Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts

Sunday, 18 December 2022

THE OLDTIME YULETIDE ADVENT CALENDAR - Day 18


Welcome dear friends back to the Hypnogoria Old-time Yuletide Advent Calendar! It’s time to open Door 18 and let fly in R for Robin! 

Despite being a frequent visitor to our gardens all the year round, this little bird is inextricably entwined with the Christmas season. But why? Well, there is much folklore surrounding the robin. For example, it has long been considered to be very bad luck indeed to injure or kill a robin. However there are also many legends as to why the robin has a red breast, and one of these does tie into the robin’s connection to Christmas. 

According to this tale, after Jesus was born, the night grew bitterly cold, and the small fire in the draughty Bethlehem stable began to dwindle. Joseph ventured out to find more wood but while he was away gathering winter fuel, the fire started to go out.  However, just as the flames started to die, a group of little brown birds flew into the stable and began circling the fire and fanned the flames once more, and the fire roared back to life. These compassionate little fellows were of course robins and to commemorate their kindness from that day onward they have sported bright red breasts.

However, scholars who have studied the development of Christmas customs believe the robin's link with the festive season comes from far more recent events. David Lack, author of The Life of the Robin (1972) traces our present day association of robins with Christmas from a modern Yuletide custom - the sending of Christmas cards. 


Now the early Christmas cards weren't exactly like the ones we know today - for example, early designs had spring flowers rather than winter scenes. And furthermore, cards were just part of a range of Christmas themed stationery that flourished in what would become the golden age of the postal service. Hence while folks on modest incomes would send the usual cards we have, the more well off folks had envelopes, calling cards and paper for letter writing with illustrated headers. And a common feature of the matching designs on these festive stationery items was a robin, often with a letter in its beak.

And the reason for this was that postmen in the UK at the time wore a bright red tunic, earning them the nicknames Robins or Redbreasts. Naturally, with the whimsy typical of greetings card art, soon robins were regularly being depicted as postmen on various cards. And indeed robins were popular not just on Christmas cards but also the early Valentine's Day cards and New Year’s cards too. However as each special day developed its own distinct iconography, the robin redbreast was left to rule the Christmas cards, and there they have remained and thrived ever since. 

Interestingly, much like other famous icons of Christmas such holly and ivy, old Norse traditions hold that robins give protection against storms and lightning. Furthermore, the folklore around the robin continues to evolve in the modern day. For in the twentieth century, a new folk saying emerged, and one that has gained huge popularity - “When robins appear, loved ones are near” which reflects a belief that when a robin is nearby the spirits of our dear departed and with them too. Now, I cannot speak to the truth of this, but at Christmas when our thoughts often turn to those who we can no longer share the Yuletide with, it is nice to think that they are near when we are visited by one of these bright and colourful,  friendly little birds. 


DIRECT DOWNLOAD THE OLDTIME YULETIDE ADVENT CALENDAR - Day 18


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Friday, 28 April 2017

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - One for Sorrow


Angurs and understood relations have
(By magotpies, and choughs, and rooks) brought forth
The secret’st man of blood.
       
from Macbeth Act iii. sc4

The Magpie (Pica pica), with its striking black and white plumage, is one of the most distinctive British birds. And given that this bird's bold patterns of black and white feathers make it stand out wherever one alights, it is perhaps not surprising that sighting such a noticeable bird should be widely considered an omen of something or other. I say something or other, because the magpie enjoys something of a mixed reputation; it doesn't have the friendly, cosy reputation enjoyed by the blackbird, nor quite the sinister aura of its near relatives crows and ravens. Instead the magpie is somewhere in between, a cheery bird, a bit of a  cheeky chappie, but also something of a rogue - after all they are famed for their love of stealing bright, shiny objects. 

Now many birds have various folk meanings attached to them, indeed there are whole branches of divination relating to interpreting sightings of birds.  A common British superstition is that sighting a magpie is considered to be ill luck, and it is commonly held in many regions that saluting the bird will ward off the misfortune. However we should note that this applies only to spotting a lone magpie, for according to old folk rhymes the number of magpies you see signifies different things. 

It is often said that the first recorded instances of one of these magpie counting rhymes is found in an old book on folklore, indeed one of the early pioneering works in the field, Observations on Popular Antiquities by John Brand, published in 1777. However this is not true, for the original edition makes no mention of magpies. Actually the first recorded magpie rhyme appears in a later edition published in 1842, that was significantly enlarged and annotated by Sir Henry Ellis. Ellis added a wealth of new material and in his extensive notes quotes a different 18th century source on the subject of magpie lore -
In the Supplement to Johnson and Steeven's Shakespeare, 8 vols, Lond, 1780, vol. ii. p, 706, it is said that the Magpie is called, in the West, to this hour, a Magatipie, and the import of the augury is determined by the number of birds that are seen together:
One for sorrow,
Two for mirth,
Three for a funeral
And four for birth. 
A mere four years later, another 19th century folklorist Michael Aislabie Denham would gives us an enlarged variant version of this rhyme -
According to the number of magpies you see at one and the same time when going a journey, etc., you may calculate your luck as follows:- 
One for sorrow,
Two for luck (varia. mirth);
Three for a wedding,
Four for death (varia. birth);
Five for silver.
Six for gold;
Seven for a secret.
Not to be told;
Eight for heaven,
Nine for ____ ,
And ten for the Devil's own sell ! 
from Proverbs and Popular Saying of the Seasons (1846) by MA Denham

Some years later, a very similar Scottish version was noted by E. Cobham Brewer in his famous reference work, an almost compressed Cliffs' Notes version from north of the border -
One’s sorrow, two’s mirth,
Three’s a wedding, four’s a birth,
Five’s a christening, six a dearth,
Seven’s heaven, eight is hell,
And nine’s the, devil his ane sel’
from Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1898)

Of course it is from these old rhymes that we get the traditional British version that became well known in the 19th and 20th centuries, and that I'm sure most of you are familiar with - 
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.
However where things get somewhat muddled is when we come to the matter of additional verses. What pray tell does seeing eight or nine magpies foretell? If you ask some one who grew up in the '70s, they may well give you these additional lines - 

Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten for a bird,
You must not miss

Now as it happens, these extra verses are not from the annals of folklore, but from a popular childrens TV show. Launched in 1968, and running until 1980, ITV's Magpie was a long running magazine show for kids, whose mascot was a cartoon magpie called Murgatroyd. The show's theme tune was written and performed by the Murgatroyd Band, who were actually moonlighting members do the Spencer Davis Group, who adapted some regional variations to create the lyrics. 



The lyrics seems to mainly derived from a Lancashire variant version which features elements of the Scottish version recorded by Brewer and adds a few more numbers into the mix -

Eight for a wish
Nine for a kiss
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss
Eleven for health
Twelve for wealth
Thirteen beware it’s the devil himself.

Now it is sometimes claimed that the popularity of the Magpie TV show meant that traditional regional variants were wiped out by the nationally broadcast theme tune lyrics. However whenever the subject of the magpie counting rhyme is mentioned, plenty of folks are keen to share variations, in particular relating to numbers from eight and above. For example, a common one is - 
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten for a time of joyous bliss
Also still quite well-known is this version that covers you for seeing up to a dozen magpies - 
Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten for a letter,
Eleven for worse
And twelve for better
In Warwickshire, they have something similar, and count magpies over seven like this - 

Eight bring wishing
Nine bring kissing
Ten, the love my own heart's missing!

While in the grand county of Yorkshire, apparently this version is still alive well (presumably in playgrounds judging from the last line) - 
Eight you live
Nine you die
Ten you eat a bogey pie!
Another somewhat rude version - and therefore no doubt popular with kids - goes like this -

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for rich,
Six for poor,
Seven for a bitch,
Eight for a whore,
Nine for a funeral,
Ten for a dance,
Eleven for England,
Twelve for France

Somewhat more family friendly versions of this variant are well-known too. One just goes up to seven, with the bitch becoming a witch, while folk singer Maddie Prior, singer with Steeleye Span, gave us this version in a song entitled Magpie on her solo LP Seven for Old England (2008) -

One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a wedding
Four for a boy
Five for a fiddler
Six for a dance
Seven for Old England
and Eight for France

And so, while few these days put any store in the alleged prophetic pronouncements concerning the number of magpies you may see, certainly the associated counting rhymes continue to live on. They have survived being turned into a TV theme and rock records, and no doubt will carry on spawning new variants for a good few years yet...


Thursday, 1 December 2016

FOLKLORE FLASHBACK #17 When the Red Red Robin....


Well dear friends, currently it would appear that certain waterfowls appear to be ballooning and elderly gentlemen are reporting their headgear filling up with loose change. This can only mean one thing - Christmas is coming once again!  And to get you in the come for the coming festivities, here's a little series I wrote exploring the folklore behind one of the great icons of Yuletide, the humble robin redbreast! 

Part 1 - In which we examine superstitions surrounding the robin redbreast
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2014/11/folklore-on-friday-who-killed-cock-robin.html

Part 2 - The origin of these supserstitions and the robins role in Babes in the Woods
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/folklore-on-fridays-robin-in-woods.html



Part 3 - the folklore behind Babes in the Woods
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/folklore-on-friday-babes-in-woods.html

Part 4 - The robin and his associations with Christmas
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/12/microgoria-22-christmas-and-robin.html

Furthermore, if all of that looks like an awful lot of reading, last Christmas I created an audio version, adapting this little series into a podcast, which you can find here -

http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/12/microgoria-22-christmas-and-robin.html


Friday, 25 November 2016

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Species of Spectres Part VI


Welcome once again dear friends to another instalment of Species of Spectres in which we attempt to devise categories to classify assorted ghosts and ghouls. Now last time we were looking at Animal Apparitions, and discovered that according to folklore the most common varieties of spectral creatures are two species that have had a long relationship with humanity, horses and dogs. However what of our feathered friends?

Now in the realm of folklore there are many supernatural beliefs associated with birds, but most usually these are related to the presence of birds at certain times, i.e. seeing a certain type of bird is good luck, while the appearance of another is a harbinger of misfortune. More closely relating to all things ghostly, it is commonly held that the absence of birds a sure sign a particular place is haunted - no birds will nest in the eaves of a haunted house, and in lonely countryside places where uncanny things are said to walk there will be no sound of birdsong. For example, at Nibley Green, Gloucester in 1469, the troops of Thomas Talbot, 2nd Viscount Lisle and William Berkeley, 2nd Baron Berkeley fought a terrible battle. And it is said the soldiers who perished there were buried in a mass grave in a nearby wood. Sightings of ghostly soldiers have been reported there, and it is said that no bird sings in that particular stretch of woodland.

Actual spectral birds however are another matter, and although uncommon there are enough accounts of avian apparitions to separate into three groups. Firstly we have simply the shades of bird that have ceased to be… The famous ghost hunter Elliot O'Donnell reported that at a house on Dean Street, London, a phantom black bird was often seen by locals. While not far away a house on Great Russell Street was prey to a phantom magpie that would tap on the windows,  before appearing inside perching on a phantom baton that floats in thin air. In Leamington, an old (and now demolished) house called Brookhurst was a Sonic Spectre ( is a ghost that is only heard) which manifested as the sounds of a large bird flapping round the place. As many varieties of birds have been tamed and kept by folks, it's not surprising there are a good few accounts of feathered friends returning from beyond the grave. Once upon a time, the Blue Bell Inn at Tushingham, Cheshire had a pet duck that playfully pecked at patrons ankles, a practice it perpetuated even after it perished, and its psychic predations were only prevented thanks to pious priests exorcising the phantom fowl!

However, aside from mere ghosts of birds that have joined the choir invisible, many old legends tell of phantom fliers that appear serve to a specific purpose. The first are harbingers, usually appearing to foretell a death. For a typical example of this, let us call in at Salisbury, where it is said that when a Bishop is going to die, two spectral white birds appear, either hovering over his house or on the roof of the cathedral. In a similar fashion it is said when there is to be a death in the family a flitting white bird-shaped apparition flaps about Arundel Castle and taps at the windowpane. A rarer variant of these traditions is recorded in Bangor, where at the Faenol estate, trespassers are warned away by the eerie crying of a spectral bird. And it is said that this particular avian apparitions is actually the ghost of a man executed for stealing timber from there, now doomed to warn others of the perils of theft.  


Finally we have a strong body of lore that tells of more fearsome feathered phantoms. At Temple Grafton in Warwickshire, there is a hill called Rolls Wood Hill. However locally it is also known as Alcocks Arbour, as it is claimed that the notorious highwayman John Alcock hid a cache of buried treasure there. However these riches are guarded by a demonic cockerel, and despite the risk of sounding like Tim the Enchanter from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, I must warn you that while this guardian sounds ridiculous it is not to be messed with. For the last fellow who attempted to retrieve the treasure was eaten alive by the evil avian! And the only way to gain safe passage past the creature is to be holding one of Alcock’s bones, which I fear are in somewhat short supply these days…

 There is a similar tale told of Bransil Castle in Herefordshire - once again it said that there is a hidden hoard of riches, guarded by a huge black bird, who may only be warded off by holding the bones of Lord Beauchamp who allegedly buried the treasure in the first place. And there are many more legends of supernatural treasure guardians that take the shape of birds. Interestingly these feathered fiends are very often described as having black plumage.

In Shorwell on the Isle of Wight, there is said to be a treasure chest buried in a quiet wood, beneath an elm tree. However if that sounds like a road to easy wealth, once again beware, for it is guarded by a fearsome spirit in the shape of a large black bird. Likewise at Penyard Castle at Weston Penyard in Herefordshire there is said to be more buried treasure, again guarded by a hideous black bird. While at Verwood in Dorset, there is a large rock known variously as St Stephen's Stone, the Hoarstone, or simply the Verwood Stone. And beneath this stone is said to be a hidden golden vessel containing yet another stash of treasure. However once again, these riches are guarded by a black bird that attacks anyone who tries to claim it. 

Next time we will be further considering Animal Apparitions, looking at some of the odder ghostly creatures that lurk in folklore and legend...


Sunday, 6 December 2015

MICROGORIA 22 - Christmas and the Robin


In this special festive episode, Mr Jim Moon explores the legends and lore surrounding that favourite Christmas bird, the robin redbreast. We learn of superstitions and old tales of the robin, and discover some interesting links with the tale of Babes in the Wood, pantomimes, ghost stories, MR James and other many other fascinating and festive things!


DIRECT DOWNLOAD -  Christmas and the Robin

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Friday, 13 February 2015

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Valentine's Lore


Well it's that time of year when the shops are filled with hearts and flowers, love is in the air, and there is much rejoicing among card manufacturers! And thus it ever was, all the way back to Roman times, or at least so the received wisdom would have you believe. However as ever in the shifting world of folklore, things are not always what they seem. Now according to a slew of articles and puff pieces that surface every February, St. Valentine's Day is a Christianization of an ancient festival held back in the days of Classical paganism.

In Graeco-Roman times, according to some, young folks had marriages set up by drawing lots: names were placed in an urn and picked out at random, pairing up the lads and lasses. And according to others, as well as this romantic lottery, this was part of a wild festival celebrating werewolves. Now as appealing as both these sound, sadly both of these claims are what we historians call - confusing technical terms alert! - "poppycock", "claptrap" and "flapdoddle". For both these claims are at best wildly inaccurate and their connection to the origins of Valentine's day suspect at best.

Now there was a Roman festival, held from the 13th to the 15th of February, called Lupercalia. However it must be noted that this was very much a local custom, a festival held pretty much exclusively in Rome as there are only scant references to Lupercalia being held anywhere else. Therefore it wasn't a custom that spread throughout the Roman Empire, so it couldn't possibly be the seeding a proto-Valentine's day across Europe.

Lupercalia's purpose was thought to be to cleanse the city of evil spirits and usher in the spring, however there is a good deal of mystery about it. Often it is said that its name was from derived from a Lycaean god Lupercus, a god originally worshipped by shepherds and identified with the better known Roman deity Faunus and the Greek Pan. However as this was a set of customs peculiar to the city of Rome, it has also been claimed that it was a celebration of Lupa, the she-wolf who according to legend suckled that ancient city's  founders, Romulus and Remus. Furthermore many other gods have been referenced as part of the celebrations such as Juno, queen of the Roman gods, and the afore-mentioned Pan and Faunus. Also often invoked in Lupercalia was Februus, a god of purification from whom we get the name February.


Indeed it is thought that Lupercalia grew out of imported Greek practices fusing with different aspects of local cult worship around the core of an earlier festival honouring Februus, called Februa. Hence these celebrations held on the Ides of February were not dedicated to the worship of any one god or spring solely from one religious tradition but were actually a folk amalgam of many different rites. Interestingly this festival was so old that even Classical writers of the time were not sure of its history - much like our own folk festivals that survive today, its origins and exact meaning had long been forgotten by the Romans although the practice still continued.

The main event of Lupercalia was the sacrifice of two goats and a dog. Young men of the city were annointed with the blood of the animal, and then led by the priests and dressed in goatskins and/or going naked, ran round the walls of the old city, presumably to scare off the afore-mentioned evil spirits. They carried freshly cut strips of hide from the sacrifices and playfully whipping the ground and the spectators with the newly cut thongs to purify them. It was considered good fortune to be whipped, and for ladies it would ensure fertility and easier births, for it was a common belief in the ancient world that if one was purified, one would be healthy, happy, fortunate and fertile. 

However by 1 AD the festival was largely a somewhat rowdy drunken affair, with Lupercalia appearing to have more in common with the kind of beery, bawdy mischief that football teams get up to than a serious religious festival. Indeed for this reason, it was outlawed at the end of the 5th century as it was felt the festival was something of a public disgrace. So then, while undoubtedly there was a link to fertility and the spring in the festival, Lupercalia had little or nothing to do with Roman marriage customs, and in its later centuries appears to have been about as romantic as a fraternity kegger. More damningly however, no Classical source mentions any custom of drawing of lots for romance or marriage or just for fun. Furthermore there are no archaeological discoveries of artifacts used in such practices, and no frescos, statuary or artworks depicting the custom either. So while it is a quaint story, without any historical evidence that is all it is.

Now then as for the werewolf festival claims, I'm afraid that as fun as this sounds, this too is without historical basis. Or rather its alleged historical basis is actually the result of sloppy research. This lycanthropic origin for Valentine's Day appears to have surfaced only relatively recently in the last few years but has taken root on the internet. So now it gets gets bandied about every February, with all sundry being too busy making "Happy Horny Werewolf Day!" cracks to bother to check any sources.

The first alleged link is a misunderstanding of the nature of the god Lupercus. While his name is linked with wolves, he wasn't a lupine god at all. He was portrayed as a satyr i.e. a figure half man, half goat, hence his identification withe the Greek Geek and the Roman Faunus.  Now you can go a long way in history and folklore by analyzing the etymology of words and names, however simply equating two words or names as the same as they sound similar is doing a half a job at best. So simply equating "Lupercus" with the word for wolf "lupus" does not suddenly make him a wolf god or werewolf deity without a shred of any other supporting evidence. The consensus among historians is that his name actually means "he who protects from wolves" - which makes more sense for a pastoral goat god originally worshipped by shepherds.

Lupercus/Faunus - clearly not a werewolf

Similarly some writers peddling the werewolf festival line have pointed out that Lupercus was identified with Pan, who was sometimes referred to as Pan Lycaeus. Now "lycaeus" is derived from the Greek word for wolf and hence these unwise fellows have assumed that this meant that Pan, another goat god, had a wolf form In fact several Greek gods sported the tag 'Lycaeus' such as Zeus and Apollo, but it actually refers to Mount Lykaion. While its name in Greek means literally 'wolf mountain', this location in Greece is very important in Classical myth, and hence these gods all had their own mythological links to it and shrines to them built on it. Therefore "Lycaeus" is usually interpreted as a geographical honorific, with a secondary school of thought taking the alternative view that it means "Protector against wolves". Either way, Classical scholars are very sure it does not denote a wolf form of these gods, and certainly is not a sign of divine werewolvry! Other dubious claims of wolvish links are made with the detail of a sacrifice of a dog, alleging it was a substitute for a wolf. However according to Classical scholarship, dogs were a standard animal to sacrifice in many Roman rites, and if there was any symbolic significance for the choice of sacrifices in the festival of Lupercalia, it is thought that the sacrifice of two goats and a dog are thought to represent a flock and its protector.

The final misunderstanding and the one central to the werewolf festival flapdoodle, is the erroneous idea that the dressing in the skins of the sacrifices was some specious ritual transformation into wolves. Now this would be a reasonable assumption... if they were wolf pelts, in a wolf ritual, to honour a wolf god. But as it was goatskins donned, it was clearly to emulate the satyr gods of Lupercus, Faunus and Pan. Furthermore in a festival linked to shepherding and farming, the idea of celebrating wolves, never mind werewolves, is nonsensical at best. Again there is no mention of wolves, let alone werewolves in contemporary Classical sources, and the iconography for the festival found in surviving Roman statuary and the like, clearly shows a strong ovine theme, with rams and ewe heads and not a wolf insight. All of which rather definitively slays the werewolf festival myth.
Roman representation of Lupercali from of the end of the reign of Trajan

So then having debunked these two modern myths, where did these oft repeated Graeco-Roman origin claims come from? Well, they actually appear relatively late in the day, in an 18th century work Lifes of the Principal Saints. The author Alban Butler writes -
To abolish the heathen, lewd, superstitious custom of boys drawing the names of girls, in honour of their goddess Februata Juno, on the 15th of February, several zealous Pastors substituted the names of Saints in billets given on that day. 
Now while Februata Juno is thought to be a confused reference to Lupercalia and the earlier festival of Febra, as we have established, there is no mention in Classical sources of this custom of drawing lots. However being a respected source, Butler's claims have been repeated without question for many years and it is only relatively recently that scholars began to question his claims. Now as we have established there is not historical evidence for this alleged Roman custom, but as generations of historians, scholars and folklorists accepted Butler's account  thus the modern erroneous myth of a Graeco-Roman origin for Valentine's Day was born. 

However it is some truth in what Butler says. And that is that as far back as the 15th century, romantic matches were being made by lottery in mid February in Europe. Given the prominence of Classical origins in many of our old customs, Butler perhaps can be forgiven for attributing Roman roots to what was a common medieval custom.


From sources that document this tradition, it would appear that this wasn't necessarily a serious practice - back in those times marriages were carefully arranged affairs to consolidate land, titles and power. Rather it seems to have been a playful game popular in the courts of kings and nobles. It was so popular and widespread that later the custom spread down through society and down through the ages, to the extent it was still being played in 19th century - with Scottish poet Robert Burns mentioning choosing a valentine by drawing lots in the song Tam Glen. Indeed rather than betrothal by lottery, it appears to have been more cross between a party game and a sort of loose form of divination. 

But having debunked the Roman origins, where does this curious custom of romance by chance come from, and why the association between romance and mid February? Well it would appear we can blame Chaucer for this. Actually that is possibly a little unfair - rather it is in a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer that we have the first recorded instance of an odd medieval belief that was to set this romantic ball rolling. In Parlement of Foules, thought to have been penned around 1382Chaucer writes -

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

And for those of you who don't speak Middle English that means -

For this was on St. Valentine's Day, 
When every bird cometh there to choose his mate.
 
Yes, in medieval lore there was said to be an exact day when our feathered friends paired up for the year, a date for the annual marriage of the birds. And this is the seed of both the drawing of lots custom, and later of Valentine's Day itself.

Now some scholars have questioned whether Chaucer's "seynt Volantynys day" actually refers to February 14th. They claim that later an astronomical process called the precession of the equinoxes would have changing the date of the start of spring, and therefore when Chaucer was writing it would be too early in the year for birds to be mating. So then, it has been suggested that perhaps he was referring to the later celebration of another Valentine, the feast of Valentine of Genoa which falls on May 3rd in the liturgical calendar.


However the idea he might not have been referencing February 14th is based on the underlying assumption that Chaucer is referring to an actual belief concerning the nature of birds. But examining scholarly interpretations of the poem, this marriage of the birds is often considered to be a poetic invention for his narrative. Partly this is due to there being no other written precedent for this belief, it is only every mentioned in other poems by John Gower, Otton de Grandson and Pardo of Valencia. And difficulties in dating all these worthy gentlemen's verses make it impossible to say whether they were written before or after Chaucer put quill to vellum. Either way it would appear to be a poetic conceit rather than authentic folklore, for the mythic tone and themes of Parlement of Foulesrather suggest it is a legend invented specially for the narrative of the verse.

But if we are to entertain the possibility that  Chaucer was documenting actual contemporary lore, which have have lost other sources for, it would still be most unwise to assume that folks of his time believed in an actual marriage of birds occurring on a set day. Firstly bear in mind that the people of Chaucer's day lived in an agrarian society and were far more aware of the habits and life cycles of local wildlife than us modern townies, and hence they were very unlikely to believe such a whimsical idea. Furthermore medieval people, very much at the mercy of the whims of the British climate, would know very well that despite the vernal equinox marking the start of spring in astronomical and calendar terms, in reality spring coming was a variable event, dependent on the local weather. Some years it would come early and birds indeed may start nesting in February, but in other years February might be lost in swathes of snow, still in the depths of winter. Therefore there could have been no real expectation that spring would actually have to start on any arbitrary date. 

A modern analogy would be having a white Christmas - that is what is depicted in our seasonal imagery, and what we hope for, but we know that it is not guaranteed, or timetabled to snow at the end of December. The medieval world view was one that was rich in symbol, allegory and metaphor, and hence if February 14th was popularly held to be the date of the marriage of the birds, it would be understood as a symbolic event marking the coming of spring, and not as biology or natural history. Therefore we can safe assume that Chaucer meant the usual date, and as further evidence will confirm.  

Geoffrey Chaucer - it's all his fault 

But no matter where it originates, whether as poetic fancy or a genuine lost piece of medieval lore, the link between St.Valentine's Day and romantic love had been made. And thanks to its appearances in poetry, the idea soon gained popularity. This was after all the age when 'courtly love' was all the rage, and poets like Chaucer were its standard bearers in literature. Therefore it is perhaps unsurprising that Valentine's Day was to become the focus for romantic activities. Now as to which St. Valentine's Day Chaucer is referring, confirmation that it was the usual date comes around two decades later. For King Charles V of France held an event named 'The Court of Love' on the 14th of February in the year 1400, which featured feasting, jousting and competitions in writing amorous verse. This is widely accepted to be the very first St. Valentine's Day party. 


Further into the 15th century, we have the earliest valentine love poems appearing, and into the sixteenth century we have Chaucer's bird tradition and the love customs now fused together, with poets Michael Drayton and Robert Herrick referring to the avian lore in their love poems To His Valentine and To His Valentine On St. Valentine's Day. And so Valentine's Day has been a tradition since the 15th century, and rather than emerging from a Christian whitewash of surviving Graeco-Roman pagan activities as Butler suggested, it would seem that our Valentine's customs are more the product of the culture and literature of courtly love that flourished in the Middle Ages. Indeed even the legends attached to St. Valentine that link him to the practice of sending cards are an addition to his mythology that appear well after the courtly love culture had invented and popularized Valentine's Day. And so despite having a saint's name and feast day, our Valentine's customs have their roots in literature and court entertainments rather than religious rites, pagan or Christian. Essentially it is a product of medieval pop culture! 


The first printed Valentine card from 1797


However the traditions have shifted and changed over the centuries. Most recently, in the latter years of the 20th century, Valentine's Day has became increasingly a couples' carnival - indeed to the extent it is regularly joked that old St. Val is now the patron saint of making single people feel like shit. But in centuries past it was more a day for finding love than celebrating an established relationship. And while love tokens were sent out to win hearts, it was also a day for a spot of romantic divination. So then let's round off with a look at some of the various charms and rites you could use to find yourself a valentine. 

Some were not dissimilar to the Valentine lotteries detailed above, allowing the forces of random chance to reveal your romantic destiny. For example, there was this common custom - you could write the names of possible beaus on strips of paper, wrap them up in clay, and then drop the clay pellets into a bowl of water - which ever roses to the surface first would reveal the name of your true love. 

In the poem The Shepherd's Week (1714) in the section Thursday, or The Spell, John Gay mentions another Valentine's folk belief (alongside many more similar charms and rites)  - 

Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind,
Their paramours with mutual chirpings find,
I early rose, just at the break of day,
Before the sun had chas'd the stars away;
A-field I went, amid the morning dew,
To milk my kine (for so should house-wives do).
Thee first I spied, and the first swain we see,
In spite of Fortune, shall our true love be.

Yes, from the 17th century right up to the 1920s, there was the superstition that the first person of the opposite sex you see on Valentine's Day morning was to be your valentine for that year. Regardless of who they were - the only stricture was that they were single. Unsurprisingly there are reports of an attendant tradition of young folks going about blindfolded or staying in indoors on Valentine's Day!

In a similar vein, and in a thankfully less arbitrary fashion, there also was folklore regarding the meaning of the first thing you saw on Valentine's Day morning. In Derbyshire, it was the custom to peep through the keyhole of the front door and divine your romantic prospects from what you saw - if you saw a single object or person, then you would be single for the rest of the year. If you saw two things or people together, you would be destined to meet some one special in the next twelve months. And if you spotted a cock and hen together, you would be married before the next Valentine's Day came around.


Keeping on the avian theme, and tying in nicely the old Chaucerian ideas of the bird "marriages", it was also said that the first bird a young lady saw on Valentine's Day morning was an omen of her future marriage prospects. There are several variations as to which bird means what but common ones are as follows - if it was a robin, she would marry a sailor, a blackbird signified a clergyman. A sparrow promised wedding a poor man but a happy married life, while a goldfinch presaged a wealthy husband to come. But a woodpecker meant you would forever stay single and never marry.

For the more adventurous, it was said that if you went to a graveyard at midnight the night before Valentine's Day, and ran round the church twelve times, then the ghostly shape of your future lover would appear before you. And finally if you had a very strong stomach you could try the following ritual to invoke a vision of your lover to be on Valentine's Eve. It starts simply enough - gather five bay leaves and pin them to your pillow, one in each corner and one in the middle. According to some versions, you must now sprinkle it with rosewater. Next take an egg, and hard boil it. Then slice it in half, remove the yolk and fill the cavity with salt. Yes, all of it! Then before going to bed you eat this specially prepared egg. And again - all of it! Yes, including the shell! Then after this highly unusual supper, before going to sleep, you recite the following charm - 
"Good valentine, be kind to me; In dreams, let me my true love see." 
And provided that a) you aren't up all night suffering with hideous indigestion, and b) can actually get a wink of sleep for bay leaves poking your face, you will then - allegedly - see the face of your one true love  in your dreams.

DISCLAIMER - The management accepts no responsibility for any ills that may befall you should you try this at home!

Friday, 5 December 2014

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAYS: Robin in the Woods


Last week we explored the folklore surrounding Britain's favourite garden bird, the humble robin redbreast. And we discovered a wealth of superstitions sharing the the common belief that of all the wild birds, the robin was not to be harmed. As A. E .Bray put it in 1838, "Very few children in this town would hurt the redbreast, as it is considered unlucky to do so; this bird being entitled to kindness... above every other". However why the robin has this folkloric reverence is something of a mystery, and one that has been much pondered for many centuries. Indeed in 1709, a somewhat angry sounding gentleman queried the readers of the British Apollo thus - 

Q. The Robin Red Breast is as malicious and Envious a Bird as any that flies... 
  I desire to know why many People should have so good an Esteem of this Bird,
as to account it a Crime to do it any  Injury

Sadly there is no recorded reply, however a few years later in 1713 the topic was raised again in the pages of the Guardian newspaper. And on May 21st the following theory was proposed - "As for Robin-redbreasts... 'Tis not improbable they owe their Security to the old Ballad of The Children in the Wood ". And that opinion was echoed by a later essayist writing in September 1735 in the Gentleman Magazine who remarked -

And thus the Robin Redbreast hath been the cause of great superstition among the common people of England ever since the silly story of The Children in the Wood. One great instance of this is their readiness to admit him in to their houses and feed him on all occasions; though certainly he is an impudent and as mischievous bird as ever that flew.

Now then, for those of you familiar with traditional British pantomimes, all of this will be ringing a Christmassy bell. And for those of you who are not, briefly allow me to explain. Pantomimes are a unique form of British theatrical entertainment performed over the Christmas season. They present versions, full of music and comedy, of well-known children's tales; traditionally fairy stories such as Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella, and Sleepy Beauty, and over the years tales from legend and childrens' classics have become pantomime staples too, such as Aladdin, Peter Pan and the Wizard of Oz .


Now one of the oldest pantomimes is Babes in the Wood, which is derived from the afore-mentioned old ballad. Like most pantomimes, Babes in the Wood is a story told in two acts. In the first we learn of two children, a boy and girl, who are orphaned and fostered with a guardian - sometimes a Wicked Uncle, sometime a baron, and sometimes even the Sheriff of Nottingham. Anyhow, this villain plots to dispose of the pair and steal their inheritance. Hence he arranges for the children to be taken into some woods by a pair of robbers and murdered. However one of the ruffians takes pity on the children, fights with his more coldblooded compatriot, and allows the children to escape into the forest.

Deep the woodland the children hide and as they fall asleep, robins fly down and cover them with leaves to keep the babes warm, and thus the curtain falls on Act One. In Act Two, the children, often with the help of a good fairy, are discovered by Robin Hood and Maid Marian, who naturally not only look after the pair but help to restore their fortunes. There's various retellings of traditional stories of his cunning and bravery, and of course at last Robin and his merry band triumph over the wicked folks, and the children are restored to their rightful home and fortune.

Given the traditional basis of pantomimes and coupled with the appearance of that other old favourite Robin, Hood and his Merry Men, many have assumed Babes in the Wood to be an old English folk tale. And that is partly true, as the panto tale derived from an old ballad. However in the earlier versions of the tale, Robin Hood does not appear to find the children, or indeed appear at all. The familiar pantomime version is actually a hybrid creation, wedding the Robin Hood legends onto the tale of the Children in the Wood. More shockingly, in the original ballad, the tale of the Babes actually ends like this  - 

Thus wandered these two prettye babes,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another’s armes they dyed,
As babes wanting relief.
No burial these prettye babes
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-redbreast painfully
Did cover them with leaves.


Yes, in the original story, there is no rescue for the children! After being turned loose by the kinder of the two ruffians, the children wander the forest, and despite finding a few berries, end up starving to death. And rather than providing a leafy blanket, the robins provide a rustic shroud.

Now robins covering the dead in this curious fashion appears to have been a prevalent belief in the early 17th century. In John Webster's celebrated play The White Devil from 1612, Cornelia says -

Call for Robin-Red-brest and the wren, 
Since ore shadie groves they hover, 
And with leaves and flowres doe covre 
The friendlesse bodies of unburied men

Before Webster, Shakespeare himself referred to the funereal habits of robins - under their old English name of the ruddock - in Cymbeline in 1611. The bard of Avon has Arviragus weeping over the supposed dead body of the disguised Imogen, saying: 

The Raddocke would 
With Charitable bill — O bill, sore shaming 
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument! — bring thee all this ; 
Yea, and furr'd Mosse besides, when Flowres are none. 
To winter-ground thy coarse. Say, where shall 's lay him? 

A little earlier in 1604, the poet Michael Drayton wrote in his satirical verse The Owle:

Covering with moss the dead's unclosed eye, 
The little redbreast teacheth charitie. 

Certainly this belief that robins would attend to the unburied dead does seem to chime well with the death omens that are associated with this little bird. However no earlier mention than the first publication of Children in the Wood in 1595 can be discovered. A tome from 1889 - Myths of the Robin Redbreast in Early English Poetry - mentions two other ballads that have the robins burying the dead The Soldier's Repentance and The West Country Damosel's Complaint, that have been claimed to be older than The Children in the Wood. However both were actually printed after 1595, with only their original collectors' speculating that their origins lie earlier in the 16th century.

However that being said, the Classical poet Horace does make reference to doves doing the same kind of rustic burials, and it is not usual to find these kind of folkloric beliefs being transferred between different species and the belief migrates over time to different regions. For example, much of what we have heard about it being ill luck to harm robins has in other regions and at other times been said of wrens and swallows too.

So then it is possible that this bit of folklore does date back further than its first printed reference. And it should be noted that it is commonly agreed by scholars that ballads printed in chapbooks and on broadsides would have been in public circulation long before its publication. Indeed, the fact Children in the Wood did make it into print is a measure of how well-known and popular the tale already was. And there is a curious and dark history to the ballad that we will investigate next time...



Friday, 28 November 2014

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Who Killed Cock Robin?


The humble Robin Redbreast, or Erithacus rubecula melophilus if you're given to outbreaks of Latin, is one of Britain's favourite birds, making its home in woods and hedgerows, and is a frequent visitor to our gardens. Unlike their European cousins, British robins are rather tame, having forged a friendship with humankind many centuries ago. When a garden is being dug, a robin will often be close by, watching for any juicy slugs or worms unearthed by the spade. They soon learn which households will put food out for them, and furthermore will learn what time the food regularly gets placed on the bird table, appearing in good time for the day's offerings. Robins will even come into your house or feed from your hand with very little coaxing. 

And our long friendship with the robin is commemorated in our folklore. To begin with it was considered very unlucky to take robins' eggs or to disturb or damage a robin's nest. In many parts of Britain,  it was said that if you broke a robin's egg, something of your own would be broken soon after, and local lore in many places asserted that it would be not just a beloved item, but your arm or your leg. While in Dorset, it was believed that stealing robin eggs would cause your fingers to grow crooked. 

Not surprisingly then, it was also considered extremely unlucky to kill a robin. To begin with ill fortune would be yours, often taking the form of maladies in your livestock, such as cows giving bloody milk or litters of animals being born dead. In Hertfordshire and other counties it was said that much like breaking an egg,  killing a robin would result in a broken arm or leg. In Ireland, folk belief held that he who killed a robin would never have good luck ever again, even it was said, if they lived to be a thousand years old.

And if such misfortunes weren't enough, it was also claimed that harming a robin would mark you for life. In parts of England, it was said that if you killed a robin, the hand that did the deed would shake forevermore. Over in Ireland, it said that the offended hand would developed ugly red weals or boils, while in the county of Shropshire it was claimed that the hand that did the bloody deed would actually drop off!


And it gets worse. An old English folk rhyme states -

"The blood on the breast of a robin that's caught, 
 Brings death to the snarer by whom it is caught."

In some places it was said that whatever method was used to slay poor robin would become the way you yourself would meet your demise. Therefore the Sparrow who slew Cock Robin with his bow and arrow in the old nursery rhyme could expect death by archery in his near future.

This belief that harming robins was bad luck was very common throughout the British Isles, and furthermore has persisted into modern times. In 1974 when the showjumper Ted Edgar was asked by a reporter why he wasn't having much success that season, Edgar wryly replied "I must have shot a robin, mustn't I".

So why is the robin so revered? Well, it should also be noted that robins were believed to be, quite literally, ominous birds. For across the length and breadth of the British Isles, there are folk beliefs that cast robins as omens or messengers of death. In the northern counties, it was believed that if a robin came and tapped three times at your window pane, death was near for someone in the household. While in other many regions it was said that a robin entering a house foretold a death to come soon within that household.

Even the robin's warbling song could bode ill. While the redbreast's singing is usually cheery and bright, it has been noted that the song becomes more wistful and even sad sounding in the winter months. And so, in some places, to hear a robin singing mournfully was considered to be unlucky, particularly if it came sadly singing to your window or doorway. For example, in Devon it was thought that if a robin lands upon the roof of a cottage and  "utters its plaintive weet", a baby inside was to die.

Hence the folk reverence for robins could well stem from the idea that it would be most unwise indeed to harm a bird that was in touch with, or perhaps is even an agent of, the mysterious forces of fate and destiny. But it has also been suggested that that the reverence for robins is linked to other old folk beliefs, which we shall be exploring in the next few weeks.