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...

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Clocking On

Time often plays an important role in folklore, with many folk beliefs, rituals or events being tied to specific dates or times. Indeed, many folk beliefs evolved from a need to observe a certain time or date, and in earlier societies that were less technologically advanced than us, marking such times and dates were very important tasks. We take for granted the luxury of owning the likes of modern smart phones that easily fulfil the roles of calendar, clock and almanac  - indeed we moan that we are too shackled to time. However in ages past, the common complaint was being uncertain of the time or even the precise date! So then, for many centuries, clocks were luxury items and whole communities relied upon civic timepieces such as the town clock or the ringing of the church bells. 

So then it is perhaps not that surprising that as revered machines, requiring very arcane knowledge to maintain and repair, many strange beliefs began to gather around the humble clock. After all, the idea that something that measures time might have some of the powers of Time itself is only a small leap for the ever agile human imagination to make. For example, there are a host of superstitions that related to clocks or bells sounding the hour. In many places it was considered unlucky to continue speaking while the hour chimes sounded - for you were acting with hubris, placing yourself in importance over Time itself, and you could expect that the powers that be would line up some sort of chastisement in the future. 

In a similar vein, to be unexpectedly interrupted by a clock chiming was seen as a dire warning. In many parts of England, especially in Sussex, Somerset and Cornwall, it was said that should a clock chime or bells strike the hour during the singing of a hymn, it foretold a death in the parish during the following week. While in the north of England, it was believed that it was most unlucky for the hour to sound during a wedding service, for it foretold the death of either the bride or groom before the year was out.

However some beliefs actually evolved from the complexities of keeping an old fashioned clockwork timepiece not just running but running reliably and accurately. A long standing tradition stated that it was good luck to place a small cup or thimble of kerosene or paraffin inside a clock's case. Now while this is somewhat frowned upon these days as a fire hazard, particularly if said clock is on the mantle above your fire, there was a kernel of truth in it. Spirits such as kerosene and paraffin evaporate slowly and as they did so the fumes would coalesce on the gears and cogs of the clock, naturally lubricating them again and again over time. And hence your clock would run smoothly and accurately for longer and be less likely to break. However modern clock repairers do warn against this, for aside from the fire risks, the problem is that clocks are very delicate devices and not all of the parts of the mechanism need lubricating. And for those parts that do not, the oily residue merely collects dust and dirt that may in the long term end up harming the working of your timepiece.

Another old superstition holds that it is bad luck to turn a clock backwards. Now this belief partly stems from the breaking of a common old folkloric rule - generally doing anything that goes against the ordinary processes of the natural world is to risk upsetting the balance of life. Time only goes forward, and hence so should clocks, even when having their time adjusted. However there is another origin for this superstition, one that draws upon both supernatural beliefs and the technical lore of clocks. For until relatively recently, actually turning a clock backwards would damage the intricate mechanism within, as the clockwork was only designed to go one way. Modern clocks now are built so that you can turn them back without harming the movement, but this has only become a common feature within the last eighty years or so. Hence, until the last century, turning a clock backwards was to run a very real risk of it stopping or breaking completely. And in the days when clocks very rare and valuable items that was bad luck indeed! 

However this belief also relates to perhaps the most famous of all superstitions about clocks (and one we shall explore in more depth next week) - that a clock suddenly stopping or chiming unexpectedly portents the death of a loved one. Therefore to do anything to cause a clock to either chime erratically or to stop was to be tempting the Grim Reaper to make a call...

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 - 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.