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NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES,
GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
* * * * *
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
NO. 61.] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28. 1850. [Price Threepence.
Stamped Edition 4d.
* * * * *{505}
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page
Illustrations of Scottish Ballads, by Richard John King 505
The Red Hand--The Holt Family--Vincent Family 506
Vondel's Lucifer, by Janus Dousa 507
A Myth of Midridge 509
Folk Lore Miscellanies:--St. Thomas's Day--Black Doll
at Old Store-shops--Snake Charming--Mice as a
Medicine--"Many Nits, many Pits"--Swans hatched
during Thunder--Snakes--Pixies or Piskies--Straw
Necklaces--Breaking Judas' Bones 509
Local Rhymes and Proverbs of Devonshire 511
A Christmas Carol 513
A Note for little Boys 513
Similarity of Traditions 513
Pixey Legends 514
The Pool of the Black Hound 515
Popular Rhymes 515
Minor Notes:--"Passilodion" and "Berafrynde"--
Inscription on an Alms-dish--The Use of the French
Word "savez"--Job's Luck--The Assassination of
Mountfort in For folk Street, Strand--The Oldenburgh
Horn--Curious Custom--Kite--Epitaph on John
Randal--Playing Cards 515
QUERIES:--
Dragons: their Origin 517
John Sanderson, or the Cushion Dance; and Bab at the
Bowster 517
Did Bunyan know Hobbes? by J.H. Friswell 518
Minor Queries:--Boiling to Death--Meaning of
"Mocker"--"Away, let nought to love displeasing"
--Baron Münchausen--"Sing Tantararara Rogues
all," &c.--Meaning of "Cauking" 519
REPLIES:--
The Wise Men of Gotham, by J.B. Colman 520
Replies to Minor Queries:--Master John Shorne--
Antiquity of Smoking--Meaning of the Word
"Thwaites"--Thomas Rogers of Horninger--Earl
of Roscommon--Parse--The Meaning of "Version"
--First Paper-mill in England--"Torn by Horses"
--Vineyards--Cardinal--Weights for Weighing
Coins--Umbrella--Croziers and Pastoral Staves 520
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Notes on Books, Sales, Catalogues, &c. 523
Notices to Correspondents 524
Advertisements 524
* * * * *
NOTES.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF SCOTTISH BALLADS.
In the ballad of "Annan Water" (_Border Minstrelsy_, vol. iii.) is the
following verse:--
"O he has pour'd aff his dapperpy coat,
The silver buttons glanced bonny;
The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,
He was sae full of melancholy."
A very unexpected effect of sorrow, but one that does not seem to be
unprecedented. "A plague of sighing and grief," says Falstaff. "It blows
a man up like a bladder."
A remarkable illustration of Falstaff's assertion, and of the Scottish
ballad, is to be found in this _Saga of Egil Skallagrimson_. Bodvar, the
son of Egil, was wrecked on the coast of Iceland. His body was thrown up
by the waves near Einarsness, where Egil found it, and buried it in the
tomb of his father Skallagrim. The _Saga_ continues thus:--
"After that, Egil rode home to Borgar; and when he came there, he
went straightway into the locked chamber where he was wont to sleep;
and there he laid him down, and shot forth the bolt. No man dared
speak a word to him. And thus it is said that Egil was clad when he
laid Bodvar in the tomb. His hose were bound fast about his legs,
and he had on a red linen kirtle, narrow above, and tied with
strings at the sides. And men say that his body swelled so greatly
that his kirtle burst from off him, and so did his hose."--P. 602.
It is well known that the subjects of many ballads are common to
Scotland, and to the countries of Northern Europe. Thus, the fine old
"Douglas Tragedy," the scene of which is pointed out at Blackhouse
Tower, on the Yarrow, is equally localised in Denmark:
"Seven large stones," says Sir Walter, "erected upon the
neighbouring heights of Blackhouse, are shown as marking the spot
where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas Burn is avowed
to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink; so
minute is tradition in ascertaining, the scene of a tragical tale,
which, considering, the rude state of former times, had probably
foundation in some real event."
The corresponding Danish ballad, however, that of "Ribolt and Guldborg,"
which has been translated by Mr. Jamieson, is not less minute in
pointing out the scene of action. The origin of ballads, which are thus
widely spread, must probably be sought in very high antiquity; and we
cannot wonder if we find them undergoing considerable {506} change in
the passage from one country to another. At least the "Douglas Tragedy"
betrays one very singular mark of having lost something of the original.
In "Ribolt and Guldborg," when the lady's brothers have all but
overtaken the fugitives, the knight addresses her thus:
"Light down, Guldborg, my lady dear,
And hald our steeds lay the renyes here.
And e'en sae be that ye see me fa'
Be sure that ye never upon me ca';
And e'en sae be that ye see me bleed,
Be sure that ye name na' me till dead."
Ribolt kills her father and her two eldest brothers, and then Guldborg
can no longer restrain herself:
"Hald, hald, my Ribolt, dearest mine,
Now belt thy brand, for its 'mair nor time.
My youngest brother ye spare, O spare,
To my mither the dowie news to bear."
But she has broken her lover's mysterious caution, and he is mortally
wounded in consequence:
"When Ribolt's name she named that stound,
'Twas then that he gat his deadly wound."
In the Scottish ballad, no such caution is given; nor is the lady's
calling on her lover's name at all alluded to as being the cause of his
death. It is so, however, as in the Danish version:
"She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Lord William, she said,
For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair."
There is no note in the _Kæmpe Viser_, says Mr. Jamieson, on this
subject; nor does he attempt to explain it himself. It has, however, a
clear reference to a very curious Northern superstition.
Thorkelin, in the essay on the Berserkir, appended to his edition of the
_Kristni-Saga_, tells us that an old name of the Berserk frenzy was
_hamremmi_, _i.e._, strength acquired from another or strange body,
because it was anciently believed that the persons who were liable to
this frenzy were mysteriously endowed, during its accesses, with a
strange body of unearthly strength. If, however, the Berserk was called
on by his own name, he lost his mysterious form, and his ordinary
strength alone remained. Thus it happens in the _Svarfdæla Saga:_
"Gris called aloud to Klanfi, and said, 'Klanfi, Klanfi! keep a fair
measure,' and instantly the strength which Klanfi had got in his
rage, failed him; so that now he could not even lift the beam with
which he had been fighting."
It is clear, therefore, continues Thorkelin, that the state of men
labouring under the Berserk frenzy was held by some, at least, to
resemble that of those, who, whilst their own body lay at home
apparently dead or asleep, wandered under other forms into distant
places and countries. Such wanderings were called _hamfarir_ by the old
northmen; and were held to be only capable of performance by those who
had attained the very utmost skill in magic.
RICHARD JOHN KING.
* * * * *
THE RED HAND.--THE HOLT FAMILY.
(Vol. ii., pp. 248. 451.)
Your correspondent ESTE, in allusion to the arms of the Holt
family, in a window of the church of Aston-juxta-Birmingham, refers to
the tradition that one of the family "murdered his cook, and was
afterwards compelled to adopt the red hand in his arms." Este is
perfectly correct in his concise but comprehensive particulars. That
which, by the illiterate, is termed "the bloody hand," and by them
reputed as an abatement of honour, is nothing more than the "Ulster
badge" of dignity. The tradition adds, that Sir Thomas Holt murdered the
cook in a cellar, at the old family mansion, by "running him through
with a spit," and afterwards buried him beneath the spot where the
tragedy was enacted. I merely revert to the subject, because, within the
last three months, the ancient family residence, where the murder is
said to have been committed, has been levelled with the ground; and
among persons who from their position in society might be supposed to be
better informed, considerable anxiety has been expressed to ascertain
whether any portion of the skeleton of the murdered cook has been
discovered beneath the flooring of the cellar, which tradition, fomented
by illiterate gossip, pointed out as the place of his interment. Your
correspondents would confer a heraldic benefit if they would point out
other instances--which I believe to exist--where family reputation has
been damaged by similar ignorance in heraldic interpretation.
The ancient family residence to which I have referred was situated at
Duddeston, a hamlet adjoining Birmingham. Here the Holts resided until
May, 1631, when Sir Thomas took up his abode at Ashton Hall, a noble
structure in the Elizabethan style of architecture, which, according to
a contemporary inscription, was commenced in April, 1618, and completed
in 1635. Sir Thomas was a decided royalist, and maintained his
allegiance to his sovereign, although the men of Birmingham were
notorious for their disaffection, and the neighbouring garrison of
Edgbaston was occupied by Parliamentarian troops. When Charles I., of
glorious or unhappy memory, was on his way from Shrewsbury to the
important battle of Edgehill, {507} on the confines of Warwickshire, he
remained with Sir Thomas, as his guest, from the 15th to the 17th of
October (vide Mauley's _Iter Carolinum_, Gutch's _Collectanea_, vol. ii.
p. 425.); and a closet is still pointed out to the visitor where he is
said to have been concealed. A neighbouring eminence is to the present
day called "King's Standing," from the fact of the unhappy monarch
having stood thereon whilst addressing his troops. By his acts of
loyalty, Sir Thomas Holt acquired the hostility of his rebellious
neighbours; and accordingly we learn that on the 18th of December, 1643,
he had recourse to Colonel Leveson, who "put forty muskettiers into the
house" to avert impending dangers; but eight days afterwards, on the
26th of December, "the rebels, 1,200 strong, assaulted it, and the day
following tooke it, kil'd 12, and ye rest made prisoners, though w'th
losse of 60 of themselves." (Vide Dugdale's _Diary_, edited by Hamper,
4to. p. 57.) The grand staircase, deservedly so entitled, bears evident
marks of the injury occasioned at this period, and an offending
cannon-ball is still preserved.
Edward, the son and heir of Sir Thomas, died at Oxford, on the 28th
August, 1643, and was buried in Christ Church. He was an ardent
supporter of the king. The old baronet was selected as ambassador to
Spain by Charles I., but was excused on account of his infirmities. He
died A.D. 1654, in the eighty-third year of his age. His excellence and
benevolence of character would afford presumptive evidence of the
falsehood of the tradition, if it were not totally exploded by the
absurdity of the hypothesis upon which it is grounded. Sir Thomas was
succeeded in the baronetcy by his grandson, Robert, who in compliance
with his will built an almshouse or hospital for five men and five
women. It is unnecessary to pursue the family further, excepting to
state that nearly at the close of the last century the entail was cut
off: the family is now unknown in the neighbourhood, excepting in its
collateral branches, and the hall has passed into the possession of
strangers. Its last occupant was James Watt, Esq., son of the eminent
mechanical philosopher. He died about two years ago, and the venerable
mansion remains tenantless.
With reference to the ancient family residence of the Holts, at
Duddeston, it will be sufficient to observe, that in the middle of the
last century the house and grounds were converted into a tavern and
pleasure gardens, under the metropolitan title of Vauxhall: and for a
century they continued to afford healthful recreation and scenic
amusement to the busy inhabitants of Birmingham. The amazing increase in
the size and population of the town has at length demanded this
interesting site for building purposes. Within the last three months the
house and gardens have been entirely dismantled, a range of building has
already been erected, and old Vauxhall is now numbered amongst the
things that were.
J. GOODWIN.
Birmingham.
_"Bloody Hands at Stoke d'Abernon, Surrey._--The legends of Sir Richard
Baker (Vol. ii., pp. 67. 244.) and of a member of the Holt family (Vol.
ii., p. 451.) recall to my mind one somewhat similar, connected with a
monument in the church of Stoke d'Abernon, Surrey, the appearance of a
"bloody hand" upon which was thus accounted for to me:--
"Two young brothers of the family of Vincent, the elder of whom had
just come into possession of the estate, were out shooting on
Fairmile Common, about two miles from the village; they had put up
several birds, but had not been able to get a single shot, when the
elder swore with an oath that he would fire at whatever they next
met with. They had not gone much further before the miller of a mill
near at hand (and which is still standing) passed them, and made
some trifling remark. As soon as he had got by, the younger brother
jokingly reminded the elder of his oath, whereupon the latter
immediately fired at the miller, who fell dead upon the spot. Young
Vincent escaped to his home, and by the influence of his family,
backed by large sums of money, no effective steps were taken to
apprehend him, and he was concealed in the 'Nunnery' on his estate
for some years, when death put a period to the insupportable anguish
of his mind. To commemorate his rash act and his untimely death,
this 'bloody hand' was placed on his monument."
So runs the story as far as I remember; the date I cannot recollect. The
legend was told me after I had left the church, and I had paid no
particular attention to the monument; but I thought at the time that the
hand might be only the Ulster badge. I shall be obliged to any of your
readers who will throw further light upon this matter. A pilgrimage to
Stoke d'Abernon, whose church contains the earliest known brass in
England, would not be uninteresting even at this season of the year.
ARUN.
* * * * *
VONDEL'S LUCIFER.
I have to complain of injustice done by a correspondent of "NOTES
AND QUERIES," to the Dutch poet Vondel. To the question mooted by
F. (Vol. i. p. 142.), whether my countryman's _Lucifer_ has ever been
translated into English, Hermes answers by a passage taken from the
_Foreign Quarterly Review_ for April, 1829; and subjoins a list of the
_dramatis personæ_ "given from the _original Dutch_ before him. The
tragedy itself is condensed by your correspondent into a simple "&c."
Now, if HERMES, instead of referring to a stale review for a
comparison between Vondel's tragedy and the _Paradise Lost_, without
showing by _any_ proof that Milton's justly renowned epic {508} is
indeed superior to this, one of the Dutch poet's masterpiece--if
HERMES, being, as I conclude from his own words, conversant
with the language of _our_ Shakspeare, had taken pains to _read
Lucifer_, he would not have repeated a statement unfavourable to
Vondel's poetical genius. I, for my part, will _not_ hazard a judgment
on poems so different and yet so alike, I will _not_ sneer at Milton's
demon-gods of Olympus, nor laugh at "their artillery discharged in the
daylight of heaven;" for such instances of bad taste are to be
considered as clouds setting off the glories of the whole; but _this_ I
will say, that Vondel wrote his _Lucifer_ in 1654, the sixty-seventh of
his life, while Milton's _Paradise Lost_ was composed four years later.
The honour of precedence, in time, at least, belongs to my countryman.
All the odds were against the British poet's competitor, if one who
wrote before him may be so called; for, while Milton enjoyed every
privilege of a sound classical education, Vondel had still to begin a
course of study when more than twenty-six years of age; and, while the
Dutch poet told the price of homely stockings to prosaic burghers, the
writer of _Paradise Lost_ was speaking the language of Torquato Tasso in
the country enraptured by the first sight of _la divina comedia_.
I am no friend of polemical writing, and I believe the less we see of it
in your friendly periodical, the better it is; but still I _must_
protest against such copying of partially-written judgments, when good
information can be got. I say not by stretching out a hand, for the book
was already opened by your correspondent--but alone by using one's eyes
and turning over a leaf or two. Else, why did HERMES learn the
Dutch language? I ask your subscribers if the following verses are
_weak_, and if they would not have done honour to the English Vondel?
CHORUS OF ANGELS.
(From _Lucifer_.)
"Who sits above heaven's heights sublime,
Yet fills the grave's profoundest place,
Beyond eternity, or time,
Or the vast round of viewless space:
Who on Himself alone depends--
Immortal--glorious--but unseen--
And in his mighty being blends
What rolls around or flows within.
Of all we know not--all we know--
Prime source and origin--a sea,
Whose waters pour'd on earth below
Wake blessing's brightest radiancy.
'Tis power, love, wisdom, first exalted
And waken'd from oblivion's birth;
Yon starry arch--yon palace, vaulted--
Yon heaven of heavens, to smile on earth.
From his resplendent majesty
We shade us 'neath our sheltering wings,
While awe-inspired, and tremblingly
We praise the glorious King of Kings,
With sight and sense confused and dim;
O name--describe the Lord of Lords,
The seraph's praise shall hallow Him;--
Or is the theme too vast for words?"
RESPONSE.
"'Tis God! who pours the living glow
Of light, creation's fountain-head:
Forgive the praise--too mean and low--
Or from the living or the dead.
No tongue thy peerless name hath spoken,
No space can hold that awful name;
The aspiring spirit's wing is broken;--
Thou wilt be, wert, and art the same!
Language is dumb. Imagination,
Knowledge, and science, helpless fall;
They are irreverent profanation,
And thou, O God! art all in all.
How vain on such a thought to dwell!
Who knows Thee--Thee the All-unknown?
Can angels be thy oracle,
Who art--who art Thyself alone?
None, none can trace Thy course sublime,
For none can catch a ray from Thee,
The splendour and the source of time--
The Eternal of eternity.
Thy light of light outpour'd conveys
Salvation in its flight elysian,
Brighter than e'en Thy mercy's rays;
But vainly would our feeble vision
Aspire to Thee. From day to day
Age steals on us, but meets thee never;
Thy power is life's support and stay--
We praise thee, sing thee, Lord! for ever."
CHORUS.
"Holy, holy, holy! Praise--
Praise be His in every land;
Safety in His presence stays;
Sacred is His high command!"
Dr. Bowring's version,--though a good one, if the difficulty be
considered of giving back a piece of poetry, whose every word is a poem
in itself, and by whose rhyme and accentuation a feeling of
indescribable awe is instilled into the most fastidious reader's
mind,--Dr. Bowring's version is but a feeble reverberation of the holy
fire pervading our Dutch poet's anthem. But still there rests enough in
his copy to give one a high idea of the original. I borrow the same
Englishman's words when I add:--
"The criticism that instructs, even though it instructs severely, is
most salutary and most valuable. It is of the criticism that
insults, and while it insults, informs not, that we have a right to
complain."--_Batavian Anthology_, p. 6.
JANUS DOUSA.
Manpadt House.
* * * * *{509}
A MYTH OF MIDRIDGE;
_Or, A Story anent a witless Wight's Adventures with the Midridge
Fairies in the Bishoprick of Durham; now more than two Centuries
ago._
Talking about fairies the other day to a nearly Octogenarian female
neighbour, I asked, had she ever seen one in her youthful days. Her
answer was in the negative; "but," quoth she, "I've heard my grandmother
tell a story, that Midridge (near Auckland) was a great place for
fairies when she was a child, and for many long years after that." A
rather lofty hill, only a short distance from the village, was their
chief place of resort, and around it they used to dance, not by dozens,
but by hundreds, when the gloaming began to show itself of the summer
nights. Occasionally a villager used to visit the scene of their gambols
in order to catch if it were but a passing glance of the tiny folks,
dressed in their vestments of green, as delicate as the thread of the
gossamer: for well knew the lass so favoured, that ere the current year
had disappeared, she would have become the happy wife of the object of
her only love; and also, as well ken'd the lucky lad that he too would
get a weel tochered lassie, long afore his brow became wrinkled with
age, or the snow-white blossoms had begun to bud forth upon his pate.
Woe to those, however, who dared to come by twos or by threes, with
inquisitive and curious eye, within the bounds of their domain; for if
caught, or only the eye of a fairy fell upon them, ill was sure to
betide them through life. Still more awful, however, was the result if
any were so rash as to address them, either in plain prose or rustic
rhyme. The last instance of their being spoken to, is thus still handed
down by tradition:--''Twas on a beautifully clear evening in the month
of August, when the last sheaf had crowned the last stack in their
master's hagyard, and after calling the "harvest home," the daytale-men
and household servants were enjoying themselves over massive pewter
quarts foaming over with strong beer, that the subject of the evening's
conversation at last turned upon the fairies of the neighbouring hill,
and each related his oft-told tale which he had learned by rote from the
lips of some parish grandame. At last the senior of the mirthful party
proposed to a youthful mate of his, who had dared to doubt even the
existence of such creatures, that he durst not go to the hill, mounted
on his master's best palfrey, and call aloud, at the full extent of his
voice, the following rhymes:
"Rise little Lads,
Wi' your iron gads,
And set the Lad o' Midridge hame."
Tam o' Shanter-like, elated with the contents of the pewter vessels, he
nothing either feared or doubted, and off went the lad to the fairy
hill; so, being arrived at the base, he was nothing loth to extend his
voice to its utmost powers in giving utterance to the above invitatory
verses. Scarcely had the last words escaped his lips ere he was nearly
surrounded by many hundreds of the little folks, who are ever ready to
revenge, with the infliction of the most dreadful punishment, every
attempt at insult. The most robust of the fairies, who I take to have
been Oberon, their king, wielding an enormous javelin, thus, also in
rhymes equally rough, rude, and rustic, addressed the witless wight:
"Silly Willy, mount thy filly;
And if it isn't weel corn'd and fed,
I'll ha' thee afore thou gets hame to thy Midridge bed."
Well was it for Willy that his home was not far distant, and that part
light was still remaining in the sky. Horrified beyond measure, he
struck his spurs into the sides of his beast, who, equally alarmed,
darted off as quick as lightning towards the mansion of its owner.
Luckily it was one of those houses of olden time, which would admit of
an equestrian and his horse within its portals without danger; lucky,
also, was it that at the moment they arrived the door was standing wide
open: so, considering the house a safer sanctuary from the belligerous
fairies than the stable, he galloped direct into the hall, to the no
small amazement of all beholders, when the door was instantly closed
upon his pursuing foes! As soon as Willy was able to draw his breath,
and had in part overcome the effects of his fear, he related to his
comrades a full and particular account of his adventures with the
fairies; but from that time forward, never more could any one, either
for love or money, prevail upon Willy to give the fairies of the hill an
invitation to take an evening walk with him as far as the village of
Midridge!
To conclude, when the fairies had departed, and it was considered safe
to unbar the door, to give egress to Willy and his filly, it was found,
to the amazement of all beholders, that the identical iron javelin of
the fairy king had pierced through the thick oaken door, which for
service as well as safety was strongly plated with iron, where it still
stuck, and actually required the strength of the stoutest fellow in the
company, with the aid of a smith's great fore-hammer, to drive it forth.
This singular relic of fairy-land was preserved for many generations,
till passing eventually into the hands of one who cared for none of
those things, it was lost, to the no small regret of all lovers of
legendary lore!
M.A.D.
* * * * *
FOLK LORE.
_St. Thomas's Day._--A Guernsey charm _pour ve ki ke sera son amant_--
"Into a golden pippin stick eighteen new pins, nine in the eye, and nine
in the stem, tie round it the left {510} garter, and place it under the
pillow. Get into bed backwards, saying,
"Le jour de St. Thomas,
Le plus court, le plus bas,
Je prie Dieu journellement,
Qu'il me fasse voir, en dormant,
Celui qui sera mon amant;
Et le pays et la contrée
Où il fera sa demeurée,
Tel qu'il sera je l'aimerai,
Ainsi soit-il."
VIATOR.
NOV. 6. 1850.
_Black Doll at Old Store-shops_ (Vol. i., p. 27.).--Is it not probable
that the black doll was an image of the Virgin, sold at the Reformation
with a lot of church vestments, and other "rags of Popery," as the
Puritans called the surplice, and first hung up by some Puritan or
Hebrew dealer.
Images of the black Virgin are not uncommon in Roman Catholic churches.
Has the colour an Egyptian origin, or whence is it?
A. HOLT WHITE.
Gladwins, Harlow.
_Snake Charming_.--Two or three summers ago, I was told a curious story
of snake charming by a lady of undoubted veracity, in whose
neighbourhood (about a dozen miles from Totnes) the occurrence had taken
place. Two coast-guard men in crossing a field fell in with a snake: one
of them, an _Irishman_, threw his jacket over the animal, and
immediately uttered or muttered a charm over it. On taking up the
garment, after a few seconds had passed, the _snake was dead_.
When I heard this story, and understood that the operator was an
Irishman, I bethought me of how Rosalind says, "I was never so be-rhymed
since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat," and accounted
satisfactorily for the fact that, "as touching snakes, there are no
snakes in _Ireland_:" for, as the song voucheth, "the snakes committed
suicide to save themselves from slaughter," _i.e._ they _were charmed to
death by St. Patrick_.
I fear it would now be impossible to recover the charm made use of by
the coast-guard man; but I will have inquiry made, and if I can obtain
any further particulars, I will forward them to you.
J.M.B.
_Mice as a Medicine_ (Vol. ii., pp. 397. 435.).--The remedy of the roast
mouse recommended in _The Pathway to Health_ (which I find is in the
British Museum), is also prescribed in _Most Excellent and Approved
Remedies_, 1652:--"Make it in powder," says the author, "and drink it
off at one draught, and it will presently help you, especially if you
use it three mornings together." The following is "an excellent remedy
to stanch bleeding:"--
"Take a toad and dry him very well in the sun, then put him in a
linen bag, and hang him with a string about the neck of the party
that bleedeth, and let it hang so low that it may touch the breast
on the left side near unto the heart; and this will certainly stay
all manner of bleeding at the mouth, nose," &c.
Sage leaves, yarrow, and ale, are recommended for a "gnawing at the
heart;" which I think should be "made a note of" for the benefit of poor
poets and disappointed authors.
WEDSECNARF.
_Mice as a Medicine_ (Vol. ii., pp. 397. 435.).--I was stopping about
three years ago in the house of a gentleman whose cook had been in the
service of a quondam Canon of Ch. Ch., who averred that she roasted mice
to cure her master's children of the hooping cough. She said it had the
effect of so doing.
CHAS. PASLAM.
"Many Nits, [nuts]
Many Pits."
A common saying hereabouts, meaning that if hazel-nuts, haws, hips, &c.,
are plentiful, many deaths will occur. But whether the deaths are to be
occasioned by nut-devouring or by seasonal influence, I cannot
ascertain. In many places, an abundant crop of hips and haws is supposed
to betoken a severe winter.
CHAS. PASLAM.
_Swans hatched during Thunder._--The fable of the singing of swans at
death is well known; but I recently heard a bit of "folk lore" as to the
birth of swans quite as poetical, and probably equally true. It is this:
that swans are always hatched during a thunderstorm. I was told this by
an old man in Hampshire, who had been connected with the care of swans
all his life. He, however, knew nothing about their singing at death.
Is this opinion as to the birth of swans common? If so, probably some of
your numerous correspondents will detail the form in which such belief
is expressed.
ROBERT RAWLINSON.
_Snakes_ (Vol. ii., p. 164.).--Several years ago, in returning from an
excursion from Clevedon, in Somerset, to Cadbury Camp, I saw a viper on
the down, which I pointed out to the old woman in charge of the donkeys,
who assailed it with a stout stick, and nearly killed it. I expressed
surprise at her leaving it with some remains of life; but she said that,
whatever she did to it, it would "live till sun-down, and as soon as the
sun was set it would die." The same superstition prevails in Cornwall,
and also in Devon.
H.G.T.
_Pixies or Piskies._--At Chudleigh Rocks I was told, a few weeks ago, by
the old man who acts as guide to the caves, of a recent instance of a
man's being pixy-led. In going home, full of strong drink, across the
hill above the cavern called the "Pixies' Hole," on a moonlit night, he
heard sweet {511} music, and was led into the whirling dance by the
"good folk," who kept on spinning him without mercy, till he fell down
"in a swoon."
On "coming to himself," he got up and found his way home, where he "took
to his bed, and never left it again, but died a little while after," the
victim (I suppose) of _delirium tremens_, or some such disorder, the
incipient symptoms of which his haunted fancy turned into the sweet
music in the night wind and the fairy revel on the heath. In the tale I
have above given he persisted (said the old man), when the medical
attendant who was called in inquired of him the symptoms of his illness.
This occurrence happened, I understood, very recently, and was told to
me in perfect good faith.
I have just been told of a man who several years ago lost his way on
Whitchurch Down, near Tavistock. The farther he went the farther he had
to go; but happily calling to mind the antidote "in such case made and
provided," he turned his coat inside out, after which he had no
difficulty in finding his way. "He was supposed," adds my informant, "to
be pisky-led."
About ten miles from Launceston, on the Bodmin road (or at least in that
direction) is a large piece of water called Dosmere (pronounced Dosmery)
Pool. A tradition of the neighbourhood says that on the shores of this
lonely mere the ghosts of bad men are ever employed in binding the sand
"in bundles with _beams_ of the same" (a local word meaning _bands_, in
Devonshire called _beans;_ as _hay-beans_, and in this neighbourhood
hay-_beams_, for hay-bands). These ghosts, or some of them, were driven
out (they say "_horsewhipped_ out," at any rate exorcised in some sort)
"by the parson" from Launceston.
H.G.T.
Launceston.
_Straw Necklaces_ (Vol. i., p. 104).--Perhaps these straw necklaces were
anciently worn to preserve their possessors against _witchcraft_; for,
till the thirteenth century, straw was spread on the floors to defend a
house from the same evil agencies. Cf. _Le Grand d'Aussi Vie des Anciens
Francs_, tom. iii. pp. 132. 134; "NOTES AND QUERIES," Vol. i.,
pp. 245. 294.
JANUS DOUSA.
_Breaking Judas' Bones._--On Good Friday eve the children at Boppart, on
the Rhine, in Germany, have the custom of making a most horrid noise
with _rattles_. They call it _breaking the bones of Judas_. Cf.
"NOTES AND QUERIES," Vol. i., p. 357.
JANUS DOUSA.
LOCAL RHYMES AND PROVERBS OF DEVONSHIRE.
"River of Dart, oh river of Dart,
Every year thou claim'st a heart."
It is said that a year never passes without the drowning of one person,
at least, in the Dart. The river has but few fords, and, like all
mountain streams, it is liable to sudden risings, when the water comes
down with great strength and violence. Compare Chambers' _Popular
Rhymes_, p. 8., "Tweed said to Till," &c. See also Olaus Wormius,
_Monumenta Danica_, p. 17.
The moormen never say "_the_ Dart," but always "Dart." "Dart came down
last night--he is very full this morning." The _cry_ of the river is the
name given to that louder sound which rises toward nightfall. Cranmere
Pool, the source of the Dart, is a place of punishment for unhappy
spirits. They may frequently be heard wailing in the morasses there.
Compare Leyden _Scenes of Infancy_, pp. 315, 316., &c.
* * * * *
Wescote (_View of Devonshire_: Exeter, 1845 (reprint), p. 348.) has a
curious story of the Tamar and Torridge. It is worth comparing with a
local rhyme given by Chambers, p. 26.: "Annan, Tweed, and Clyde," &c.
* * * * *
"When Haldon hath a hat
Kenton may beware a skat."
This often quoted saying is curiously illustrated by a passage from the
romance of Sir Gawaya and the Grene Knicht (Madden's _Sir Gawaya_, p.
77.):
"Mist muged on the mor, malt on the mountes,
_Uch hille hadde a hatte_, a myst-hakel huge."
In the note on this passage Sir Frederick quotes two proverbs like the
Devonshire one above. They are, however, well known, and there is no
lack of similar sayings.
* * * * *
"When Plymouth was a furzy down,
Plympton was a borough town."
* * * * *
When Brutus of Troy landed at Totnes, he gave the town its name; thus,--
"Here I sit, and here I rest,
And this town shall be called Totnes."
* * * * *
"Crocker, Cruwys, and Coplestone,
When the Conqueror came, were found at home."
* * * * *
"Who on the Sabbath pares his horn,
'Twere better for him he had never been born."
"At toto Thori die hominibus ungues secare minime licuit."
--Finn Magnusen, _Lex. Edd._, s.v. _Thor_.
In the district of Bohnsland, in Sweden, in the middle of the eighteenth
century, it was not thought proper to fell wood on the afternoon of
Thursday. (Id.)
* * * * *
"Many slones [sloes], many groans,
Many nits [nuts], many pits."
* * * * *
"When the aspen leaves are no bigger than your nail,
Is the time to look out for truff and peel."
* * * * *{512}
_Margaret's Flood_.--Heavy rain is expected about the time of St.
Margaret's day (July 20th). It is called "Margaret's flood."
* * * * *
"Widdecombe folks are picking their geese,
Faster, faster, faster."
A saying among the parishes of the south coast during a snow-storm.
'Widdecombe' is "Widdecombe in the Dartmoors."
* * * * *
"Quiet sow, quiet mow."
A saying with reference to land or lease held on lives. If the seed is
sown without notice of the death of the life, the corn may be reaped,
although the death took place before the sowing.
* * * * *
Bees.--
"If they swarm in May,
They're worth a pound next day.
If they swarm in July,
They're not worth a fly."
Bees must never be bought. It is best to give a sack of wheat for a
hive.
* * * * *
_Dinnick_ is the Devonshire name of a small bird, said to follow and
feed the cuckoo.
* * * * *
A cat will not remain in a house with an unburied corpse; and rooks will
leave the place until after the funeral, if the rookery be near the
house.
* * * * *
It is proper to make a low bow whenever a single magpie is seen.
* * * * *
It is not considered safe to plant a bed of lilies of the valley; the
person doing so will probably die in the course of the next twelve
months.
* * * * *
Where the rainbow rests, is a crock of gold.
* * * * *
A cork under the pillow is a certain cure for cramp.
* * * * *
Seven different herbs must be used for making a herb poultice.
"The editor remembers a female relation of a former vicar of St.
Erth, who, instructed by a dream, prepared decoctions of various
herbs, and repairing to the Land's End, poured them into the sea,
with certain incantations, with the expectation of seeing the
Lionesse rise immediately out of the water having all its
inhabitants alive, notwithstanding their long immersion."--Davies
Gilbert's _Cornwall_, vol. iii. p. 310.
* * * * *
If the fire blazes up brightly when the crock is hung up, it is a sign
there is a stranger coming.
* * * * *
_Cure for Thrush_.--Take the child to a running stream, draw a straw
through its mouth, and repeat the verse, "Out of the mouth of babes and
sucklings," &c.
* * * * *
A creature of enormous size, called a "bull-frog," is believed to live
under the foundation stones of old houses, hedges, &c. I remember having
heard it spoken of with great awe.
* * * * *
_Hen and Chickens._--In a parish adjoining Dartmoor is a green fairy
ring of considerable size, within which a black hen and chickens are
occasionally seen at nightfall.
The vicar of a certain Devonshire parish was a distinguished student of
the black art, and possessed a large collection of mysterious books and
manuscripts. During his absence at church, one of his servants visited
his study, and finding a large volume open on the desk, imprudently
began to read it aloud. He had scarcely read half a page when the sky
became dark, and a great wind shook the house violently; still he read
on; and in the midst of the storm the door flew open, and a black hen
and chickens came into the room. They were of the ordinary size when
they first appeared, but gradually became larger and larger, until the
hen was of the bigness of a good sized ox. At this point the vicar
suddenly closed his discourse, and dismissed his congregation, saying he
was wanted at home, and hoped he might arrive there in time. When he
entered the chamber the hen was already touching the ceiling. But he
threw down a bag of rice, which stood ready in the corner; and whilst
the hen and chickens were busily picking up the grains, he had time to
reverse the spell.--(Ceridwer takes the form of a hen in the _Hanes
Taliesin_.) I believe a hen and chickens is sometimes found on the
bosses of early church roofs. A sow and pigs certainly are. A black sow
and pigs haunt many cross roads in Devonshire.
* * * * *
The _Dewerstone_ is a lofty mass of rock rising above the bed of the
Plym, on the southern edge of Dartmoor. During a deep snow, the traces
of a naked human foot and of a cloven hoof were found ascending to the
highest point. The valley below is haunted by a black headless dog.
Query, is it Dewerstone, Tiwes-tun, or Tiwes-stan?--(Kemble's _Saxons_,
vol. i. p. 351.)
* * * * *
The great Cromlech at Drewsteignton is said to have been erected by
three _spinsters_ (meaning _spinners_); another legend says by three
young men. The first is the more usual saying. The Cromlech is generally
called "The Spinster's Rock." Rowe (_Dartmoor_, p. 99.) suggests that
the three spinsters were the Valkyrien, or perhaps the Fates. He is no
doubt right.
* * * * *
Rock and stone legends abound. A great quoit on the top of Heltor is
said to have been thrown {513} there by the Devil during fight with King
Arthur. Adin's Hole (Etin's) is the name of a sea cavern near Torquay;
another is Daddy's Hole. The Devil long hindered the building of
Buckfastleigh Church, which stands on the top of a steep hill. A stone,
at about the distance of a mile, has the marks of his finger and thumb.
The stone circles, &c. on Dartmoor, are said to have been made "when
there were wolves on the hills, and winged serpents in the low lands."
On the side of Belstone Tor, near Oakhampton, is a small grave circle
called "Nine Stones." It is said to dance every day at noon.
* * * * *
Whoever shall find the treasure hidden in Ringmore Down, may plough with
a golden plough-share, and yoke his oxen with golden cross-sticks.
R.J.K.
A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
The following carol has not, I believe, been printed in any of the
modern collections; certainly it is not in those of Mr. Sandys and Mr.
Wright. It is copied from Ad. MS. Brit. Mus. 15,225, a manuscript of the
time of James I. It may, perhaps, bethought appropriate for insertion in
your Christmas number. I have modernised the orthography.
A CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY.
Rejoice, rejoice, with heart and voice,
For Christ his birth this day rejoice.
1.
From Virgin's womb to us this day did spring
The precious seed that only saved man;
This day let man rejoice and sweetly sing,
Since on this day salvation first began.
This day did Christ man's soul from death remove,
With glorious saints to dwell in heaven above.
2.
This day to man came pledge of perfect peace,
This day to man came love and unity,
This day man's grief began for to surcease,
This day did man receive a remedy
For each offence, and every deadly sin,
With guilt of heart that erst he wander'd in.
3.
In Christ his flock let love be surely placed,
From Christ his flock let concord hate expel,
In Christ his flock let love be so embraced,
As we in Christ, and Christ in us, may dwell.
Christ is the author of all unity,
From whence proceedeth all felicity.
4.
O sing unto this glittering glorious King,
And praise His name let every living thing;
Let heart and voice, let bells of silver, ring,
The comfort that this day to us did bring;
Let lute, let shawm, with sound of sweet delight,
The joy of Christ his birth this day recite.
BUON. ERIC.
A NOTE FOR LITTLE BOYS.
In order that all good little boys who take an interest in the
"NOTES AND QUERIES" may know how much more lucky it is for them
to be little boys now, than it was in the ancient times, I would wish
them to be informed of the cruel manner in which even good little boys
were liable to be treated by the law of the Ripuarians. When a sale of
land took place it was required that there should be twelve witnesses,
and with these as many boys, in whose presence the price of the land
should be paid, and its formal surrender take place; and then the boys
were beaten, and their ears pulled, so that the pain thus inflicted upon
them should make an impression upon their memory, and that they might,
if necessary, be afterwards witnesses as to the sale and delivery of the
land. (_Lex Ripuarium LX., de Traditionibus et Testibus._) In a note of
Balucius upon this passage he states:
"A practice somewhat similar to this prevails in our our times, for
in some of the provinces, whenever a notorious criminal is condemned
to death, parents bring their sons with them to the place of
execution, and, at the moment that he is put to death, they whip
their children with rods, so that being thus excited by their own
sufferings, and by seeing the punishment inflicted on another for
his sins, they may ever bear in mind how necessary it is for them,
in their progress through life, to be prudent and virtuous."--_Rev.
Gall. et Franc. Script._, vol. iv. p. 277. n.e.
W.B. MACCABE.
SIMILARITY OF TRADITIONS.
Having recently met with some curious instances of the extent to which
the same or similar traditions extend themselves, not only in our own
country, but in Wales and France, I have "made a note" of them for your
service.
_Burying in the church wall_ is supposed to be burying in neutral
ground.
In the north wall of the church of Tremeirchion, near the banks of the
Elwy, North Wales (described by Pennant, vol. ii. p. 139.), is the tomb
of a former vicar, Daffydd Ddu, or the black of Hiradduc, who was vicar
of the parish, and celebrated as a necromancer, flourishing about 1340.
Of him the tradition is, that he proved himself more clever than the
Wicked One himself. A bargain was made between them that the vicar
should practise the black art with impunity during his life, but that
the Wicked One should possess his body after death, whether he were
buried within or without the church; and that the worthy vicar cheated
his ally of his bargain by being buried neither within nor without the
church, but in the wall itself.
A very similar tradition exists at Brent Pelham, Hertfordshire, with
reference to the tomb of Pierce Shonke, which was also in the wall. He
is said to have died A.D. 1086. Under the feet of the figure {514} was
a "cross flourie, and under the cross a serpent" (Weever, p. 549.), and
the inscription is thus translated in Chauncy's _Hertfordshire_, p. 143:
"Nothing of Cadmus nor St. George, those names
Of great renown, survives them, but their fames;
Time was so sharp set as to make no bones
Of theirs nor of their monumental stones,
But _Shonke_ one serpent kills, t'other defies,
And in this wall as in a fortress lyes."
Whilst in the north wall of Rouen Cathedral is the tomb of an early
archbishop, who having accidentally killed a man by hitting him with a
soup ladle, because the soup given by the servant to the poor was of an
inferior quality, thought himself unworthy of a resting-place within the
church, and disliking to be buried without, was interred in the wall
itself.
_Miraculous Cures for Lameness._--The holy well _Y fynnon fair_, or Our
Lady's Well, near Pont yr allt Gôch, close to the Elwy, has to this day
the reputation of curing lameness so thoroughly, that those who can
reach it walking on crutches may fling their crutches away on their
return home. Welsh people still come several miles over the hills to
this holy spring. A whole family was there when I visited its healing
waters last month.
The same virtue is ascribed at Rouen to a walk to the altar at St.
Katherine's Church, at the top of St. Katherine's Hill, where the
cast-off crutches have been preserved. In the latter case something less
than a miracle may account for the possibility of going away without
crutches; for they may be required to mount to a lofty eminence, and may
well be dispensed with on coming down: but as this supposition would
lessen the value of a tradition implicitly believed, of course all
sensible men will reject it at once.
WM. DURANT COOPER.
81. Guilford Street.
PIXEY LEGENDS.
In reference to your correspondent H.G.T.'s article on _pixies_ (Vol.
ii., p. 475.), allow me to say that I have read the distich which he
quotes in a tale to the following effect:--In one of the southern
counties of England--(all the pixey tales which I have heard or read
have their seat laid in the south of England)--there lived a lass who
was courted and wed by a man who, after marriage, turned out to be a
drunkard, neglecting his work, which was that of threshing, thereby
causing his pretty wife to starve. But after she could bear this no
longer, she dressed herself in her husband's clothes (whilst he slept
off the effects of his drunkenness), and went to the barn to do her
husband's work. On the morning of the second day, when she went to the
barn, she found a large pile of corn threshed, which she had not done;
and so she found, for three or four days, her pile of corn doubled. One
night she determined to watch and see who did it, and carrying her
intention into practice, she saw a little pixey come into the barn with
a tiny flail, with which he set to work so vigorously that he soon
threshed a large quantity. During his work he sang,
"Little Pixey, fair and slim,
Without a rag to cover him."
The next day the good woman made a complete suit of miniature clothes,
and hung them up behind the barn door, and watched to see what _pixey_
would do. I forgot to mention that he hung his flail behind the door
when he had done with it.
At the usual time the pixey came to work, went to the door to take down
his flail, and saw the suit of clothes, took them down, and put them on
him, and surveyed himself with a satisfied air, and sang
"Pixey fine, and pixie gay.
Pixey now must fly away."
It then flew away, and she never saw it more.
In this tale the word was invariably spelt "pixey."
TYSIL.