FOLKLORE FLASHBACK #15 - Time Flies

Once again it's reached that time of the year when we start wondering where all the time has gone. Is it really nearly Christmas once again? It doesn't seem that long ago we were resolving to eat less and do more exercise... 

However as much as we sometimes desire a break from the tyranny of clock and calendar, in the past time pieces behaving erratically was generally seen as an ill omen...

http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/folklore-on-friday-clocking-on.html

And as much as we often wish we could stop the advance of those two hands around the dial, a stopped clock was often the herald of dark times. And there is even a true story behind that old song about a stopped grandfather clock too...

http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/folklore-on-friday-even-stopped-clock.html

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - The Ringing of the Bluebells

Well it appears that often seemingly mythical beast, the British Summer is finally here! The temperature is up, the sun is shining, and it's the perfect time to pop out for a pleasant stroll in the countryside. Now one of the great attractions of the British countryside at this time of the year is to take a walk in some bluebell woods. And this seemingly mundane activity has been something of an unofficial annual ritual for a lot of folks for many generations. Such is the popularity of going to see such swathes of blue, that not so long ago special trains would be laid on to carry visitors to the woodlands, or meander passed vistas showcasing the vistas clad in blue. For example, a service of "bluebell trains" once used to run through the Chiltern Hills through the blooming woodlands, and this natural floral display helped earn the designation of "An Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty". While in East Sussex, one particular stretch of tracks is still known as the Bluebell Railway.  Many nature parks and stately homes still make a point of advertising when their woodland will be carpeted with a stunning sea of gently nodding little blue flowers, and the National Trust even has a page telling you where the nearest bluebell wood is to you.

It is thought that the humble bluebell - that the Hyacinthoides non-scripta taxonomy fans - first appeared in Britain not long after the last Ice Age, and indeed the presence of a carpet of bluebells is often a signifier that a forest is a surviving tract of ancient woodland. However the little nodding flowers have not only been admired for their beauty but have also long been revered for their useful properties. In the Bronze age, our ancestors attached flights of feathers to their arrows with a glue made from bluebells, while the Tudors used a starch extracted from crushed bluebell roots to stiffen their iconic ruff collars. And for several centuries bookbinders have used bluebell derived adhesives to make and repair tomes. 

In the modern era we have discovered that bluebells contain at least 15 biological active compounds that the plant utilises to repel insect and animal pests. And it would seem our forebears knew something of this, for general folklore has long asserted that bluebells are poisonous to eat, and one of the uses of bluebells recommended by herbalists, was treating spider bites. However folklore ascribes to them other more esoteric properties, such as being a good remedy for leprosy, and as a treatment for tuberculosis. However there is also a good deal of magic associated with the little flowers too, as demonstrated by the various folk names the flowers have garnered over the centuries such as witches thimbles and fairy flowers. 

Firstly, as they begin to bloom towards the end of April, they have been long associated with St. George as that saint's day falls on the 23rd of that month, while in the language of flowers created by the Victorians, bluebells symbolise constancy, humility and everlasting love. And these associations may well be derived from older folklore charms, for two well-known pieces of bluebell lore reflect these properties: it was said that if you wore a wreath of bluebells you would compel a person to tell the truth. And if you turn a bluebell flower inside out, you will win the heart of your true love.

More generally, bluebells were considered useful flowers in other ways too. For example, the Encyclopedia of Folkore and the Occult Sciences Vol 2 by Cora Linn Daniels and C. M. Stevans, published in 1852, tells us -   

If you see a bluebell, pick it and repeat the following words: "Bluebell, bluebell, bring me some luck before to-morrow night;" slip it into your shoe and you will get good luck

Folklore also seemingly draws on their repellent qualities as well, for it was said that bluebells may be used to prevent nightmares, Simply place some in or under your pillow, or just hang them near the bed and bad dreams will be kept at bay. Possibly this particular belief might be related to their long usage as an adhesive, but it is possible it may be derived from an older common strand of bluebell lore. For in many places, the little flowers have a strong association with the faeries, and as such it was dangerous to be messing about in bluebells woods. 

It has been said that faeries hang their spells on bluebells to dry and hence disturbing the bluebells may unleash wild magic upon you, or just bring down the wrath of the faeries. Less whimsically, it was thought that walking in bluebells may lead you to become 'pixy-led' - that is to say, dazed by enchantment and unable to find your way out of the woods. And darker still in some corners of the country,  it was said that a child who picks a bluebell will be snatched away by the faery folk, never to be seen again. Unsurprisingly many folks held it was foolish to pick bluebells or bring them into the house.

However folklore is often very contradictory, and hence in some areas it was said that planting bluebells in your garden was a useful thing to do. Not only would it curry favour with the hidden faerie powers, but it was said that the bluebells would ring if unwelcome visitors approached your door. However once again these whimsical bits of bluebell lore appear to have older, darker roots. For more commonly, it was held that the faeries would ring the bluebells to call their kin to gatherings and meetings. And it was very bad luck to hear a bluebell ring, and in many instances it is said that to hear the chime of the bluebells was an omen of your own death, hence in some places these lovely little flowers gained the sinister name 'dead men's bells'... 

MICROGORIA 28 - Toads on the Whole

Following on from the magic toad biker mayhem of Psychomania last week, Mr Jim Moon explores the strange world of toad lore. In this episode, we learn of assorted strange beliefs about toads, monstrous tales of their antics, and the bizarre magical and medical uses of their parts.


DIRECT DOWNLOAD -  Toads on the Whole

Find all the podcasts in the HYPNOGORIA family here -

HYPNOGORIA HOME DOMAIN - Full archive, RSS feed and other useful links

HYPNOGORIA on iTunes

HYPNOGORIA on STITCHER

CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Autumn Leaves

In 1939, noted poet Louis MacNeice wrote a long work entitled Autumn Journal, a snap shot in verse of life in London on the eve of the Second World War. MacNeice's poetry very much reflected the times he lived in, as Philip Larkin put it "his was the poetry of our everyday life, of shop-windows, traffic policemen, ice-cream soda, lawn-mowers, and an uneasy awareness of what the news-boys were shouting". However a few particular lines have often puzzled readers - 

  

The plane-tree leaves come sidling down

            (Catch my guineas, catch my guineas)

And the sun caresses Camden Town,

               The barrels of oranges and apples. 

Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice 

Many have thought that the odd refrain of "Catch my guineas, catch my guineas" is perhaps meant to echo of an old nursery rhyme, just as the following lines about oranges and apples recall "Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clements". However, while it does allude to a very old source, we must look a little further than the nursery for its inspiration. 

While these lines don't appear to be an allusion to any older traditional rhyme or verse, it would seem to be an allusion to a widespread folk belief about falling leaves, and one that many generations of children have been familiar with. In Copsford (1952), author WJC Murray recalled that - 

As a small boy I had whimsically been taught that there was a magic in a falling leaf if you caught it before it touched the ground

Now this is somewhat vague, but undoubtedly it does make for a fun game in a sunny autumn afternoon. Delving into the annals of folklore, I discovered that in Cheshire it was said that to catch a falling leaf before it hit the ground on Halloween night entitled the catcher to make a wish. However there are many other versions of this little piece of autumnal lore. Most commonly, in many areas, it is simply considered lucky to catch a falling autumn leaf, and certainly this was the version that I was familiar with as a child growing up in the 1970s in the North of England. It is therefore not a huge leap of logic to suggest that Mr MacNeice's refrain recalls a similar tradition, in which it was said that to catch a falling leaf would ensure money and good fortune, and seemingly recalls a forgotten chant that accompanied the leaf catching. 

In 1878, the Folklore Society was founded to study such matters, and indeed to preserve these kinds of traditions, songs and rhymes. And in their first year of operations their official journal records the common folk belief that - 

If you catch a falling leaf, you will have twelve months of the happiness 

from Folk-Lore Record (1878)

But not all versions of this tradition were as quite as generous. It was said in Northampton, as late as the 1980s, that  if you catch twelve falling leaves during the autumn, you'll have a happy year; presumably each leaf caught ensures one month of good fortune. However childrens' author Alison Uttley, in her memoir A Year in the Country (1957), recalls a more exacting version - 

We try to catch a dancing leaf, for every leaf caught is a 'happy day', but how elusive they are, these fluttering alive things, which slip through the fingers and evade pursuit!

Now these variations in number perhaps are the result of this superstition spawning a game for children, with the increased goals making this autumnal activity something more of a challenge. In the 1950s, folklorist Iona Opie conducted a nationwide survey on superstitions, and a Welsh schoolboy in Bucknell, Radnorshire informed her that one needed to catch a whopping 365 falling leaves to ensure a lucky year - one can almost hear his breathless excitement at undertaking such a challenge! 

However the catching of falling leaves had other variations, and what's more were popular with grown-ups too. In The Encyclopedia of Superstitions (1949), Edwin Radford reports -

The peculiar belief mentioned in the first of the above superstitions was forcibly brought to the mind of the author one day in Hyde Park, London, in the autumn of 1946. A man and woman pretty well advanced in years stood looking up at an oak tree from which leaves were being blown by the wind. After making several attempts to catch a leaf, they at last managed to do so, the man first and the lady subsequently. They then walked away, apparently satisfied with the game. 

  A question to them elicited the fact that they expected to be free from colds in the head by reason of their performance. The author quoted to them the superstition in which they apparently believed. To this and a further question they announced that they were country bred, from the shires, and that since coming to London more than 20 years ago they had regularly caught falling leaves in the autumn. 'And we've never had a cold yet,' they concluded.

Whether there is any truth to this I do not know, but certainly the exercise involved in the task of catching those tricksy falling leaves certainly will help in warding off the coughs and colds of winter! 

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 - Not So Merry in the Month of May Part II

Last week we explored the widespread superstition that it was unlucky to marry in the month of the May, and we traced this age-old belief back to the Romans. Due to the Roman festival of Lemuria, which was to placate the shades of the unquiet dead, being held in the middle of May, the whole month was considered unlucky for marriages. However in the annals of folklore, the fifth month was ill omened for a variety of other activities too. 

In Scotland, where they placed much store in the old proverb "marry in May, rue the day", it was also said to be hazardous for a young mother to be weaning her children in this month too. Possibly this too derives from the same ancient beliefs that the rites of Lemuria tainted the month, for there was a more widespread belief that children born in May were destined for ill-luck. Many folkloric sources that warn it is unlucky to marry in May add the sinister line that children born in this month "die in decay", holding that "a May baby is always sickly, you may try but never rear it". A common taunt to those unlucky enough to be born in this month was "you are but a May cat". 

And what pray tell is a May cat? Well, obviously these were kittens born in the fifth month, and like their human counterparts they too were held to be sickly and weak. Indeed the May malaise touched other branches of the animal kingdom too, with May ducklings being said to be more likely to sprawl and in Dorset it was said that colts born in the May would have the unfortunate habit of lying down in any water you tried to ride them through. 

But it is the humble cat who gets the worst share of folklore here. For in addition to being sickly, May cats who did survive had the widespread reputation of being somewhat useless. According to many sources, a May cat would not make a good mouser, with many holding that not only would they be rubbish at keeping down the local rats and mice, but would also bring venomous reptiles, worms and snakes into the house instead. In some places it was even said that it was May cats that would creep into beds and cots and steal your breath away...

Again this is possibly related to the rites of Lemuria. Cats were popular pets in ancient Rome, and were associated with the Diana, goddess of hunting and Libertas, the goddess of freedom. Furthermore they were the only animals allowed in the temples, hence as the temples were closed during this Roman festival possibly this is why cats born in May are ill omened, having been denied the presence of the gods. However given that the superstitions about May cats are localised to the British Isles, perhaps we shouldn't be stretching back to the Classical world, and instead looking for connections closer to home.   

Certainly in British folklore, May is a hazardous month. For example, you've postponed your wedding, are not expecting a child, and even the cat is not having kittens so surely you're safe to get on with a bit of housework and make ready for the summer... Wrong! Stop right there! Firstly leave that winter bedding in place! "Wash blankets in May, you'll soon be under clay" says the lore of Oxfordshire, while in Bristol it is said "wash a blanket in May, wash a loved one away". Ok so we're leaving the bedding alone! How about getting some lighter clothes for the summer? Well, that is out too - "don't cast a clout, until May is out"  says an old British proverb - "clout" an old English word for "clothes". 

Now the reasons for these strictures and taboos on changing bedding and garments in the month of May we can trace to a different origin than ancient Roman festivals of the dead; indeed it is perhaps the origin of much of the other lore of ill luck in May too. And like many things in the British Isles, it comes down to the weather! The clearest indication, and indeed explanation comes from an 1852 publication, The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine Almanack, where it is written -   

We warn young persons during this month not to throw off their warm clothing too suddenly, as in this changeable climate we often have a day of sunshine followed by a day of rain and hail. Many are the deaths by consumption, the seeds of which have been sown by this pernicious practice. 

And there we have it - from sickly kids and kittens, to keeping cosy blankets and coats - all these forms of ill luck in the fifth month we can attribute to the changeable weather in May. Now for years it was thought that it was just an old wives' tale that getting cold can lead to catching a cold, but recent scientific research has shown that there is truth in the old saying. For, in basic terms, when your body has to work harder to regulate your temperature, your immune system becomes less effective; in particular the body's heat saving device of constricting blood flow means there are less white blood cells in the blood vessels to fight incoming germs and viruses.

Naturally infants are more prone to infection, and by getting caught out in cold weather, by not having your winter coat or having ditched the winter bedding, adults are at risk too. And as we don't commonly associate May with a time for colds, flu or infections, to fall ill in this month was seen as bad luck. Hence it turns out that the dire warnings about the month of May are founded not in superstition or ancient rites, but based on practical observances that folks were at risk of falling ill at an unexpected time of the year.