy Fawkes, they also represent the Pope and any notorious criminals of the year. At five o'clock they meet in Commercial Square, where a mock Archbishop leads the "Bonfire Boys' Prayers," which consist of a doggerel condemnation of Romanism and the Gunpowder Plot. Then the grand procession forms up, marches to a special tune through the streets, and breaks up again into its component parts, each of which wends its way to its own gigantic bonfire, where its own effigies are burnt.. An interesting incident is that the Borough Boys throw a burning tar-barrel from the bridge into the river, which marks the boundary between the town and the Cliff, which is the local area of the Cliff Boys.

The ceremony has undergone ups and downs and modifications from time to time, of which Mr. Arthur Beckett, from whose Spirit of the Downs (cap. xviii.) I have taken these particulars, gives a full account. "The event," he says (p. 205), "is looked upon in the light of a local ritual," . . . and the professed horror of Romanism is only an "excuse for a license for men to lose their reason during a few short hours in the year" (p. 204). He attributes the prevalence of Bonfire festivities in the south-eastern counties to the example of Lewes.

He is probably unacquainted with the observances at Guildford, of which Miss Freire-Marreco sends me an account.[4]

Guildford was for many generations notorious for its riots. Its Fifth-of-November disturbances were special, and all who had any grievance against their fellow-townsmen united to use the occasion for acts of revenge. All the tradesmen in the High Street closed their places of business early in the day, and many of them barricaded their shop fronts and provided appliances for extinguishing fire. The rioters, generally known as the guys, assembled outside the town, and entered the High Street early in the morning. They came marching along in military fashion, many of them carrying lighted torches and bundles of chips and faggots. They were armed with formidable bludgeons, and were disguised in all kinds of grotesque costumes. "Their cry will never be forgotten by anyone who ever heard it. It was a thrilling, piercing note of peculiar intensity, and was a warning for all peaceable citizens to be on their guard." A huge bonfire was rapidly built and lighted opposite Holy Trinity Church, and upon it were piled all kinds of gates, palings, and palisades that had been broken down by the victorious rioters and taken from the houses of all to whom they owed a grudge. Sometimes even doors, carts, and household appliances were seized and burnt. Fireworks were let off; the rioters danced round the fire, and went up and down the street, insulting those they met, breaking windows, and doing other damage. It was known that many otherwise peaceable citizens took part in the riots, and more than once a disguised rioter found to his horror that some of the woodwork he was helping to destroy came from his own premises.

In 1863 the Guys came out on the Prince of Wales's wedding-day, March 10th, as well as on November 5th. That year Mr. P. W. Jacob was elected Mayor on the understanding that he should continue in office till the riots were put an end to. He was Mayor for four years. In 1864 a police-constable died of the wounds he received in the fray, but his assailants were not captured. In 1865 occurred the worst riot of all, in which another policeman was almost killed. Mr. Jacob armed the constables with cutlasses, swore in special constables,—some of them men who were believed to be connected with the riots,—sent for a body of Lancers, and had the streets cleared. Four men were afterwards brought to trial. This was the last serious riot. That of 1866 was quickly dispersed by cavalry, and a final attempt in 1868 was broken up by the police and special constables.[5]

I have also a few notes from the south-western coast:—

At Exeter (so I am told) the crowds that assembled for the annual bonfire and burning of tar-barrels in the Cathedral Close were so rowdy that the military were regularly turned out to preserve order, and one year, it is said, were forced to fire on the crowd. The celebrations have been discontinued only quite recently, and on account of the danger to the cathedral fabric from the close proximity of the burning tar-barrels.

At Teignmouth the day is considered a holiday. The shops shut early, and the people hold a regular festival, firing off rockets, burning notorious persons in effigy, etc.

At Ilfracombe I have a childish, but distinct, memory of seeing parties of boys carrying effigies on November 5th, 1859. They brought them round to the houses, sang, or rather shouted, the rhyme "Remember, remember, the Fifth of November" (as on page 411), rang at the doors, and asked for money, as the girls did with dolls on the First of May. One party, I remember, carried, not an effigy, but a living man with his face blackened. I heard of a living man being also carried round at Bridgewater in 1910.[6]

There is, I think, good ground for the surmise that "Guy Fawkes" did not originate the Fifth of November celebrations, but merely took over a pre-existing custom observed at the season, and transferred it to a different date. In the first place, the date is popularly known as "Bonfire Day" or "Bonfire Night" equally with "Guy Fawkes' Day," and, further, there is not always a "Guy"! The Folkestone effigies have been dropped, as we have seen, of late years. At Bosham, near Chichester, there is reported to be a procession of "Bonfire Boys" in fancy dress winding up with a bonfire, but there is no "Guy." At Liphook, in Hampshire, the boys "let off fireworks, light a public bonfire, and for days beforehand run about in masks, but they have no Guy."[7] According to the same correspondent, Guy is never seen at Wakefield in Yorkshire either. Another testifies that he is unknown in Swaledale, and the same is averred of Lincolnshire by Miss Peacock in the north of the county, and by a correspondent of Notes and Queries in the south.[8] Unpopular public or local characters are sometimes burnt in effigy, but there is no regular Guy, or at any rate only recently. Neither, says Miss Partridge, are Guys known at Redditch in Worcestershire. When I was making collections for Shropshire Folklore I was told that it was, or had been, customary at the farmhouses to have each one a bonfire on the Fifth of November, which agreed with the impression I had derived in childhood from servants and labourers when I talked to them of what I had seen at Ilfracombe. I only heard of carrying or burning effigies at Ludlow, where "Bonfire Day" or "Night" was a rowdy occasion, and the "Guys" frequently represented unpopular local personages, as well as the historical Fawkes.

From the evidence so far one might have been inclined, nothwithstanding the cases of Lewes and Guildford, to suggest that effigy-burning was a seafaring custom, but the inland instances of Ludlow, Bedford,[9] South Nottinghamshire,[10] Cheltenham, Minchinhampton,[11] and Nailsworth (Gloucestershire), and Headington, near Oxford,[12] in all of which places "Guys" are in evidence, forbid this idea.

In Lancashire, according to Harland and Wilkinson's Lancashire Folklore,[13] the Fifth of November is kept "in towns by the effigy of Guy Fawkes being paraded about the streets and burnt at night with great rejoicing, and by the discharge of fireworks. In the country the more common celebration is confined to huge bonfires, and the firing of pistols and fireworks." In some places the boys go about begging coal for the bonfire for some days previously. But the practice of effigy-burning or otherwise is not invariably a matter of town versus country, for in the villages of South Nottinghamshire it was always usual. Local religious sympathies, as Miss Peacock suggests,[14] no doubt had a great deal to do with it. Mr. C. C. Bell, our authority for Nottinghamshire, testifies to the Protestant bigotry which prevailed among the villagers in his younger days. And the Lancashire towns were notoriously Presbyterian in the seventeenth century. In Staffordshire, on the other hand, where the observance of the day is practically confined to boys with squibs and crackers, there are little settlements of hereditary Romanists down to the present time.[15] Whatever be the cause of the variations, the existence of annual bonfires without effigies certainly suggests[16] that the bonfire is an older institution than the effigy-burning, and therefore older than 1605.

Scotland and Ireland were of course little affected by the plot against the English Parliament, and even Wales probably took it philosophically.[17] Accordingly, we do not find the Fifth of November observed outside England. But we do find autumnal bonfires lighted at "Hallowmas," or the Eve and Days of All Saints and All Souls (Oct. 31st, Nov. 1st and 2nd). In North Wales in the early eighteenth century, according to Pennant, a great bonfire was made on Allhallows Even (Oct. 31st) in a conspicuous spot near every house; divination by white stones marked and thrown among the ashes was resorted to, and the family said their evening prayers turning round the dying fire.[18] If a stone were missing in the morning, he or she to whom it belonged would die during the year. In Scotland, in Perthshire, Aberdeen, and Buchan, the fires were kindled for the village or parish, as well as for individual farmers' families, similar divinations were resorted to, and sometimes a burning faggot was carried round the fields.[19] In Ireland, owing perhaps to climatic causes, in place of bonfires, candles are distributed and burnt, and the boys think themselves privileged to loot their neighbours' cabbage-gardens.[20] In the Isle of Man, Hallowmas is observed by Old Style, and the bonfires there therefore coincide with Martinmas.[21]

To turn to other details of the Hallowmas festival:—Burns's "Hallow E'en," with its long list of love-divinations practised that night in Ayrshire, is familiar to us all. Even recently "bobbing for apples" was a favourite sport of the season in Wales, and Pennant mentions the distribution of "soul-cakes" to the poor. Aubrey tells of the dole of "soulcakes" on the English side of the Marches, and Tusser speaks of the provision of seed-cakes for the ploughmen's Hallowmas supper. Now several of these customs,—divinations, and begging for apples, cakes, and ale for the festival,—still linger in England, but divorced from the firecustoms. It would be strange if the latter had never existed. And, in fact, a few cases of them have been recorded. Sir William Dugdale noted in 1658 that "anciently" the master of the family used to carry a bundle of lighted straw about his corn on All-hallow Even,[22] and a correspondent of the Gentleman's Magazine, 1788, noted "a custom observed in some parts of the kingdom among the Papists" of carrying blazing straw called a Tinley round their grounds on the Eve of All Souls.[23] In the same periodical, in November, 1784, it is stated that "at the village of Findern in Derbyshire the boys and girls go every year in the evening of the 2nd of November (All Souls' Day) to the adjoining common, and light up a number of small fires amongst the furze growing there, and call them by the name of Tindles."[24] In the same county, Derbyshire, in the early nineteenth century, the Dufiield people used to celebrate their Wake,—or rather that of Kedleston, the next parish,—which fell on the Sunday after All Saints' Day, "as the fifth is in other places, minus the Guy." On moonlight nights for some time previously the young men harnessed themselves to a cart and looted all the dead wood they could find; they collected money to buy coal, and early on the Monday morning made "a splendid fire," after which they went off with noise and "rough music" to the squirrel-hunt in Kedleston Park, as related in Folk-Lore.[25]

Besides the bonfires, there are other customs connected with Hallowmas which are now observed on Guy Fawkes' Day. The ringing of the church bells, which forms so marked and constant a feature of the Gunpowder Treason celebrations, was one of the special rites of Hallowmas, when the bells were rung all night on the Eves or Vigils of the two consecutive feasts of All Saints and All Souls. The practice was specifically forbidden as "superstitious" by both Henry VIII. and Elizabeth.[26] The Hallowmas "soul-cakes," which lingered in Shropshire almost within living memory, are replaced in the North of England by the Fifth of November Lancashire "parkin" or South Yorkshire "thar-cake,"[27] an unleavened cake of oatmeal, butter, and treacle.[28] The annual license to rob the neighbours' cabbage-gardens on Hallow E'en in Ireland (where the boys burn the old stumps and fumigate others' houses with the smoke),[29] compares with the Oxfordshire boys' belief, often carried into practice, that they are at liberty to take forcible possession of any firewood, provided they have repeated the bonfire rhyme.[30] In Yorkshire and Lincolnshire it is thought that anyone may lawfully shoot all over the manor on Guy Fawkes' Day, and the belief was frequently put in practice in the early part of the nineteenth century. The licensed rowdyism of the south-country towns also agrees with this. These additional points of likeness between the old and the new festivals make the transference of the bonfires from one to the other the more probable.

Mr. John Nicholson[31] describes the Fifth of November as a much-observed holiday in country places in the East Riding of Yorkshire. The harvest has been finished, the stubble grazed off, the hedges trimmed; the thorns and clippings are saved up for a great bonfire, and the boys gather stores of fuel for weeks previously. On the eve of the great day the youths go round the village and strike the doors of the cottages with babbles, i.e., leather bags each having a stone inside and a string attached to it. At 11 a.m. on the Fifth, the eldest apprentice in the village goes to the church "to put the bell in," i.e., to ring a signal bell at the sound of which the apprentices leave work and the children school, and the holiday begins. "The church bells ring vigorously all day; amateurs help the regular ringers to keep them going, and much ale is consumed in the belfry. Some farmer lends a field and gives straw for the bonfire, and all bring their contributions. In the evening the fire is lighted; guns and pistols are fired, squibs and rockets let off, and youths run about with burning besoms dipped in tar; while the children dance and shout,

'Gunpowder plot Shall never be forgot So long as Old England Stands on its spot.'"

But there is no mention of a Guy nor of a procession. In fact, but for the date and the rhyme, the whole festival might be just the same had the "plot" never been "contrived To blow up the King and the parliament alive."

Though the day is not kept in the East Riding villages with the ceremonial usual in towns, yet you will notice that it is not relegated to the small boys only, as in most country places, but observed as a general holiday, equally with the Duffield Hallowmas Wake in Derbyshire. The reason why it thus flourishes probably lies in the fact that Yorkshire and Derbyshire are among the few counties in England where the servants' annual hirings take place in November, when the year's work on the land is completed, and the winter season begins. For the first of May and the first of November are still reckoned by old-fashioned people as the beginning of the two seasons. Summer and Winter, and the beginning of Winter, among Celtic and Teutonic peoples alike,[32] was anciently the beginning of the year. And to farming men of Peakland and the East Riding, who move from place to place at the beginning of November, Winter is in a very real sense the beginning of the year. A general holiday, rejoicing over a year's work completed and a year's wages earned, and a bonfire to make a clearance of the year's accumulated rubbish, even to the old brooms with which it has been swept up, forms a very appropriate winding-up of their term of service, even apart from any more mystical associations, any "looking before and after," any memories of the Departed, any pryings into futurity, that may accompany the sports. If Guy Fawkes' Day superseded Hallow E'en, it superseded not only a festival of the Church, but an indefinitely ancient New Year celebration.

In the Island of Guernsey, Guy Fawkes was of course unknown. But in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, on New Year's Eve, the boys were wont "to dress up a grotesque figure which they called "le vieux bout de l'an, and after parading it through the streets by torchlight, to end by burying it on the beach in some retired spot, or to make a bonfire and burn it.[33] The practice fell into abeyance, but "some time in the second quarter of the nineteenth century an English family of small farmers started a Guy Fawkes celebration in the island. To the country people the name 'Guy Fawkes' meant nothing," but the resemblance to their ovv^n custom must have struck them forcibly, for they invariably called the "Guy" the "bout de l'an," or, as they spelt it, "budloe."[34]

And now I want to launch a theory. The dates chosen for annual bonfire festivities are always on the eve of the festival, not on the day itself. We have the Beltane fires on May Eve, the St. John's fires on Midsummer Eve, the November fires on Allhallows Eve, the Yule-log on Christmas Eve: we also have the carrying of the Clavie or burning tar-barrel round the town of Burghead (in Morayshire) on New Year's Eve, and the similar fire-festival of Uphellya Night in Shetland on the same date. I should like to suggest that fire-festivals here and elsewhere mark the end of the old year or the end of a particular season,—according to the calendar observed,—just as the lighting or giving of new fire marks the beginning of a new one. The bonfire is a destruction of the bad luck and rubbish of the past, so that it shall never return to vex the future, something as the destruction of the property of a dead man by fire or water prevents his ghost from returning to haunt the living. For bad luck and ghosts have this in common, that they are both conceived of as something haunting, clinging, difficult to be got rid of. It may be remembered that, when Mr. T. W. Thompson mentioned to a gipsy woman that he proposed to visit a rival family of gipsies, she begged him to do no such thing, for he would come back and bring all their bad luck and poverty and disease in his clothes and give it to her children.[35] And only a few months back an Irishman told me of "the Parson's Bush near me home at Elphin, where a parson kem to a violent ind, and whin some men wint to cut it down it bled, and they had to lave it, for that was his shilter, his Purgatory, clinging to the leaves, for ye can have yer Purgatory anny wheer and they say the air is full of sperrits."

Just as the ghost is banished by burning its clothes, so, it strikes me, is the bad luck of the past year or season banished by burning its rubbish on the eve of a new one. It would take the wide reading, the industry, and the skill of a Dr. J. G. Frazer to work out and fully establish this idea, and I will now only mention one or two cases which seem to support it. The North Indian Diwali or Feast of Lamps is held on the last day of the moon in the month Kartik (October-November). On this night all the houses are cleaned, set in order, and lighted up, to receive the souls of the dead, who are expected to re-visit their homes. A woman takes a winnowing-sieve and a house-broom and beats them in every corner of the house, saying, "God abide and poverty depart!" The well-known Holi Festival of the Hindus has probably, says Mr. Crooke, been adopted by them from the Dravidian tribes. It occurs in early spring, at the full moon of the month Phalgun. On this occasion, in Nepál, a decorated wooden post is burnt in front of the palace, and represents the burning of the body of the Old Year, And among the hill-tribes of Mirzapur, the Baiga or village priest burns a stake, a rite which is called sambat jalána, "the burning of the Old Year." From this date the New Year begins, says Mr, Crooke.[36]

At the meeting of the Anthropological Institute on March 5th last, Mr. N. W. Thomas showed a photograph of one of the groves in which the women in some of the tribes of Southern Nigeria throw all their old brooms and pots at the end of the Old Year. They do not burn them, but store them as it were in these groves, where they are never touched, for it would bring back all the bad luck of last year to disturb them.

To sum up:—I take it that the celebration of Guy Fawkes' Day may be considered as an ecclesiastico-political festival instituted in the early seventeenth century. It was, and is, confined to England, where it took root sporadically, more in the South than the North, more in towns than in the country, and its observance was a good deal affected by local theological leanings. It superseded the older festival of Hallowmas, taking over the bonfires, the bell-ringing, and the general liberty which characterized the older festival, and in some cases also the festival cakes. But it did not adopt the divinations, nor the charitable old custom of remembrance of the departed, which was out of harmony with the theology of the time; and Hallowmas lingered on beside it with "maimed rites" as an ecclesiastical festival and an agricultural date. The First of November and the First of May are still, in country places, the dates for beginning and leaving off fires, housing the cattle for the winter and turning them out to pasture in the summer. May and November, or Whitsuntide and Martinmas, are the times for entering into yearly or half-yearly tenancies or service contracts in many parts of England as well as in Scotland; and, most curious of all, the chief magistrate of every municipality in England still observes the ancient pre-Roman calendar, and enters on his year of office in November.

Charlotte S. Burne.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xv., pp. 106-7. I must apologise for thus repeating myself, but this and another similar extract seem needful to the coherence of this paper.

↑ Generally bells.

↑ Folk- Lore, vol. iv., p. 40. The late Mr. Alfred Nutt added this note to the above:—"Substantially the same practices and the same modes of carrying them out obtain at Hampstead. I have, unfortunately, not kept my programme of the last fifth of November procession, but a good account, with illustrations, may be found in the Daily Graphic for November 6th [1893]." Some interesting details of the observance of the festival in the seventeenth century will be found in The Treasury for December, 1912.

↑ Abridged from G. C. Williamson, Guildford in the Olden Time (1904), pp. 184-187.

↑ The weapon used by the ringleader in 1865 is in the possession of Mr. Williamson, the authority for the above account. It is a thick staff some three feet long, thickly studded with square hobnails and projecting iron "brads," with a sharp spike at the upper end, while the lower end is roughened to give a grip. It is painted green, and is marked "V.R." in imitation of the staves of the special constables.

↑ At Ramsgate fifty or sixty years ago "boys personated Guy Fawkes, and not lay figures as is usual in most places." J. L. André, in Folk-Lore, vol. v., p. 343.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 89.

↑ County Folklore, vol. v. (Lines.), p. 211.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 188.

↑ Ibid., p. 187.

↑ Miss Partridge writes:—"Both bonfires and Guys are known in this district (Minchinhampton). About four years ago a notorious offender against morality was burned in effigy on Nov. 5th at Nailsworth, two miles from here. But both bonfires and Guys are less common than twenty years ago." At Cheltenham, so Miss Moutray Read informs me, "fireworks,—squibs for the most part,—are the great feature of the anniversary, but bonfires and Guys had their share of attention, and the first four lines of the bonfire rhyme given on p. 411 were sung."

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 188.

↑ P. 252.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 89. At Coventry, which was a noted Parliamentary stronghold in the seventeenth century, the Fifth of November is celebrated uproariously. For days beforehand boys with masks or blackened faces go from house to house begging for money to expend on bonfires and fireworks. (Oral information from residents, November, 1912.)

↑ It was in an old house on the borders of Staffordshire and Worcestershire, very familiar to me, that the conspirators took refuge after the Plot was discovered, and were finally run to earth.

↑ As was pointed out by a correspondent of Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 90.

↑ The nearest approach to a Welsh celebration of Guy Fawkes I have met with is at Newport (Mon.), which is of course politically in England. There, according to an unpublished note of our late member, Mrs. Dunnill, the boys every year roll a blazing tar-barrel down Stow Hill,—a principal thoroughfare of the town.

↑ (Ellis') Brand, Popular Antiquities etc, vol. i., p. 389 (1848).

↑ Statistical Account of Scotland, in Brand, vol viii., p. 388; and W. Gregor, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-east of Scotland, p. 168.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xviii., p. 438.

↑ A. W. Moore, Folklore of the Isle of Man, p. 122.

↑ Brand, op. cit., vol. i., p. 391.

↑ Ibid.

↑ Ibid.

↑ Vol. xiv., p. 189.

↑ Brand, op. cit., vol. i., p. 394.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xix., p. 337.

↑ At Grinton and Reeth in Swaledale gingerbread, and sticks of a kind of toffee known as "Tom Trots," are made and eaten. (Information from correspondents.) At Ramsgate muffins split and spread with treacle are provided. (Folk-Lore, vol. v., p. 343.)

↑ Folk- Lore, vol. xviii,, p. 438.

↑ Several Oxford variants of this appear in Folk-Lore, vol. xiv., p. 176, and Brand, op. cit., vol. i., p. 398.

↑ Folk-Lore of East Yorkshire, p. 15.

↑ Sir J. Rhys, Lectures . . . Celtic Heathendom (Hibbert Lectures), pp. 514, 676.

↑ Guernsey Folk-Lore, p. 36.

↑ E. F. Carey in Folk-Lore, vol. xvii., p. 449.

↑ Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society, April, 1911, p. 270.

by Prof. J.H. Leuba, Brywn Mawr, USA.

An inquiry into the origin of the belief in unseen, personal powers is primarily concerned with the individual geniuses of the social groups considered. From time to time new ideas come to birth in the minds of specially gifted individuals, and through them become the possession of the community. This fact should be kept in mind throughout the following paper. But the statement that the conceptions out of which the gods arise are of individual origin is not inconsistent with the fact that the individual and religion are, in a very real sense, the products of the social group.

It is, I suppose, the passion for simplicity and unity that has led anthropologists and historians stubbornly to seek the origin of superhuman, personal powers in some one class of phenomena. According to Tylor, the idea of gods had its starting point in such things as dreams, visions, swoons, trances. Spencer is even more emphatic in deriving gods and worship from one original source,—the worship of the dead. Max Müller also ascribes to the gods one origin; he holds that the god-ideas proceed from the personification of natural objects. This unfortunate assumption of the unitary origin of the ideas of gods is, I believe, one of the chief causes of the unsatisfactory condition of our knowledge regarding the origin and the development of religion. In this paper I shall advance brief arguments, both psychological and historical, in support of the four following propositions:—

1. Gods grew out of several different ideas of superhuman beings.

2. These beings had independent origins.

3. The attributes of the gods differ according to their origin.

4. The historical gods are usually mongrel gods, the outcome of the combination of characteristics belonging to superhuman beings of different origins.

The need of accounting for observed phenomena gives rise to one class of sources of the belief in unseen, superhuman beings; the affective and moral needs give rise to another class.

Class I. This class contains several independent groups of external and internal phenomena. They are by far the most prolific sources of ideas of superhuman beings.

(a) Apparitions of animals and persons yet living, seen in sleep and in the hallucinations of fever or insanity, lead to the belief in "doubles" and "ghosts." When these apparitions come after the death of the person they represent, they produce the belief in "souls" or "spirits."

(b) States of seeming death followed by apparent return to life,—sleep, trances, and other states of temporary loss of consciousness,—suggest a belief similar to the preceding.

(c) The spontaneous though fleeting personification of striking natural phenomena such as thunder, lightning, fire, flood, and tempest, or the sudden appearance of animal or vegetable life, may well lead to the belief in personal agents behind visible nature.

(d) The problem of creation no doubt forces upon the primitive mind very early the necessity of a Maker. It may be that a crude conception of a Creator is attained even earlier than that of a soul or double.

(e) The facts of conscience: the feeling of duty, the categorical imperative; transformations of personality, conversion, etc.

(f) Various experiences included under the terms clairvoyance, divination, monition, etc.

(g) Striking motor and sensory abnormalities, such as are met with in hysteria.

The desire to explain the phenomena of the last three groups implies a considerable degree of mental development; therefore, before these causes could become operative, man must have been already in possession of a variety of ideas of superhuman beings and of gods. But, if these phenomena could hardly have become sources of original god-ideas, they have undoubtedly led to important modifications of them by the ascription to the gods of the moral qualities and of the powers implied in these experiences. With the appearance of the moral conscience, for instance, gods became promoters of morality.

It is to be noted that the metaphysical arguments for the existence of God,—for instance, the cosmological and the ontological proofs and the argument from design,—stand in a different relation from the facts here classified to the belief in superhuman beings. The metaphysical proofs are primarily arguments by which man sought to establish the objective validity of god-ideas already in existence. These proofs have also served to give greater precision to the god-ideas, and, above all, to modify their content. How radically the metaphysical and the naive empirical methods differ becomes evident in a comparison of the cosmological argument with the manner in which non-civilized man comes to believe in a Maker.

Class II. The affective and the moral needs. These needs become potent relatively late in human history; so that, when they appear as factors in the making of gods, beliefs in superhuman beings have already come into existence through the agency of phenomena of the first class. The experiences of this second class result, therefore, in a transformation of existing superhuman beings by the ascription to them of affective and moral qualities. In an essay on a group of Christian mystics,[1] I have indicated four kinds of affective needs, only two of which need be mentioned here:—

(a) The needs of the heart. Affection and love seek perfect objects that they may be perfectly gratified. Under stress of this need a Nature-god or the impassable Absolute may be transformed into the Great Friendly Presence, the benevolent Father, even the Passionate Lover.

(b) The needs of conscience, (not, as in Class I., the interpretation of the facts of conscience). We crave strength in order to fulfil its imperative commands. These cravings are father to the belief in a Being who is able and willing to assist in the conflicts of the "spiritual" against the "natural" man. Here might be placed also the conviction that justice must be fulfilled, either in this life or in another. This conviction is usually connected with the belief in a Dispenser of punishment and reward, a Fulfiller of the law of justice.

The modern belief in the existence of God rests nearly entirely upon the experiences of this second class. Dreams, hallucinations, trances, personification of striking phenomena, the idea of a Maker,—these empirical data, together with the metaphysical arguments, have lost all or almost all the value they had once as prompters of the belief in God.

Subclasses Ia and Ib.—I proceed to a few remarks concerning the first four groups of the first class, and I begin with groups a and b.

Most anthropologists seem to be of the opinion that the idea of the "double" or "ghost" is the exclusive source of the original belief in souls, in invisible spirits, and consequently in gods. Very recently, however, a distinguished sociologist, E. Durkheim, has vigorously attacked this view.[2] He maintains that the conception of soul did not have its origin in dreams, visions, and trances, although the conception may be of service in an attempt to account for some of these phenomena. As the point raised by Durkheim is of considerable importance, I give his chief objections under four heads, and offer answers which seem to me sufficient to refute his arguments.

1. The belief in soul is not the simplest way to account for dreams, visions, etc. Why should not man instead have imagined that he could see at a distance through all kinds of obstacles? This is a simpler idea than that of a double made of a semi-invisible, ethereal substance.

2. Many dreams are refractory to the ghost-interpretation; for instance, dreams of things that we have done in the past. The double might transport himself into the future, but how could he live over again the past existence of the body to which he belongs? How could a man when awake really believe that he has taken part in events which he knows to have taken place long ago? It is much more natural that he should think of memories, since these at least are familiar to him.

3. How could he be so stupid and non-inquisitive as not to be impressed by the fact that the person whose alleged double has conversed with his own double while he slept had also had dreams that same night and was with another person than his own double? There is, thinks Durkheim, some naïveté in the blind credulity ascribed to primitive man by this theory.

4. Even though the ghost-explanation should be sufficient to account for all dreams, it would remain unlikely that man ever sought for an explanation of his dreams; they are too common occurrences. "What is dream in our life? How small a place it holds . . . and how surprising it is that the unfortunate Australians spend so much energy in evolving a theory of it."

Let it be observed, first, that whatever objection there may be to the ghost-hypothesis as a means of interpreting the phenomena in question, the savage actually does account for them by that notion. This fact, which even Durkheim admits, causes many of his arguments to lose their relevancy. Sir Everard im Thurn relates the following incident in his book, Among the Indians of Guiana[3]: —

"One morning when it was important to me to get away from a camp on the Essequibo river, at which I had been detained for some days by the illness of some of my Indian companions, I found that one of the invalids, a young Macusi, though better in health, was so enraged against me that he refused to stir, for he declared that, with great want of consideration for his weak health, I had taken him out during the night and had made him haul the canoe up a series of difficult cataracts. Nothing could persuade him that this was but a dream, and it was some time before he was so far pacified as to throw himself sulkily into the bottom of the canoe. At that time we were all suffering from a great scarcity of food, and, hunger having its usual effect in producing vivid dreams, similar events frequently occurred. More than once, the men declared in the morning that some absent man, whom they named, had come during the night, and had beaten or otherwise maltreated them; and they insisted upon much rubbing of the bruised parts of their bodies."

That man should have originally regarded as memories vivid dreams in which he feels and hears himself walking and talking with another person, whose face he sees and whose voice he hears as clearly as in waking life, seems to me an impossible supposition; and to try to explain the dreadful experience of feeling the hand of one's enemy around one's neck, and choking in his grasp, on the ground of remembrance seems mere mockery. I do not know any explanation simpler than the assumption that the person one has felt and seen was actually present. If by chance one knows that person to have been elsewhere, then the immediate inference is that he is double. Certain savages believe that men have four souls. One may, of course, offer objections to this interpretation; but the savage does not realize the difficulties that thrust themselves upon the reflecting mind. Observations of the beliefs of intellectually inferior persons of civilized races show that for most of them there is no contradiction sufficient to make them give up an explanation to which they have become attached. Durkheim alludes to other simpler and more adequate explanations of dreams, but these he does not himself advance.

In the life of young children are found indications of the possibility of the dream-origin of the idea of doubles. Preyer relates of his child, then in his fourth or fifth year, that "he sometimes cried out in the night, and imagined that a pig was going to bite him. He seemed to see the animal as if it were actually there, and he could not be convinced that it was not there even after his bed was brightly lighted up."[4] In the Diary of a Father, published as an appendix to Sully's Studies of Childhood, we read of C., four years old:—"He evidently takes these dream-pictures for sensible realities, and when relating a dream insists that he has actually seen the circus-horses and fairies which appear to him when asleep."[5] Yet he knows that he has spent the night in a room into which horses could not enter; but it does not seem to be one of the wishes of children to get rid of contradictions otherwise than by dismissing the thought of them. The non-civilized adult behaves similarly, and in this he differs simply in degree from ourselves. It is unnecessary to multiply similar instances, yet the following may not be out of place as an illustration of the manner in which a child deals with a situation resembling in one respect that by which primitive man is confronted in the explanation of his dreams and visions. A boy of my acquaintance, nearly four years old, had been deeply impressed by the dragon in a performance of the Play of Saint George. He was told that it was a skin inside which a person roared and gave life-like movements to the skin. He seemed readily to understand and to accept the explanation, yet he still firmly believed the dragon to be alive. In order to complete the explanation, the dragon's skin was brought to the child, and in his presence a man got into it, roared, and moved about. The child, of course, understood, yet the next day he was ready to go hunting for the dragon, and this was not simply in play, if a careful observer can judge at all what is and what is not play in a child's behaviour. What happened in this case is a common experience; emotion made it impossible for him to bring his knowledge and his critical sense to bear upon the problem. An occasional terrifying vision would be sufficient, it seems, to establish and keep up the belief in doubles. Regarding the frequency of hallucinations among savages, Mary Kingsley writes of the West Africans:—"I also know that the African, in spite of all his hard-headed common sense, is endowed with a supersensitive organisation—he is always a step nearer delirium, in a medical sense, than an Englishman; a disease that will by a rise of bodily temperature merely give an Englishman a headache will give an African delirium and its visions."[6]

The four objections just reviewed are offered by Durkheim as an argument against animism. That theory, taken as an original philosophy of life, I do not defend; nor, indeed, do we need to concern ourselves with it at all. The question in point is simply whether dreams, visions, and the like have been an original source of belief in ghosts or doubles. I see nothing in Durkheim's criticisms to invalidate Marett's assertion that it is "one amongst the few relative certainties which Anthropology can claim to have established in the way of theory."[7]

Subclass Ic.—I am ready to grant that the spontaneous personification of striking nature phenomena, such as thunder, fire, floods, cataracts, and heavenly bodies, by bestowing upon them either human or animal attributes, was a factor of less importance than dreams and visions. This mode of origin seems to have played an uncommonly important role among the old Aryans, who worshipped "the heavenly ones," "the shining ones," that is, the powers of the luminous heaven. More frequently, perhaps, the tendency to personify served to confirm beliefs in powerful invisible beings and to give to them new characteristics.

Conclusions as to the probability of this origin may be drawn from the behaviour of the child. Many a child barely able to speak forms the habit of ascribing human or animal nature to what is for the adult simply non-personal. He personifies not only because it is for him a natural form of explanation, but also because he finds an inexhaustible source of delight in the fictitious world he creates. Who can make the division between belief and pretence in this mythopoeic world? It was during his fourth year that C. began "to create fictitious persons and animals, and to surround himself by a world, unseen by others, but terribly real to himself."[8] In this connection one should keep in mind the fact of great individual differences. Some children live almost entirely in the real world, and many probably never confuse make-believe with reality. But there are also those who hold firmly to the reality of a world of their own creation. It is these believing children who make the traditions and the dogmas of childhood. Is it improbable that savages should, both in earnest and in play, have placed personal and animal beings behind certain striking phenomena? How otherwise could they better gratify at once a demand for explanation and a love of dramatic play?[9]

The personifications of the primitive man, as well as those of the child, often are classed as animal forms. Nothing could be more natural. Is not the animal world more varied and mysterious to the savage than the human? The size, appearance, and behaviour of animals are so exceedingly diverse that one may expect almost anything that shows self-movement to be an animal. Why, for instance, should not the savage believe that the sun is an animal? Is its shape too simple, or its motion too regular? I do not see how uncivilized man could set limits to the shapes of animals. And as to the sun's movements, they are not, after all, so regular as the scientist would make them. The sun rises at different points winter and summer, and traverses the heavens by different paths. It hides away for long periods, and then shows itself constantly for many days. Even its heat is variable.

But, even though the personification of natural phenomena is to be expected of savages, it is perplexing to find people as far advanced as the old Egyptians, for instance, continuing to worship nature-gods. One must in this case reckon with the momentum of psychic life, just as one does with physical inertia. Habits once formed and expressed in venerated institutions cannot easily be cast aside. But something else contributes also to the production of this paradox: the literal assumes a poetic or a moral sense, and the change remains long unrecognized or unacknowledged. The ease with which most men pass, without knowing it, from a genuine belief in God to one which is merely conventional or is maintained for aesthetic or moral reasons is a fact as amazing as it is pregnant with sociological consequences. One may observe among us at present the passage from a vital belief in the traditional personal God to a survival-belief of the kind just mentioned.[10]

Subclass Id.—The idea of creation, it seems, should lead more directly than any other to the conception of beings possessing the attributes of divinities; for the notion of a Maker includes from the first power, dignity, authority, and some degree of benevolence. Yet this very early and potent source of the idea of great unseen beings has been very insufficiently taken into account. The idea of a mighty Maker of things may safely be attributed to men as low in general intelligence as are the lowest tribes now extant, for it appears very early in the child. The first definite inquiries about causes are usually made towards the end of the second year. After that time the question "What makes that?" is for many months frequently on the child's lips. At first his inquiries bear upon particular things and not upon the origin of things in general. Moreover, he does not necessarily think of personal causes. A little later on, however, he passes from particular problems to the general one, and thinks of a personal Creator.[11] Many persons have had the good fortune to be present at the child's sudden awakening to this problem and his immediate solution of it by the assumption of a great Maker conceived vaguely as a human being. A child notices a curiously made stone, and asks who made it. He is told that it was formed in the stream by the water. Then suddenly he throws out in quick succession questions that are as much exclamations of astonishment as queries: "Who made the streams? Who made the mountains? Who made the earth?" If children five years old begin of themselves to inquire into the origin of the world, one must admit the presence of such queries in the mind of the most intelligent individuals of the lowest tribes.

The Great Maker or Makers usually take on a human shape, probably because men and not animals are to primitive man the constructors of things. The nests of birds and lairs of animals are no better than the huts of the savage himself, and animals make no implements of any sort. The making of weapons and other necessary objects is one of primitive man's vital occupations. One may well suppose, therefore, that, when he thought of the making of things about him, he placed the Great Maker in the human rather than in the animal group. Nevertheless, it is not impossible that in some cases the Great Maker should have assumed an animal form.

In many primitive societies certain names supposed to designate high personal Gods have been found by later scholars to have only a non-personal significance. If we accept both this conclusion and the one now reached concerning belief in a Great Maker, we shall expect to find among primitive peoples one name for a general non-personal force and another for a great Creator. But after a time the non-personal power may naturally enough in many tribes have come to assume personal characteristics, either by direct personification, or by fusion with the creator-idea.

The Consequences of the Presence of Ideas of Superhuman Beings of Several Independent Origins.

I know of no sufficient reasons, either psychological or historical, for denying any of the following propositions. Each appears to me possible, and, under appropriate circumstances, probable.

(1) Several of the sources may have operated simultaneously in the formation of diverse ideas of superhuman beings and subsequently of gods, so that several gods of different origins may have, from the first, divided the attention of the community.

(2) These sources may have been effective not simultaneously but successively. A ghost-ancestor may have first attained dominance and, later on, a Great Maker.

(3) Any order of succession is possible. It is nearly simultaneously that the belief in unseen personified causes of external events arises in the child's mind, that dreams begin to play a part in his waking life, and that the problem of creation presents itself to him. The question as to which is the first cannot be given a universally valid answer. If we imagine a group of children living in close companionship, uninfluenced by adults, we may conceive that belief in beings arising from any of these sources would, according to the peculiarities of the children and the circumstances of their lives, first gain ascendancy.

(4) When several gods existed side by side, fusion and confusion of their characteristics could hardly be avoided: to a deified ancestor may have been ascribed the attributes of a creator, and to a creator the role of an ancestor; a non-moral nature-divinity may have been raised above the natural phenomenon to which it owed its origin, and become, as among the old Aryans, creator and governor of the world. An interaction of god-ideas of different origin,—and therefore of different nature,—is one of the fundamental facts to be taken into account by the student of the origin of religion.

It is for the anthropologist and the historian to discover what, in any particular case, has actually happened in these four respects, and to determine the origin or origins of any particular god. They will have to say, for instance, why Shintoism is a cult addressed exclusively to ancestral spirits, to family and national ancestors, while the other god-ideas have remained unknown to the Japanese, or have been suppressed under the influence of circumstances favourable to the worship of ancestors. It was otherwise with the Aryans. Their imagination was captured by ideas of nature-gods, sun, fire, storms, etc. The richness and versatility of the Greek mind provided that wonderful race with a pantheon composed of ancestor-gods, creator-gods, and nature-gods. Why these differences? As to the psychologist, he may regard his task as completed when he has pointed out the several possible origins of the god-ideas, the characteristics of each, and the nature of the causes which determine the dominance of particular gods.

I close this paper with an illustration of the usefulness of the principles I have just set forth in solving a different problem in the history of early religion.

It is an old opinion that even the lowest savage entertains a belief in a Supreme Being, however dimly conceived and little reverenced. This view was originally based quite as much on the propensity of Christians to discover at the beginning of society beliefs in agreement with their own, as on actual facts concerning these peoples. Although this opinion suffered temporary discredit from the discovery that in several instances the alleged monotheistic beliefs really proceeded from the teaching of missionaries, recent anthropological researches furnish sufficient evidence to warrant a return to this view. It seems now established that in every part of Australia except perhaps among the Arunta, a tribe of the central regions, there is a belief in an All Father, who is perhaps always regarded as creator. He is variously named in the different tribes,—Baiame, Duramulum, Mungamongana, Nureli, etc., that is, our father, father of the whole people, father of all the tribes who observe the law, great master, and the like.

In Africa there also exists, it seems, a general belief in a great god conceived as creator. Miss Mary Kingsley says that—

"The god, in the sense we use the word, is in essence the same in all of the Bantu tribes I have met with on the Coast: a non-interfering and therefore a negligeable quantity. He varies his name; Anzarnbi, . . . Nyam, Ukuku, Suku, and Nzam, but a better investigation shows that Nzam of the Fans is practically identical with Suku south of the Congo. . . . They regard their god as the creator of man, plants, animals, and the earth, and they hold that having made them, he takes no further interest in the affair. But not so the crowd of spirits with which the universe is peopled, they take only too much interest and the Bantu wishes they would not and is perpetually saying so in his prayers, a large percentage whereof amounts to "Go away, we don't want you." "Come not into this house, this village, or its plantations.""[12]

Concerning the natives of central Australia,—the most primitive of that continent,—Spencer and Gillen write,—"In all of the tribes there is a belief in the existence of alcheringa (or its equivalent) ancestors, who made the country and left behind numberless spirit individuals."[13]

From Melanesia the evidence is equally interesting. Codrington mentions two superhuman beings who at any rate "were never human, yet in some ways originators of the human race; both were female, both subjects of stories not objects of worship." A little farther on he expresses some surprise at the existence in the New Hebrides and Banks' Islands of spirit-beings of two orders. He writes of Qat, —

"The place of Qat in the popular beliefs of the Banks' Islands was so high and so conspicuous that when the people first became known to Europeans it was supposed that he was their god, the supreme creator of men and pigs and food. It is certain that he was believed to have made things in another sense from that in which men could be said to make them . . . The regular courses of the seasons are ascribed to him, the calm months from September to December, when the un, Palola sea-worm, comes, the yearly blow, and the high tide in the month wotgoro. . . . With all this it is impossible to take Qat very seriously or to allow him divine rank. He is certainly not the lord of spirits."[14]

Let us note that these creators are not worshipped, although they occupy a higher station than any of the worshipped gods.

If recent travellers are to be believed, even the Negritos of central Africa, who are among the lowest human beings, know of a Great Maker, above and distinct from the host of spirits that are around them.[15]

Although the general existence of the belief in High Gods is now accepted by most anthropologists, there is no unanimity of opinion in regard to the origin of the belief Some supporters of the Christian religion have tried to make capital out of this so-called original monotheism. They have referred it to a revelation.[16]Andrew Lang, approaching the same facts in a different spirit, has drawn from them conclusions which contain certainly a valuable element of truth. He revives the discredited view of the existence, at the origin of human society, of a relatively noble religious belief, and of its subsequent degeneration into rites of propitiation and conciliation addressed to beings greatly inferior in power and in worth to the original High God, and he claims that his "theory, rightly or wrongly, accounts for the phenomena, the combination of the highest divine and the lowest animal qualities in the same being. But I have vet to learn how, if the lowest myths are the earliest, the highest attributes came in time to be conferred on the hero of the lowest myth."[17]

In my opinion, the priority of the High Gods is not the important point in the interpretation of the facts I have just cited; and, further, it would not necessarily follow from priority that the lower beings are degraded High Gods. The truth of the matter, as I see it, is that the High Gods proceeded from an independent and specific source; they are, or were originally, the Makers. The essential elements of my theory are that man comes to the idea of superhuman beings along several routes, that the characteristics of these beings depend upon their origin, and that one,—or one class,—of these beings, the one arising from curiosity about the making of things, is necessarily a relatively lofty conception, awe-inspiring, and suggestive of power and benevolence. Gods arising from the belief in ghosts, or from the personification of portentous natural phenomena, might have appeared first, without at all hindering the coming into existence of a Creator-god; and, whenever that conception appeared, the god would have possessed the comparatively high and noble endowment naturally belonging, in the mind of even the lowest savage, to the Creator of man and things. The question of the order in which these notions found their way into the human mind is of subordinate importance.

This theory is quite consistent with our present anthropological knowledge; namely, that there exists among the most primitive people now living the notion of a Great God high above all others, to whom is usually assigned the function of creator, that these same people also believe in a crowd of spirits and ghosts, and that within the limits of definite historical periods "sacrifice and prayer become more and more numerous and more artificial in proportion as the idea of a Supreme Being grows dim."[18] The following considerations will, I hope, convince the reader that these facts do not necessarily support the corollary drawn by Lang, as well as by the defenders of an original revelation, that our most primitive tribes mark a deterioration from the earliest condition of humanity, but rather that the facts are consistent with a natural development and indicate the presence of no factor not operative in modern progressive societies.

The idea of a Maker I suppose to have originally presented itself to the race very much as it does to a five or six year old child who is suddenly struck with the idea that some one must have made the world. It did not, therefore, involve such notions as eternity, omniscience, omnipresence, omnipotence. The concept of a great Maker is, of course, awe-inspiring, because of the power it implies and of the mystery surrounding the operations of such a being. Some degree of interest and benevolence towards that which he has made is also, it seems, unavoidably associated with even the simplest idea of a Maker. Such a being must thus have been relatively exalted.

What modifications would this idea undergo when it passed beyond the gifted individuals who had conceived it and became the property of every tribesman, however brutish and ignoble? Undoubtedly there would occur the kind of modifications that history records in the case of more recent gods: they are transformed into beings more nearly like the worshippers themselves. But this process does not necessarily imply the deterioration of the people. The gods have been debased, but the people themselves have been raised to a higher level by these lofty notions, even though somewhat corrupted. This degrading process is the natural unavoidable method by which the masses gradually rise towards the level of those who have set for them unattainable ideals. Thus it is that the return to origins is frequently a progress.

In the case before us, special factors probably made the degrading process speedier and more irresistible. The exalted Maker found himself, in the mind of the people, in company with other superhuman beings of much humbler extraction. Even though one disregards the possibility of the personification of natural events, one must in any case reckon with the belief in the beings suggested by visions, temporary loss of consciousness, and other similar occurrences. Since these beings are human doubles, they may possess all the meanness and cruelty of the lowest of men. Their power, though not definitely known, is sufficient to excite fear, but not in most cases great enough to inspire awe. When associated with the ever-present, troublesome doubles, and the many petty spirits conceived in the same way as ghosts, the Maker could hardly preserve his identity and his high attributes. A confusion must have taken place, and as the common is more easily understood and retained than the unusual, the lofty attributes of the High God conceived by the primitive philosophers became obscured and to him were attributed meaner traits originally belonging to lower gods. One may thus admit that, even in the absence of any real degeneration of a community, the oldest conception of the Maker was the noblest, provided a limited and specific historical period is considered. When this period of absorption and incubation is past, philosophers and seers again appear, who enlarge the reigning conceptions, charge them with higher worth, and return them to the people, who degrade them anew in the travail of their own elevation.

The fact that to many has seemed unaccountable, namely, that the Maker and All Father is not among early people an object of worship, while lower beings are prayed to and propitiated, seems to me just what would be expected of human nature. It is true that a Maker seems the being best qualified to become a God, since he possesses the necessary power and greatness, and must be, on the whole, benevolently inclined towards those whom he has created, and since man can hardly fail to feel his dependence upon a being from whom he proceeds; whereas the mysterious beings springing from human lineage, ghosts and low spirits, have not originally all the qualities required of a divinity. They must first be magnified and exalted if they are to inspire the religious attitude. Under these circumstances, the speedy appearance of religious practices addressed to the High God would seem unavoidable. Why then is he not sooner worshipped? Because his very greatness and remoteness stand as an obstacle in the way of practical religion, while ordinary spirits and great ancestors, more familiar and closer to man than a Maker, call forth more readily those methods of propitiation and of worship constituting the lowest forms of religious expression.

The kind of attitude to be expected of an uncivilized man towards the Over-God is well illustrated, in at least one of its aspects, in the following report concerning the "noble tribes of the Bight of Panavia":

"At each new moon, the chief of a village goes out and stands alone in the open and talks to Anyambie. He does not praise Anyambie; he does not request him to interfere in human affairs; he, the chief, feels competent to deal with them, but he does want Anyambie to attend to those spirits which he, the god, can control better than a man, and he always opens the address to the great god with a catalogue of his, the chief's, virtues, saying: "I am the father of my people; I am a just man; I deal well with all men," etc. ... At first hearing these catalogues of the chief's virtues used to strike me as comic, and I once said: "Why don't you get some one else to say that for you; praising yourself in that barefaced way must be very trying to you." "Oh no," said the chief, "and, besides, no man knows how good he is except himself," which is a common West Coast proverb. But by and bye—when I had been the silent spectator of several of these talks with the great god—the thing struck me as really very grand. There was the great man standing up alone, conscious of the weight of responsibility on him of the lives and happiness of his people, talking calmly, proudly, respectfully to the great god who he knew ruled the spirit world. It was like a great diplomat talking to another great diplomat. . . . there was no whining or begging in it, . . . the grandeur of the thing charmed me."[19]

This is of course neither worship nor propitiation; Anyambie is apparently too high a personage to concern himself with the details of human life, or to care for such offerings as would please a tribal chief. And yet he is not great or good enough to elicit awe, admiration, and reverence. Miss Kingsley's oft-repeated question, "Is he good?" was always answered negatively except by natives who had been under the influence of missionaries. "No! they say firmly, he is not what you call good; he lets things go too much, he cares about himself only, and I have heard him called "lazy too much, bad person for business," and a dozen things of that kind."[20] Now, if Anyambie's character were loftier, the chief might not so readily enter into conversation with him.

The difficulty of entering into formal relation with the Maker may be overcome, or rather avoided, by the introduction of intermediaries between man and the Almighty. It is quite probable that religious rites first appeared in connection with the belief in spirits very near to man; the closer to him, the more readily would he enter into practical relations with them, as he would with a great and powerful man. The practices of placing food in the graves, of making a fire near them, of placing hunting or fighting implements in them, not in the expectation of profit, but simply out of humane feeling, are probably prototypes of the earlier religious offerings and sacrifices.

The Maker, though not worshipped and propitiated so early as the lower gods, nevertheless exercises from the first an influence at times profound and often the most ennobling known to the primitive mind. In this connection one should remember Howitt's statement concerning the All Father of the South-Eastern Australians. He is, we are told,

"imagined as the ideal of those qualities which are, according to their standard, virtues worthy of being imitated. Such would be a man who is skilful in the use of weapons of offence and defence, all-powerful in magic, but generous and liberal to his people, who does no injury or violence to any one, yet treats with severity any breaches of custom or morality."[21]

Howitt, Hartland, and others have been unwilling to take the High Gods as Creators in the true sense of the word. They have held them to be primarily ancestors and, in particular, great chiefs deified. They have had no difficulty in showing that the All Father of the Australians is often spoken of as chief of the other world. G. M‘Call Theal says that the more reliable traditions mention Umkulunkulu, the Great Great One of the South African natives, as the most powerful of their ancient chiefs, and therefore he is unwilling to describe him as a Creator. Be this as it may with regard to Umkulunkulu, it remains established that the High God is usually spoken of as a Creator. To say, as Hartland does, that the concept of creation as we understand it is a notion foreign to the savage is beside the point, and, moreover, it is true only if “we” means the highly cultured few. The savage thinks of a Maker as children and even many civilized adults do. What is more likely than that this Maker of man and things should come to be spoken of as Great Chief, Ruler of the Sky Country, or First Ancestor?

The application of the term “monotheism” to the belief in the High God of the uncivilized is to be deprecated; for monotheism, in the current acceptance of the term, means more than a belief in a Maker; it means also that there exists no other god but him. This is obviously not implied in the conception of the High God. The Maker is the highest god, but there exists side by side with him other powerful gods. One should not expect the relation of the Maker to the other gods to be clearly and consistently defined. After all, the monotheism of our uneducated population is of a similar sort. Pure monotheism belongs to the few; the masses are rather henotheists.[22]

Summary.—The observation of a variety of natural phenomena suggests to the primitive mind the existence of unseen agents of different sorts: (1) dreams, trances, and allied phenomena generate the belief in ghosts and spirits of human form and attributes; (2) the personification of natural objects leads to the belief in nature-beings conceived frequently, but not necessarily, as animals; (3) the problem of creation gives rise to the belief in a Maker or Makers in the form of man.

These beliefs are neither manifestations of a diseased mind nor the outcome of a revelation; they arise from perfectly normal mental processes. There are few men living to-day, barring the mentally defective, who, if deprived of the inheritance of civilization, would not again people an unseen world with these unreal creatures.

But ghosts, spirits, and makers are not in themselves gods. Only a few of them possess from the first or acquire later on the attributes necessary to the establishment of the system of relations called religion, and are thus transformed into gods.[23]

J. H. Leuba.

↑ J. H. Leuba, "Les Tendances Fondamentales des Mystiques Chrétiens" and "Les Tendances Religieuses chez les Mystiques Chrétiens," Revue Philosophiqiie de la France etc., tome liv. (1902), pp. 1-36, 441-487.

↑ E. Durkheim, "Examen Critique des Systemes Classiques sur la Pensée Religieuse," Revue Philosophique de la France etc., tome lii. (1900), pp. 10-15. What he regards as the origin of the soul I do not know, for at the present writing the book has not appeared of which the article from which I quote is to be a chapter.

↑ Pp. 344-5.

↑ W. Preyer (Trans. H. W. Brown), The Mind of the Child, Part I., 1893, pp. 168-169.

↑ P. 455.

↑ "The Forms of Apparitions in West Africa," Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, vol. xiv. (189S-99), p. 331.

↑ R. R. Marett, The Threshold of Religion, p. 9.

↑ J. Sully, op. cit. p. 453.

↑ I have given some details concerning an unusual instance of fondness for personifying in "The Personifying Passion in Youth, with remarks upon the Sex and Gender Problem," The Monist, vol. x. (1900), pp. 536-548.

↑ The theory of Max Müller and of Adelbert Kuhn, according to which the starting point of religion was the personification of the more striking natural objects, bears only a superficial resemblance to the theory that the origin of superhuman beings was by the direct, spontaneous personification with which we are concerned. The process of personification which these authors describe is an accident due to the distorting action upon thought of an insufficiently definite language. Natural objects, they explain, were originally described by their effects, in terms similar to those used to name the actions of human beings. The sun, for instance, was "the one which darts shafts of light." The one, because of linguistic indefiniteness and the natural tendency to conceive movement as arising from a personal cause, came to be understood in a personal sense. Thus, according to this theory, arose the nature-gods and the myths clustering around them.

↑ Before her eighth year, Helen Keller, who is blind, deaf, and mute, had begun to ask questions regarding the origin of things and of herself. Her teacher, Miss Sullivan, thought it preferable to delay an explanation, and told her that she was too young to understand. Her inquiries became more and more urgent. In May, 1890, (she was born in June, 1880), she wrote on her tablet,—"Who made the earth and the seas, and everything? What makes the sun hot? Where was I before I came to mother?" See Miss Sullivan's report of 1891 (p. 370), republished in the supplement to The Story of My Life, by Helen Keller, (1903). It is not uncommon for a normal child to puzzle about these questions from his fifth year or even earlier.

↑ Travels in West Africa, pp. 442-3. See also Mrs. L. Parker, The Euahlayi Tribe, pp. 4-10.

↑ The Northern Tribes of Central Australia., p. 14.

↑ The Melanesians, pp. 150, 154-5.

↑ Mgr. A. Le Roy, La Religion des Primitifs (Paris: Beauchesne), 1909.

↑ See Father Wilhelm Schmidt in "L'origine de l'idée de Dieu," Anthropos, vol. iii. (1908), iv. (1909). These papers are researches at second-hand by a well-informed person who is evidently before all else a priest of the Roman Catholic Church and an apologist of the traditional Christian system.

↑ The Making of Religion, 2nd ed.. Preface, p. xvi. As to the origin of the belief in a kind of germinal Supreme Being, he makes in the preface to the second edition (p. x) the following suggestion:—"As soon as man had the idea of 'making' things, he might conjecture as to a Maker of things . . . He would regard this unknown Maker as a 'magnified non-natural man'." What is still happening to William James on account of The Varieties of Religious Experience happened to Andrew Lang. The authority of his name was claimed in support of a theory of revelation. In the preface to the second edition of The Making of Religion, he declares that he never intended to countenance the belief in an original revelation.

↑ Father Schmidt, Anthropos, iii., p. 604. This statement is probably much too sweeping.

↑ M. H. Kingsley, "The Forms of Apparitions in West Africa." Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, vol. xiv. (1898-9), p. 334.

↑ Op. cit. p. 335.

↑ A. W. Howitt, The Native Tribes of South-East Australia, p. 507.

↑ For discussions regarding High Gods see the following: Andrew Lang, The Making of Religion; E. Sidney Hartland, “The High Gods of Australia,” Folk-Lore, vol. ix., pp. 290-319 (a critical review of The Making of Religion); Lang, “Australian Gods,” Folk-Lore, vol. x., pp. 1-46, (a reply to Hartland); Hartland, “Australian Gods: a Rejoinder,” ibid., pp. 46-57; Hartland, “The Native Tribes of South-East Australia, by A. W. Howitt,” Folk-Lore, vol. xvi., pp. 101-109; Lang, "All-Fathers in Australia,” ibid., pp. 222-224; A. W. Howitt, “The Native Tribes of South-East Australia,” Folk-Lore, vol. xvii., pp. 174-189; Father Schmidt, Anthropos, vol. iii., pp. 819-833; A. van Gennep, Mythes et Légendes d'Australie.

by Walter W. Skeat.

(Read at Meeting, June 28th, 1911.)

In a book published as lately as 1908 we read,—"When we hear of the good or bad luck which is assumed to go with St. Cuthbert's beads, (joints [or, as our geological friends insist we should call them, ossicles] of fossil encrinites), St. Peter's fingers and thunderbolts (belemnites), Devil's toe-nails (gryphaeas), and snakestones (ammonites), we might hastily conclude that the picturesque name has originated the belief. But fossils as charms or mascots form an ancient chapter in history and an unwritten chapter in pre-history."[1]

The chapter in question is certainly unwritten, in the sense that, although an immense number of isolated details have been recorded about "fossil folklore" and celt superstitions, there has been no proper survey of the facts, and the object of this paper is simply to focus attention on this class of facts and on the system required for investigating them. We find, when we come to look into the matter, a far larger number of fossil forms which have given birth to folklore elements of various kinds than we could have believed possible. For example's sake, let us take the foregoing list. We may add to what the author has said that the small fossil plates from the Fame Islands, which are known as St. Boniface's pence (S.B.'s pfennige) in Germany, were called St. Cuthbert's beads at least as far back as the date of Plot's Natural History of Oxfordshire (1677), and no doubt much earlier. Again, gryphites or "Devil's toe-nails," (called clach crubain in the tongue of old Gaul), are used in Scotland for pains in the joints, and, (perhaps in this case because they have a faint suggestiveness of the cloven hoof about them), are powdered, mixed with whey, and given as a drench to cattle. Another Liassic bivalve (hippopodium) is known as horses' or asses' feet to country people. The pterygotus anglicus, a kind of gigantic eurypterid or king-crab, leaves moulds or impressions covered with delicately-waved lines which in Scotland have been taken, according to Hugh Miller,[2] for the markings on the wings of cherubs or "seraphim." The remains of giant saurians, such as plesiosaurus and ichthyosaurus, have long been identified in the Whitby neighbourhood as the bones of angels, and a giant saurian found near Lake Constance in 1725 was, as is well known, identified by Scheuchzer as Homo Diluvii Testis. The teeth or bones of fossil elephants, mammoths, or mastodons are identified as giants' teeth or giants' bones,—e.g. in Yorkshire and at the famous Field of Giants at Sta Fé de Bogota. Ammonites and nautili again are regarded as snakestones or "ophiomorphites," "horns of Ammon," and so forth. But over and above all this is the large class of thunderbolts and thunderstones, which include the globular concretions of iron pyrites or marcasite, (also believed to be, according to Robinson, celestial cannon balls),[3] echini, belemnites, as well as other objects, some of which are in no sense organic remains (such as stone axeheads, and arrowheads, etc.), but which are so closely interwoven in folklore with the former kinds that they cannot well be left out of account in discussing the general questions involved. In the present paper I propose more particularly to consider such folklore of our forefathers under two main headings,—(1) with regard to "snakestones" as a typical fossil belief, and (2) with regard to "thunderbolts" of various kinds, from fossils to artificially shaped stones, e.g. celts. A simple and unambitious programme as this may sound, the subject is of such vast dimensions that I can only deal with typical examples of each. We shall see that, though selected for different reasons, both classes of objects are alike used ceremonially.

We will begin with snakestones, of which I may first mention the precious stone or "jewel" which is believed either to come forth, like the toadstone, out of the head, or else to be carried in the mouth of a serpent, a most ancient belief not only in England but in the East. Secondly, I may mention the well-known "snake's egg"' of the Druids of Gaul, described by Pliny,[4] which Conybeare regards as probably being a Greensand fossil covered with Ostrea sigillina, and compares with the "gem" known as "adders's glass," thick green rings of which have been found in British barrows.[5] I may add that other authorities also believe it to have been a fossil, probably some kind of echinoderm. There are also other kinds of stone which for various reasons have been called after snakes, generally because they suggest certain parts of a snake's body. Chief amongst these is perhaps a kind of marble called ophites from its having mottled markings like those on the skin of a snake, and there is also the well-known serpentine, which has long waved markings thought to suggest the curves of a snake's body.

In The Past at our Doors[6] it is recorded that Henry III. had a great spit of gold, (such as was used in place of a fork at that date), in which an alleged "viper's tongue," (in the original Latin lingua serpentina or serpent's tongue), was set; this is a remarkably early example of a custom surviving to this day in the island of Malta, where certain small stones, coloured like the eyes, tongue, heart, or liver of serpents, found in the clay of the traditional cave of St. Paul, are still either set in rings and worn as a prophylactic against poison, or, more frequently, steeped in wine and drunk by the natives as an antidote for the same reason. In the case of Henry III., it seems but reasonable to suppose that the golden spit thus furnished was employed as a safeguard against the poisoning of his food,—a peril which, as history shows by many examples, was in those days never far removed from the uneasy wearers of our hard-kept Crown. It is only necessary to add that stones of the supposed serpent's tongue shape have been identified as fossil shark's teeth, and that their name of "snake's tongue" seems to go back to the Middle Ages.

The fact that such parts or supposed parts of a serpent were used as an antidote or safeguard against poison may be regarded as a striking instance of that sympathetic, or perhaps rather homœopathic, magic which is best known to us by the expression "a hair of the dog that bit you." On this principle the famous if revolting "viper-wine" or poison-antidote of ancient Venice, the ingredients of which included "vipers steeped alive in white wine, opium, spice, licorice, red roses, the juice of rough sloes, seeds of the treacle mustard," and many other abominations, the whole mixed with honey into a sort of drink, the origin of our modern "treacle," is perhaps the most extreme example conceivable.[7]

The remarkable belief, vouched for by Pliny,[8] upon which rests the idea of using snakes or parts of snakes as a remedy for poison, was undoubtedly due to the fact that venomous serpents that had bitten people were believed to be commonly seized by, and even to die from, pangs of remorse! This method of curing a snakebitten person by virtue of the snake that bit him may finally be traced to the East, where we shall meet with a magnificent parallel in the customs of the Sinhalese, who, to protect themselves from snakebite, wear a picture of the king of the cobras tattooed on the right arm, recite a charm which identifies them with the serpent king, or carry a jewel which is supposed to be a serpent stone.[9] This example brings out, I think, more clearly than anything else could have done, what I believe to be the true explanation of all such practices, viz., that the person who is wounded, or fears to be wounded, either by making or claiming what I might call "blood brotherhood" with the object or animal feared, or otherwise, seeks to get sympathy from it. In this case, through kinship with the snake he virtually becomes a snake, or still better, as in the Ceylon charm just quoted, the king of snakes, and thus obtains the protection or relief that he is seeking.

A different kind of snakestone from either of the foregoing is the ammonite or cornu ammonis, of which an early mention, for Scotland, occurs under the name of Lapis Ceranius, or Cerana Anionis, under Strath and Trotterness, in M. Martin's A Description of the Western Islands of Scotland (p. 134) in 1703:—"These Stones are by the Natives [of Skye] called Crampstones, because as they say they cure the Cramp in Cows, by washing the part affected with Water in which this Stone has been steep'd for some Hours." I have as yet come across no earlier reference to the snakestone belief in Scotland or Ireland, and it can hardly occur as an indigenous belief except where the ammonite-bearing strata are found. These strata in England are the Jurassic and Cretaceous rocks, lying roughly to the east of a line drawn from, say, Sidmouth to the mouth of the Tees; in Ireland the ammonites are confined to the north-east part of Ulster; in Scotland they are found in a few of the Western Isles and a patch on the north-east coast. There are some goniatites, allied to and generally resembling the ammonites, in the Carboniferous rocks, which have a wide range in central and north-west England, south Scotland, and a large part of Ireland; but these do not have the snaky look of ammonites, being plumper-looking and less evident in the strata, and hence less likely to have been noticed by our ancestors.

Passing to England, we read in the Whitby glossary[10] as follows:—

"Snakes, or Snakestones, the fossil Ammonites found with other petrifactions in the Whitby lias or alum rock. These snakestones, according to tradition, were living serpents abounding in the neighbourhood before the coming of St. Hilda [a Latinized form of the Saxon "Hild"], their destroyer, who, with the aid of Oswy, the Saxon king of Northumbria, founded our [i.e. the Whitby] monastery in the 7th century, the place in those days being called Streonshealh [more accurately "Streones-healh" i.e. "Streon's Nook" or "Corner"]. Previously to that time, according to Beda, Streonshealh was 'a desert spot.'"

Mr. Robinson also refers to Marmion, ii. 13, and compares the following lines by Surtees:—

"Then sole amid the serpent tribe The holy Abbess stood. With fervent faith and uplift hands Grasping the holy rood. The suppliant's prayer and powerful charm Th' unnumber'd reptiles own; Each falling from the clift", becomes A headless coil of stone."

The passage in Marmion runs as follows:—

"... Of thousand snakes, each one Was changed into a coil of stone, When holy Hilda pray'd; Themselves, within their holy bound, Their stony folds had often found."

But with regard to this reference, the important factor is not the oft-quoted, I had almost said "over-quoted," text, as Mr. Robinson's article suggests, but Sir Walter Scott's own note (No. 26) upon it, to which he does not refer, but which is printed at the end of the volume, and runs as follows:—

"The relics of the snakes which infested the precincts of the convent and were, at the abbess's prayer, not only beheaded, but petrified, are still found about the rocks and are termed by Protestant fossilists, Ammonites."

The word "Protestant" is evidently meant to "conceal a jest" on the part of Sir Walter! This, however, is not the whole of the story, for, as Mr. G. C. Crick has pointed out in a recent paper,[11] as far back as 1818 James Sowerby figured in The Mineral Conchology of Great Britain[12] "an example of common Whitby ammonite[13] that had been furnished with a head." Mr. Sowerby's remarks upon this point are as follows:—

"The Ammonites are called in common [parlance] Snakestones, and superstition has accounted for their having been found constantly without heads, saying, the curse of St. Cuthbert [the local saint] was the cause of it; but as some of the dealers felt it a possible inconvenience, they were determined to be less barbarous, and compassionately supplied some with heads. I was so curious as to desire to see what sort of heads might be substituted, and Lady Wilson kindly procured me a specimen when at Whitby. I have figured that specimen for the information of others; see fig. 2."

This fossil is now, Mr. Crick informs us, in the British Museum Collection[14]; it is not so large as the figure in the March number of the Naturalist for 19 10. The practice of supplying heads to the Whitby ammonites was also mentioned in the Geologist for 1858,[15] and again as late as 1885 by J. E. Taylor, who, in Our Common British Fossils and Where to Find Them,[16] remarks that

"they are found in blue nodules, which, when broken open, reveal the coiledup ringed shell, wonderfully resembling a snake in such species as Ammonites communis, and still more wonderfully resembling one when they put a "head" on, with eyes in—as they sometimes do."

Mr. Crick also mentions another example in the British Museum that has been provided with a head, the nose being much more pointed than in Sowerby's example, and much more closely resembling the specimen figured in the Naturalist: this was added to the national collection in 1859. I am told as an interesting fact that small specimens of ammonites, set in gold, (though, I believe, without the head), are worn as pendants by the lady students of St. Hilda's College, a boarding-house at Cheltenham, which I understand is on the same foundation with a similar institution at Oxford. A curious anecdote which should not be omitted here is that the well-known Sussex geologist Gideon Mantell (1790-1858) obtained the inspiration which launched him on his geological career from an ammonite or snakestone, which as a boy he happened to see lying in the clear waters of a shallow stream that ran into the Sussex Ouse; this fact is vouched for by Lower, the Sussex historian, and I may add that ammonites in this neighbourhood are still "snakestones" in popular Sussex parlance.

We have seen that the story of the (headless) snakestone was known in 1815, and was also used by Sir Walter Scott. We can, however, go further back still, for Alban Butler, in his Life of St. Hilda or Hild, Abbess of Whitby.[17] remarks:—

"The common people formerly imagined that St. Hilda changed serpents into stones in this place, because on the face of the cliff were found abundance of stones which have the appearance of serpents or snakes rolled up, or in their coil, but without heads; which are natural stones called Ammonitæ; and are still plentiful there. . . . The Ammonitæ and many others are natural stones; but others seem clearly petrifactions of fish, serpents, shrubs, etc. as Woodward shows, which Mead was not able to disprove."

Now Woodward the geologist lived from 1665 to 1728, which shows us that the belief cannot have been altogether modern; and we are taken yet one step further back by a reference in the second part of Drayton's Polyolbion (1622, Song 28), in which he remarks with reference to Whitby:—

"And stones like Serpents there, yet may yee more behold That in their natural Gyres are up together rold."

The other great centre in England round which the snakestone legend centres is Keynsham, in Somersetshire. The general form of the legend is very similar to that which is current at Whitby. The Rev. J. Mitford is quoted by J. E. Harting, the editor of White's The Natural History etc. of Selborne,[18] for a "fabulous legend which says that St. Keyna, from whom [as he erroneously supposes] the place [Keynsham] takes its name, resided here in a solitary wood, [which we miss in the Whitby versions], full of venomous serpents, and her prayers converted them into stones, which still retain their shape." White himself, in his immortal work, (which appeared in 1789), calls them cornua ammonis or ammon's horns, and John Walcott[19](1779) says, of Keynsham, "formerly the credulous inhabitants of this Village believed these Snake-stones to have been real serpents, changed into stone by one Keina, a devout British virgin." Alban Butler's version of this belief[20] is as follows:—

"St. Keyna, Virgin. ... St. Keyna, surnamed by the Welch, The Virgin, who lived a recluse in a wood in Somersetshire, . . . near the town of Cainsham, which seems so called from her, and stands on the Avon not far from Bristol. Spiral stones in the figure of serpents have been found in that country, which some of the people pretend to have been serpents turned into stones by her prayers. They seem either petrifactions or sports of nature in uncommon crystallizations in a mineral soil."

I may remark here that this version of the legend is more important than the Whitby one, for Butler gives as his authority for the turning of serpents into stone Camden's Britannia, which takes us back at once to the Elizabethan period. The passage in Camden's Britannia, when translated, runs as follows:—

"Here (at Whitby) are found certain stones, in the form of serpents rolled up into a spiral, the marvels of Nature in her sportive mood . . . You would believe them to have once been serpents that have been covered by a stony cuticle. But superstition attributes them to the prayers of Hilda."[21]

This quotation shows that the belief was a matter of general report as far back as the year 1586, but a different passage from Camden bearing upon the same subject is quoted by Plot in The Natural History of Oxfordshire. This second passage adds the important information that Camden believed himself to have seen another kind of snakestone, the head of which projected at its circumference, while its tail was rolled up in the centre.[22] To this Plot adds that Camden "and since him [a certain] Dr. Childrey plainly avouch that the Ophiomorphit's of Cainsham have some of them heads, and that in this they differ from those of York-shire" of the story concerning whose heads Plot was at this time apparently ignorant.

That there are special geological reasons why this particular belief may not only be ancient but of remotest antiquity, the following account of the life-history of the ammonite (from the time of its appearance in the Devonian formation) will show:—

"It is an interesting fact that the very earliest Ammonites were straight, and gradually became closely coiled. This form was maintained almost constant throughout the vast periods of the Mesozoic age, till towards the end [in the Cretaceous period], when the whole race was about to die out, they seemed to try to go back to their original form, which some almost reached (Fig. 105), while others, as Professor Judd remarks (in a letter), "before finally disappearing, twisted and untwisted themselves, and as it were wriggled themselves into extraordinary shapes, in the last throes of dissolution." These strange forms (Figs. 96-106) are reproduced from Nicholson's Palaeontology, and there are many others. . . . The two species figured . . . from the Trias (Figs. 99, 100) may be taken as typical; but the variations in surface pattern are almost infinite."[23]

It is certain that any chance local discovery of any such uncoiled forms as those just described would materially help to reinforce the popular belief that ammonites were petrified serpents; and it also seems impossible that in the course of centuries such discoveries should not have happened. I should, however, add, in case of misapprehension, that the description of these ammonites as coiling or uncoiling themselves has reference only to growth of the shell, and not to any conscious effort in the lifetime of any individual specimen, although this distinction would hardly suggest itself to our remote ancestors. But I understand that one of the most recent theories has reference to what I may call the possession of a terminable life-history by a genus, which is regarded as normally following a course roughly analogous to the birth, life, and death of an individual. The question here naturally suggests itself: Is it conceivable that early man, considering the extent to which his faculties must have been absorbed in the struggle for existence, should have paid any attention whatever to such things as fossils? Whatever may or may not be conceivable, there is, I think, unmistakable evidence that he did. In the first place, General Pitt-Rivers, during his excavations at Rotherly (Wilts) and Woodcuts (Dorset) reported that he came upon an altogether unnatural number of the flint echinoderms or sea-urchins in the surface soil, as well as in the pit-dwellings themselves. His conclusion was that these fossils, being conspicuous, must have been noticed by the early inhabitants of the villages, who had evidently collected them with great industry, and his purely provisional suggestion was that these fossils were used as a species of currency. There are, however, better reasons for thinking that they were employed as almost any very odd-looking stones to this day would be used by less civilized races in all parts of the world, i.e. on account of some fancied magical virtue. One fact distinctly pointing in this direction is given by Sir B. C. A. Windle, in his Remains of the Prehistoric Age in England,[24] where there is an illustration showing the plan of a double interment in a round barrow on Dunstable Downs, where a triple row of chalk echinoderms runs completely round the interment.

To return to modern times, James Sowerby (1818) gives us an amusing anecdote of the Rev. W. Buckland, who,

"having found a large specimen, was induced by his ardour to carry it himself, although of considerable weight, and being on horseback it was not the less inconvenient; but the inner whorls being gone so as to allow his head and shoulder to pass through, he placed it as a French horn is sometimes carried, above one shoulder and under the other, and thus rode with his friendly companions, who amused him by dubbing him an Ammon Knight."[25]

It is interesting to be able to add that the specimen thus honoured was the original specimen of ammonites Bucklandi, and that it came from one of the many quarries in the Lower Lias limestone of Pennycuick, near Tiverton, Weston, Keynsham, and other places near Bath.

All these snakestones are much of the same kind, but another Elizabethan, Richard Carew, in The Survey of Cornwall (first. ed. 1602), gives us a snakestone of a different kind. His account runs (p. 21): —

"The countrey people retaine a conceite, that the Snakes by their breathing about a hazell wand, doe make a stone ring of blew colour,[26] in which there appeareth the yellow figure of a Snake; and that beasts which are stung, being given to drink of the water wherein this stone has bene socked, will therethrough recover. There was such a one bestowed on me, and the giver avowed to have seene a part of the stick sticking in it: but Penes authorem [sic? auctorem] sit fides!"[27]

But the bridge over which most unmistakably we travel back to immemorial antiquity is a passage of Pliny, which in Holland's translation (p. 627) is given as under:—

"The pretious stone called Hammons-horne, is reckoned among the most sacred gemms of Aethiopia: of a gold colour it is, and sheweth the forme of a rams home: the magicians promise, that by the vertue of this stone, there will appeare dreames in the night which represent things to come."[28]

Upon this passage Professor W. M. Flinders Petrie comments to me, in a letter of June 24th, 1911, that the reference in Pliny "evidently refers to pyrites casts of ammonites which are found from Lias up to Chalk." Professor Petrie adds that he does not know of such late strata in Ethiopia, and that he has never found an ammonite in any Egyptian tomb or ruin. But he informs me that there is a coiled serpent amulet with head and tail, which is sometimes found in the prehistoric age in Egypt. This, he says "might be deduced from an ammonite, just as people in Wiltshire [and, as we have already seen, in other parts of England for centuries past] used to carve heads on the great ammonites and call them serpent stones."

It remains to add some particulars of a most remarkable parallel to Pliny in the snakestone belief of India. For it has been conclusively shown that the Salagrama, a celebrated mystic emblem of Brahman ritual in north-west India, which is considered to be the embodiment of Vishnu, is in reality a specimen of black ammonite. After describing how the tulasi or "Holy Basil," which is considered (inter alia) to be an embodiment of Krishna's wife Rukmini, is annually married in November to the god Krishna in every Hindu family, Mr. Frazer proceeds:[29]—

"Again, as the wife of Vishnu, the holy basil is married to the Salagrama, a black fossil ammonite resembling a ram's horn, which is regarded as an embodiment of Vishnu. In North-Western India this marriage of the plant to the fossil has to be performed before it is lawful to taste of the fruit of a new orchard. ... [a man personating the fossil bridegroom and a woman the basil bride]. Further, no well is considered lucky until the holy fossil has been solemnly wedded to the holy basil, which stands for the garden that the well is intended to water. . . . The same marriage of the sacred fossil to the sacred plant is celebrated annually by the Rajah of Orchha at Ludhaura. A former Rajah used to spend a sum equal to about thirty thousand pounds ... on the ceremony. On one occasion over a hundred thousand people are said to have been present at the rite, and to have been feasted at the expense of the Rajah. The procession consisted of eight elephants, twelve hundred camels and four thousand horses, all mounted and elegantly caparisoned. The most sumptuously decorated of the elephants carried the fossil god to pay his bridal visit to the little shrub goddess. On such an occasion all the rites of a regular marriage are performed, and afterwards the newly-wedded pair are left to repose together in the temple till the next year."

A fuller account is given in the same author's Golden Bough. He adds that a draught of the water in which the shell has been washed is supposed to purge away all sin and secure temporal welfare.[30] These fossils are found in Nepaul on the upper Gandaka, a tributary of the Ganges. Hence the district is called Salagrami, and is considered holy, and an object of pilgrimage. In a letter of May 26th, 191 1, Mr. W. Crooke wrote me:—

"The Salagrama, to which numerous references are given by Frazer in his new Golden Bough (Pt. i., ii., 26 f.) is undoubtedly a very ancient "fetish." It was specially adopted as a symbol of the god by the Vaishnava school, worshippers of Vishnu, a cult which seems to have been organized alter the downfall of Buddhism. The earliest reference I can quote to it is from the Mahābhādrata, which seems to have assumed something like its present form in or after the 5th century B.C. The words used (Mahabharata, trans. Kisari Mohan Ganjali, vol. iv., p. 128), are "the stony image of Vishnu, with gold within.""

It will be seen at once that the description here given of the ammonite of Vishnu is in one respect strikingly reminiscent of the description of Pliny, i.e. in regard to the observation made by him as to its "golden colour."

It only remains to consider whether there is any recognition from Indian sources of the coiled snake idea which has been familiar for so long a period in England and other parts of Western Europe. I think on the whole that we can say there is, for Mr. Crooke kindly writes to me: —

"The story told is that the fossil was Vishnu through which the Destroyer, as a worm, wound his way. It appears to me possible (1) that the word worm may be here used in its old English double sense of worm or serpent, and (2) that Siva, if anything, represents the worm and not Vishnu, who represents the stone."

Another of the widely-spread beliefs of our peasantry is the belief that the prehistoric stone implements found in all parts of the country, generally speaking, are "thunderbolts": indeed the best-known stone superstition is that the celt was a thunderbolt. Johnson rather uncritically remarks,—"That the various kinds of fossil belemnites, as well as the rounded concretions of iron pyrites from the Lower Chalk are also called thunderbolts, matters little. Gods, fairies, witches, and other like beings, have divers weapons for afflicting the ignorant peasant, bowed low in his fear."[31] It really matters a good deal! But I shall first take the various kinds in succession.

First, as to the belemnite, the Scottish geologist Hugh Miller, in The Old Red Sandstone,[32] remarks that he

"was told by one of the workmen . . . that there was a part of the shore . . . where curiously-shaped stones, somewhat like the heads of boarding-pikes, were occasionally picked up; and that in his father's days the country people called them thunder-bolts, and deemed them of sovereign efficacy in curing bewitched cattle." [On visiting the spot Miller] "found one of the supposed aërolites" [he] "had come in quest of, firmly imbedded in a mass of shale." [It proved to be a belemnite.]

Again, the earliest Scottish mention I have been able to find is in 1703, when Martin, in A Description of the Western Islands of Scotland[33] speaking of Strath and Trotterness in Skye, remarks:—

"The Velumnites, (sic) grows likewise in these Banks of Clay, some of 'em are twelve Inches long, and tapering towards one end, the Natives call them Bat [i.e. "Bot"] Stones, because they believe them to cure the Horses of the Worms which occasion that Distemper, by giving them Water to drink in which this Stone has been Steept for some Hours."

There is of course no mention here of thunderbolts.

At Whitby, according to Robinson,[34] the term thunderbolt applied to "the petrified remains of a kind of cuttle-fish, in the Whitby Lias, resembling tubes of various lengths and thicknesses tapering to a point." The comparison here made between the "thunderbolt" of this kind and a tube is not quite accurate, since a tube is generally considered to be hollow, whereas these fossils are, with the exception of a small and shallow cavity at the upper end, perfectly solid, and may be more suitably compared to a cigar than to a tube. I may add that the Greek Belemnon, whence they get their name, means dart or javelin, and is connected with the verb "ballein," to cast.

So, too, in J. Walcott (1779) we read that "the Belemnite receives its English name thunder-bolt from the vulgar, who suppose it to be indeed the darts of heaven."[35] The earliest mention, however, that I have been able to find is in R. Plot,[36] (1677), who says that from their form by all naturalists they are called belemnites, "from the Greek word βέλεμνον telum, which indeed some of them represent pretty well."

Again, J. H. Macalister writes[37]: —

"Mr. A. C. G. Cameron has informed me that Belemnites from the Oxford clay, south of Bedford, are ground up and used for sore eyes, also that when pounded, they are considered by the villagers of Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire an excellent cure for rheumatism."

Again, in Gloucestershire belemnites from the Lias were used to cure watery affections of the eyes of the horse; the fossil was pulverized and the dust blown into the animal's eyes.[38]

Turning to the extreme south of England, Mr. Lovett states that at Lyme Regis the belemnites of the Lias are hardly ever called by any other name but thunderbolts, and adds that it is a curious fact that in localities where the belemnites are not found the people, if shown any such things, not only do not regard them as thunderbolts, but ignore them as being "nothing."

Beyond remarking that, according to Parkinson,[39] they were also called "Devil's fingers," I shall not here follow up this question of the belemnite beliefs, but I may remark that they may be expected to correspond roughly, in regard to their distribution, with the geological distribution of the belemnite-bearing strata. These occur in the south of England, as far west as Dorset, in all the south-eastern counties, and in eastern counties as far north as the Tees; also in the north of Scotland (Cromarty Firth), and the north-east of Ireland, They do not occur in Wales.

Allusion has already been made to the fact that the echinis was noticed and employed for some apparently magical or quasi-religious purpose by prehistoric inhabitants of these islands. The only question that remains is what that purpose could be, and unfortunately this is not very clear. On the one hand we have the fact that the so-called "snake's egg" of the Druids has been considered to be an echinus. On the other, various species of the genus micraster, which are popularly called fairy loaves, are still treasured by the labourer of modern Essex, who believes his household will never want bread so long as he retains one.[40] Again, Mr. G. W. Lamplugh informs me that he once had a fossil. echinoderm, said to be a lucky stone and to have been used for making butter come, brought him for identification in south-west Ireland, the nearest chalk being in Antrim.

Last, but not least, the echinis is recorded by Plot[41] to have been called a thunderbolt by the country people, no doubt from the rough resemblance of some specimens in shape to the nodules of iron pyrites, which are also so called.

The belief in what I may call the keraunic origin of the stone axehead and arrowhead has often been described as if it were universal in these islands, but, although it would be a matter of considerable labour and time, it would, no doubt, be possible to show that the alleged universality of the belief has been over-stated.

In Scotland there was a long list of ailments which could be cured by the "arrowhead." The water in which it had been boiled was good for eye diseases and for the pangs of childbirth; it was also valued by the cattle-doctor, down to the present generations.[42] Both are called thunderbolts, but the Rev. J. G. Campbell, who is quoted by Johnson in connection with stone arrowheads, described one of these objects as a smooth, slippery black stone, shaped like the sole of a shoe, and called it a "fairy spade."[43] There seems, however, to have been some confusion here, for obviously this stone from the description' of its shape is our familiar stone axehead. A Scotch gentleman, writing in 1664, relates how a lady who was riding one day discovered one of these arrowheads or elf-bolts in the breast of her habit, and how a horseman found one which had been placed by a fairy in the top of his riding-boot. Robert Kirk (1691) in his Secret Commonwealth describes these "Armes (solid earthly Bodies)" as "cut by Airt and Tools it seems beyond humane," and as having "something of the Nature of Thunderbolt subtilty."[44] "They are flung like a Dairt, with great Force, and mortally wound the vital Parts without breaking the Skin."[45] Again, mounted in frames, small arrowheads were worn as amulets around the necks of Scottish ladies. A specially good example of this[46] was the old-time witch-brooch, a little silver heart formerly pinned to the child's underclothing at its first dressing by the peasantry of Aberdeenshire. The shape is believed to have been derived from its being originally the mounting of an elf-shot or fairy dart, i.e. flint arrowhead. An old man in Kincardineshire thirty years ago had a "fairy dart" as a safeguard against witchcraft. Lastly, we may add one special use of the stone arrowhead in the witchcraft of Scotland. They were used in preference to metal to pierce or cut the wax or clay images which were once commonly used to represent the intended victims of the rites in question.

Turning to Ireland, we find that there, too, the medicinal use of the flint arrowhead has long been known, for two centuries ago (in 1709) we find mention[47] of a "thunderbolt or head of a spear" from Kerry, and down to 1865 the Irish continued to put celts in the troughs at which they watered their cattle, and in county Antrim neolithic flint arrowheads are used as amulets.[48] In the north of Ireland generally, where polished diorite celts are often turned out of the ground, Mr. Lovett states that there was a time when every cottage kept one on the rafter as a safeguard against lightning.

Of Whitby, Robinson has stated that the ancient British flint "arrow-points" were called "elf-shots," that cattle suddenly excited were formerly supposed to be shot at with these implements by the fairies, and that to cure an "elf-shotten" animal it must be touched with one of these arrows, and the water administered in which an arrow has been dipped.[49] And Johnson quotes Dr. Hickes, in a letter to Pepys (1700), as describing these elf-bolts, clearly believing that they were driven straight to the hearts of cattle.[50] Sir J. Evans states that in the north of England the celt is called a thunderbolt, and in the west country a thunderaxe. Again, in Cornwall, as elsewhere generally, the celt Avas boiled in water, which was used as a remedy against rheumatism.[51] Of course, if there were any object in doing so, such facts could be indefinitely multiplied, but the important thing to note is that Mr. Lovett has stated that he knows places in England where such "thunderbolts" as tangible objects are quite unknown. The earliest English reference that I have been able to find is from the Oxfordshire naturalist, Plot, who in 1677 wrote[52] that

"besides the Brontiæ [i.e. thunderbolts] of the Forreign Naturalists we have others, which here in England we call likewise Thunderbolts, in the form of arrows heads, and thought by the vulgar to be indeed the darts of Heaven."

This statement, (which seems to be the source of Walcott's remark), is the more remarkable since along with these arrowheads he identifies as Brontiæ the fossil echinoderms, to which reference has already been made. After speaking of selenites and other stones which he considered to be "some way related to the Celestial Bodies," Plot proceeds[53]:—

"I descend next to such as (by the vulgar at least) are thought to be sent us from the inferior Heaven, to be generated in the clouds, and discharged thence in the time of thunder and violent showers: for which very reason, and no other that we know of, the ancient Naturalists coined them suitable names, and called such as they were pleased to think fell in the Thunder, Brontiæ; and those that fell in showers, by the name of Ombrice . . . [of which] we have several sorts in Oxford-shire."

I may also mention that Sir J. Evans[54] gives the best account of their distribution I have been able to find. After describing their distribution in Great Britain and Ireland, he proceeds to give an account of their distribution on the Continent, giving examples from Brittany and other parts of France, Savoy, various parts of Scandinavia, (where celts inscribed with runes occur), Germany, Holland, Portugal, Italy, and Greece. In the last country they are called astropelekia, and Sir John states that, about 1081, the Byzantine Emperor Alexius Comnenus sent to the Emperor Henry III. of Germany, ἀστροπέλεκυν δεδεμένον μετὰ χρυσαφίου i.e. probably a celt of meteoric origin mounted in gold. Sir J. Evans, I may add, traces back this keraunic belief about celts in Greece to about 2000 years before our time.

So far do our modern facts take us, but this in itself is only the beginning. A little research will show us that there is unquestionable evidence as to the immense antiquity of this "elf-shot" idea in English. In Cockayne's Leechdoms etc.[55] we find a very remarkable Anglo-Saxon incantation "Against the Stitch," of which I shall here give a literal rendering. The spell begins, as is so very frequently the case, with a sort of rubric, which recited the objects to be used in the charm for which the incantation is to be sung, and describes the method of their application. This rubric, which I propose to take first, runs as follows:—

"Take fever-few and the red nettle which grows in the yard, and "way-bread," and boil them in butter."

"Fever-few" is an Anglo-Saxon name for the well-known plant pyrethrum partenium, and is borrowed from the Latin febrifugia, a febri-füge or "fever-chaser." The "red nettle" is familiar enough, and "way-bread" is the plantain, a strange Anglo-Saxon name that has survived right on down to modern English, but the real meaning of which is not, as might be supposed, "bread that grows by the way," but "way-broad," or more strictly speaking, "way-breadth," a fact that will be evident as soon as we recall its modern German equivalent Wege-breit, even were it not that the application of "broad" or "breadth" to the leaves of the plantain in itself has an application that is perfectly fitting. These three ingredients, then, feverfew, the red nettle, and the plantain, were to be boiled in butter, no doubt for external application to the real or supposed wound in the form of a poultice. It is at this point that the magician begins his incantation:—

"They [that is the enemy] were noisy, yea noisy, When they rode over the burial-mound [or barrow]. They were of one mind when they rode over the land. [Then to the patient] Shield thyself now, that thou mayest recover from this attack. 'Out, little spear!'—if it be herein."

Here this particular charm ends, and another begins, which is evidently given either as a reinforcement of the preceding one or, as would seem more probable from the wording, as a reply to be made either by the patient himself, or, as is usual, on behalf of the patient by the medicine-man himself:—

"I stood under the shield,Under the light shield, Where the mighty wives [i.e. witches] Made ready their strength [i.e. prepared for the contest]. And they, yelling, sent forth their spears [gar]. I will send back upon them Another flying arrow. Right in front.'Out, little spear!' if it be herein."

Here again follows a new charm, which runs:—

"There sat a Smith, He wrought a little 'sax'; He hammered the iron head; 'Out, little spear!'—if it be herein."

Now comes what seems to me by far the most important and striking lines of the entire scene:—

"Six smiths sat, and they wrought spears of slaughter. 'Out, spear!' not 'In, spear!' If there be herein a piece of iron which is the work of the hag, it shall melt. [Turning to the patient] If thou wert shot in the skin. Or if thou wert shot in the flesh. Or wert shot in the blood,Or wert shot in a limb, Never let thy life be injured. If it were a shot of the gods [Aesir], Or if it were a shot of the elves, Or if it were a shot of the hag.Now will I help thee. This is thy remedy against the shot of the gods, This is thy remedy against the shot of the elves, This is thy remedy against the shot of the hag, I will help thee! [To the evil spirits] Flee to the mountain-head! [To the patient] Whole be thou, The Lord help thee!”

This magnificent incantation concludes here with the rubric “Here take the knife (seax), and put it in water,”—no doubt for the purpose of immediate administration. The knife was dipped into water, and the water drunk by the patient, in the very same way that water in which a stone implement has been dipped is to this day medicinally drunk not only, as I myself am aware, by the Malays, but by very many other races in the earlier stages of culture. The word sax or seax is of especial interest. The Anglo-Saxon form was seax, the Mercian sax, and they are both not borrowed from but cognate with the Latin saxum, which even in Latin meant a weapon, (as in Vergil, Aeneid, Bk. I. jamque faces, et saxa volant). It may well be that originally to the Anglo-Saxons, as well as to the Romans, saxum was once a stone, but of this stage there is no trace in Anglo-Saxon, whereas “stone” is the quite regular and usual meaning of the word in Latin, the records of which go back to nearly 1000 years earlier than our existing Anglo-Saxon records, the date of these particular charms being perhaps about the tenth century.

So in the Icelandic legend of Gylfaginning, one of Thor’s three precious things is the hammer “that giants and ogres know well, when it comes flying through the air,” and this hammer is believed by Montelius[56] to have been a development from the sun-god’s axe, a fact which brings these old Scandinavian beliefs very near to those contained in our own English charms. It only remains to consider why the stone celt or other weapon was used as a remedy for anyone who had been wounded by a similar weapon. I believe the true reason for this to be precisely identical with the reason for curing a snake-bitten man by the snake that bit him, i.e. that the patient by entering, so to speak, into ‘blood-brotherhood’ with the offending weapon, obtained relief. For we must remember that to them the weapon, like other inert objects, would yet be animate, as I shall hereafter show.

For classical times Mr. A. B. Cook may be relied upon,[57] but Sir J. Evans quotes a remarkable passage referring to celts in Suetonius, who mentions, as an augury of Galba’s accession to the throne, that lightning fell into a lake in Cantabria and 12 axes were found, “a by no means ambiguous omen of empire,” (Galba, viii. c. 4).

With regard to the rest of Europe, those who wish may refer to Montelius,[58] who traces the axe cult back to Perun, the god of thunder in Slavonia, and to Stone-Age examples in Ancient Gaul, Greece, and Scandinavia, where the thunder-god’s hammer was developed among natives who were familiar, or had been very recently familiar, with the use of stone implements. We should hardly have expected, therefore, to find it in either North or South America, though according to Evans[59] it does occur in Brazil, which is a country that can hardly be considered free from European influence. The examples given by Tylor are not examples of flint implements being so regarded, but of natural stones (of flint etc.). He states, for instance, that

“the lightning entering that ground scatters in all directions thunder-bolt stones, which are flints, etc., their reason for this notion being the very natural one, that these siliceous stones actually produce a flash when struck.”[60]

After giving several examples which have no direct bearing on thunder-bolts, Tylor proceeds to describe the Peruvian belief about a deity called Catequil the Thunder-god, child of the Heaven-god, who in thunder-clap and flash hurls from his sling the small, round, smooth thunder-stones, treasured in the villages as fire-fetishes and charms, to kindle the flame of love. It will be observed here that Catequil's thunderbolts are also but stones, and certainly not stone implements.

Information as to the keraunic axehead seems, for whatever reason, very slight for China. We must hope that fuller information will turn up. Sir J. Evans[61] states that in China celts are called lightning stones, (which suggests the keraunic belief), but Professor Giles, in a letter of May 25th, 1911, wrote to me:—

“Although there is a large literature of stones, including meteorites, talismans, auspicious stones, etc., to be found in Chinese, I know of no instances of stone implements such as those you mention having been used in China. The earliest ploughshares, for instance, were made of wood. Stone has been employed for pestles and mortars, since early days, but apparently not for cutting implements.”

For the existence of the belief in Japan, we have the authority of Montelius[62] and Evans.[63]

A similarly disappointing result is obtained from Egypt, with regard to which Professor Flinders Petrie wrote to me on May 21st:—

“There is an abundance of stone implements in Egypt, of all periods. But I do not know that any beliefs about them existed either with reference to powdering them or as to a thunderbolt origin. The only suggestion to the contrary, which has come from Professor Newberry, of Liverpool, is, I understand, to the effect that belemnites occurring in the Eocene limestone at Ekhmein in Upper Egypt may have been regarded as a thunder-bolt, and may have suggested the standard of the god Min. The question as to whether in this particular example we have a true thunderbolt belief, or merely one founded on European analogies, is a question upon which I myself am unable to enter." To this Professor Petrie added, "I have never met with pyrites nodules kept in graves or houses, except selected even balls for playing a game. Peculiar flints selected are often found, so the idea was familiar, but pyrites was unnoticed. One name for iron, however, was ba ne pat (iron of the sky), and this was applied both to haematite and native iron. The idea of meteoric iron was thus known, but the material was disregarded."

The only Egyptian example I have been able to find is described by Sir J. Evans,[64] who says that a celt of nephrite engraved with gnostic inscriptions in Greek was found in Egypt many years ago, and appears to be unique.

In Africa the sole example of the keraunic belief given by Tylor is that of Djakuta or Jakuta, the Stone-Caster of the Yoruba, usually called Shango, the Thunder-god, who, as among so many other people who have forgotten their Stone Age, flings down from heaven the stone hatchets which are found in the ground and preserved as sacred objects. A fuller account of these Yoruba beliefs is given by Dwyer,[65] who states that the ancient axeheads or celts found in the country and called adura are "messengers from," not the bolts of, Shonga the local Thunder-god, and that they have peculiar properties when "fresh." When a house is struck by lightning and fired, it is visited by the priests of Shonga, who are strongly "possessed" (by the spirit), and succeed in producing the thunder-stone from its ashes, a fee being charged by the priests for the performance. Mr. Dwyer could never ascertain where the stones came from, even the offer of heavy bribes failing to extract the information, the invariable reply being "they come from Shonga." Further, "if a person offends some of the Elders or commits some crime," his house will be burnt a few days afterwards,—the priests will see to this,—and then the priests arrive and find the stone, and exact the usual heavy penalty. Again, a form of ordeal consists in drinking from a bowl of water in which either a thunder-stone or the skull of a person who has been killed by lightning has been dipped.

It may be concluded from the numerous accounts which refer to the keraunic belief either in Nigeria or other parts of West Africa that it is chiefly localized in that part of the continent, and indeed there does seem to be some good ground for thinking so. Mr. Henry Balfour, for instance,[66] remarks that:—

"Western Africa is no exception to this general rule (of the keraunic belief). Sir R. Burton, the Rev. T. T. Bowen, Major A. B. Ellis, and others, all refer to this belief in this region. Burton and Winwood Reade have told us that on the Gold Coast stone axes were called "thunderstones" (sráman-bo) and "god-axes," and were carefully preserved for their supposed universal virtues. A specimen was found by Mr. Kühne on an altar or shrine at Ashanti. In that region, too, they were called "god-axes.""

Ellis gives a similar account of flint arrowheads and axes on the Slave Coast, among the Ewe-speaking people,[67] who believe them to be "thunderbolts" associated with their god of lightning. In Benin, according to Mr. Balfour,

"the superstitious reverence with which stone axes were regarded ... is abundantly manifest from the frequent representations of these objects upon the elaborate bronze castings, especially upon some of the larger human heads and the state maces. Upon the latter the surmounting human figure is frequently represented as holding a neolithic axe blade in the left hand. By analogy we may assume that in Benin the stone axes were "thunderbolts," and became objects of veneration as symbols of the thunder-god."[68]

In addition, Mr. Balfour describes two small bronze models of celts from Benin which were found with a number of similar models, and were perforated for stringing; these are said to have formed a necklet, and in Mr. Balfour's opinion were probably symbolical of the god of lightning. But, if they were anything more than a necklace worn for mere ornament, may they not have been worn, more probably, for quasi-medical reasons?[69]

Dr. J. G. Frazer, in connection with this subject,[70] gives a number of references, all of which, if we take the African ones, are localized in the western portion of the continent, with a single exception, that of a keraunic belief similar to those we have been describing, which was recorded by the late Lieut. Boyd-Alexander from Central Africa (in the district named from the Welle, a tributary of the Congo). Of course this is not to say that occasional examples outside this area never occur; but we can at least safely say that the centre of distribution of such implements, as well as of the corresponding beliefs about them, so far as Africa is concerned, is the western part of the continent.

In respect to the distribution of the belief in India, where the Stone Age still survives side by side with the use of metal in various parts of the country, D'Alviella[71] quotes several references. Montelius states that gods with the symbolic double axe occur in various parts of ancient Greece, Syria, Asia, etc.[72] Tylor notes[73] that the Vedas "are full of Indra's glories," and gives several passages in which his thunderbolt,—the "heavenly stone" the primeval smiths had sharpened for him, a kind of stone axe, according to Montelius,—is referred to, and Mr. Crooke informs me that the Hindus call the symbol of the thunderbolt vajra (a sort of forked trident), but adds, — "It cannot be said whether in early times they connected it with the celts." Frazer gives three examples of celts regarded as thunderbolts, but all these are from southern and central India. In the former region they are said to be the thunderbolts of Vishnu.[74] Sir J. Evans[75] says they are renovated and placed against the Mahadeos, or painted red and treated as Mahadeo. In northern India such things are practically unknown in the great plains, being found only on the hills fringing the valley of the Ganges. The people regard them as uncanny, and pile them up at village shrines. As to their being called thunderbolts, it is difficult to speak generally, but in the Nāga Hills at all events they are considered to have fallen from heaven,[76] and in Burma the belief is as definite as anywhere else in the world, as we learn from Capt. C. J. F. S. Forbes[77]:—

"Their oaths are generally taken by drinking the water out of a jar in which a musket, spear, sword, a tiger's and a crocodiles tooth, and a stone hatchet or 'celt' (which they deem a thunderbolt), have been immersed, calling on the spirit of each of these means of death to punish the committal of perjury."

There still remains one form of the keraunic belief which is diametrically opposed to everything we have yet met, — the belief that thunderbolts, or batu halintar, as the Malays call them, are not hurled from the sky, but rise out of the ground, and strike upwards, the lightning also originating, not from the clouds, but from the agitated movements of large wild animals. This belief was recorded by Mr. J. B. Scrivenor,[78] but I have also myself heard suggestions of this kind from the Malays, and a definite account of the lightning part of it was included in the Expeditionary notes taken on the visit of the Cambridge exploring party to the Siamese-Malay States on the east coast of the Peninsula in 1900. I shall first, however, give Mr. Scrivenor's account, which was obtained in writing from an educated Perak Malay named Mahomed Mansur, the son of a minister of the ex-Sultan Abdullah of Perak. It is as follows:—

"There are certain things called batu lintar. Men say that a Jin makes them out of stiff clay and that they are always found in the ground. The Jin piles them one above the other, close together, while they are still soft. If they are left they become quite hard. When they are hard enough, if the Jin wishes to kill an enemy (another Jin), he takes out the stones, and the power of the Jin is such that they become red like fire and (are surrounded by fire so that) their shape is like a coconut. If any mortal comes within range of the emanations from these stones, though they may be thirty depas distant, he cannot help fainting away. If a tree is struck by one, it is as though that tree were struck by a bullet, but the mark runs zig-zag from the trunk to the branches. Men who are struck by the emanations from these stones become as though burnt and turn red; but no one is ever struck by the stone itself . . . Men say that the Jin who owns the stones does not purposely wound a man's body. When the Jin throws a stone at an enemy and the enemy in trying to escape runs close to a mortal, then the stone follows him and in passing causes him to faint away. When a man has fainted away one must not touch him. If he is touched he is sure to die. But if one searches near the man it will be found that the Jin has thrown down a tuft of grass tied in a knot. If this is dipped in water and the water sprinkled over the man who has fainted, he recovers. Again, men say that when one finds a batu lintar that has not yet burst into flames it will never burst into flames if a little bit is chipped off the stone. But if this is not done when there is a high wind that batu lintar will explode with the noise of a cannon. Therefore, whenever a man finds a batu lintar he chips it slightly." . . . "I have questioned Mansur as to the cause of lightning. He tells me it is explained by Malays in many different ways. One cause is a Jin throwing a batu lintar at his enemy. Another is a big animal, such as an elephant or a bison, shaking himself in the jungle."

Mr. Scrivener gives the main points of the belief as they were told to himself, and the essential facts are that batu lintar dive found in the ground and that they gradually get harder or riper. When they are hard or ripe they rise out of the ground and burst with a loud report, and when they strike a tree they first strike a trunk and then the branches. They are powerful magic till they are chipped, when they lose their power. "Lightning comes out of a herd of big game, such as a herd of elephants." Upon this I may remark that, though I cannot give any specific example as to the belief that the thunderbolt strikes upwards, rising up out of the ground and first reaching the stem and then the branches, the idea is certainly neither unfamiliar to me in the character of a Malay belief, nor is it in any way surprising, the only point of which I am in any doubt being as to whether these bolts do not rise after they have fallen as in the German belief that they rise nine days later, mentioned by Sir J. Evans.[79] For the internal evidence of Mansur's own account shows that in some cases at least the Jins must cast them down, or they could not hit human beings. An exactly similar belief is held by the Malays with regard to other shaped things found in the earth,—with regard to treasure jars, for instance, of which I will presently give an example; and I may add that the Malay belief as to other such objects is certainly that they sink into and rise up out of the ground, and this idea, so far from being rare, is quite common,—I may in fact say, without the least exaggeration, that no wellconducted Malay "treasure-jar" or crock or anything of that kind ever does anything else. Moreover, the parallel is exact, as regards the chipping of the vessel's lip, which is done because the Malays believe that the semangat or soul which in their view pervades all things inert as well as animate, will not remain when its counterpart is marred;[80] for we must think of the semangat as a diminutive model or counterpart of the object which it inhabits. Thus, when the substantive jar or urn is chipped or broken, it no longer agrees identically with its spiritual archetype, (which appears to be something quasi-material or more nearly approaching what we should call one of the Platonic ideas); hence the spirit or soul, which the Malays call semangat, consequently flies. It is for this reason that the clay models of bullocks and other animals, which are offered at shrines, as I have seen in the Malay Peninsula, are broken before being offered. For the least fracture expels or destroys their semangat.

I will conclude with an account of "lightning" which I myself took down in 1899 from the Malays in Ulu Pahang, which, taken together with Mr. Scrivenor's account of the thunderbolt, I think should be sufficient to show that Malay ideas on the subject of storm phenomena are quite different in character to our own. The gist of the whole matter is, (as I hope immediately to show), that the thunderbolt or jar or other inert object, so long as it is uninjured, possesses a vitality of some sort; on the other hand, the Malay ideas about lightning suggest electricity.

"Lightning ascends from creatures on earth. All living creatures possess this lightning (which is so powerful that), if we are merely startled, our own lightning can be perceived by our foes. Lightning is of several different kinds:—

1. The elephants'-herd flash or elephants'-crowd flash, which has a very broad appearance [i.e. sheet lightning]; this is the kind of flash that ascends from a herd of elephants.

2. Bison lightning, which is greenish.

3. Tiger lightning, which is yellow.

All the foregoing are silent and have no thunder.

4. Sky-crash lightning, or sky-stride Hghtning, i.e. lightning with thunder.

In Selangor treasure pots or jars of the kind called Bedena are alive until they are chipped (sumbing)., whereupon they die. They have been known to pursue people by rocking after them (tergolekgolek), in which case [i.e. if you are pursued by a treasure jar] it is safest to run away. If, however, you are a lucky sort of person, and avoid all exclamations of delight [at being chased by a treasure jar, presumably,—the Malay word is tekupor but quietly and determinedly take your jungle-knife and chip the jar's edge, you may secure its contents. Some people have been fortunate enough to catch them with a hook when fishing, but even then there is often much trouble in securing them, as at the smallest provocation or excuse they will retire again to the bottom of the river."

I may add that several references to the belief in the wider Malayan region are given by Frazer,[81] and Sir J. Evans[82] states that in Java celts are called "lightning teeth."

In this brief survey we have thrown the net broadcast, and I think we shall on the whole be justified, not only from the distribution of the beliefs, but of the objects themselves, in concluding that the keraunic belief as applied to stone implements though world-wide is so far from being in any way general or universal, as has too often been stated or implied; that it does not occur at all, or only quite locally and exceptionally, over the greater part of the world,—e.g. in China or in Egypt, or the greater part of North and South America, that it is but partial in India, and is very limited as to area in Africa and elsewhere; that it is not at all general anywhere, except possibly in the Indo-European regions, (though in both areas it is far from being universal); and that it also occurs in some countries which are or have been formerly under strong and direct European or Indian influence. We have seen above that both the snakestone and the stone thunderbolt are embedded deeply in the folklore strata of many parts of Britain and the Continent, and hence we may conclude that they both once formed part of the religion of these islands, but have been so overlaid by Christianity that they now represent not merely beliefs about fossils, but also what may perhaps be called some "fossil beliefs" of Britain as well. Above all we have found a possible link between the two classes of belief in the fact that both celts and ammonites are in India connected with the worship of Vishnu.[83]

Walter W. Skeat.

↑ W. Johnson, Folk-Memory, p. 148.

↑ The Old Red Sandstone (1841), p. 147.

↑ F. K. Robinson, A Glossary of . . . Whitby, Part ii. (1876), s.v. Thunnerbolts. Mr. E. Lovett, in the discussion which followed the paper, contended that stone axes etc. were regarded as thunderbolts because of their cutting edge and belemnites because of their sharp point. To this may be added that the nodules referred to above were, because of their round shape, also taken for cannon balls, and that there was in ancient times an additional reason for the latter idea, because early cannon balls were often enough made of stone.

↑ Book xxix., cap. 12.

↑ Quoted in Folk-Memory, p. 148, from Roman Britain, pp. 70-1.

↑ P. 48.

↑ Ibid., p. 47.

↑ Book xxix., cap. 22.

↑ Folk-Lore., vol. xxi., p. 161. Only I am inclined to doubt the explanation there given, as not explaining the facts sufficiently.

↑ Op. cit., part ii., s.v. Snakes, or Snakestones.

↑ Naturalist, April 1st, 1910.

↑ Vol. ii., part 19, p. 10; Plate 107, (Fig. 2).

↑ Ammonites comminis = dactylioceras commune.

↑ No. 43, 895a.

↑ P. 111, in a note by S. J. Mackie.

↑ Pp. 313-4.

↑ Lives of the Fathers etc., vol. i. (1838), p. 897.

↑ P. 9 (1876).

↑ Walcott, Descriptions and Figures of Petrifactions Found in the Quarries, Gravel-Pits, etc. Near Bath, p. 31.

↑ Op cit., vol. X., p. 607.

↑ "Lapides hic inueniuntur, serpentium in spiram reuolutorum effigie, naturæ ludentis miracula . . . serpentes oilm fuisse crederes, quos lapideus cortex intexissist. Hildæ autem precibus adscribit credulitas," (Camden, p. 419).

↑ This second passage from Camden, as quoted by Plot (p. 116), says:— "Vidimus enim lapidem hinc delatum serpentis in spiram revoluti effigie, cujus caput in circumferentia prominuit, extrema cauda centrum occupante."

↑ A. R. Wallace, The World of Life, pp. 267-9, Figs. 99-106.

↑ P. 145, Fig. 60.

↑ Op. cit., vol. ii., p. 69.

↑ I asked Mr. Woodward if he could explain this, and he tells me that these snakestones, which may have come either from Whitby or Lyme Regis, are in many cases found in nodules of blue Lias limestone, which when split would disclose the ammonite within, perhaps a yellow or ochreous specimen, with the ring of blue limestone round it.

↑ From The Survey of Cornwall, written by Richard Carew, of Antonie, Esq.: quoted by Parkinson, Organic Remains of a Former World, vol. iii., p. 134, who remarks "among the notions which have been entertained respecting these fossils, none is more curious."

↑ Pliny, Natural History, xxxvii., cap. 60. Mr. A. B. Cook writes to me that, according to Eratosthenes, quoted by Strabo (1. i, cap. 3, s. 4), the precinct of Zeus Ammon (the oasis of Siwah), which is a deep depression, is strewn with shells and a salt deposit. He infers that this oracle became famous while still a coast-town on the arm of a vanished sea. The shells, Mr. Cook thinks, are asterites.

↑ Frazer, Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship, pp. 157-8.

↑ Vol. ii., pp. 26-7 (3rd ed.). Cf. Carew, p. 57 ante. I may add that Mr. E. Lovett has informed me of two cases in which ammonites were carried by fishermen to bring kick in fishing,—one at Oban and the other at Folkestone, the ammonites themselves being called fish at the latter place.

↑ Folk-Memory, p. 125.

↑ Pp. 10-3 (1841 ed.).

↑ P. 134.

↑ A Glossary of . . . Whitby, part ii., s.v. Thunner-bolts.

↑ Descriptions and Figures of Petrifactions Found in the Qnarries, Gravel-Pits, etc. Near Bath, p. 39.

↑ Op. cit., p. 93.

↑ Geologist, vol. iv., p. 215.

↑ J. Woodward, An Attempt towards the Natural History of Fossils etc. (1729), vol. i. p. 109.

↑ Parkinson, op. cit., vol. iii., p. 122, where he also remarks that they are also called lapides lyncis, owing to their supposed origin from the urine of the lynx, and cites Ovid, Metamorphoses, lib. xv., v. 413.

↑ Folk-Memory, p. 149.

↑ Op. cit., p. 93.

↑ Cf. Sir J. Evans, The Ancient Stone Implements etc. of Great Britain, pp. 51 et seq.

↑ Folk-Memory, p. 122.

↑ P. 10.

↑ Folk-Memory, p. 124.

↑ Folk- Lore, vol. xx., pp. 231-2.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xxii., p. 53.

↑ Folk- Lore, vol. xxi., p. 7.

↑ A Glossary of. . . Whitby, part i., s.v. Awfshots.

↑ Folk-Memory, p. 124.

↑ Evans, op. cit., p. 51.

↑ Op. cit., p. 93.

↑ P. 90.

↑ Op. cit., pp. 51 et seq.

↑ Vol. iii., p. 5².

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xxi., pp. 60-78.

↑ See “The Cretan Axe-cult outside Crete,” The Transactions of the Third International Congress for the History of Religions, vol. ii., pp. 184-94; cf. also Blinkenberg, The Thunder-weapon in Religion and Folklore.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xxi., pp. 60-78.

↑ Op. cit., p. 52.

↑ Primitive Culture, vol. ii., p. 238 (2nd ed.).

↑ Op. cit., p. 53; cf. Blinkenberg, op. cit., pp. 117-8.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xxi., p. 60.

↑ Op. cit., p. 53.

↑ Op. cit., p. 54.

↑ Man, 1903, p. 184.

↑ Man, 1903, p. 183.

↑ The Ewe-speaking Peoples etc. of the Slave Coast, pp. 37-8.

↑ Man, 1903, p. 183.

↑ It is perhaps worth considering whether the double-headed axe-models once employed as votive offerings at shrines in ancient Crete may not be fairly compared to the god-axes offered in Ashanti.

↑ The Golden Bough (3rd ed.). Part I., vol. ii., p. 374.

↑ The Migration of Symbols, pp. 99-100.

↑ Folk-Lore, vol. xxi., pp. 62-6.

↑ Primitive Culture, vol. ii., p. 240.

↑ Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, p. 351.

↑ Op. cit., p. 53.

↑ Mr. W. Crooke.

↑ British Burma etc., p. 252.

↑ Man, 190S, pp. 105-6.

↑ Op cit., p. 52.

↑ So too Pliny tells us of a stone, "within the Isle Scyros," which floats when whole, and sinks when marred, (Holland's translation (1634), vol. ii., p. 5S7).

↑ The Golden Bough (3rd ed.), Part I., vol. ii., p. 374 n.

↑ Op. cit., p. 53.

by M. A. Murray.

(Read before the Society, April 18, 1917.)

Witch cult and ritual have not yet, as far as I am aware, been subjected to a searching scientific investigation from the anthropological side. The whole thing has generally been put down to hypnotism, hysteria, and hallucination on the part of the witches, to prejudice and cruelty on the part of the judges. I shall try to prove that the hysteriacum-prejudice theory, including that blessed word "autosuggestion," is untenable, and that among the witches we have the remains of a fully organised religious cult, which at one time was spread over Central and Western Europe, and of which traces are found at the present day.

I am not concerned with Operative Witchcraft or the effects, real or imaginary, of witch-charms, nor with the magical powers claimed by the witches, such as flying through the air and transformation into animals. It is the organisation and the cult, which I am about to describe.

Its organisation was recognised by the Roman Catholic Church which speaks of it as a sect;[1] and in its latest stages in America, Cotton Mather is able to say with truth, "the Witches do say, that they form themselves much after the manner of Congregational Churches, and that they have a Baptism, and a Supper, and Officers among them, abominably resembling those of our Lord."[2]

It is obvious to anyone who considers the matter that the conversion of the heathen tribes of Great Britain must have been a long process. Kings and nobles might follow the new religion, but for the mass of the people Christianity must have been a mere veneer for several centuries. As Christianity took a firmer and firmer hold, the old paganism was either more and more relegated to country places and to the lower classes of the community; or else by dropping the gross forms, its ritual remained as rustic festivals patronised by the Church.

I give here, in chronological order, extracts from various sources showing the historical continuity of the ancient religion. The laws became stricter as Christianity increased in power.

Strabo says that, in an island close to Britain, Ceres and Proserpine were venerated with rites similar to the orgies of Samothrace.[3]Dionysius states that the rites of Bacchus were duly celebrated in the British Isles.[4] This is evidence that fertility rites were celebrated in Britain which had a close resemblance to those of Greece and Asia Minor. The conversion of Britain took place during the 7th century; and the Christian ecclesiastical writers, from whom our knowledge of the consecutive history of the period is derived, write with a bias in favour of their own religion, ignoring the existence of the underlying paganism. But the following extracts from contemporary documents show its continuance:

7th cent. Liber Poenitentialis of Theodore, Archibishop of Canterbury.

1. Sacrifice to devils.

2. Eating and drinking in the heathen temple, (a) in ignorance, (b) after being told by the priest that it is sacrilege and the table of devils, (c] as a cult of devils and in honour of idols.

5. Not only celebrating feasts in the abominable places of the heathen and offering food there, but also consuming it.

7. Anyone found serving this hidden idolatry, having relinquished Christ, and given himself up to idolatry.

19. If anyone at the kalends of January goes about as a stag or a bull; that is, making himself into a wild animal, and dressing in the skin of a herd animal, and putting on the heads of beasts; those who in such wise transform themselves into the appearance of a wild animal, penance for three years; because this is devilish.

7th cent. Laws of King Wihtraed.

Fines for offerings to devils.

8th cent. Ecgbert, Archbishop of York, Confessionale.

Against offerings to devils. Witchcraft. Auguries according to the methods of the heathen. Vows paid or loosed or confirmed at wells, stones, and trees. Gathering of herbs with any incantation except Christian prayers.

8th cent. Law of the Northumbrian Priests.

48. If then anyone be found that shall henceforth practise any heathenships, either by sacrifice or by fyrt, or in any way love witchcraft, or worship idols, if he be a king's thane, let him pay x half-marks; half to Christ, half to the king.

67. We are all to love and worship one God, and strictly hold one Christianity, and totally renounce all heathenship.

9th cent. Decree attributed to a Council of Anquira.

Some wicked women, reverting to Satan, and seduced by the illusions and phantasms of demons, believe and profess that they ride at night with Diana on certain beasts, with an innumerable multitude of women, passing over immense distances, obeying her commands as their mistress, and evoked by her on certain nights.

9th and 10th cent. Laws of Alfred and Guthrun. Laws of Edward and Guthrun.

11. If witches or diviners, perjurers or morth-workers, or foul defiled notorious adulteresses, be found anywhere within the land; let them then be driven from the country and the people cleansed, or let them totally perish within the country, unless they desist, and the more deeply make bot.

2. If any one violate Christianity, or reverence heathenism., by word or by work, let him pay as well wcr, as wite or lah-slit, according as the deed may be.

10th cent. Laws of Athelstan.[5]

6. We have ordained respecting witchcrafts, and lyblacs, and morth-daeds: if any one should be thereby killed, and he could not deny it, that he be liable in his life. But if he will deny it, and at the threefold ordeal shall be guilty; that he be cxx days in prison; and after that let his kindred take him out, and give to the king cxx shillings, and pay the wer to his kindred, and enter into borh for him, that he evermore desist from the like.

10th cent. King Edgar. Ecclesiastical Canons.

16. We enjoin, that every priest zealously promote Christianity, and totally extinguish every heathenism; and forbid well-worshipings, and necromancies, and divinations, and enchantments, and man-worshipings, and the vain practices which are carried on with various spells, and with frith-splots and with elders, and also with various other trees, and with stones, and with many various delusions, with which men do much of what they should not.

17. And we enjoin, that every Christian man zealously accustom his children to Christianity, and teach them the Paternoster and the Creed.

18. And we enjoin, that on feast-days heathen songs and devil's games be abstained from.

10th cent. Laws of Ethelred.

Let every Christian man do as is needful to him; let him strictly keep his Christianity.

Let us zealously venerate right Christianity, and totally despise every heathenism.

11th cent. Laws of Cnut.

5. We earnestly forbid every heathenism: heathenism is, that men worship idols; that is, that they worship heathen gods, and the sun or the moon, fire or rivers, water-wells or stones, or forest trees of any kind; or love witchcraft, or promote morthwork in any wise.

12th cent. John of Salisbury.

Mentions witches' Sabbaths.

13th cent. Galilee porches, for the use of the unbaptised and excommunicate, no longer built.

14th cent. Nider's Formicarius.

Berne infested with witches for more than sixty years.

Inquisition of Como in 1510, records that witches had existed there for more than 150 years.

Dame Alice Kyteler, tried for witchcraft, 1324. Devil appeared as a black man. Had in her possession a wafer bearing the devil's name instead of Christ's.

15th cent.

Trials of witches in Italy, France, and Germany. The characteristic features of the ritual are found.

15th cent. Decree of Innocent VIII,[6] Generally said to be the beginning of the "outbreak" of witchcraft.

It has come to our ears . . . that many persons of both sexes, deviating from the Catholic faith, do not avoid to have intercourse with devils, incubi and succubi, and that by their incantations, charms, and sorceries, they blight the marriage bed, destroy the births of women, and the increase of cattle; they blast the corn of the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, besides causing to perish, suffocating and destroying men and women, flocks and herds and other kinds of animals, vines as well as orchard-trees, pasture, grass, corn and other fruits of the earth.

Lord Coke defines a witch as "a person that hath conference with the devil, to consult with him or to do some act." It is in this aspect only that I propose to consider the witch.

It is impossible to understand the cult without first understanding the position of the chief personage in the proceedings. He was known to the contemporary Christian judges and Christian writers as the Devil; was called by them Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, the Foul Fiend, and similar names; and was entirely identified by them with the Principle of Evil, the devil of the Scriptures. But this was very far from the point of view of the witches themselves. To them this so-called Devil was God,[7] manifest, visible, incarnate; they adored him on their knees[8]; they addressed their prayers to him[9]; they offered thanks to him as the giver of food[10] and the necessities of life; they gave their children to him.[11] The actual name by which he was known to his worshippers varies in every district; in some, each witch of the covine called him by a special name[12]; in others he was known by the same name to every witch within his circle. But as the records rarely extend beyond the one trial in each county or district of a county, there is no continuity in the history of any one community, and it is not possible to say whether either custom was the rule in the place in which it was practised, nor whether the name which all the witches knew was applied to the individual or to the office; whether, for example, the witches of Aberdeen[13] always called their chiefs "Christsonday," or whether the little crippled man, whom Christen Michell saw, was the only one known by that name.

This chief or Devil was, as God incarnate, absolutely supreme over his followers; they were bound to obey his lightest command. On his side, there were certain duties to perform; he instructed the witches in magical arts,[14] both for curing and killing; he helped them when in difficulties if they called upon him[15]; he presided at the Sabbaths, where he conducted the religious service; and he often led the dance[16] which being a fertility-rite, must be looked upon as part of an early and primitive cult. He sometimes, though not always, attended the local meetings,[17] but as these were not so important as the Sabbaths his presence could be dispensed with.

We knew nothing as to how he was appointed and his identity was always studiously concealed, but on a few occasions we get a glimpse of a real personality; sometimes this proves to be a person of some political importance. Eg. at North Berwick[18] where the witch-community was destroyed, root and branch, on account of their attempt on the King's life [James VI. our James I.], the evidence points to Francis Earl Bothwell as the chief or Devil. Bothwell was grandson of James V. and nephew of the Regent Moray, and in spite of the bar sinister he was practically the next male heir to the throne of Scotland had our King James died without children. Of less importance but also political is a list of suspected persons[19] in the reign of Elizabeth; among them are several witches and "Ould Birtles the great devil." In 1649 a man named Marsh of Dunstable[20] is identified by George Palmer, who had himself been a witch for nearly 60 years, as "the head of the whole College of Witches that hee knows in the world." Altogether I have been able to identify eight or nine men, but with more time and trouble it would be possible to identify several more.

The appearance of the devil is often given in great •detail. He was said to appear usually as a man, a bull, a goat, and a dog. As a man he was usually dressed in black, apparently garbed like the clergy of the period; but in the outlying districts of Scotland, where more primitive customs prevailed, he was clothed in green[21] or gray,[22] or dun-coloured[23] garments. But it is evident that he went to the Sabbath disguised, and he was also seen in disguise at other times. In Southern France he is said to have had a face at the back of the head "like the God Janus"[24]; or with a goat's face in front and another goat's face under the tail.[24] The rank of the witch in the society was shown by which face he or she was permitted to kiss at the Sabbath. That the face at the back was a mask is very certain, for all the witches agree that it was hard and cold and that the Devil never spoke from it. There are also strong indications that the face at the front was often a mask also, for whenever the Devil's voice is mentioned whether in Great Britain[25] or France,[26] it is said to be hollow with indistinct articulation like the sound of a voice under a mask. What may perhaps be proof of this disguise is still extant in the "Dorsetshire Ooser,"[27] a wooden mask representing a man's face with ox's horns, the jaw is movable to allow the wearer to speak; it is said to have been worn by a man wrapped in a cow's skin, who ran after the girls. Another survival which seems to point in the same direction is the so-called Cadi in Wales, a country where, as far as I know, the ancient ritual of the witches was never suppressed.

The two-faced deity is of great importance and of great antiquity. I am indebted to Mr. Peake and Prof. Fleure for calling my attention to a two-faced deity of ancient Britain in the Roman period, and also to the reference in Geoffrey[28] of Monmouth, who says, speaking of Cordelia, daughter of King Lear "in the third year thereafter he died and Aganippus died also, and Cordelia, now mistress of the helm of state in Britain, buried her father in a certain underground chamber which she had bidden to be made under the river Soar at Leicester. This underground chamber was founded in honour of the two-faced god Janus, and there, when the yearly celebration of the day came round, did all the workmen of the city set hand upon such work as they were about to be busied upon throughout the year." Cordelia, according to Geoffrey, died before the foundation of Rome by Romulus; in other words the tradition of the queen and the worship of the two-faced god date back to pre-Roman Britain.

The identification of this two-faced god with Janus and the statement that the Devil or God of the witches was also two-faced like Janus should be taken together. I am not prepared to prove that the worship of Janus continued down to the 17th century, but I would call your attention to the following points:

1. Janus or Dianus is the male form of Diana, with whom the witches were accused of riding through the air and following in the dance. Diana was always the female leader of the witches.

2. Janus was an ancient indigenous god of Northern Italy before the Romans came in. His city was a ruin, hoary with age, when Aeneas arrived in Italy.

3. According to the Romans themselves, Janus was one of the few gods who had no counterpart in the Greek pantheon.

4. His epithets were Clusivius and Patulcius, the opener and the closer, i.e. of the womb.[29]

5. His name, and his name only, was invoked by the Salian dancing priests, when they ran naked through the streets in the great fertility festival of the Lupercalia.

6. As the first of all gods, as the god of beginnings [hence, of course, of birth] his name was invoked before that of Jupiter himself in all prayers and invocations.

7. His priest was the Rex Sacrorum, who took precedence even of the great Flamen Dialis.

8. As Janus Quadrifrons he presided over cross-roads. It must surely be more than a coincidence that the Italian two-faced god of fertihty should be the patron of cross-roads, and that the two-faced god of the witches should preside over fertility rites which were celebrated at cross-roads.

Another proof of the antiquity of the witch cult is shown by the indications that at some early period, the god of the witches was sacrificed at one of the great Sabbaths.[30] It is not clear whether the sacrifice took place annually or only once in seven years.

In the organisation of the society, there came below the autocratic ruler one or more officers, according to the size of the community. These ofiicers were either men or women[31]; in France they are said to be minor devils, diablotins.[32] The officers were entrusted with the management and arrangement of all the meetings, they notified the members when and where the local meetings would be held,[33] they kept the records of attendance at the meetings and also of the ceremonials performed,[34] they appear to have arranged for the feasts, they often led the ring in the dance[35] or remained in the rear to make the less agile dancers keep up with the rest,[36] they introduced the new convert,[37] and in France they inflicted the "Devil's mark" on the newly admitted witch.[38]

The Scotch witches and apparently originally the English witches also, were divided into companies, or covines, as Isobel Gowdie calls them.[39] The number in a covine was thirteen,[40] twelve witches and the officer, i.e. the Devil's dozen. Each covine was independent of any other, but several could meet for any special purpose; for example, at North Berwick there were thirty-nine witches present,[41] three covines. All the covines of a district met together at the great Sabbaths, but as a rule each covine had its own weekly meeting, near the place of residence of the greater number of the members. Among the members of the covine, and usually the youngest, was the Maiden; she was an important personage and had the place of honour beside the Devil at the local meetings and at the feasts,[42] At the performance of any ceremonial at a local meeting, a certain number of witches—originally probably the whole covine—had to be present, and on these occasions the presence of the Maiden was imperative.[43]

The decadence of the cult is shown by the position of this woman. In the French and early Scotch trials there is always a Reine du Sabbat[44] or a Queen of Elfin,[45] who occupies a prominent position. There is reason to believe, as Prof. Karl Pearson has suggested,[46] that the woman was originally the principal personage in the ceremonial, and was a form of the mother-goddess (the vulgar expression of "the Devil's Dam" comes perhaps from this). In Scotland the Queen of Elfin becomes rarer, and the Maiden of the Covine appears to take her place, while in some localities she is merely the Officer. In England, where the whole religion with all its customs was in a decadent condition by the time the records were made, the woman is never anything but the Officer.[47] In America,[48] however, the chief witch had the promise to be "Queen of Hell," presumably Queen of the Assembly.

Though the discipline of each community must have varied according to the individual temperament of its successive chiefs, it seems clear that obedience could be rigorously exacted and severe punishments inflicted. Unpunctuality at the meetings or keeping the chief waiting at any time were visited with sharp rebuke,[49] probably because of the implied disrespect. Disrespect in words, continued absence from meetings and actual disobedience were punished by beating.[50] In Auldearne[51] the Devil used a scourge of cords to enforce the respect due to him; but the instrument of punishment was usually said to be an iron rod.[52] The earliest mention of such a rod is in the trial of Dame Alice Kyteler in 1324, where the Devil, whom she called Robin son of Artis, appeared carrying an iron rod.[53] The tradition, or possibly the actual fact, was carried to America, for Deliverance Hobbs of Salem[54] complains that when she left the witch society she was "whipped with Iron Rods."

Capital punishment was the fate of traitors, and strict precautions were taken to ensure the silence of the members and to protect the chief against spies. In an early account of trials of witches in Italy, the Inquisitor and two other ofificials watched a witch-meeting from a secret hiding-place; they were observed however, and at a signal from the Devil his followers seized them and beat them so severely that they died soon after.[55] The Swedish children were also beaten till they died of their injuries if they ventured to say who had taken them to Blockula.[56] Rebecca Weste in Essex was threatened with "more torments in earth than could be in hell," if she dared to betray the secrets entrusted to her.[57] The Scotch witch Alesoun Peirsoun[58] was threatened by the people she calls the "good neighbours," that "if she would speak and tell of them and their doings, they would martyr her."' Elizabeth Anderson in Renfrewshire[59] was warned by the witches that if she should confess they would "tear her all in pieces." These were not empty threats, for there are two cases in Scotland[60] where the evidence points to the execution of possible traitors by emissaries of the witch society. In the case of John Reid the executioners secretly entered from the outside and hanged the traitor in his cell. The belief that he was made away with by the Devil was thus actually true.

The ritual of admission was a recognised, and in its early stages an elaborate, ceremony; it varied according to the age of the candidate. The children were brought as soon as they could speak, and were presented by the witch kneeling; she said, "Great Lord, whom I adore, I bring you a new servant, who wishes to be your slave for ever." The Devil answered, "Approach," which the witch did on her knees. He received the child in his arms, then returned it to the witch thanking her and directing that the child should be cared for.[61] Children who had reached an age to become active members of the society, or adult converts from Christianity, were admitted by the same ceremony, with the exception that the converts first renounced their baptism and their previous belief. "I first renounce God, then Jesus Christ his Son, the Holy Ghost, the Virgin, the saints, the holy cross, chrism, baptism, and the Faith which I hold, my godfather and godmother, and I place myself at every point in thy power and in thy hands, recognising no other God, for thou art my God and I am thy slave."[62] They then placed one hand on the crown of the head, the other hand to the sole of the foot, and devoted all that was between the two hands to the service of the master. After this the Devil baptised the candidate with water in his own name, and gave her a new name by which she was afterwards known in the society; those who could write signed a covenant with him, those who could not write were marked on some part of the body.[63] There are several variants of this ceremony, some of which may be local, others point to a more primitive origin. E.g. in France[64] the witch children at the age of nine prostrated themselves to the ground before the Devil, who flashed fire before their eyes and asked, "What do you wish? Will you be mine?" They answered, "Yes." He asked again, "Do you come of your own free will?" They answered, "Yes." Then he said, "Do as I wish and as I do." Then they repeated the renunciation after the Queen of the Sabbath, kissed the Devil in any part of his person which he directed, and were marked by pricking with a sharp instrument like a pin, the skin being torn to the effusion of blood; the mark in most districts was on the left side or left shoulder, and the pain was often very great. Another variant occurred at Dalkeith (1661)[65] when Janet Watson was admitted; "the Devil laid his hand upon her head and bad her give all over to him that was under his hand." The variant, which to my mind shows a more primitive form, is that in use at Auldearne near Nairn.[66] Both Isobel Gowdie and Janet Breadheid voluntarily confessed to the ceremony. In this rite the baptism was in the blood of the candidate, the Devil marked her on the left shoulder, from the cut he sucked the blood, then spouted it into his hand and sprinkled it on her head. This form of baptism is perhaps the origin of those stories of bloodsucking familiars which Hutchinson[67] says were peculiar to Great Britain, and which play so large a part in the witch-trials of England. This use of blood is possibly the origin also of the belief that the covenant was signed in blood, for according to Forbes (quoted above) only those who could write were required to sign, while those who could not write received a "flesh-brand." But he also states that those who signed were touched by the devil, though without drawing blood, which appears to point to an original ceremony of marking everyone. In England however the covenant was signed by all converts, those who could not write affixing their mark,[68] and everyone also received the "flesh-brand."

This "flesh-brand" or witches' mark is described by Sir George Mackenzie.[69] "This mark is given them, as is alledg'd, by a Nip in any part of the Body, and it is blew: Delrio calls it Stigma, or Character, and alledges that it is sometimes like the Impression of a Hare's foot, or the Foot of a Rat, or Spider." Forbes[70] says that it "is like a Flea Bite or blew Spot, and sometimes resembles a little Teat." The mysterious property of these marks was that they were said to be insensible, and when pricked or cut that they did not bleed. From the description of their infliction some of them appear to be a form of tattooing. The breaking of the skin was done by a "Nip" from the Devil's hand, which may mean that he inflicted it with a sharp instrument, for both in France and England we find that the witch was pricked with a pin[71] or a sharp bone.[72] These pricks, which were followed by effusion of blood, were often painful for many days or even weeks, and the Devil usually passed his hand over the broken skin.

There is one point as regards the Devil's marks which helps to disprove the hysteria-hallucination theory, and that is a certain kind of "teat" found on the bodies of some of the witches, as well male as female. All anatomists are aware that in the human being "throw-backs" to the animal ancestor sometimes occur. One of these throw-backs is a supernumerary nipple, which appears under the arms[73] or on the front of the body. These are not common, but again they are not very rare, and they occur in both sexes. In the account of the excrescences found on the witches it is clear that several are examples of polymastia[74]: so much so that the case of the witch Rose Cullender in Suffolk can[75] be exactly paralleled by a modern instance described by Williams[76]; the parallel is exact in all the details even down to the events which preceded the discovery of the nipple by the woman herself. It is interesting to note that in England witches who possessed natural marks such as these were considered inferior to those who were marked by pricking.[77]

One detail in the ceremony of admission appears to be of late date, and not to belong to the original ritual; and that is the reward given to witches who brought new members into the society, or to the converts themselves when of adult age. The amount varied greatly; in France[78] ten or twenty crowns or even a handful of gold were paid to the witch-missionary. In Great Britain[79] the money was evidently regarded as an earnest of the wealth and fertility to follow. It was usually "good and sufficient Money," though a few instances occur of its being changed, like fairy gold, into rubbish.[80]

It is often objected that, though the witches gave up everything, they got nothing out of their contract with the Devil; yet it is quite clear that both men and women, young and old, entered into it very willingly. They promised absolute obedience and fidelity, and the greater number carried out their part of the contract to the end; for the number of witches who died "blaspheming and impenitent" was very great.[81] The Devil was looked upon by the witches, and even by himself, as the incarnate God, and this point of view must be kept in mind when studying the cult. It seems to be that cult of "man-worshiping" which was so strictly forbidden in the Ecclesiastical Canons of King Edgar. The attitude of mind of the witches is best expressed by de Lancre,[82] though it can be seen in the accounts in Great Britain: "When they [the witches] are seized by Justice, they neither weep nor shed a single tear, for their false martyrdom, whether by torture or the gallows, is so pleasant to them that many of them weary to be put to death; and suffer very joyously when they face the trial, so much do they weary that they are not with the Devil. And they are impatient of nothing so much in their prison as that they cannot testify to him how much they suffer and desire to suffer for him."

The meetings of the witches were of two classes, the sabbath and the esbat.[83] The esbat was a local meeting, held near a village, and attended only by the village people. It was at these local meetings that the various enchantments for individual and local purposes were performed. Thus at North Berwick[84] the witches met at the Kirk for the express purpose of destroying the King—James VI. of Scotland, our James I.—by making a wax image of him, and in case that failed, they were instructed in the making of poison to effect their end. In Somerset[85] the witches met to make images to cause the death of an enemy; in Lancashire[86] they met to arrange the escape of one of their number from prison. The admission of a candidate also took place at the local meetings, though this was a ceremony which might be performed in private with only the sponsors present, or even at the Sabbath in the presence of the whole congregation. At Auldearne Isobel Gowdie,[87] whose confession was entirely voluntary, gives a description of a ceremony which is not only interesting in itself, but also shows what the original object of these meetings may have been. The ceremony, as she describes it, was one for blasting fertility by means of a mock plough. The Devil held the plough, the officer of the covine drove, toads drew the plough, the trace-chains were of couch grass, and a gelded animal's horn formed the plough-share. The covine, or squad, of witches surrounded the plough, moving as it moved and repeating incantations. In this ceremony the objects used connoted barrenness; but as the witches were acknowledged to have the double power of causing and blasting fertility, this seems to be a fertility charm reversed; and the original cause of these local meetings was in all probability the promotion of fertility among the flocks and crops of the members.

The local meetings often ended with feasting and dancing, and were sometimes, though not always, kept up till cock-crow.[88]

Everything, which was done at a local meeting, was noted by the officer and reported at the great assembly, or Sabbath, where it was entered in the Devil's book.[89]

The Sabbaths were the important meetings, and were held four times in the year; the dates being Candlemas, February 2, Roodmas or Holy Cross Day, Lammas, August 1, and Hallowmas, October 31. Roodmas falls on May 3, but from the indications it would appear that the date of the Sabbath in Great Britain was originally the same as in Germany, namely Walpurgis Nacht, or April 30; in Bavaria it may be noted that Walpurgis Day was May 2. It is then clear that the Sabbaths were held on the four "cross-quarter" days, i.e. the quarter days of the May-November year. Frazer[90] notes that the division of the year at these points has nothing to do with the solstices or equinoxes, and therefore though of little moment to agriculture is of the utmost importance to the European herdsman, "for it is on the approach of summer that he drives his cattle out into the open to crop the fresh grass, and it is on the approach of winter that he leads them back to the safety and shelter of the stall. Accordingly it seems not improbable that the Celtic bisection of the year into two halves at the beginning of May and the beginning of November dates from a time when the Celts were mainly a pastoral people dependent for their subsistence on their herds, and when accordingly the great epochs of the year for them were the days on which the cattle went forth from the homestead in early summer, and returned to it again in early winter."

The witch ceremonies have to do chiefly with cattle. The Devil often appeared at the meetings, both Sabbath and esbat, either in the form of a herd animal—goat, sheep, or bull,[91]—or else in a rough shaggy garment, apparently intended to represent the animal, as the tail is often a marked feature. In these forms he received the homage of his worshippers as the incarnate God.[92] Much of the witch lore related to cattle; there were spells for laying on and taking off cattle diseases, as well as magical means for obtaining milk, and one of the few writings of the Devil, of which we have any real knowledge, was the Red Book of Appin,[93] a book which was stolen from the witches and was so magical that the owner had to wear a hoop of iron on his head when he ventured to open its pages; the contents of the book were entirely cattle charms. The feast at the Sabbath always consisted of roast meat,[94] either ox or sheep flesh.

The four festivals or Sabbaths can be divided into two pairs; the May-November festivals, and the February-August festivals. This division is suggested by the ceremonies, which seem originally to have been arranged according to the season. It is however clear that either the recorders of the trials did not understand that each Sabbath had its own special ritual, or that in the decadent condition, which the religion had reached, the witches themselves had confused the ceremonies. The ceremonies are noted as having occurred, but from the records it is possible that they may have been practised indiscriminately at any and every Sabbath.

In England the May festival was the most important, in Scotland the autumn festival. The ordinary feature of the May festival amongst the Christians in England was the dance round a pole; in Scotland, at the Hallowmas Sabbath the Aberdeen witches danced round the Fish and Market Crosses,[95] and the Craiglauch witches round a great stone,[96] which possibly takes the place of the English Maypole. In almost every notice of the witches' dance taken down from the mouths of eye-witnesses, mention is made of the music which the devil made. This is almost invariably said to be played on a pipe of so peculiar a kind that the Aberdeen judges speak of it as "his form of instrument."[97] The whole description of the May festival at Penzance in the early 19th century, including the peculiar pipes, bears an extraordinary resemblance to the accounts of some of the witches' Sabbaths. "It is an annual custom, on May-eve, for a number of young men and women to assemble at a public-house, and sit up till the clock strikes twelve, when they go round the town with violins, drums and other instruments, and by sound of music call upon others who had previously settled to join them. As soon as the party is formed, they proceed to different farmhouses, where they partake of junket, tea, and heavy country cake; next rum and milk, and then a dance. After thus regaling, they gather the May. While some are breaking down the boughs, others sit and make the 'May music' This is done by cutting a circle through the bark at a certain distance from the bottom of the May branches; then, by gently and regularly tapping the bark all round, from the cut circle to the end, the bark becomes loosened, and slips away whole from the wood; and a hole being cut in the pipe, it is easily found to emit a sound when blown through, and becomes a whistle. The gathering and the 'May music' being finished, they then 'bring home the May,' by five or six o'clock in the morning, with the band playing, and their whistles blowing. After dancing throughout the town, they go to their respective employments."[98] This description seems to me to have a definite resemblance to the accounts of the North Berwick witches[99] who "danced endlong the Kirkyard," to the witches who danced up the Pentland Hills[100] behind the piping devil, as well as to the Aberdeen and Craiglauch witches already quoted. Again the description of the leader of the May day dance in Wales[101] tallies very closely as I have suggested above with the descriptions often given of the Devil. "In Wales the dancers are under the command of the Cadi, who is chief marshal, orator, buffoon and money collector. . . . His countenance is particularly distinguished by a hideous mask, or is blackened all over; and then the lips, cheeks, and orbits of the eyes are sometimes painted red."[102]May and November are I believe the usual breeding seasons for herd animals, it seems probable then that the fertility rites, which have always interested writers on witchcraft almost to the exclusion of other points of ritual, took place on the May eve and Hallow-eve Sabbaths. The reason of these rites, as Frazer has shown in his accounts of Sacred Marriages, was to promote fertility; in this case, the fertility of the herds. The accusations brought against witches of certain gross forms of immorality were probably true, but true only in a sense; the rites being a survival of a primitive cult, and the chief of the Sabbath being a man in the guise of a bull, sheep, or goat,[103] who thus represented the god in animal form. The dates of these two Sabbaths go far to suggest this.

The Candlemas and Lammas festivals were more general in their magical effects. To Candlemas must belong the account of the Devil as a goat with the sacred fire between or upon his horns, from which the witches lighted their candles and torches. The complete account comes from a French source,[104] but the custom held good in England[105] and Scotland,[106] though the rite was so completely misunderstood by the recorders and possibly by the witches themselves that, without the French account as a guide, it is liable to be passed over as unimportant.

Lammas, in the Christian Church, was an early harvest festival, and was probably the same among the witches. Possibly the jumping dance[107] was a fertility rite to ensure the growth of the corn.

I do not intend to discuss the obscene rites which took place at all four Sabbaths, but which I believe were originally confined to May Eve and November Eve. But I would call your attention to their resemblance to similar ceremonies and beliefs among the ancients: the goat of Mendes, the wild scenes at Bubastis, the bull Dionysos and his following of dancing women, and those phallic rites of which we only catch glimpses, but which obviously played a large part at one time in the popular beliefs of the ancient world.

It is noticeable that there is hardly a mention of the Sabbath in the English trials nor in the celebrated German witch book, the Malleus Maleficarum; all the details which follow are taken from Scotch sources, supplemented where obscure by the French accounts.

Though the date of the Sabbath was fixed the site varied, and the members of the community were notified by the officer as to the locality; he either went to their houses[108] or warned them when he met them.[109] The site in France[110] was always near water. The exact order of the ceremonies is not clear, possibly because the ritual varied slightly in different places, for as Mather says the societies were like congregational churches, meaning that each one was independent. The Devil always presided, and the proceedings began by his receiving the homage of his worshippers; the women paid their adoration first, then the men[111]; and the homage included a renewal of the vows of fidelity and obedience.[112] Then came the religious service, in France the mass,[113] in Scotland the sacrament[114]; and there are references in both the Irish[115] and American[116] trials to this rite. In Scotland the sermon was a great feature of this ceremony, and a few sentences of the Devil's discourses have been preserved. At North Berwick[117] Satan "stood as in a pulpit, making a sermon of doubtsome speeches, saying, "Many comes to the fair, and buys not all wares," and, "he had many servants who should never want, and should ail nothing; and should never let any tear fall from their eyes, so long as they served him. And gave their lessons and commands to them, as follows: 'Spare not to do evil, and to eat, drink, and be blyth, taking rest and ease, for he should raise them up at the latter day gloriously.' "Another Scotch sermon[118] is preserved in which the Devil is said to have "most blasphemously mocked his followers if they offered to trust in God, who left them miserable in the world, and neither he nor his Son Jesus Christ ever appeared to them when they called on them, as he had, who would not cheat them." In France[119] the Devil said in his sermon that he was God, and that the joy which the witches took in the Sabbath was but the commencement of a much greater glory.

After the service came the feast, and then the dance, which was one of the chief features of the whole ceremonial.

The feast is very seldom given in any detail, sometimes it was provided by the Devil,[120] sometimes by a member of the Society,[121] sometimes all the members brought their own provisions.[122] The food appears to have consisted of roast meat, bread, and beer or wine; it was always spread on a clean white cloth. In Sweden and Scotland the feast was usually indoors, in England sometimes in a house, sometimes outside, according to the weather; in France almost always out of doors. At Auldearne[123] the feast began with a grace before meat ("We eat this meat in the Devil's name," etc.), and at the end the company looked at the Devil, and bowing to him said, "We thank thee, our Lord, for this." In Great Britain I can find no first-hand evidence as to the alleged taboo on salt at the witch-feasts, though it occurs in France.

The dances were of three kinds[124]; two were danced in a circle, the dancers facing outwards. In the first, the dancers held their hands behind them, and turned first one shoulder, then the other to the middle of the ring with a backward bend of the body. The description is something like the Looby dance of the children of Great Britain. The second was also a round dance, the dancers again facing outwards; it consisted of a series of jumps, and was possibly as I have already suggested originally a dance for increasing the corn crops. Both these dances were often performed round some object such as a great stone, and it is not improbable that the Devil stood in the middle, as there is no record of his dancing in these dances.[125]The third dance was in line; men and women stood alternately, holding hands; in time to the music they shifted their positions till each pair stood back to back, and at a given chord in the tune each dancer took one quick step to the rear and cannoned against his or her partner.[126] The Devil apparently was expected to lead this dance, and could change partners as often as he pleased.

A study, however short, of witch-ritual would not be complete without a mention of child sacrifice, a crime of which the witches were accused in every country, and which they actually confessed they had committed. The child had to be either a witch's child or unbaptised though born of Christian parents. Reginald Scot[127] says that it was commonly reported that "every fortnight, or at the least every month, each witch must kill one child at the least for her part." This is a gross exaggeration as he points out, but he quotes from Psellus[128] a sacrifice of children by a sect of "magical heretikes" called Eutychians, whom he regards as the originals of, or allied to, witches. He gives also a list of fifteen crimes laid to the charge of witches,[129] among which are the two following: "They sacrifice their own children to the devil before baptism, holding them up in the aire to him, and then thrust a needle into their brains," and "they burne their children when they have sacrificed them."

The witches were also accused of feasting on the flesh of the sacrificed children. Though I have not found a description by an eye-witness of such a sacrifice, there is more than one confession of the eating of a dead child's flesh,[130] but it was always done as a magical rite to ensure the silence of the witch when taken before a Christian judge. As the child was always an infant too young to speak, the witches apparently thought that to eat its flesh would prevent their tongues from uttering articulate words.

The exhuming of dead bodies is explicitly stated to have been for use in making charms.[131]

In conclusion I have brought together certain facts which appear to show a connection between the witches and fairies. By fairies I do not mean those little beings which the exquisite and delicate fancies of the poets have evolved; the fairies of the witch trials are the fairies of Scotch and Irish legend. In the early trials and in the more remote districts there are frequent mentions of elves and fairies, of the Fairy Queen and the Queen of Elfin[132]; the imps or familiars are called individually Elva[133] or Robin,[134] and generically Puckerels[135]; the knowledge of the witches is said to be elf-lore.[136] The ritual of the witches is like the ritual of the fairies; both sacrifice children to their god,[137] whom the Christians stigmatised as the Devil; both stole unbaptised children for the sacrifice[138]; both sacrificed their god or "devil" every year,[139] apparently on May day; both had ritual dances, which were so like one another that Boguet can say of the witch dances that "they are like those of the fairies, true devils incarnate, who reigned not long ago,"[140] and More gravely wonders whether the dark rings on the grass are made by the dances of witches or fairies.[141] The Fairy Queen, like the fairy woman of modern Ireland, is not distinguishable at first sight from an ordinary woman. When Bessie Dunlop was ill, a stout woman came to her cottage and sat down and asked for a drink[142]; this was the Queen of Elfhame. Andro Man as a little boy first saw "the Devil thy master in the likeness and shape of a woman, whom thou callest the Queen of Elphen," who was delivered of a child in Andro's mother's house.[143] When grown-up, Andro again met "that devilish sprite, the Queen of Elphin, on whom thou begat divers bairns, whom thou has seen sinsyne."[144] Marion Grant of the same covine saw her as "a fine woman, clad in a white walicot."[145] Isobel Gowdie said that "the Queen of Fearrie is brawly clothed in white linens, and in white and brown clothes."[146] Jean Weir sister of Major Weir, "took employment from a Woman to speak in her behalf to the Queen of ffearie, meaning the Devil."[147] Holinshed also says that the witches of Macbeth were fairies.[148]

If, as many authorities contend, the fairies are really the aboriginal inhabitants of these islands, there is nothing surprising in their ritual and beliefs being adopted by the invading race. And in that case I am right in my conjecture that the rites of the witches are the remains of the ancient and primitive cult of Great Britain.

↑ Decretal of Pope Adrian IV., 1523.

↑ Cotton Mather, Wonders of the Invisible World, p. 160, ed. 1862. The Swedish witches also said that the Devil had a church at Blockula, Horneck in Glanvil's Sadducismus Truimphatus, pt. ii. p. 324, ed. 1681.

↑ Strabo, Geog. iv. 4.

↑ Dionysius, Periegesis, v. 565.

↑ It is in the laws of Athelstan that the method of ordeal by water is fully described. The "swimming" of witches was the survival of this ordeal.

↑ It is worth noting that in this decree the work of the witches is supposed to be directed against fertility only.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. p. 605. Bodin, Demonomanie, p. 148, Lyons, 1593. De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 126. Dunaeus, Dialogue of Witches, ch. ii. ed. 1575. Webster, Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft, PP. 347-9.

↑ Hale, Collection of Modern Relations, p. 58, ed. 1693. Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 609. Begg in Proc. Soc. of Antiquaries of Scotland, New Series, x. p. 238.

↑ Boguet, Discours des Sorciers, ch. ix. p. 54, Lyons, 1608. Wonderfull Discouerie of Elizabeth Sawyer, London, 1611.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 197. Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 612. Begg, op. cit. p. 238.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. pp. 129, 131. Sharpe, Historical Account of Witchcraft in Scotland, p. 146, ed. 1884. Reg. Scot, Discouerie of Witchcraft, Bk. ii. ch. xi. ed. 1584. Horneck in Glanvil's Sadduicsmus Triumphatus, ii. p. 318, ed. 1681.

↑ Begg, op. cit. pp. 221, 224, 227, 228, 231, 234, 237.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, i. pp. 125, 170-2.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. ii. pp. 51-6, pt. iii. pp. 210-2, 230. Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, pp. 1 22-3. Reg. Scot, Discouerie of Witchcraft, Bk. iii. ch. 2, 3. Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 293-5. Isobel Gowdie's confessions give most detail; see Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. pp. 602-14.

↑ Glanvil, op. cit. pt. ii. p. 137. Spottiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 56. Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. ii. pp. 51-6, pt. iii. p. 230.

↑ Sinclair, op. cit. p. 163. Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 606. De Lancre, op. cit. p. 212. R. Scot, op, cit. Bk. iii. ch. 3.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 617.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. iii. p. 230. Sir J. Melville, Memoirs, p. 395.

↑ Catalogue of State Papers, Domestic, 1584.

↑ Garish, The Divel's Delusions, pp. 5, 11.

↑ Kinloch and Baxter, Reliquiae Aniquae Scoticae, p. 124, Forfar. Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 601, Dalkeith.

↑ Spottiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 62, East Lothian. Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. ii. pp. 51-6, Ayrshire. Begg, Proc. Soc. of Antiquaries of Scotland, New Series, X. pp. 221, 239.

↑ Begg, op. cit. pp. 228, 232, Kinross-shire.

↑ 24.024.1 De Lancre, Tableau, p. 68.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 162-5, 293-5. Examination of Certain Witches at Chelmsford, p. 25, Philobiblon Society, viii. Melville, Mem. p. 395.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 398. Boguet, Discours des Sorciers, p. 57, Lyons, 1608.

↑ Dorsetshire, Somerset and Dorset Notes and Queries, 1891, p. 289. Elworthy, Horns of Honour, p. 139.

↑ Geoffrey of Monmouth, Bk. ii. ch. 14.

↑ Roscher, Lexicon, ii. 36, article "Janus."

↑ Bodin, Fléau des Demons, pp. 1S7-S, ed. 1616. Boguet, Discours des Sorciers, p. 141, ed. 1608. Bourignon, La Parole de Dieu, p. 87, ed. 1683. Gerish, Hertfordshire Folklore, p. 13. Cannaert, Olim procés des Sorciéres en Belgique, p. 50, ed. 1847.

↑ Woman: Glanvil, Sadducisimus Triumphatus, pt. ii. p. 291. Spalding Club Miscellany, i. p. 142. Potts, Wonderfull Discouerie of Witches, ed. 1613. Man: Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, p. 46. Spotiiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 67. Pitcaiin, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. p. 219.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau, pp. 73, 124, 147.

↑ R. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcraft, Bk. iii. ch. 3. Glanvil, op. cit. pt. ii. pp. 293-5. In small places where there were only a few members, the Devil often went round to the houses himself.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. iii. p. 219, iii. p. 613.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, i. pp. 97-8.

↑ Howell, State Trials, vi. 683, quoting Fountainhall's Decisions.

↑ Glanvil, op. cit. pt. ii. pp. 147, 291.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 194.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 603.

↑ Id. ib. iii. p. 603. Begg, Proc. Soc. Ant. of Scotland, N.S. x. p. 212.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. iii. p. 245.

↑ Glanvil, Sadd. Triumph, pt. ii. pp. 139, 140.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 610. "We doe no great Mater withowt owr Maiden," says Isobel Gowdie.

↑ De Lancre, L'Incredulité, p. 36, ed. 1622. Tableau, pp. 398-9.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, i. pp. 119, 170-2. Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. ii. p. 56, iii. p. 604.

↑ Pearson, Chances of Death.

↑ Potts, Wonderful Discoverie.

↑ Cotton Mather, Wonders of the Invisible World, p. 159, ed. 1862.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. pp. 217, ii. pp. 542-3.

↑ Lea, History of the Inquisition, iii. p. 525. Spottiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 62. Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 613.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. p. 613.

↑ J. Gaule, Cases of Conscience, p. 65, London, 1645.

↑ Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler, Camden Society, p. 2.

↑ Cotton Mather, Wonders of the Invisible World, p. 131, ed. 1862.

↑ Lea, op. cit. iii. p. 501.

↑ Glanvil, Sadd. Triumph, pt. ii. p. 319.

↑ Howell, State Trials, iv. 842.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. iii. pp. 161-4 (date 1588).

↑ Narrative of the Sufferings of a Young Girle, pp. xxxix-xli (date 1696).

↑ Lamont, Diary, p. 12. Narrative of the Sufferings of a Young Girle, pp. xliv. xlv.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 398.

↑ Id. ib. p. 399.

↑ Forbes, Institutes of the Law of Scotland, ii. 32-4, ed. 1730.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 399.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. 601. Spelling modernised.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. pp. 603, 617.

↑ Hutchinson, Historical Essay, p. 77, ed. 1720. In Belgium the Devil and the witch drank each other's blood: "Après avoir donné a boire de son sang à Satan, et avoir bu du sien" (Cannaert, Olim procès des Sorcières, p. 48, ed. 1847).

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 136, 148, ed. 1681.

↑ Mackenzie, Laws and Customs of Scotland, pp. 47-8, ed. 1699.

↑ Forbes, Institutes of the Law of Scotland, ii. pp. 32-4, ed. 1730.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 399, ed. 1613. Howell, State Trials, iv. 854.

↑ Webster, Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft, pp. 347-9 (date 1633).

↑ Cp. Reg. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcraft, Bk. ii. ch, 5, ed. 1504: "If she have anie privie marke under hir arme pokes."

↑ Gerish, Relation of Mary Hall, p. 24. Howell, State Trials, vi. 696. Bower, Dr. Lamb Revived, p. 28, London, 1653.

↑ Howell, op. cit. vi. 696.

↑ Williams, Journal of Anatomy, xxv. p. 249.

↑ Webster, Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft, p. 349.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, pp. 70, 131.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 136, 148, 157. Chambers, Domestic Annals, ii. p. 278. Spottiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 62. Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, p. lxxxix, p. 161, ed. 1S71. Kinloch and Baxter, Reliquiae Antiquae Scoticae, pp. 132-3.

↑ Spottiswoode Miscellany, ii. p. 70. Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. pp. 613, 617.

↑ Note specially Rebecca West and Rose Hallybread, Full Tryals of Notorious Witches, p. 8. Also Major Weir, Arnot, Criminal Trials, pp. 359-60, Records of the Justiciary Court of Edinburgh, ii. p. 14.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 133.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 123, ed. 1613.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. pp. 245-6. Melville, Memoirs, p. 395.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 137-8, passim.

↑ Potts, Wonderfull Discoverie.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. p. 603.

↑ Marie Lamont came home "in the dawing." Sharpe, Witchcraft in Scotland, 130-4. De Lancre, op. cit. p. 147.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. 613.

↑ Frazer, Balder the Beautiful, i. 221.

↑ Goat: De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstanice des mauvais Auges, p. 68 et pass. Sheep: Spalding Club Miscellany, i. 129. Bull: De Lancre, op. cit. p. 68. Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. p. 613.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. iii. 612.

↑ J. G. Campbell, Superstitions of the Highlands, p. 293.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 139-141 et pass. ed. 1681. Reg. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcraft, Bk. iii. ch. 2, ed. 1584. Potts, Discoverie of Witches, ed. 1613. Kinloch and Baxter, Reliquiae Antiquae Scoticae, pp. 124, 125, 127. In Sweden the witches had milk, butter and cheese.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, i. pp. 97, 98, 114, 115, 164-5.

↑ Id. ib. i. pp. 144, 149.

↑ Id. ib. i. pp. 97-8, 114-5, 149, 153, 164-5.

↑ Hone, Everyday Book, i. May 1st.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. p. 245.

↑ Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, p. 163.

↑ Hone, op. cit. i. May 1st.

↑ Hone, op. cit. May 1st.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. pp. 68, 126. Hutchinson, Historical Essay, pp. 42-3, ed. 1720. Lea, History of the Inquisition, iii. p, 536.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance des mauvais Auges, p. 401. De Lancre was the Inquisitor sent to suppress withcraft in the Pays de Labour.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 139.

↑ Melville, Memoirs, p. 395, Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. pp. 239, 210-12, 245-6. Sinclsin, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, p. 163. Hutchinson, op. cit. pp. 42-3.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 210.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. p. 293-5.

↑ Reg. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcraft, Bk. iii. ch. 3.

↑ De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 62, ed. 1613.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. p. 239.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 131.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. pp. 401-3.

↑ Sharpe, Witchcraft in Scotland, pp. 130-4. ed. 1884. This is perhaps a confusion between the feast and the sacrament. Howell, State Trials, vi. 683.

↑ Holinshed, Chronicle of Ireland, p. 69. There appears to be no mention of the rite in England.

↑ Hutchinson, History of Massachusetts Bay, ii. p. 55, ed. 1765. Cotton Mather, Wonders of the Invisible World, pp. 158-9, ed. 1862.

↑ Pitcairn, op. cit. i. pt. iii. pp. 210-12.

↑ Howell, State Trials, vi. 683.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. pp. 401-3.

↑ Glanvil, Sadducismus Triumphatus, pt. ii. pp. 137-S. Sharpe, Witchcraft in Scotland, p. 130, ed. 1884.

↑ Kinloch and Baxter, Reliquiae Antiquae Scoticae, pp. 132-3. Spottiswoode Miscellany, i. pp. 66-7. Potts, Discoverie of Witches.

↑ Horneck in Glanvil's Sadducismus Triumnphatus, pt. ii. pp. 326-7. De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, y. 197. Burr, Narratives of Witchcraft Cases, p. 418, New York, 1914.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. 612. Also in France, de Lancre, op. cit. p. 197.

↑ De Lancre, op. cit. p. 210.

↑ It is uncertain whether this statement holds good at Auldearne, or whether the dance described by Isobel Gowdie refers to the third form. "Jean Martein is Maiden to the Coven that I am of, & hir nikname is 'Ower the dyke with it,' becaws the Divell alwayis takis the Maiden in his hand nix him, quhan we dance Gillatrypes; tV quhan he void loup from [words broken here] he & she will say, Ower the dyk with it" (Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. p. 606.)

↑ The Walloon children still have a similar dance. E. Monseur, Folklore Wallon, p. 102, Bruxelles.

↑ R. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcraft, Bk. iii. ch. 2.

↑ Id. ib. Bk. iii. ch. 3.

↑ Id. ib. Bk. ii. ch. 9.

↑ Kinloch and Baxter, Reliquiae Antiqitae Scoticae, p. 121. De Lancre, Tableau de l'Inconstance, p. 128.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. iii. p. 239. R. Scot, op. cit. Bk. iii. ch. I.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. ii. p. 56, pt. iii. p. 162, iii. p. 604, etc.

↑ Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, p. 24.

↑ Camden Society, Dame Alice Kyteler, p. 2.

↑ Giffard, Dialogue of Witches, p. 9.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, 177—Ex. of John Walsh.

↑ Cunningham, Traditional Tales, p. 251.

↑ Ballad of Young Tamlane.

↑ Rogen, Scotland Social and Domestic, p. 217. Cunningham, Traditional Tales, p. 251.

↑ Boguet, Discours des Sorciers, p. 132.

↑ More, Antidote against Atheism, p. 232.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, i. pt. ii. p. 56.

↑ Spalding Club Miscellany, i. p. 119.

↑ Id. ib. i. p. 119.

↑ Id. ib. p. 171.

↑ Pitcairn, Criminal Trials, iii. p. 604.

↑ Records of Justiciary Court of Edinburgh, ii. p. 11.

A Paper read before the Anthropological Section of the British Association, September, 1921.

BY CANON J. A. MACCULLOCH, D.D.

Folk-lore is now a recognized field for scientific research, and though fairies may seem at first sight to be at the opposite pole from science, yet the origin and nature of a belief held so widely are not without interest to the student of the byways of human opinion. At all events the British Association has more than once taken note of them, and has not gone so far as the Russian Commissary of Education, who has announced that all mention of fairies, angels, or devils in fairy tales is to be supplanted by the words "scientists and technicians who have served humanity." Whether these partake the nature of angels or of devils, or incline more to that of fairies, I leave you to judge.

Everyone who has studied the various sets of beings, more or less supernatural, in which humanity has believed, is aware that a large number of characteristics is common to all. They have their own personality and name, they are quite distinct from each other, yet many things attributed to one set are attributed to others. So much so that it would almost seem as if, from very far-distant times, a stock of incidents existed which could be assigned indifferently to various denizens of the world of fancy, just as certain stories are told, now of this, now of the other, outstanding personality. Most of the matters alleged regarding witches can be found in savage sorcery and this shows that the roots of classical, mediaeval, and later witchcraft go deep into the soil of humanity. To savage spirits and demons of all kinds, Arabian Jinn, Greek Nereids, the spirit foxes of Japan and China, to ghosts, fairies, and dwarfs, can be applied now this, now that incident, or manner of acting, or characteristic.[1] We need not be surprised, then, when we find that many similar things are told both of fairies and watches. Their origin is widely different. Witchcraft is rooted in primitive magic and in the human rapport with spirits of a kind with which the average man has always thought the less he had to do the better. The fairy belief is formed of many strands—the belief in divinities, in nature spirits, in ghosts, and, as far as dwarfs are concerned, in dim memories of older races, probably of a pigmy kind; while dream-experiences, hallucinations, and human fancy and imagination have aided in creating it.[2]

Widely separate in origin and personality as fairies and witches may be, nevertheless the beliefs regarding both are often altogether or nearly the same, and are also often ascribed to other groups of beings. The supernatural powers possessed by both are the same—invisibility and shape-shifting, as well as that of taking the substance of food-stuffs from their rightful owners—the toradh, as it is called in Gaelic, the essence of milk or corn or of an animal. Both steal children or exchange them for their own kind, and both are apt to extract the soul or heart of a man, leaving him with none or with a fairy or demon soul, or a heart made of straw. Both do serious injury to horses or cattle, riding them by night to exhaustion, twisting their manes or tails, or shooting at them with a deadly invisible arrow—the elf-bolt, the flint arrow-head of neolithic man, ylfagescot and haegtessan-gescot, the elf-shot and witch-shot of early Anglo-Saxon formulae. The times of their activity are the same, especially May-eve, Midsummer-eve, and Hallowe'en, as well as certain days of the week. Fairies travel through the air in an eddy of dust or a whirlwind. Witches do the same, no less than demons, ghosts, and other eldritch folk in all parts of the world. Fairies delight in dancing and feasting by night: these formed great part of the occult joys of the witch-Sabbat, and the dances of both are probably an imaginative exaggeration of actual orgiastic folk-dances. The intruder on fairy or witch revels was likely to fare badly. He must pipe for them until he could pipe no longer, or, drawn into the whirling dance, he capered till he fell exhausted, awaking next morning to find his nocturnal companions gone, and himself often witless. Greater dangers sometimes befell him. Yet if he accidentally or with presence of mind uttered a sacred name or formula, the revel and the feast vanished and left "not a wrack behind." The circles or rings in the meadow ascribed popularly to the fairies' round dances, were sometimes also supposed to be caused by the similar dances of witches and demons. Many other parallels might be cited, but as a final one we may point to the story, embodied by the Ettrick Shepherd in his Witch of Fife, and told both of witches and fairies in different regions. Some one sees witches or fairies preparing for a distant night flight by getting astride of twigs, or ragwort stalks, and then by means of a formula—"Horse and hattock," or the like, transforming these into serviceable steeds. He imitates their actions and is speedily transported with them over land and sea to a far-off wine cellar where he joins their revels and, being overcome by his potations, is left behind, to be found next morning and arrested as a thief. The same story formula is thus applied to one set of beings or the other, but its first occurrence in a sort of promptuary for preachers compiled by Etienne de Bourbon in the thirteenth century, makes the revellers neither witches nor fairies, but the bonae res, the "Good Things," the supernatural or mortal followers of Diana, Herodias, or Abundia, according to a widespread mediaeval myth. The "Good Things" were perhaps nearer akin to fairies than sorceresses, though, as the witch superstition increased, they became more assimilated to witches.[3]

But besides this assigning of parallel attributes and actions to different orders of beings, there was a tendency also to mingle both the two groups. Clear evidence of this exists in sixteenth and seventeenth century Scotland. Elsewhere the evidence is only occasional, but it is probable that Scottish superstition was not alone in this assimilation of two quite different groups, fairies and witches, or three, if we include the devil and his demoniac train, with whom all witchcraft had officially been associated. The official, ecclesiastical orthodoxy of Europe had long regarded all spirits as either angelic or demoniac. Fairies, elves, brownies, water-sprites, forest and woodland folk, were certainly not angels ; therefore they must be demons. To the orthodox theologian the world was full of such demons ; and it mattered not what the folk called them. In all the writings of the mediaeval period they are demons, pure and simple. Many of the ecclesiastical or semi-ecclesiastical authors of that age, Etienne de Bourbon, Caesarius of Heisterbach, Gervase of Tilbury, Giraldus Cambrensis, must have been folk-lorists without knowing it, for they sought far and wide for stories illustrating the doings of the demons. Their pages are full of these highly entertaining stones, and in many of these it is not difficult to recognize elfin beings masquerading as demons through no fault of their own. Fairy-land and its denizens had become a real part of Satan's kingdom of darkness. It was therefore inevitable that in course of time, and especially after the witchcraft prosecutions began in the fourteenth century, the folk themselves should more or less accept a view of their own creations which was imposed upon them by their spiritual pastors and masters. They did not accept it wholly, but in so far as they did, and in so far as the common aspects of the beliefs in fairies and witchcraft also aided, the common ban under which both were placed would inevitably tend to mix both together in their minds. The theological view of both matters was quite clear and straightforward, and both fairies and the mediaeval and post-Reformation witches were regarded as of Satan's train.

In a letter of 1787 Burns speaks of the numerous tales current in Scotland, and told him by an old woman in his childhood, "concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights, wraiths, apparitions, cantraips, giants, enchanted towns, dragons, and other trumpery," and describes the effect which these still had upon him in his later years as well as upon his poetry. Scotland has, in fact, always been a peculiar haunt of such beings. "The Lord guide us," says Mistress Baby in Scott's Pirate, "what kind of a country of guisards and gyre-carlines is this!" Perhaps for this reason the mingling of fairy and witch behefs was rendered more easy. At all events, the evidence from three sources is clear enough regarding it. These are: (1) certain poems of the Reformation period; (2) the copious evidence of several witch-trials; (3) King James VI.'s book on Daemonologie (1598).

(1) Even the greater Scots poets of the sixteenth century were content to lay aside the splendid singing robes required by the courtly tradition of poetry, and to condescend upon the matters of popular belief. Although treated by Hterary and learned men, these show clearly what poets like Dunbar, Lindsay, and Montgomery could make of the traditions of the folk, well known to them in their early years from the teachings of the credulous, kindly, if masterful Scottish nurse of the old school, like Burns's old woman. They treated this traditional lore in a burlesque fashion, it is true, as Burns himself did; but their witness to it is none the less valuable, and they show that fairies, fiends, and witches were in close communion. It will suffice to refer to one of these poems: The Flyting of Montgomery and Polwart, by Alexander Montgomery (1556-1610). With the coarse humour of the time Montgomery's aim is to show that Polwart was child of an elf and an ape: Polwart responds in equally ribald fashion. The poem opens with a description of the fairy ride or procession on Hallowe'en, but the constituents of this procession are significant.

"In the hinder-end of harvest, on All Hallows even, When our Good Neighbours doe ryd, gif I read right, Some buckled on a bunewand [ragwort], and some on a been, Ay trottand in trupes from the twilight; Some sadleand a she-ape, all graithed in green, Some hobland on ane hempstalk, hovrand [ascending] to the height; The King of Pharie and his court, with the Elfe Queen, With many elfish Incubus was rydand that night."

There followed these "the Weird Sisters"—the three Fates or the three Fairies who attend on a birth, the prophetic weird women who became the witches of Macbeth. Then came "Nicneven with her nymphs, in number nine" skilled in charms—"venerable virgins, whom the world calls witches," riding on swine, on dogs, or on monks.[4] Fairies, the Weird Sisters, and Nicneven and her train are thus conjoined in the great Hallowmas riding, which combines the fairy ride and the witches' jaunt.

Nic-neven is the well-known Gyre-carline regarded at once as a fairy-queen and a Hecate or mother-witch, well known to the peasantry and to literature, and of whom Sir David Lindsay, as he relates in the prologue to his Dream, told stories to his little pupil James V. "when that I saw thee sory." Elfin beings followed in her train, and though witch-like in all her aspects, she is constantly associated with the fairy world.[5]

(2) We turn now to the records of the witch trials. The Inquisition never reached Scotland, and it is to the credit of the pre-Reformation clergy that trials for sorcery were few in number, when these were matters of everyday experience in Europe; and, moreover, the witch Sabbat and its horrors was never in question before the beginning of the sixteenth century. Regular trials for witchcraft came in with the Reformation and the predominance of Calvin's gloomy creed, and James VI., who, in spite of his scholarship and vast learning, was as superstitious as a savage and as cruel, took a sinister interest in these matters. The first act against witchcraft was passed in 1563: thence-forward trials of witches became common. These witches might be mere "spae-wives" or healers; or they might be participants in the more Satanic aspects of the craft and the witch Sabbat. Let us remember this distinction in referring to some of the trials.

The earliest recorded trial in which the mingling of witch and fairy, as well as the ghost world, occurs is that of Bessie Dunlop of Dairy, Ayrshire, in 1576. She was a healer, and alleged that her skill came from the ghost of Thome Reid, slain at Pinkie in 1547. He was the intermediary between her and the fairy-queen, who also visited her with others of the fairy-folk. The queen was far from regal—a stout carline who begged for a drink. Thomas alternately besought Bessie to go with the "gude wychtis" and dissuaded her, and he also gave her messages to relatives and friends still living—I commend this to our modern scientific necromancers. He was invisible to all but herself. For these communings with the ghost and fairy world—not however with Satan— Bessie was convicted and burned, probably on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh.[6]

Alisoun Pearson, a young woman, was tried in 1588 for "haunting and communing with the gude neighbours and the queen of Elfland," as well as with a ghostly familiar, William Sympsoun. She had been carried off by the fairies, and had seen their revels, and because she had revealed these, she was struck by them, the blow leaving an insensible spot on her body, like the well-known witch mark. The ghost usually appeared immediately before the fairies' coming, and he told her how he had been carried off by them, his relatives supposing him to be dead. From the fairies, who would frequently transport her to a distance and cause her to ride with them, and from the ghostly William, she had learned all her powers of healing, for exercising which she also was burned. Her fame as a healer had been far spread, and even Patrick Adamson, Archbishop of St. Andrews, was said to have consulted her. This was made the matter of a satirical poem, prompted if not written by the credulous and bigoted James Melville, who also refers to the affair in his Diary. The poem describes Alisoun's riding through Breadalbane with the elf-queen and her company, along with men supposed to be dead, among others Buccleuch and Maitland of Lethington, both of Queen Mary's party, and obnoxious to the reformers. They had died violent deaths, and people who so died were commonly believed to be carried off by the fairies, a semblance of their bodies being left behind.[7]

Passing over other trials in which powers of healing had been obtained by the so-called witches from the fairies, we come to curious evidence in that of Andro Man and others tried at Aberdeen in 1597. Andro, an old man, had first been visited sixty years before by the fairy-queen — the devil in the form of a woman, and had been familiar with her then and since, she giving him the power of healing and secret knowledge. Andro's real master was Satan, who appeared as an angel, asserting that he was God's son, and that his name was Christsonday. "The queen has a grip of all the craft, but Christsonday is the gudeman and has all power under God." The appearance of Christsonday as a stag and riding with the elf-queen and others to their feasting and revels, in which Andro joined, is described. He would believe himself to be in a fair room, but like other mortals who join the fairy revels, would find himself next morning in a moss. He had seen "sundrie deid men" with the fairies—James V. and Thomas the Rymour, whose amour with the fairy queen was the subject of a mediaeval poem, as well as the well-known ballad, and who has been associated with elfland in Scottish tradition ever since. The doings at the fairy revels resembled these at the witch Sabbat: they are described graphically, and the language is coarse, though the meaning is not obscure. Andro added some details of a curious eschatology, gained from Christsonday, who showed him the fires of hell. Christsonday—a name otherwise unexplained, occurs in the evidence of other Aberdeenshire witches, who spoke of his dancing with them and wdth the fairy queen.[8] Fairy revels were thus being transmuted into the witch Sabbat; we are in elfland, but the cloven hoof is showing itself.

A series of trials which took place in Orkney in 1615-1616 shows the same mingling of beliefs. Katherine Carey, a healer, admitted that at sundown among the hills, "ane great number of fairie men mett her," among them "a maister man," perhaps the devil. Another woman, Janet Drever, found guilty of sorcery, had caused the removal of a child into a fairy hill and had conversation with the fairies for twenty-five years. A third, Katherine Jonesdochter, who was able to transfer disease, had seen the trow's come out of their hills and knew too much about them. Elspeth Reoch had been taught her craft by a man in green tartan who appeared to her wath another man in black. The latter, who called himself "a farie man," was the spirit of a dead relative, neither dead nor living, and doomed for ever to go betwixt the heaven and the earth, i.e. he was with the fairies. Her sapient judges regarded him as the devil. A fifth woman, Isobel Sinclair, was under fairy control, as a result of which she had second sight.[9]

In 1623 Isobel Haldane, who was both a healer and a witch, when asked if she had dealings with the fairy folk, said that one night she had been carried, whether by God or devil she did not know, to a hill which opened. Within it she remained three days, until a gray-bearded man brought her out again.[10] He seems to have been a kind of familiar or ghost, like Thomas Reid and William Simpson, and on later occasions she had invoked his aid. These different ghostly familiars dwelt in fairy-land, according to their own account; the Presbyterian inquisitors gave them another address!

The fairy hill comes into much greater prominence in the trial of Isobel Gowdie of Auldearne, Nairn, in 1662. The evidence in this trial is most copious, and abounds in details of current folk-lore and fairy beliefs and of the methods of witchcraft. Isobel had a lively imagination as well as the gift of the gab, and her clerical judges drank in the vivid accounts given by her of the methods of sorcery, of the Sabbat, of the witch-flight, and of elf-land. On one of her flights she and others had entered the Dounie Hills and came to a "fair and lairge braw room," guarded by elf-bulls, which resemble the water bulls of Highland folk-lore. The devil roughly shaped the elf arrow-heads, and the elf boys wrought them to a finer point within the "elfis howsses." Then the devil gave them to the witches, who, on their flight through the air, "spang" or flicked them from their thumbs at their victims, who fell dead. This method of using the elf-arrows by witches is found in most of the witch trials of this period. They were also shot by fairies in their flight through the air, or they caused a mortal carried off by them in their flight to make a similar use of them. The elf boys are described as small and "boss-backed," and as speaking "gowstie-like," i.e. in a hollow voice, and they suggest the misshapen dwarfs of other lands. The fairy queen, on the other hand, was clad in white and the king was well-favoured. "I got meat ther from the Queein of Fearrie mor than I could eat," said Isobel. One of the mmisters, who revelled in the delusions and erotic ravings of this poor woman, had been shot at by her, but the elf-bolt unfortunately fell short of this credulous parson.[11]

About the same time (1662) a trial in Bute revealed curious evidence. Here the devil seems to be in opposition to the fairies, giving the witch knowledge of their ill deedsr while she herself cured the "blasting" of their human victims, caused by a whirlwind raised about them by the fairy folk. Fifteen years later two men were tried at Inveraray, and one of them, Donald MacMichael, told how he had entered a fairy hill, where dancing was going on. The fairy king was like "ane large tall corporal Gardman, and ruddie." One of the fairy women engaged Donald to return eight nights after. He obeyed and was in the hill for a month, playing the "trumps" while the fairies danced. At other times and places he had met them, but received a stroke from them for having revealed his dealings with them to a friend. They gave him secret knowledge about various stolen goods; for this and for consulting with evil spirits, Donald was hanged. The judges regarded the fairy revels as diabolical and full of sorcery.[12]

Towards the end of the seventeenth century a pious schoolmaster called Brown at Jedburgh was afflicted with a wife who was a witch. His godly remonstrances were as obnoxious to her as Mrs. Cruncher's "floppings" were to her husband Jerry, and they so annoyed her that she and her associates drowned him in the Jed. While this was going on fairies had been seen dancing on the steeples of the abbey. They were then joined by the witches, and a banquet of ale and wine stolen from a locked cellar, was celebrated. Mrs. Brown was hanged for her evil deeds. In this district of Teviotdale the friendship of fairies and witches appears in many folk traditions existing at a much later period.[13]

The last example which I shall give concerns the notorious Major Weir and his sister, whose dealings with Satan cast a horror over Edinburgh in 1670 and for long after. At the trial Jean Weir associated her alleged sorceries with the fairy world. As a younger woman she had kept a school at Dalkeith, and one day a woman had entered the school desiring her to speak with the "Queen of Farie," and "strik and battle with the said queen on her behalf." Next day, a little woman appeared, and gave her the root of a herb, telling her that she would be able to do whatever she desired by its means. This little woman, apparently the fairy queen, laid a cloth on the floor, and caused her to stand on it, with her hand on the crown of her head, and say thrice: "All my cross and my troubles goe to the door with thee." When next Miss Jean span, she found more and better yarn on her pirns than could be spun in such a time—a true fairy gift, though it frightened her, and she believed that she had renounced her baptism — the fairy rite having some resemblance to the traditional Satanic renunciation of Christianity at the Sabbat, and her indictment so regards it. The evidence at the trial of the Weirs is full of diablerie and horror; for our purpose it is interesting as showing how fairydom is mixed up with Satan's craft.[14]

(3) King James VI. was deeply read in the works of the demonologists. His own book recapitulates the current ideas, but it also shows the tendency to make fairyland a province of Satan's kingdom. Its author had carefully attended to the evidence of Scottish witch trials, as some passages of his show. One of the interlocutors asks how it is that witches have confessed that "they have been transported with the Phairie to such a hill, which opening, they went in, and there saw a faire Queene, who gave them a stone which had sundrie virtues, which at sundrie times hath been produced in judgment."[15] The other replies that it is a delusion of the devil, who, when the witches' senses are asleep, presents to their fantasy such hills and houses within them, such glistering courts and trains, and, their bodies being senseless, places in their hand a stone or such like thing, which he makes them believe to have received in such a place. This is sound enough reasoning, granting the existence of the devil, but it is strange that the British Solomon should still believe in an actual bodily transport to the Sabbat. The fairies, in his opinion, were delusive creations of the devil. The foretelling by witches of the death of persons seen by them in fairyland, not persons already dead, is either a mistake or a diabolical prompting. Rather unreasonably, while James pities those, not being witches, to whom fairies appear, he thinks that witches, seeing them in fantasy, ought to be punished. They were willing victims of the father of lies. Some speak of their traffic with fairies in order that ignorant magistrates may not punish them, as they would punish witches leagued with the devil. This is possible, and, while some of the "witches" made no pretension to alliance with the devil, it was certainly a widespread belief that fairies could give supernatural power to their favourites. It may partly explain the mingling of the two beliefs; but if so, we have not met with such magistrates as would have accepted this milder origin of the witches' power, and clearly the king would not have tolerated them.

Thus in Scotland the connexion between fairy, witch, ghost, and devil tended to be a close one. There are many pieces of subsidiary evidence which must be passed over, and the evidence for this mingling of beliefs is less copious elsewhere. Yet we find it in sporadic trials or traditions in England and in Germany. Fiends, fairies, and hags are classed together by English poets, divines, and enquirers into the supernatural. Yet the trial of an English healer cited by Webster in his Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft (1677), while it bears a close resemblance to certain incidents of the Scottish trials, shows how enlightenment was beginning to influence those in authority. A man who professed the art of healing was arrested on suspicion of witchcraft. He healed by means of a white powder which he obtained in the following manner. Troubled in mind about providing for his wife and children, he was met one night by "a fair woman in fine cloaths" who enquired what his grief was, and, on learning it, promised to help him to gain money by healing. Next night he met her by appointment, and she led him to a hillock at which she knocked thrice. The hill opened; they entered, and reached a hall where sat a queen in great state with many people about her. His friend presented him to this queen, who bade her give him a box of the powder with directions for its use, after which he was led outside the hill. This hall, he alleged, was no lighter than with us at twilight—a common description of the light of elf-land. When he required more of the powder, he went to the hill, knocked thrice, and said: "I am coming! I am coming!" when it opened to receive him. As there was no proof of sorcery the judge took the sensible course of dismissing the man with an admonition, regarding the whole matter as a delusion. Webster had been present at this trial, but the account he gives of it is from the pen of Durant Hotham, in his epistle prefaced to a work of Behmen's. By this time there was a reaction against witchcraft trials in England, and this doubtless accounts for the mild treatment of this man. Hotham himself, however, held that the man really obtained the powder from an evil spirit as the result of a pact between them.[16]

In France fairies are still sometimes regarded in popular belief as sorceresses, or their revels are and were participated in by these as well as by demons, while many centuries ago the trial of Joan of Arc shows that her judges, if not the folk, were determined to regard the fées as evil spirits, and to connect them with the devil and the Sabbat.[17] In Germany the names given to the witches' devils are sometimes of an elfin kind; the spells of witches concern elfins, dwarfs, and the like, rather than devils; and the goblins sent forth by sorceresses to do mischief were known by fairy names— elbe, holden, holderchen, etc.[18]

As far as Scotland was concerned the mingling of belief occurred in the Lowlands, in Perthshire, in Moray, in Aberdeenshire, in the Western Isles, and in Orkney. Some of the alleged witches were mere healers, their craft gained from the fairies. Others were accused or accused themselves of more sinister aspects of sorcery and devildom as well as of dealings with the fairies. Both came under the same condemnation. Judges and ecclesiastics under the sway of the current demonology shared the terrors of the time, and were ready to regard the most harmless nonsense as evidence of Satanic power. The Rev. Robert Kirk of Aberfoyle (ob. 1692) seems to have been alone in that age in regarding fairies as outside Satan's kingdom, to have a real existence which is not demoniacal, and to be worthy of a scientific examination. All this is found in his delightful book. The Secret Commonwealth, i.e. of the elves, fauns, and fairies, which appears to have remained in MS. until Sir Walter Scott published it in 181 5. It was later edited by Andrew Lang in 1893. Kirk refused to believe that the arrow-heads were made by devils and not by fairies, for the continual torments of devils would not allow them so much leisure.

The evidence of the victims shows how easily preconceptions and vivid belief in current superstitions may give rise to dreams or hallucinations, regarded then as real experiences, or how actual events can be interpreted in terms of such beliefs. None of the judges seems to have seen that the matters alleged were delusions and that the victims were to be pitied. Rather they accepted these delusions as fact, and by leading questions, usually in combination with the application of torture, confirmed the victims in their delusions, and induced them to admit what they were asked. Ignorant, simple-minded, and half-witted as the victims were, they only too readily yielded what their accusers suggested or demanded of them. The mingling of really separate beliefs was perhaps thus also brought about by the determination of the judges to find Satan's craft everywhere, quite as much as by the folk themselves and their attribution of similar things to different orders of beings. The boastings and ravings of half-crazy and self-conscious as well as self-deluded persons, the hallucinations of women dominated by the superstitions of the time, the admissions of victims maddened by torture, were alike accepted as evidence, and that evidence was regarded as fact by men of learning and knowledge sitting in the seat of judgment. All this throws a singular light upon the mental outlook of the time. It also helps us to understand why some scientific minds accept, and encourage by their acceptance, these superstitions which for, one reason or another, are enjoying a recrudescence in our own time.

↑ See the art. "Fairy" by the writer in Hastings' Encyclopaedia of Religion, iv. 678 ff.

↑ Ibid.

↑ T. Heywood, Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels, London, 1635, p. 257; P. Kennedy, Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts, ib., 1866, p. 166; R. Burns, notes to "Tam o' Shanter," Life and Works (ed. Chambers, 1896), iii. 222. These refer to witches. The companion of the fairy flight occurs, e.g. in J. Brand, Observations on Popular Antiquities, ed. W. C. Hazlitt, London, 1870, iii. 46; J. Jacobs, Celtic Fairy Tales, ib. 1895, p. 5 f.; Thackeray, Irish Sketch Book, ch. 16; Sir W. Scott, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, London, 1839, p. 220 (from Aubrey, Miscellanies). Anecdotes historiques, Légendes, et Apologues tirés du recueil inédit d' Etienne de Bourbon, Paris, 1877, p. 88.

↑ A. Montgomery, Poems, ed. J. Cranstoun (Scottish Text Society), Edinburgh, 1887, pp. 69 ff.

↑ For Nic-Neven and the Gyre-Carline see Leyden's Introduction to The Complaynt of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1801, ii. 318; D. Laing, Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, London, 1885, p. 272; Scott, Minstrelsy, p. 199; Heron, in Pinkerton's Voyages, ii. 227; R. H. Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, London, 1810, p. 293.

↑ R. Pitcairn, Criminal Trials in Scotland (Bannatyne Club), Edinburgh, 1833, i. 49 ff.

↑ Pitcairn, i. 162 ff. ; Satirical Poems of the Time of the Reformation, ed. J. Cranstoun (Scottish Text Society), 1891, i. 365 ; James Melville' Diary, p. 137.

↑ Miscellany of the Spalding Club, Aberdeen, 1841, i. 119 ff., 170 S.

↑ J. G. Dalyell, The Darker Superstitions of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1835, pp. 470, 532, 635 (Katherine Carey, Katherine Jonesdochter, Isobel Sinclair); Maitland Club Miscellany, ii. 167 f., 187 f. (Janet Drever, Elspeth Reoch).

↑ Pitcairn, ii. 537.

↑ Ib. iii. 603 ff.

↑ Highland Papers, ed. J. R. M. MacPhail (Scottish History Society, ser. 2, vol. XX.), iii. 23 f., 36 ff.

↑ Edinburgh Magazine, vi. [1820], 533 ff.

↑ G. Sinclair, Satan's Invisible World Discovered, Edinburgh, 1789, pp. 150 ff.; R. Law, Memorialls, ed. C. K. Sharpe, Edinburgh, 1819, p. 27; Books of Adjournal, in Scott, Minstrelsy, p. 206 f.

↑ James VI., Daemonologie, bk. iii. cap. 5, cf. iii. 4.

↑ F. Hutchinson, Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft, London, 1718, p. 125; J. Webster, The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft, London, 1677, p. 300 f.; M. Pitt, Account of Anne Jefferies, 1696, in J. Morgan, Phoenix Britannicus, London, 1732, p. 545 f.

↑ P. Sébillot, Le folk-lore de France, Paris, 1904-7, i. 202, 229; Procès de condamnation et de réhabilitation de Jeanne d'Arc, ed. J. Quicherat, Paris, 1841-9, i. 67, 187, 209 ff., ii. 390, 404, 450; M. Del Rio, Disq. Magicae, 1612, lib. v. app. 2. p. 362.