FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Midsummer Magic

Midsummer Eve Bonfire on Skagen's Beach by P.S. Krøyer

Well once again Midsummer is upon us, and at long last I've got round to penning another little delve into the world of folklore. Now the summer solstice has had a special significance for many cultures over the centuries - being the longest day of the year it is obviously is an important, but easy to observe. marker in the calendar of the year. And I sure I need not go into realms of detail about the numerous monuments of the ancient world that were constructed to cast shadows or catch beams of sun on the summer solstice. However as an accurate reckoning of the time of the year is very important for the agricultural calendar, it is perhaps not surprising that marking Midsummer's Day was often an important social event as well as a spiritual one. In the British Isles there seems to have been a long tradition of making merry and lighting bonfires on this date. For example, John Stow in his book The Survey of London (1598) tells us - 

In the months of June and July, on the vigils of festival days, and on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them; the wealthier sort also, before their doors near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils, furnished with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity, praising God for his benefits bestowed on them. These were called bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before at controversy, were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and made of bitter enemies loving friends; and also for the virtue that a great fire hath to purge the infection of the air.

This national tradition of lighting bonfires began to die out in the 17th century, however it continued in continued in rural England until the 19th century, with local versions often involving processions of assorted officials, and parades with effigies. And of course a handful of such rustic celebrations still survive today. But while some many well be Victorian recreations of older folk traditions, it should noted that there is now a new tradition of Midsummer celebrations. in the shape of the Glastonbury Festival (and similar events), which is always held on the nearest weekend to the summer solstice. 

The Christian Church also marked Midsummer too. The Catholic Church assigned the date of 24th of June as the birthday of St John the Baptist, and consequently celebrating the nativity of this saint and midsummer celebrations began fused together in many places, with the longest day being erroneously celebrated a few days late on June 24th. However it probaby due to St. John, that Midsummer gained a long standing tradition as being a night of divination. For example, there is a very old English folk belief that concerning fern seeds. Now ferns actually reproduce by releasing spores, however our ancestors were somewhat baffled by the fact that this common, and often rapidly spreading, plant appeared not to produce seeds in the usual fashion.

Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes

Hence it was thought that the seeds therefore must be invisible. Furthermore a tradition emerged that stated that fern seeds could only be seen at Midsummer Eve, and that ferns only released their seeds upon this magical night, with some version of the old belief holding that the fern would put of a blue flower at sunset that would bloom and release the seeds at midnight. And the reason why fern seeds were only produced on this one night of the year was linked to the birth of St John - 

The Angell did foretell John Baptist should be borne at that very instant, in which the Fernseede, at other times invisible, did fall; intimating... that this Saint of God had some extraordinary vertue from the circumstances of his birth

from The Originall of Unbelief (1625) by Thomas Jackson

This fern folklore furthermore evolved to state that if one possessed a fern seed, it would grant its owner various magical powers, such the ability to find lost things (including treasure), to be able to see faeries, and to become invisible. This latter claim was even recorded by Shakespeare - 

We have the receipt of the Fernseede, we walk invisible

from Henry the Fourth Part I 

Hence traditions of assorted rituals and vigils to catch a fern seed on Midsummer Eve emerged. For example in Middlesex, it was said that the seed should be caught by placing  a plate near the plant and the would-be invisible man should hope a seed would land in it. However the seed must plant of its own accord on the plate, for any attempt to interfere would ruin the magical properties of the seed. 

However there were other rites and charms for Midsummer, and again there are links back to St. John. As John the Baptist was seen as the man who foretold the coming of Christ, therefore the date of his nativity was considered a good night for attempting to see the future yourself - a time when what is normally invisible can be seen if you will. And the link to this particular saint can be detected in another widespread bit of folk magic practiced on Midsummer Eve. In 18th century weekly London newspaper The Connoisseur we have one of the oldest recorded versions of the charm of the Midsummer Rose - 

If I go backwards without speaking a word into the garden upon a Midsummer Eve, and gather a Rose, and keep it in a clean sheet of paper, without looking at it, till Christmas Day, it will be as fresh as in June, and if I then stick it in my bosom, he that is my husband will come and take it out

from The Connoisseur, Volume 2 (1755) by "Mr Town"

Now there are many similar charms that allegedly will reveal your one true love, and somewhat surprisingly many of them are to be carried out on Hallowe'en night (see here for more details)! But this particular love rite is very closely linked to midsummer and John the Baptist. For Christian lore held that good St. John was born exactly six months before Jesus, and hence the church set his birthday at Midsummer. And so we have that exact, same half year as part of the magic in this love charm.

Of course if you are of a certain age, not doubt you too find each passing year seems to go faster. And hence hence this old folk charms seems to underline the fact that while once winter seemed far away from the heat of the longest day, for us older folks, midsummer is a reminder that Christmas will be here before we know it...

Midsummer Roses by Leonard Charles Nightingale 

FOLKLORE FLASHBACK #11 - The Secrets of Halloween!

Well the end of October is approaching fast, and everyone's getting ready to celebrate the spookiest night of the year - Hallowe'en! And unsurprisingly in the past I've made several forays into the folklore of All Hallows Eve... 

So then, first of we have a round-up of assorted Halloween charms and rites - 

http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/folklore-on-friday-hallowed-by-thy.html

For a more in-depth look into the origins and history of Halloween, check out my epic length podcast, in which I untangle a great many myths about the holiday and discover the real roots of our modern customs and traditions -

The Origins of Halloween

Now this show was such a success, that the following year, I produced a sequel show, that explored how Halloween has evolved from folk customs to being part of modern day pop culture -

The Origins of Halloween Part II

And coming this week, I shall be presenting the 3rd part of what has turned into an annual exploration of the history of Halloween! Find it this weekend on this blog or go here to subscribe -

http://hypnobobs.geekplanetonline.com/

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - All Hail the Conkerer!

Summer is fading away, the leaves are beginning to change colour, and the kids have been packed off back to school. Yes, September is here once again and autumn is beginning. Now here in England before Halloween, Bonfire Night and Christmas, the first of all the old rites and rituals of the last quarter actually begins in this month. Or at least they do for those afore-mentioned schoolkids, whose enforced return to the classroom is sweetened by an annual seasonal playground tournament - the game of conkers! 

For those of you unfamiliar with this peculiar practice, this is a centuries old game played with the nuts of the horse chestnut tree. The nuts - the titular conkers - are large, smooth and round, growing in spiked green cases, and around September time they are beginning to drop off the trees. Although thanks to the popularity of conkers with schoolkids, they are often "helped" down, and therefore should you be visiting the British Isles in early autumn and see a ring of children hurling sticks up into the branches of a tree, be assured that this is not some folk survival of an ancient rite to drive evil spirits from the boughs, but a method of harvesting conkers quickly! 

The collected shiny horse chestnuts are then taken home, and in most cases these days, a parent must be pestered to get out the electric drill and holes are bored through the centre of the nut, from top to bottom. A string or old shoe lace is then threaded through the hole, creating the conker proper - a nut that came be swung in deadly combat! Now despite the British youth's reputation for hooliganism, conkers are NOT an anti-personnel weapon, neither of the melee or missile variety, and conkers are only deployed against their own brethren. 

The game is played as follows - one player holds his conker hanging from its thread, and the other attacks it by swinging his conker at the dangling one. Then the roles are reversed, and the match continues until one conker smashes the other. And that is it - brilliant in its simplicity and violence, with the added twist that it may be the attacking conker that shatters. However this is a tournament based sport, for surviving conkers gain a score. A freshly made untried conker is a noner - having won no matches, where as a fresh victor is a oner! And a survivor of two matches a two-er and so forth! Of course there are regional variants to the rules and jargon - in Scotland, conkers are ranked as bully-one, bully-two, while in some areas the winning conker absorbs the score of its vanished foe - hence a newly strung oner that batters a three-er into fragments, would become a fiver - one for itself, one for the and match and then adding the three points from its vanquished foe. However whichever variation on the scoring system is used, possessing a battle-hardened  veteran conker such as a ten-er or even a twenty-er, has long been a ticket to playground fame and legend.

Due to the naturally superstitious nature of children, and the peculiar oral culture that is the lore of the schoolyard, there are ancient beliefs clustered about conkers. For example, in some areas, particular horse chestnut trees are said to give the best conkers, and coincidentally often ones in places that take some pluck to visit, such as those standing in graveyards or on private lands. Moreover there is a whole slew of beliefs about how to create the strongest conker. While such folk methods are considered cheating in official conker tournaments - and yes, there are such things,  the World Conker Championships for example has been held annually since 1965 - this hasn't stopped generations of schoolkids subjecting their conkers to bizarre hardening rituals. 

The simplest but the most annoying - for it requires planning an A LOT of patience and therefore is deemed heretical to most kids - involves keeping the conkers in a warm, dry place for a whole year. Yes, I know, a whole ruddy year! Needless to say this method is not very popular. Firstly because it's a very long time to wait, and secondly mothers tend to frown on discovering that the airing cupboard is now home to an autumnal arsenal. Boo! However for the impatient child - and let's be honest, that's all of the them - other more exciting methods are available, such as boiling the conkers in vinegar, baking them in the oven, or coating them in nail varnish. While the efficacy of any of these methods is very much open to question, there is however one really sure result - an irate parent whose kitchen now stinks of vinegar, burnt chestnut and spilled nail varnish.   

And thus it has been for generations! The game of conkers remains popular to this very day, although in recent years a new myth has sprung up around it. Usually just when kids are starting to collect conkers, some newspaper or other will resurrect a story that schools are banning conkers, thanks to that modern folk devil, the dreaded Health & Safety regulations. Now this bit of flim-flam is seemingly now annually reported, however it is a modern piece of folklore, that originates from a bit of fun in one particular school as related here intended to highlight safety issues for children. However it persists every year, despite the UK Health & Safety Executive having a special page debunking the myth.

Actually horse chestnuts are a relative recent addition to the European and American landscapes. With conkers being large and heavy, they weren't naturally distributed by birds and animals in the same way that most of our tree populations were. The tree was actually imported to Northern Europe and the US in the 17th century and only became a widespread part of the British landscape in the 19th. The first game of conkers recorded apparently occurred in 1848 on the Isle of Wight, although there is an earlier mention of a similar game played with hazelnuts in Robert Southley's memoirs in 1821. And game historians believe that such similar games had been played with other nuts and shells for centuries. 

However despite the horse chestnut tree's relative recent arrival in our lands, it has accumulated a certain degree of folklore, aside from the game of conkers. The Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore and Occult Sciences Vol. 2 (1903) by Cora Linn Daniels records that it is considered lucky to carry horse chestnuts in your pockets, noting that "the Walloons carry three horse-chestnuts in the pocket, as a relief from giddiness!" - although quite why the folks of Belgium needed a cure for giddiness it sadly does not explain. However this superstition seems to have grown and spread, for it is claimed all across Britain and America that carrying three horse chestnuts in your pocket is beneficial. 

In many areas it is claimed that carrying three shiny conkers in your pocket will ensure you will always have money. While in other places, particularly in the US, it is claimed that carrying conkers - or buck-eyes as they are called over the pond - ensure virility in a man. In addition, buck-eyes are often found in hoodoo recipes, and again often in powders to promote *ahem* a gentlemen's strength. It is thought that this belief may have arisen from the supposed resemblance of the nuts in their spiky cases to the relevant pair of parts on the male anatomy. On a related but more polite note concerning the conkers in their spiked cases, in England it was claimed that the longer spines in the conker, the longer and harder the winter to come. Again this may be a belief derived from their shape, with the green conker spikes resembling icicles. 

However the most common folk belief about conkers, and one that persists to this very day, is that placing conkers around your house will repel spiders. And bizarre as it sounds, this method of keeping spiders at bay is said to effective by many arachnophobes. Now from a folkloric point of view, you would expect it was conkers in the spiky cases that were said to do this trick - for again the spiky shells roughly resemble the creepy-crawlies they are repelling, and hence worked perhaps through sympathetic magic or possibly just by acting an insect scarecrows! However surprisingly the lore states it is the conkers themselves, and what's more, they must be replaced every year to remain effective. 

Now as those who employ this method of spider control, assert that this is the case, it would rather  suggest that the conkers themselves give off some kind of chemical or scent that naturally repels spiders. However despite many tests, so far scientists have failed to discover any such compounds or substances in the humble conker. But apparently another natural property of the conker is an utter disregard of science, for it is still widely reported that conkers will keep spiders away, and many folks do swear by them. So possibly there is still some magic in the old horse chestnut tree after all... 

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Toad Bones

As we discovered a few weeks ago, in ages past there was a whole branch of early medicine (and I use that term loosely) based about using toads, in whole or in part, as a remedy for a wide variety of ailments. Many of these dubious cures were in that strange borderland where early pharmacy emerges into folk magic, with some cures being derived from pills, lotions and potions made from toads while others worked by the patient carrying a dead specimen or some parts thereof as an amulet or charm against catching certain diseases and maladies. 

However, in a related set of folk beliefs, there is a long tradition of using toads for more purely magical purposes. As we have seen in previous articles, folk beliefs about the venomous nature of the creatures and assorted alleged familiar spirits appearing in the shape of toads, has resulting in the toad being associated with witchcraft and black magic, an idea that still persists today in the popular imagination. However the idea that toads possess magical properties stretches back further than the witch trials and medieval times, for like many widespread European superstitions, the origin of these beliefs can be traced back to Classical times. 

Now the surviving writings of assorted Greek and Roman scholars formed the basis for Western philosophy, science and history for hundreds of years, unfortunately our ancient sages weren't always on the mark with their data and theories. For example, Pliny the Elder gave the world one of the first encyclopedias - the epic tome Naturalis Historia (or Natural History) which covered topics such as astronomy, mathematics, geography, ethnography, anthropology, physiology, mineralogy, zoology, botany, agriculture, pharmacology, mining and art history. But while this massive book was an important reference work for learned men for literally centuries, in Naturalis Historia we also learn dubious facts such as burying a toad in a jar will ward off diseases on a crop of millet, the ashes of toad mixed with grease is a good treatment for gout, and that sick pigs can be cured with water in which a toad has been boiled. 

And it is also in this epic work by Pliny that we discover the root of a very common folk belief about toads - namely that their bones have magical properties. When writing on what he referred to as the rubetæ or bramble-frog (the Classical terms for toads) our seminal scholar notes that - 

Authors quite vie with one another in relating marvelous stories about them; such, for instance, as that if they are brought into the midst of a concourse of people, silence will instantly prevail; as also that by throwing into boiling water a small bone that is found in their right side, the vessel will immediately cool, and the water refuse to boil again until it has been removed. This bone, they say, may be found by exposing a dead bramble-frog to ants, and letting them eat away the flesh: after which the bones must be put into the vessel, one by one.

Naturalis Historia 32.18

However Pliny goes to to relate that after your ants have flensed your toad, don't chuck the rest of the skeletal remains away, for certain other bones have even more remarkable properties - 

In the left side of this reptile there is another bone, they say, which, thrown into water, has all the appearance of making it boil, and the name given to which is "apocynon." This bone, it is said, has the property of assuaging the fury of dogs, and, if put into the drink, of conciliating love and ending discord and strife. Worn, too, as an amulet, it acts as an aphrodisiac, we are told. The bone, on the contrary, which is taken from the right side, acts powerfully as a refrigerative upon boiling liquids, it is said: attached to the patient in a piece of fresh lamb's-skin, it has the repute of assuaging quartan and other fevers, and of checking amorous propensities. 

Now then, I'm sure you'll agree they sound like very useful bones to possess! Indeed over the years, right up until the present day, there is a continuing tradition of magical belief in the power of toad bones. What is most remarkable however is that these superstitions are clearly drawn from Pliny, albeit with some added embroidering over the centuries. For example, nearly all toad bone rituals follow the Classical lore in using ants to strip the flesh from the bones, and while the alleged properties of the toad bones do vary from place to place, they have remained generally consistent - namely that a certain part of the skeleton can cure diseases and/or give its owner the power to influence both people and animals.

And while Pliny rather unhelpfully doesn't specify which bone it was, over the centuries it seems plenty of folks thought they could find the right one! In some traditions a specific part  of the toad is identified, most often usually the pelvis or breast bone. However what is very interesting is that over time new stages have been added to the process to magically correct Pliny's vagueness. Hence after the flensing by ants, we have an additional rite whereby by the magical bones will be revealed, most usually by using running water. On a an alleged propitious night - new and full moons and various Saint's days are common - the bones were cast into running water and the magical bone reveals itself by floating up against the current.

Now here we can clearly see some deductive thinking at work. As Pliny mentions that the bone has the property of cooling hot water and boiling cold water, hence at some stage a prospective healer or magician reasoned that therefore given the magical bone's contrarian effects on water, it would logically float against a current and thereby reveal itself. Interestingly though, even in times and places where the local tradition identified which part of the toad skeleton was magical, the rite of immersing the bones in running water was still carried out, indeed in some areas the process of acquiring a toad bone was known as 'going to the river' or the rite of  'waters of the moon'. However in these cases, it seems that the act of immersing of the bones in running water was now seen as part of the magical charging of the resulting toad amulet -

Then take the bones and go down to a good stream of runnin' water at midnight an' throw the bones i' the stream. All the bones but one will go downstream, an' that one as wont go downstream is the breast-bone. Now you must get 'old of this 'ere bone afore the Devil gets it, an' if you get it an' keep it allus by you - in your pocket or wear it - then you can witch, as well as that, you'll be safe from bein' witched yourself

from Lincolnshire Folklore (1936)
by Ethel H Rudkin

While the simpler versions profess to create a charm that is good against certain diseases and grants a power over animals - in English traditions usually over horses - as the above quote illustrates, where the method of acquiring a toad bone becomes more magically, more of ritual than a technical process, so too the reputed powers of the bone grow. While in the 16th and 17th centuries, English witchcraft thought to be dependent on the powers granted by familiar spirits and animals, in the 18th and 19th centuries magical prowess came from possessing a toad bone.  

There was one charm she told me of witch was practiced when any one wanted to get command over there fellow creatures. Those that wished to cast the spell must search until they found a walking toad. It was a toad with a yellow ring round its neck, I have never seen one of them but I have been told they can be found in some parts of the Country. When they found the toad they must put it in a perforated box, and bury it in a Black Ant’s nest. When the Ants have eaten all the flesh away from the bones it must be taken up, and the person casting the spell must carry the bones to the edge of a running stream the midnight of Saint Marks Night, and throw them in the water. All will sink but one single bone and that will swim up stream. When they have taken out the bone the Devell would give them the power of Witchcraft, and they could use that power over both Man and Animals.

from I Walked by Night: Being the Life & History of the King of the Norfolk Poachers (1935) 

edited by LR Haggard

Indeed being the holder of a toad bone amulet was so seen as being the key to possessing magical powers that in some areas folks possessing arcane knowledge and skills were known as toadsmen. In some cases, a toadsman was seen as a beneficial member of the local community, similar to horse whisperers or cunning folks: some one who could provided remedies against all manner of maladies, both natural and supernatural for people, livestock and crops. However in others these folks had a more sinister reputation, with toadsman being a byword for witch; indeed in the county of Norfolk casting spells was known as 'tudding', a corruption of 'toading'. And correspondingly the rituals had a darker nature too, as an old horseman called Albert Love recounted in 1966

While you are watching these bones in the water, you must on no consideration take your eyes off it. Do (if you do) you will lose all power. That’s where you get your power from for messing about with horses, just keeping your eyes on that particular bone. But when you are watching it and these bones are parting, you’ll hear all the trees and all the noises that you can imagine, even as if buildings were falling down or a traction engine is running over you. But you still mustn’t take your eyes off, because that’s where you lose your power. Of course, the noises must be something to do with the Devil’s work in the middle of the night...

from The Pattern under the Plough  (1966)
by GE Evans

Furthermore some traditions had additional rituals, to give the toadsman even greater powers. In East Anglia it was said that some time after acquiring the toad bone, usually five nights later, the toadsman would spend the night in a barn and call up the Devil, who he would then bind - presumably exercising the powers of influence in the bone - to his will. Interestingly in a call back to earlier English witchlore about familiars, the  pact or bargain with the Devil involved the toadsman offering up his blood. However the price of gaining such powers was high - as Nigel Pennick recounts in Secrets of East Anglian Magic (1995) the toadsman could expect all manner of infirmities, hallucinations and even a sudden death. So then, despite the alluring powers that having a toad bone amulet grants, perhaps it is best to leave the bones where they belong - in the toads.  

The toad-bone ritual making an appearance in cult BBC children's serial The Moon Stallion in 1978

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - A Cure of Toads

Last week we discovered what a fearsome reputation the humble toad enjoyed, or rather perhaps suffered from, in times past. Folklore associated it with poison and disease, and it was commonly thought of as a venomous predator or a witches familiar. However despite allegedly being noxious both physically and spiritually, toads were surprisingly highly sought after for a huge variety of charms and folk remedies. Both the Romans and the ancient Chinese widely employed toads both live and dead, in whole and in part, for the treatment of a huge variety of ailments. And hence in the murky world of early health care, which was as much about magic as medicine, and where superstition was mingled with science, toads remained a prized ingredient for many a cure for several centuries. 

One of the best known medical superstitions about toads, and one that is still doing the rounds today, is the belief that you can catch warts from a toad. Of course this is completely untrue, however there is a factual basis, albeit a distorted one, to this old wives' tale. Essentially warts are caused by a viral infection in the skin, and it is true that the virus can be passed on by contact. Indeed you can not only catch warts from touching someone with warts but also by using items such as towels or clothes that have been in contact with infected areas of skin. Now as toads were erroneously thought to be covered in warts, it did therefore make sense to not touch them. Actually the characteristic lumps on their skin are completely natural and harmless, however many varieties will secrete toxins as a defense against predators if picked up, and these defensive poisons can be a mild irritant to human skin, sometimes causing lumps, bumps and swellings that folks in the past would have termed warts. 

As toads were thought to cause warts, it was also assumed that they would also be good for removing warts, in accordance with the ancient common belief which held that in nature like was drawn to like. Hence in some regions it was said the trick to getting rid of your warts was to rub a live toad on them, and the warts would be drawn to join its fellows on the toad's hide. And this was the common underlying concept for a wide variety of folk cures and charms involving toads. It was known as the law of sympathy, and hence as toads were thought to be poisonous and venomous, naturally they were also thought to be good for treating all manner of noxious complaints. Sir Kenelm Didgy in his 1656 tome Discourse on Sympathy explains it perfectly - 

In time of common contagion, they used to carry about them the powder of a toad, and sometimes a living toad or spider shut up in a box; or else carry arsnick, or some other venomous substance, which draws unto it the contagious air

And this belief was very prevalent right up to the 18th century. For example, Notes & Queries in 1869 reported the following case where a toad was being used to combat a disease that was considered both poisonous and to cause lumps and boils on the skin -

An old woman, whom I well remember, always carried in her pocket a dried toad, as a preservative from small-pox. One day... she went into the village without her toad. The small-pox prevailed in the place at the time, and the old woman caught it.

Another of the toad's natural defenses also qualified it for folk medical uses. For as well as secreting toxins when seized by a predator, toads also inflate their bodies to make themselves too big to swallow. Hence as they possessed the ability to cause swelling at will, it was assumed that therefore toads would be good for treating swellings in the human anatomy too.

For example in rural Scotland it was said that the way to relieve a sprain was by rubbing live toad in it. Likewise many 'medicines' were developed to harness this property. In 1678 W Salmon in his London Dispensary, no doubt counting on the toad's ability to cause swelling, advised -

A dried Toad steept in Vinegar... smelt to it stops bleeding at Nose, especially laid to the forehead... or hung from the neck

Wearing either a live toad, or portions of one was a common feature cure in many a toad cure. Sometimes these remedies were more like a charm or a ritual. For example, in Cornwall, if one was suffering from quinsy, a complaint that causes ulcerations and abscesses around the tonsils - again note the key symptoms of growths and swellings - toads once again held the key to a cure...

A 'wise woman'... prescribed for him as follows: 'Get a live toad, fasten a string round its throat, and hang it up till the body drops from the head; then tie the string around your own neck, and never take it off, night or day, till your fiftieth birthday. You'll never have quinsy again'.   

And if you think that cure is rather gruesome and cruel, then Worcestershire appears to have been an even worse county to have been a toad in. For Gentlemen's Magazine 1855 reports that - 

In the neighbourhood of Hartlebury (and also in Tenbury) they break the legs of the toad, sew it up in a bag alive, and tie it round the neck of the patient... the life or death of the patient being supposed to be shadowed forth by the survival or death of the animal.

However other cures were of a more medical flavour, with the 17th and 18th century seeing a boom in self qualified 'toad doctors'. A popular complaint they treated was scrofula, colloquially referred to as king's evil in ages past. This is an infection of the lymph nodes, and its symptoms manifest with the appearance of large warty growths and swellings on the face and neck. And naturally, as this was both a warty and swelling disease, toads were employed as a remedy. In an 1875 edition the ever-reliable Notes & Queries reports - 

A man came in a gig, who was known as 'the toad doctor'. He brought with him a number of small bags, and the people flocked to him from far and near with toads. The 'doctor' cut off the hind legs of these toads and put the severed portions into the bags, and hung them around the necks of his patients, the newly cut limbs quivering on their naked chests. This was held to be a certain remedy for the king's evil.

Selling bags of toad legs was a profitable venture, as was the sale of assorted toad bones, toad skins and dried toad powders. Aside from 'poisonous' humors that caused plague and small-pox, or a variety of complaints that caused swellings, inflammations and ugly growths, toads were also used in another set of treatments, usually in the form of ground up powders and pills. From Roman times onward, if you were having problems with your *ahem* waterworks, or your physician believed you needed to flush your system of poisonous humours, then dried toad was prescribed as a diuretic.

Again the belief that toad would be a good medicine for causing urination came from one of the animal's natural defenses - and that is, if you pick up a toad it will urinate on you in order to persuade you to put it down again. Mind you, considering what happened to many toads collected by humans in ages past, them widdling on us might well just be sheer bloody fear of being used as a medicine!

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Toads On the Whole

Late on Monday night a toad came into my study: and, though nothing has so far seemed to link itself with this appearance, I feel that it may not be quite prudent to brood over topics which may open the interior eye to the presence of more formidable visitants

MR JAMES, Stories I Have Tried To Write

The humble toad has often suffered from a somewhat bad reputation. While today many gardeners welcome the presence of a toad as they happily gobble up slugs and other pests, not that far back in history toads were considered bad news. Even in more recent sources from the early 20th century, folklore held that a toad entering the house signified an enemy nearby or that misfortune would come calling soon. A belief well illlustrated by our opening quote from MR James, first published first in November 1929.

However delving back further into older texts, we find a clear origin for this curious belief. In The History & Antiquities of Lyme Regis and Charmouth (1834) G Roberts tells us that - 

Toads that gained access to... a house were ejected with the greatest care, and no injury was offered, because they were regarded, as being used as familiars by witches, with veneration and awe.

And as recently as 1876 this belief persisted - Trans. Devon. Ass. 52 (Ashbourne) relates - 

He had a heart to work but no strength... One evening on entering his door, he saw a great toad which he killed with a pitchfork, and threw into the fire. The next evening he saw another... and did the same... He believes they were witches. Soon he recovered, and has not suffered the like since. 

Indeed as we have seen in previous articles on the English witch trials (see here) we have court records that alleged that witches possessed familiar spirits in the shape of toads that they sent out to cause ill. And evidently the sight of a toad remained ill-omened, in folklore at least,  long after the belief in witches and witchcraft dwindled away.

However the toad was associated with pestilence and poison long before the witch trials, and these beliefs evolved from biological rather than supernatural reasons. The  idea that toads are poisonous arises from their natural defences; most species of toad will secrete a substance that causes irritations to the skin to persuade predators to let the hapless amphibian go. And this was observed and documented by many ancient naturalists.

Now before the discovery of bacteria and viruses, diseases were thought to be caused by miasmas - clouds of diseased air. Damp or foul smelling places such as marshes, wetlands, dunghills, and caves were seen as prime sources of these poisoned airs. Now the medieval worldview operated on a 'like goes to like accordingly' philosophy, that is to say, things that were similar were somehow linked together. And hence it was thought that toads frequented marshes, sewers and middens in order to consume noxious humours and miasmas in order to create their poisonous secretions. As Shakespeare has one of his doomed heroes say -   

I had rather be a toad. 

And live upon the vapour of a dungeon

Othello, Act I Scene III

Indeed the toad was so closely associated with poison and disease that in ages past that the harmless animals were mistakenly thought to be venomous creatures. For example in Thomas of Monmouth's Life of St William of Norwich - whose modern edition was translated by MR James incidentally - it is said in the reign of King Stephen, who ruled from 1135 to 1154, that prisoners in dungeons suffered "enduring miserably cold, hunger, stench, and attacks of toads". While in the Second Continuation of Peterborough Chronicle, the entry for 1137 tells of the following dire fates for prisoners taken by King Stephen - 

They were hung by their thumbs or by the head, and corselets were hung on their feet. Knotted ropes were put round their heads and twisted till they penetrated to the brains. They put them in prisons where there were adders and snakes and toads, and killed them like that. 

However the medieval histories contain an even more horrifying tale. Giraldus Cambrensis, better known as Gerald of Wales, was a clergymen of Welsh and Norman descent, who wrote many chronicles and travelogues. He was also a keen naturalist and a good many of his writings feature descriptions of the habits of local wildlife. However like many ancient scholars, Gerald was prone to mixing fact with folklore, and hence in his 1191 tome, Itinerarium Cambriae or Journey through Wales, we get the following (hopefully fictional) dire events that befell a unfortunate young man whom he names as "Seisyll Esgairhir, which means Longshanks". Gerald tells the following troubling tale -  

In our own days a young man who lived in this neighbourhood, and who was lying ill in bed, was persecuted by a plague of toads. It seemed as if the entire local population of toads had made an agreement to go to visit him. Vast numbers were killed by his friends and those looking after him, but they grew again like the heads of the Hydra. Toads came flocking from all directions, more and more of them, until no one could count them. In the end the young man's friends and the other people who were trying to help him were quite worn out. They chose a tall tree, cut off all its branches and removed all its leaves. Then they hoisted him up to the top in a bag. He was still not safe from his venomous assailants. The toads crawled up the tree looking for him. They killed him and ate him right up, leaving nothing but his skeleton. 

Yes, I know! It's like a tale from an 11th century Guy N Smith paperback! And some people say history is boring!

Anyhow, what is particularly fascinating is the reason that Gerald of Wales proffers for this horrific attack by  flesh-eating toads. One might expect that an Archdeacon such as Gerald would obviously be asserting that witchcraft was the cause of this horrible unnatural death. However while belief in witchcraft was strong in Gerald's time, interestingly the general attitude of the church in that era was that witchcraft and sorcery were the product of superstition, and it would be another few centuries before witch-hunting became an obsession in England.

Now this was partly because the clergy in the first centuries of the second millennium were intelligent enough to realise that most claims of witchcraft were sorely lacking in evidence and rather preposterous. But it was also partly due to the then current theological thinking, which asserted that humans could not command such supernatural powers - there was only one fellow who could do that, the Boss Upstairs! And this was illustrated in scripture with the story of the plagues that the Lord inflicted upon Egypt. And appropriately enough for this article, the key passages for this argument concern a plague of frogs, as recounted in the book of Exodus. In order to demonstrate His power,  the Lord had Moses call up swarms of frogs from the Nile. The Pharoah's magicians then demonstrated that they too could make frogs appear but their conjuring could not get rid of the teeming amphibians. Hence the Lord instructed Moses to ask the Pharoah when he would like the bratchian plague to vanish, and so the beleaguered ruler named a date, and duly the Big Fella made all the frogs disappear. God 1, Pharoah 0.

Therefore being a theologian, and knowing his scriptures well, Gerald concluded that this toad horror death must be a judgement from God, and therefore just. Although he does concede "it is sometimes hard to understand". Gerald also mentions that he has heard of "another man was persecuted the same way by a large species of rodents, called rats" but that's a story for another day...

So then considering these medieval horror tales concerning toads, it's no surprise that, regardless of the association with witchcraft, you really wouldn't want a toad in your house to start with. I mean, they might not just poison you with venom but actually strip the flesh from your bones! However much like that other historically much maligned animal. the black cat, not all superstitions held that meeting a toad was ill luck. Indeed in some places it was said that a toad in the house or crossing your path was a sign of good luck to come. Furthermore despite their reputation for being noxious and toxic, toads were thought to possess some very useful properties. And hence as we will discover next week when we explore the various remedies derived from parts of toads, it was often very bad luck for a toad to cross your path... if you happened to the toad that is!  

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 1382, Chaucer 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 Foules, rather 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!

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Hallowed Be Thy Charms

All Hallows Eve is now better known as Hallowe'en night, and is widely held to the spookiest night of the year, a time for ghosts and goblins and witchery! As many of you will know, it is commonly said that we celebrate all things eerie and frightening at this time as our ancestors believed that on this night the veil between worlds was thin, allowing spectres, faeries and witches to draw near to us. Hence we ward away their incursions by making jack o'lanterns and bonfires to frighten them away.

Now historically speaking our modern ideas of how Halloween used to be are very inaccurate, and in many cases downright wrong, and for an in-depth discussion of the true history of Hallowe'en, check out my podcast series on it. But looking through my tomes of ancient customs and folios of folklore, it is true that our forebears considered Hallowe'en night to be one of the times of the year that was very appropriate for carrying out all manner of charms, rites and spells.

Some of these folk customs and bits of hedge magic were, in different regions and different times, performed on other days our ancestors deemed to be magically significant. For example, we most associate the ancient tradition of wassailing with Christmas and New Year, but in the Western Isles of Scotland on All Hallow's Eve, fishermen would gather on the beach for a round of sea wassailing. They would sing traditional songs to the waves, culminating in a toast with a brimming cup of ale to the god of the seas to ensure fruitful catches and safe voyages over the coming year.

And despite Halloween's reputation as the eeriest night of the year, a good many of the folk charms carried out in ages past were surprisingly in the cause of romance! In Scotland it was said you were to scatter hemp seeds over your left shoulder on Halloween night and intone the following rhyme "Hemp-seed, I saw thee; and him (or her) that is to be my true love, come after me". Then if you looked over your left shoulder, there would appear an image of your destined true love. In other parts of the British Isles it was said a similar prophetic vision of your lover to be could be invoked by eating an apple by candle-light in front of a mirror in Halloween night.

The mirror charm was so well established that it featured frequently in Hallowwen grretings cards produced at the turn of the century. However many areas held that a similar charm could be performed with apples. In this variant, those seeking to discover their soul mate would peel and an apple and throw the peel over their left shoulder. And the shape the peel landed it was supposed to form the initials of your true love.

A somewhat squishier alternative for some amorous divination on Halloween comes from Shropshire. There it was said that if you catch a snail on Halloween and place it on a box or in the ashes of your hearth on Halloween night, in the morning you'll find the initials of your true love spelled out in the snail's slimy trail!

In fact there were a good number of spells that could employed on Halloween night to discover who was secretly in love with you. For example, in Derbyshire young ladies would inscribe on chestnuts the names of boys who they suspected holding a torch for them. The chestnuts were then placed upon the hearth, sometimes among the embers of the fire, on All Hallows Eve and it was said which ever chestnut popped out of the fire nearest the young lady revealed the name of her secret lover. This particular custom, and variations in it, also became were well-known, so much so that it was the focus of Hallowe'en night parties, and in some places All Hallow's Eve was known as Nutcrack Night!

But there were more serious charms you practice upon a Halloween night too. In Herefordshire, there was a more morbid form of divination - each member of the family would pick an ivy leaf and label it as their own. The ivy leaves were then left in a bowl of water over Halloween night. In the morning any member of the family who was fated to die in the coming year would find their leaf marked with a coffin shape. In other regions, egg whites were dropped into water to serve a similar purpose, and again if the whites formed into the shape of a coffin you would not live to see the next Halloween...

However the most spooky of all Halloween customs, and the one closest to its modern day incarnation as a time for ghosts and ghouls and phantoms, is the practice of church porching. This custom was very common in the British Isles, and as All Hallows was the day in the medieval Christian calendar when prayers were said for the dead, All Hallows Eve was a very most appropriate date for this eerie custom. But that said, some areas favoured other nights - St Mark's Day, Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, so we cannot consider this tradition to be in any way exclusive to Halloween. 

However whichever night it was practised upon, the folk rite was much the same. It consisted of an overnight vigil - folks would gather in the church porch, or in some areas at the lych gate, usually before before midnight and quietly observe. For it was said that upon this night, an eerie procession of spirits could be seen entering the nighted church. However this was no solemn parade of the dead, for this eerie train of spectres was composed of those who would die in the coming year. It was said the shades of those who were going to die appeared dressed in winding sheets and shrouds, and a ghostly service would be held in the church. Afterwards the spectres would file out and go their separate ways in the churchyard, and the scrape of coffin lids and the rattle of grave soil be heard as they vanished!

Happy Halloween!