OMENS, CHARMS, RECIPES
Quite a volume might be written on the above; their number and variety
is legion. Therefore in brief only will it be possible to treat many of
our omens, &c. To some few of the more striking a few details will be
given.
Many of the omens, charms, &c., quoted are in no sense peculiar either
to our riding or county. They are with us, they are duly observed, and
the belief in them is not wholly dead yet.
To break a looking-glass foreshadows an early death, or great evil in
the near future, and for any one (if they have not previously seen or
spoken to the person that day) to look over his or her shoulder, so
that their reflection is seen in the glass, foretells an untimely death
to one or both. Should a hen crow, the reward for its exhibiting such
marvellous vocal powers would be immediate death. The old song says
(date, the early seventies)—
Than awn a crawing hen,
Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil meet,
Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig,
Or breed a whistling lass,
Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil treeat,
Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig.
Nowt bud ill-luck ’ll fester wheear
Ther craws an’ whistles sike a pair;
Maay hens an’ wimin breed neea mair,
Pompolorum jig.
A dog howling under your window three nights in succession portends
evil or death in the near future. A picture falling, if the glass be
broken, speaks clearly of a death in the family at no very distant
date; the glass being intact, implies that misfortune of some kind is
hanging overhead, but possibly everything may come right in the end.
A strange cat coming to your house, if black, should never be driven
away; if you do so, you simply drive luck from your door.
If you are unmarried, be very careful to keep in mind the fact that,
having attended three funerals, you must at least be present during
part of a wedding service before standing at the graveside of a fourth,
or you will die single, unless you are exceedingly rash, and get
married in spite of everything.
If you accidentally break anything, it is a good plan to let two other
articles of little or no value slip from your hand. This will save you
from breaking two other things of value, because you are bound to smash
three, and it is really an advantage to be allowed to choose two of
them yourself.
Yes, things go by threes. If one death takes place in a street, it
won’t be long ere the bell tolls for two others—so say they.
If the youngest daughter in a family is married first, the eldest
had better unravel one of her garters, knitting the same, mixed with
other wool, into something a man can wear. This she must present to
the one she has a special regard for, and it most likely will incline
his heart towards her. Garters, by-the-way, are rather out of it
now; they once were articles in great request, to work charms and
spells with, but that was in the days when either a long band with a
buckle, or a knitted affair about an inch wide and a yard long, was
universally worn. In these days of patent things and other inventions,
some of which do not encircle the leg at all, the girls are debarred
from resorting to many of the old-time spells. In days past, so long
as a fellow wore one of his lady love’s garters round his neck, he
was bound to be true to her and she to him. Did a fellow try the same
thing now, he would strangle himself. The old-time garters, by-the-way,
had other uses; the Bible, a key, and a garter often playing the part
of a private detective, or infallibly making known to some doubting
maiden the name of the man she would marry. The _modus operandi_ was as
follows:—In the case of an undetected thief, a key was placed within
the Bible; this was bound securely within by winding a garter round it,
the whole being suspended from a nail. The name of the supposed thief
was now mentioned three times—in some districts seven—and if the key
turned round, the thief was discovered.
Very similar were the rites used for the discovery of a future husband.
In this case, however, the maiden wishing to know her fate, had to use
one of her own garters, and it was also needful that the Bible should
be opened at Ruth i. 16, 17. Some part of the key resting on the verses
named, the Bible was then closed, and the key as before bound fast with
the garter. The questioner and some other person now seated themselves
opposite each other, each placing an elbow on a table and resting the
open part of the key on their index fingers. All being thus arranged,
the names of several of their male acquaintances were mentioned, the
key turning on the name of the future husband being uttered. Not long
ago the writer helped a maiden through the ceremony. The above, and the
two following, are still commonly resorted to.
There is no difficulty in obtaining information touching the time you
will be married. Simply let an anxious maiden take a looking-glass,
and an apron which she has never worn or held between herself and the
light, into the garden when the moon is at full; she must be careful
not to look upon the queen of night until the rites are concluded.
Keeping her back, then, to the moon, let her stand upon something she
has never stood upon before—a newspaper, an old box, anything—and
drawing the apron over the glass, hold it so that the moon shines upon
it; let her now count the number of moons she sees reflected through
the apron, and so many years will it be before the happy day arrives.
I may mention, if such a one is in any violent hurry to get married,
it is best to choose the apron of some light material, and to draw it
tightly over the glass; careful attention to these small details has a
marvellous tendency to lessen the number of moons.
Throughout Cleveland the maidens have recourse to the following method
of divination for the discovery whether they are to be married or die
old maids. From a stream running southward a maiden fills a clean
glass with water, and having borrowed an old wedding ring, or one
worn by a widow—the ring must grace maternity—she suspends it over
the glass of water hanging by a single hair drawn from her own head,
her elbow resting on the table and the hair being laid over the ball
of the thumb. Should the ring hit the side of the glass, her fate is
sealed—she will die an old maid; if, however, it spins round quickly,
she will have to wait a year; if slowly, she will be wedded more than
once.
It is commonly held that if you can find a four-leaved clover, and
then walk backward upstairs to bed, sleeping with the leaf under your
pillow, you will dream of the man you will marry.
It is considered most unlucky to see the new moon for the first time
through glass. To break the spell cast upon you by such an unfortunate
occurrence, make the sign of the cross on the doorstep, and jump
backwards over it into the house.
Should a hairy worm cross your path, pick it up, throw it over your
shoulder, and wish.
If you tread on an ordinary road beetle, rain will presently fall.
Whenever you hear a cuckoo, turn the money over in your pocket for luck.
To see a single magpie is very unlucky; two together is the reverse.
To see a single owl is also unlucky; but to hear one hoot, and then
see it, foretells that you will have timely warning of some impending
evil.
Wet your finger and cross your left shoe and wish every time you see a
piebald horse.
Should two persons utter the same words at the same time, they must
link their little fingers together and wish, keeping their wish secret.
The deciduous teeth of a male child, which have not touched the ground,
if kept about the person are a specific against all manner of evil.
To ensure the child having a good and sound set of teeth, those which
fall out of themselves, or which the child itself pulls out, should be
dipped in salt and thrown into the fire.
A tooth found in a churchyard is believed to charm away the toothache
if rubbed on the cheek.
And lastly, children’s teeth must either be carefully preserved or
utterly destroyed by fire with salt, as should one accidentally be
swept away and fall into the ground, or be buried by some evil-minded
person, the child will not live long, the first rites of ashes to ashes
having been consummated.
No luck will follow a declaration of love if made on St. Dunstan’s Day.
To be wed on St. Thomas’s Day makes a bride a widow ere long.
A young woman, a native of Great Ayton, assured me the following was
a certain charm for obtaining a sight of one’s future spouse. The
individual desirous of obtaining such a vision must make a cake of
the following ingredients:—flour, a small pinch of graveyard mould
taken from nine different graves, sufficient water from nine distinct
sources, a pinch of salt, and a drop or two of blood from her third
finger. The resulting dough had to be baked at midnight on the eve
before that of St. Agnes, and whilst warm placed under the pillow; if
found whole in the morning, well and good; if not, the charm could not
be carried to its conclusion until the following year. The cake, if
whole, had to be carried on the eve of St. Agnes and laid where four
cross roads meet. All being accomplished, just before midnight the
future husband or wife would come along, halt, look at the cake, and
then vanish. Although the night might be pitch-dark, the apparition, it
seems, would be quite visible. Immediately the spirit form vanished,
the watcher must regain possession of the cake at once, or the water
elves would seize it and work all manner of evil. These water elves
keep cropping up, but little of their doings and nothing of their
appearance seems to be known amongst our people. It is a bit of lost
myth.
During harvest time you may easily discover how long you are destined
to wait before being led to the altar. When the moon is at full, pluck
three ripe ears of barley, which must be carefully wrapped up together
with something belonging to him you love best. The parcel must be laid
under your pillow, and on arising in the morning, open it, and if all
the grains have remained _in situ_, then you will be wed that year; but
if any have broken away, count how many—they tell how many years you
will remain single.
If a young fellow is in love, and the girl’s heart does not incline
towards him, there is a charm which will cast a spell about her from
which she cannot escape. There is a difficulty, and rather a grave one,
but love surmounts all things, so they say. He must cut off a willow
knot and chew it. So far, it is quite a simple affair; given time, a
love-lorn swain might manage to masticate the whole tree. But now comes
the difficulty—having chewed the said knot, he must secrete the same in
the bed of the girl he loves. Once she falls asleep with that chewed
knot as her companion, she will be bound to yield to his importunities.
Should, however, the knot be so placed that it causes the fair sleeper
such inconvenience that she is compelled to find the cause, and having
done so, throws it away, that young man may consider his case as
hopeless.
If you can, within three days after becoming engaged, seize a snail
by its horns and throw it over your left shoulder, you will to a very
considerable extent reduce the roughness of the road which true love is
said to journey along.
And remember it is unlucky to say good-night three times to the girl
you love, without returning to the house and starting the whole thing
over again, but one doesn’t mind that. When parting with friends for
any length of time, never say goodbye without adding that you hope to
see them again, and never watch the parting ones out of sight—it is
most unlucky.
The various nostrums administered, and the methods employed in days
past for the cure of all the diseases man is heir to, one cannot help
but think, if carefully observed, would usually have terminated in a
funeral feast. The rank filth our forefathers had prepared for them,
and doubtless were induced to swallow, has left behind the unsolvable
mystery of accounting for the fact that specimens of the Anglo-Saxon
race are still extant. Putting on one side for the moment the wretched
stuff they had to swallow, let us turn to a few things usually employed
to effect a cure.
If any one was seized with a colic, and colic water was not handy, all
that was necessary was for some one to slip out and catch either a carp
or a pike, slit the fish open whilst alive, and clap it on the stomach
of the sufferer—and lo! a cure. This sounds all very nice, but it has
often taken me three days to catch a pike, and carp, by-the-way, are
not very widely distributed; and as colic water required for the making
thereof nearly every flower which blooms in our woods and gardens, and
of two or three others which never do so in ’perfidious Albion’—and
when actually all things had been obtained, it could not be properly
prepared under nine months—possibly there may have been some other
remedy I have not heard of, and which could be applied during the time
the pike was being captured, otherwise the patient would often have a
lengthy squirm of it.
For pains in the joints, a toad tied belly downwards over the affected
part would enable the patient to walk as well as ever. Now this is
something sensible; just you find a poor body suffering from pains
in the joints, and then produce a toad, and you will work a miracle.
Long before you can tie it belly downwards anywhere, the patient, if
a female, will be beating her best running record; if a male, his
joints will be right in an instant, and you will have to take the toad
outside, minus dignity.
An old lady tells me she has known a drink made from the following
ingredients do a power of good in case of fever:—a handful of
dandelion, agrimony, verjuice, rue, powdered crab’s eyes and claws, and
yarrow from off a grave. These had to be boiled for some hours, and
taken when the moon was on the wane. Doubtless there was another recipe
equally efficacious for those who unfortunately were struck down with
fever when the moon was on the rise.
The tongue of a still-born calf, if dried and worn so that it touched
the spine, would prevent fits of almost any kind.
Wart-charmers are not defunct yet. I know several who, after
pronouncing an inaudible incantation, rub the wart with a special
stone, and then you are assured the wart or warts will die. Frog spit
rubbed on a wart is said to be a certain cure. If you rub your wart
with a black snail, sticking the snail on a thorn where you will never
see it again, the wart, as the snail dies, will disappear. If you
yearn to afflict any one with warts, let them wash in water in which
eggs have been boiled. This belief is quite common to-day. A plate of
salt, upon which a dead man’s hand has rested overnight, used to be
considered good for chilblains.
Master Sadler of Bedale, in the year 1773, undertook the cure of ague
in quite a simple way. After the patient had answered a few searching
questions touching his past private life—which information doubtless
he would much rather have kept to himself—his name was chalked at the
back of the hob, an incantation pronounced, and he went home whole. I
am inclined to the belief that many in these days would have to take
the ague back with them. The ague is bad enough, but for a fellow to
systematically trot out one’s past doings would be infinitely worse.
That was a hundred years ago; but only the other day I was told that if
a field-mouse was skinned and made into a small pie and eaten, and the
warm skin bound hair-side against the throat, and kept there for nine
days, the worst whooping cough ’’at ivver was’ would be cured.
Speaking of whooping cough, I remember a lady at Guisborough, only a
few years ago, taking both her boys to the gasworks for them to inhale
the fumes from the gas-tank. It nearly poisoned the whole three, but
the cough survived it nicely. However, that and the field-mouse were
infinitely preferable to the recipe I had from an old dame, who assured
me ’no cough o’ no kind whatsoever could stan’ agaan it.’ It was this:
equal quantities of hare’s dung and owl’s pellets—the latter are the
disgorged remains of feathers, bones, &c., which the owl objects
to digest. Well, having carefully mixed these two ingredients with
dill-water, clay, and the blood of a white duck, the resulting filth
had to be made into pills the size of a nut, three of which had to
be taken fasting on going to bed. This was to be continued until the
cough was cured or the patient buried. A much simpler method is to
catch a frog, open its mouth and cough into it three times, throw the
poor brute over your left shoulder, and the patient will be cured
at once. If not, depend upon it there is some very good reason why
the charm has failed. One woman I knew, used to take her little girl
and hold her over an old well when a bad fit of coughing seized the
child. She declared, if at the time either a frog or a toad happened
to be at the bottom of the well with its mouth open, the child would
be cured instantly. I offered to catch her a frog and open its mouth
for the child to cough into; this she objected to, because, as she
said, the frog might spit at it and injure it for life. This belief
in the poisonous and spitting power of frogs is still retained by the
good people of Great Ayton, and also of many other places. I remember
an old angler once saying to me, ‘Ya see, the Lord gav’ t’ fishes
understan’ing; tha knaw ’at frogs is venomous, an’ tha’re a gran’ bait
foor pike, bud neea pike’ll tak ho’d if ya deean’t run t’ heuk thruff
baith ther lips, seea ez tha can’t spit at ’em.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘how do
the pike catch them when they are swimming in a natural state?’ ‘Easy
eneeaf,’ answered he; ‘tha tak hodden ’em fra behint, an’ tha can’t
spit backkards waay ower ther heeads, ya knaw.’
Still another plan may be tried to ease the little sufferers. If they
be passed nine times under the belly and over the back of either a
piebald pony or an ass (the latter preferred), the cough will be
immediately charmed away, whilst a touch on the larynx from the hand
of a seventh son of a seventh son is held to be a certain cure. And a
hairy caterpillar or small wood-lizard tied round the child’s neck,
having been stitched in a small bag, was, and I believe is yet, looked
upon as a sovereign remedy.
Snail soup is drunk even to-day for the cure of consumption. And the
skin of an eel (if skinned when alive), placed in a silken bag and worn
so as to rest on the chest, is believed to cut phlegm when nothing else
will.
To cure the ‘water-springs,’ an old name for acidity or heartburn, old
people tell me the following is an infallible cure if taken in time—a
very wise proviso—burnt oyster, cockle, and mussel shells ground to
powder, equal parts, and mixed in worm-water. This latter was prepared
by gathering a handful of worms from the churchyard and boiling them.
The burnt shells might do good; ordinary water and chalk would have
been equally efficacious, had they but known it.
But nearly every disease or complaint had its cure in days past, and,
in a more or less degree, all were nasty.
For the moment let us return to wart-charmers. There is room here for
both speculation and research. They did cure warts, of that there is
not the least shadow of a doubt. The amount of evidence on record is
such that contradiction and disbelief amounts to crass folly, and
shows an ignorance of well-authenticated facts. A man I know, whose
hand was covered with warts—warts which simply jeered at caustic and
all such applications—at last went to the charmer. What did the man
do? He simply asked the old chap if he believed he could remove them.
Having answered in the affirmative, the charmer just rubbed his hand
over the whole lot, muttered some words, and told the warty one to go
home—in a fortnight’s time he was wartless. Hundreds of cases could
be given. Absolute faith that they would disappear, may have exercised
some mental action over the physical, and the trick was done. In this
way, if we admit some hypnotic power which they unconsciously used, we
may account for many of the wonders which these charmers and wise men
worked in days past, often bringing about results at which possibly no
one was more surprised than the wise men themselves; but they, like
many of to-day, had the sense to hold their peace, and that has often
dressed many a conjuring trick with all trappings of philosophy.
It is held to-day, when any one is bitten by a dog, that the only
certain remedy against hydrophobia is to have the brute killed at once.
For, say they, should the dog in years to come go mad, all those bitten
by it will go mad at the same time.
The wearing of silver rings made from a single coin presented at Holy
Communion, was once held as a sovereign remedy and preventive against
epileptic fits.
The cures for children and others afflicted with worms are many and
curious. A few of the more striking will be noticed. A bunch of fine
yarrow, gathered from off a maiden’s grave, had to be boiled in water,
and a wineglassful of the liquor, with the addition of as much finely
powdered glass as would lie on a groat, had to be taken fasting for
six alternate mornings, bearing in mind that each morning the patient
was not fattening himself on corpse yarrow and broken window-panes; he
had also to swallow a stiff glass of salts and senna, which not only
made every kind of worm quit its hold of his inside, but left him in a
condition almost, if not quite, ready for the worms to commence their
attack from the outside. Worms, however, are seized with such a sudden
fear when a live trout is brought near them, that they die right off.
Hence it is not an uncommon thing for a father to procure a live trout,
and lay the same on the stomach of a wormy one. And then, what with the
fish kicking and the bairn screaming, the poor worms have no chance,
and they know it, and throw up the sponge accordingly.
In days past cramp seems to have awakened people three or four times
a week. But sleeping with your stockings on, with a piece of sulphur
in each, or the skin of a mole bound round the left thigh, or even
crossing your shoes on retiring to rest, would drive the cramp away.
Cramp, it would seem, was formerly looked upon as having a very close
connexion with the devil, and was often the result of an evil wish,
spell, or witch-work. In cases when it arose from any of the latter,
something more potent than sulphur and the crossing of shoes had to
be resorted to. A silken thread which had been passed round a coffin,
care having been taken to thread the silk through the handles, would,
if worn round the leg, just below the knee-joint, securely guard the
wearer against wicked spells of that nature.
The skin of an eel, if tied round the leg, prevents cramp whilst
bathing.
Rings fashioned from any metal accidentally turned up whilst digging a
grave, were until quite recently in great repute, especial virtue being
attached to one made from a coffin handle. Such rings acted as a charm
against almost every kind of evil spell.
Years ago it was commonly believed that there was some kind of sympathy
existing between the cause and the injury itself. An illustration of
this has been given in the case of a dog-bite, but it had a much wider
application; e.g. should any one be injured by a nail, or anything
else, the nail, &c., was carefully cleaned, polished, wrapped up, and
put away each time after dressing the wound.
I remember a case in point within the last ten years. A plough lad was
hurt by the colter, the cutting iron of the plough; the ploughing was
stopped, the colter removed, and sent to the blacksmith, with orders to
remove all dirt and rust, and to polish all parts to which blood was
adhering; and during the recovery, each time the wound was dressed, the
colter was cleaned and polished with equal care.
Flint arrow-heads were for ages looked upon as elf-stones, and
are to-day worn as charms against unseen evils. They also possess
healing power in certain diseases. So, too, do the belemnites—a
fossilized portion of an extinct cuttle-fish. These, in the hand of a
skilled person, work wonders in the case of sore eyes and ringworm.
Unfortunately, though belemnites are common enough, the skilled hands
are rare, and so their virtue in thousands of instances lies dormant.
These belemnites are supposed to fall from the clouds during a
thunderstorm; the same is said of rounded pieces of quartz or flints,
one and all being called thunder-bolts, or ’thunner-steeans.’
When a boy, I was an ardent archaeologist. I remember on one occasion
having been told that chipped flints were to be found in a field
near Blois Hall[28]. Hurrying thither the first whole holiday, I was
fortunate enough on that occasion to find a flint arrow-head—the only
one I ever did find. This I showed to an old fellow who was hedging;
without hesitation he pronounced it to be an elf-stone, declaring that
the elves were evil spirits, who in days past used to throw them at the
kie—I had up to that time always been told they were shot at cattle—but
my informant stuck to throwing. I well remember that he also said the
elves got them out of whirlpools, where they were originally made by
the water spirits, but he could not say what the water spirits used
them for, though he knew of several instances in which both cattle
and horses had been injured by the elves throwing their elf-stones at
them. He further informed me that when the elves got them from the
whirlpools, they had much longer shanks than was on the one I had
found: this was so that better aim might be taken with them. ‘But,’
said he, ‘tha’re nivver fund wi’ lang shanks on, acoz t’ fairies awlus
brak ’em off, seea ez t’ elves wadn’t be yabble ti potch ’em at t’
beasts neea mair;’ and he had been told that fairies often wore them
as ornaments. Sore eyes could be cured by the touch from an elf-stone,
if a fairy had ever worn it, and they were also a potent love-charm if
worn so that they rested near the heart.
Speaking of fairies, I know an old lady who still fully believes in
their existence. She assures me they have most beautiful houses at a
great depth below the surface. It seems no one ever finds them, because
the little folk possess the magical power of transporting them to a
distance in an instant, should there be the least likelihood of their
being disturbed; owing to this, ‘Nobody nivver cums across ’em when
well-sinking, mining, or owt o’ that soart.’
The old body told me the following story:—
In the days when tailors went out to work, she remembered one who came
to work for her aunt being lost for a long time in a big field, and
unable to find his way out, and all because he had said, ‘If ever he
saw a fairy he would catch her, and take her home, and put her in a
bottle and keep her there.’ So it happened, when he left the house to
go home, and just when he entered the long pasture, he dropped his
scissors, and for long he could not find them, and when he did place
his hand on them, his sleeve-board was snatched from him. He heard it
drop quite close to him, but when he stooped to pick it up, a pork pie
which the farmer’s wife had given him mysteriously disappeared; how,
he did not know. However, a little way off, he saw a most beautiful
damsel carrying a light; he implored her to come to his aid, and as the
damsel and the light would not come to him, like Mahomet he went after
them. This proved a most bootless errand, for the damsel and light led
him on and on, hither and thither, now shining quite close at hand,
then disappearing, and at last vanishing altogether, leaving the tailor
utterly lost; and for long the poor fellow wandered about, until his
cries for help were fortunately heard, ‘bud nut afoor he’d bed aboon
tweea hours on ’t.’
That he had been under a fairy charm, and that she (the fairy) had been
making sport of him, was evident to all. Never again did that man say
he would bottle a fairy—at least, I imagine so. When a sleeve-board, a
pair of scissors, and a pork pie are snatched from you, and you see a
beautiful damsel carrying a light of some kind, which she snuffs out
every time she is going to be caught, only to light up again some yards
ahead, and then finally disappear altogether—well! even a tailor can
draw his own conclusions after a game of that kind.
The other day I met an old lady in the train—a Mrs. Peary, of Sand
Hill Farm, near Picton. Although the old lady told me she was turned
seventy-three, she was as active as a woman of forty, and boasted she
could do the work of two lasses yet. I soon discovered she possessed
a fund of both witch and other lore. Next day I paid a visit to Sand
Hill, and had a couple of hours’ chat, or rather, I asked a few leading
questions, and then made notes as quickly as I could.
For many years she lived in Bilsdale, her native place. Now, the dale
in question is only a few miles distant from the borders of Cleveland,
and yet she had never heard of many of the customs so common to that
division of the North Riding. ‘Mell suppers,’ she told me, were kept
up in Bilsdale in all their pristine glory so lately as twenty years
ago—guisers, mell doll, and everything. She did not know the word
‘spurrings,’ meaning putting the banns in. The common expression in
her part was, and still is, ‘So-and-so ’ev tumm’l’d ower t’ bauk an’
brokken ther legs.’ I fail to see the application.
Again, though it was the custom for the bridesmaids to undress the
bride, and see her comfortably into bed, she never remembered a case
of stocking throwing, though she had heard of it, or of any attempt to
keep the bridegroom amongst the revellers all night. Running for the
bride’s garter was common in her mother’s time, but mostly a ribbon in
her own. She had never heard of the custom of letting a child go up
before it went down, or that it was unlucky to mention what name the
child should be christened before its birth.
I mention these facts because it bears out a previous statement, that
it is inadvisable to draw conclusions as to the non-existence of
customs or superstitions on evidence of a purely local character.
Although much of what the old lady told me was general throughout the
riding, the following was new to me.
For whooping cough I was assured that nothing was better than to walk
along a road until you found nine frogs; these had to be carried home
and made into soup. The patient on no account must see the frogs, or be
told of what the soup was composed—a most wise precaution—but on his or
her finishing the whole nine, soup and all, they would be found to be
quite recovered. It’s marvellous!
Those who suffered from a weak bladder had a remedy at hand: they
simply had to stand astride at the head of an open grave, after the
coffin had been lowered, but before being filled in, and then walk
backwards to the foot of the same. It seems simple enough, but when you
come to look at it, nine people out of ten, in endeavouring to perform
the feat, would assuredly have surprised the onlookers by turning a
somersault and landing flat on their backs upon the coffin below.
Again, count your warts, then unknown to any one take a small pebble
from as many different graves, put the lot in a small bag, throw it
over your left shoulder, and the warts will all disappear in a few
days. My old friend would not commence or conclude any business on a
Friday, and to break a clock-face was equally as unlucky as breaking a
looking-glass. Neither did she ever allow a candle to die out; to do
such a thing was, to her way of thinking, equal to passing sentence of
death on some one of the household. The cutting of the pepper-cake by
the doctor, on the birth of each grandchild, is still rigidly adhered
to by the old lady. Being farmers, one ceremony they still observed,
which was quite new to me. On the birth of a calf it was always carried
rear first to the stall in which it was to lie, a little salt and
water was given it to drink, and no one ever allowed to stride over
it, as that would mean death or ill-luck to it; but generally ’an
ower-stridden cauf deed,’ said she[29].
It is a bad sign, when starting on a journey, should the first person
you meet be a woman. In such fear was this held until quite recently,
that the fishermen near Staithes would not have gone to sea that day;
neither was it a good omen for a four-footed animal to cross their path
when going to their boat, or at any time.
If whilst a fisherman was baiting his nets any one mentioned anything
in connexion with a pig, or Dakky, as it was called, the worst of luck
would be looked for, and in many cases the fisherman would have ceased
to bait his lines for a time.
Again, no fisherwife would dream of winding wool by candle-light—to
do such a wicked thing would be tantamount to winding the husband
overboard.
Some years ago a young fisherman paid a visit to some relations inland;
during his stay he fell in love with a maiden whom in time he took
home as his bride. She, new to their ways and beliefs, simply laughed
at their superstitions. It happened one night, when her husband was
away on a voyage, that a fisherwife looked in for a bit of friendly
gossip, and discovered the young wife by candle-light about to wind
some wool. She implored her not to do so, telling her of the dreadful
and sure result of such wicked folly; others, too, who had also dropped
in, joined in declaring what a fearful and certain risk she ran, but
it was all of no avail. With a laugh at such nonsense the winder laid
the wool over a chair-back, daring them to wait and watch her wind
it; but not a woman would stay in the house—they dare not. They fled,
and the wool was wound. Three times did the ball slip from her hand.
When the good wives heard of it, they shook their heads—it was a bad
omen, so said they. When the husband returned hearty and well from his
voyage, the young wife laughed at them more than ever, but they shook
their heads. The ball had slipped from her hand thrice; he might go and
return again, it was the third journey they feared. When he was told
what his wife had done, his face blanched—if she had no fear, he had.
He had been taught the belief all his life, she only, in a way, for
five minutes. One more voyage would he make, and then the sea should
know him no more; he would not, dare not chance a third voyage. Again
he returned safely to his wife, but, as he had said, that was his last
voyage. The two set up a little shop, and for three or four years all
went well. Then there came a great storm. Volunteers were needed for
the lifeboat—few able-bodied men were in the village at the time. For
the moment everything was forgotten; Jack jumped in, and off they went,
the women helping to launch the brave crew. The wrecked ones were
saved, but in getting the last half-drowned wretch into the boat, Jack
overbalanced and fell into the foaming sea; nothing could save him, and
his body was found lying peacefully on the beach next morning. And then
they remembered. Aye, and so should we, had we been taught the same
belief when round our mother’s knee. The neighbours were kind—they were
more than that, they gave to the sorrowing one all their sympathy—but,
in spite of their kindness, the widow felt that they held her guilty of
her husband’s death. So the little shop was closed, and she went forth
from amongst them, and the village knew her no more.
There is a superstition in Cleveland that you must not eat a ’cock’s
egg,’ i.e. a small egg, the last one a hen lays before sitting. When
such are found, the contents are blown from the shell and burnt—the
merest speck of the contents even adhering to the clothes has a baneful
influence. The devil is said to superintend the laying of this last egg.
It is considered advisable that a new broom should sweep something into
the house before it is used in the contrary direction, otherwise you
sweep good luck away from your threshold.
I am told years ago it was considered ’a ventersome thing ti deea’
for any one to speak disparagingly of their broom; the reason given
being that no one was ever certain as to whether or no it had been
witch-ridden. For should it have happened that a passing witch had one
night borrowed their broom for a ride, it became witch-ridden, and was
ever afterwards jealously watched over by the witch, and any indignity
offered to her steed was sure to be resented.
It is looked upon as a most unwise thing for any one to give salt out
of the house. In days past it was supposed to give witches power over
the giver. Cases could be mentioned in which the work of the wise man
was totally frustrated by such a proceeding.
It is most unlucky to give any one either a knife or any sharp
instrument: such folly severs love, and breeds suspicion in the breasts
of those who hitherto have held you in sincere regard. You may buy
such a present by giving something in return for it, and such payment
may be of the most trivial kind—a pin, a bit of paper, or anything.
When you discover your shoe-lace is loose, walk nine paces before tying
it, otherwise you will tie ill-luck to you for that day.
Should a mouse run across the room, throw something at it, or, anyway,
in the direction in which it ran. It may happen to have escaped from a
witch’s cat, and you will please either the cat or the witch, or both,
by making some kind of pretence to stop it.
It is lucky, and acts as a charm, if you spit on, or place in your
mouth, the first money you receive each day. This is common to-day, but
I doubt if those who do so know its origin.
Years ago witches were supposed to watch over or, as my informant put
it, ‘eye-spell’ the first money paid, and often used to spirit it away.
This they were unable to do after it had been placed in the mouth. It
has now degenerated into what is vulgarly called ’spitting on ’t fer
luck.’ It is quite commonly done in our markets to-day.
A weasel crossing your path is most unlucky: it speaks of treachery.
This evil omen may be counteracted by the performance of a very mean
trick: drop a coin on the road where you saw the weasel cross, and the
evil which was yours by right, will cling to those who are unlucky
enough to find it. If there is a tramp behind you, when you see a coin
lying, leave it for him; he won’t mind about the ill-luck.
Always pass an old shoe so as to have it on your right hand; and don’t
move it, lest you should help some unknown person on in the world,
which would only be done to the detriment of yourself, for just as much
as you advanced them, to that extent you would be the loser. An old hat
you may kick about as much as you have a mind, always being careful to
see some one has not placed a big stone underneath it—in that case it
is always unlucky to kick a hat.
When a child was born, and it proved either unhealthy or deformed, it
was generally supposed some evil-disposed person must have pricked its
name with pins on a pincushion. When such a discovery was made by an
expectant wife, nothing was said to the person working the evil, but
the cushion was stolen, the pins withdrawn one by one, and stuck into
the heart of a calf. This had to be buried in the churchyard, care
being taken to bury it sufficiently deep, so that the dogs would not
scratch it up. All this had to be done before the child was born, and
by the mother. Such a discovery was made, and a heart stuck with pins
and buried, within the last twenty years.
Sores or other evil diseases caused by witchcraft could be speedily
cured if attended to when the moon was on the wane. I do not know in
what form the application was used, but here are the ingredients as
given to me by an old fellow who, though he had never used it, had
heard ’’at nowt cud cum up tiv it.’
Tak’ tweea ’at’s red an’ yan ’at’s blake (yellow)
O’ poison berries three,
Three fresh-cull’d blooms o’ Devil’s glut,
An’ a sprig o’ rosemary;
Tak’ henbane, bullace, bumm’lkite,
An’ t’ fluff frev a deead bulrush;
Nahn berries shak’ fra t’ rowan-tree,
An’ nahn fra botterey bush.
To this day there are fisher lasses who wear their chemises wrong
side out when their sailor lads are away at sea, and stormy weather
threatens.
A friend of mine within the last five years heard a fisher lass say to
a group of her friends, ‘Ah deeant leyke t’ leeak o’ yon cloods, an’ t’
winds gittin up; let’s gan yam an’ to’n wer sarks,’ and every one of
those who had a loved one on the water promptly did so.
Again, does a maiden fear that her lover is growing cold, she turns
her chemise, so as to win back his cooling affections. This, like most
other old beliefs, is dying out now. It is rather an undertaking, as
fashion goes, for a lass to undress and dress again nowadays.
... Her Jack war on t’ sea,
An’ t’ tuckkins marked her swelling breast,
Fer her sark war to’n’d aboot.
* * * * *