Saturday, 7 January 2017

The Swastika: A Prophetic Symbol by William Thornton Parker M.D. 1907


The Swastika: A Prophetic Symbol by William Thornton Parker M.D. (Formerly Surgeon U. S. Indian Service.) 1907

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SAINT PETER, the Martyr, writing on the earth with his rapidly ebbing life-blood the great Catholic word of faith, "Credo," is but a link in the perfect chain of devoted Christians who have sacrificed their lives willingly for the God-given religion they have received.

In the earliest days of persecution when only the gloomy Catacombs could be counted on for asylum, the hunted Christians made use of secret symbols to safeguard the disclosure of themselves to friends and brothers in Christ. The ichthus, fish, is a well-known illustration of this; and so also perhaps the swastika, the most ancient prophetical symbol of our Blessed Lord's coming, was also found of value in concealing the sign of the cross from those ready to betray or destroy any Christian whose profession became known.

Men need a symbol. Nations have their flags; great associations have their different devices. All these are symbols that represent to men what is dear to them. Symbols, then, seem to be necessary: and how powerful they are is known to every one. They are rich with sacred memories; they touch the heart and evoke the liveliest enthusiasm: around them men have fought and have shed their blood, even as eighteen thousand of the flower of knighthood perished in defence of the relic of the most Holy Cross. Christ's cross is the glorious symbol of the world's redemption: all other symbols are as nothing if opposed to the religion which He in mercy founded!

The pagan type of Christ, the Hindu "Agni," or God of Fire, whose symbol is the oldest form of the cross known, was in general use in all the ancient pagan world, from India to Italy. It is found among other forms of the cross in the Christian Catacombs, and must be traced to its original source in order to learn its true meaning. According to the testimony of the best Oriental scholars, the "Vedas" are amongst the oldest religious books extant, dating to the fourteenth century B. C. The Hindus allege that Agni, or fire god, or god of fire, had an existence in an elementary state before the formation of the sun! "He was in the beginning with God." It is from the Vedas that we learn the oldest form of the cross to be the symbol of Agni. We claim our Agnus Dei to be the second person of the blessed Trinity. When the ancient Hindu worshiper would produce Agni, or fire, at his worship or sacrifice, he took two pieces of wood and arranged them in the form of a cross, and by whirling them rapidly together with a bow obtained the desired fire by friction. This is the arrangement: one piece being set in the other at the center. This instrument, which every Brahmin possesses, is called the Arani, and should be made of the sacred Sami tree. As a symbol it is called Swastika, and is like many other symbols marked on the forehead of young Buddhists as well as Brahmins. "And God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten Son" who died even upon the cross, the Tree of Shame. By the wood of this sacred tree we are saved. As the Christian is signed by the Sign of the Cross, so the signification of the sign of the swastika is the same as that of the Christian Chrisma marked on the forehead of the baptized, i.e., salvation. This symbol is considered by such great scholars as Burnouf the oldest form of the cross known, the bearer of fire. The modification of this Vedic symbol became the instrument of torture and death to other nations; and was that on which the Saviour suffered.

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The swastika was thus the symbol of Agni, as the Life and Light of the world to the ancient Brahmins, as the symbol of the cross in the Catacombs to the Christians. Surely not of any material light of fire, but rather of the True Light which lighteneth every man that cometh into the world. That True Light symbolized in swastika and cross, in Ichthus and other forms,—-Light of Light. Very God of Very God, Begotten not made. Agnus Dei, Who taketh away the sins of the world.

Diogenes, the grave digger of the Catacombs, immortalized in the ancient frescoes, that shrine of the martyrs, is depicted as holding in his hands a lighted lamp with which he finds his way in the dark labyrinths, and lays to rest the remains of faithful Christians. The swastika symbols of Agni arc placed upon him. Does this not signify a type of Christ whose light illumines even the recesses of the grave?

The simplicity and beauty of these ancient Swastikas painted on the walls of the Catacombs as early as the first or second century have deep significance in the history of Christian martyrdom. It is therefore not surprising that we find on the mitre of Blessed Thomas a Becket embroidered the symbol of swastika. There is also one to be found on a memorial brass in Lewknor Church, Oxfordshire, England. The inscription in the Catacombs of the mural painting is as follows: "Diogenes Fossor in Pace Depositus" etc.,-—pick, lamp and other instrument; swastika on shoulder and one on each flap of skirt. Another swastika has been found upon the slab of a grave in a Catacomb.

John the Baptist proclaimed the Agnus Dei, "that taketh away the sins of the world;" and the Holy Catholic Church has ever since been preaching salvation in the Cross of Him who is the Light of the World, and whose symbol is the grandest triumph ever known. Significance of the swastika is to be accounted for as a great fact or truth divinely communicated in the earliest times as prophetic of the coming of the Agnus Dei, the Light of the World and the Saviour of Mankind.

There are several different kinds of swastika: the Arabian, the Scandinavian, the Phoenician, the Hindu or Indian. In the Hindu form there is a miniature double-armed cross, joining together four double circles within each of which is a small rebated cross resembling the Navajo Swastika. When we try to locate the birthplace of the swastika, we at once come upon the claim put forth by some paleologists that it saw the light in India. In substantiation of their view they bring out the fact that the swastika was first discovered on the hills of Hissor in British India. Late findings, however, disprove their conclusion and make their contention untenable. In Athens, Bologna, Cyprus, Konigsberg, in the museums of ancient Vienna and the Vatican, there are to be seen prehistoric vases of all sizes and shapes, profusely ornamented with symbolic signs of the swastika. It is also found amidst the paintings of the Catacombs of Rome; on the pulpit of St. Ambrose in Milan; on the ancient sacred books of the Persians; on early Christian monuments of Scotland and Ireland and in the museums of Toulouse and Rouen.

The form known as the fylfot is frequently introduced on the vestments of the Greek Church and is found also somewhat more sparingly in the West, both in ecclesiastical and heraldic work. It was most commonly employed amongst the Western peoples in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; and many examples of it may be seen on monuments, brasses etc. Amongst the various mediaeval textile fabrics we find one called Stauracin, a material taking the name from the Greek word for a cross, and so called from its being figured over with the form of the cross, the design being sometimes of the simplest character, and in other examples of very elaborate enrichment of detail. This was also known as gammadion. In the Greek alphabet the letter Gamma consists of two lines at right angles to each other, like an English letter L; and many of the mystical writers of earlier days have seen in this form a symbol of Christ as the corner stone. On this idea as a basis the mediaeval designers combined these L-like forms into many more or less decorative arrangements. Four of them placed with their four angles towards each other create the form of the Greek cross; at other times they were so arranged as to form the letter H; or placed with their angles outwards a square is produced. By far the most ancient and most common form fashioned out of the Gamma, is that known as the fylfot. This may be found even in the Catacombs, and from its resemblance to two rough S's or Z's crossing each other,—-S and Z in old work being often interchangeable,—-it has been conjectured that it was probably the cross represented as signum, the sign, i. e., of faith in the Crucifix. In the use of the fylfot the early Christians merely adopted and diverted to their own purpose a symbal centuries older than the Christian era, a symbol of early Aryan origin.

We find the swastika on the drums Laplanders use in the performance of magic rites; the Chinese have it on their flags, their musical instruments and even their guns. The Japanese use it as an ornament on their pottery. We see it among the relics of the ancient races that have succeeded each other on the American continent. The Swastika was found on a shell dug out of a Tennessee mound; also it was taken out of a mound near Chillicothe, Ohio; on a stone ax at Pemberton, New Jersey and on a vase from Arkansas, which is now in the National Museum in Washington.

Morehead is said to have seen the Swastika among the prehistoric scratches found in Yucatan and Paraguay; and it has been found among the tribes of Peru and Brazil. It is especially made use of by the Navajos. and Pueblo Indians. It is also found among the Texas Indians; as well as the Hopis.

The Marquis of Madaillac states that: "In circumstances too numerous to be recalled, men, no matter at what point of time or in what part of the world they live, acted alike, had the same ideas, made the same inventions, adopted similar practices, without knowing each other, without even as much as being conscious of each other's existence. Are these remarkable coincidences the result of a mere hazard? Is, for instance, the wonderful diffusion of the very complicated swastika, through time and space, nothing else but a fortuitous occurrence? Is it not rather a fact, fraught with great purport for solving the problems of the origin?"

The following letter from a distinguished Jesuit scholar, Rev. A. J. Maas, is very interesting and instructive:
"The figure you sent me has several names: fylfot, gammadion, Thor's hammer, and swastika-cross are perhaps best known. Fylfot is said to be the old form of fyl-fot, meaning the pattern or device for filling the foot of a painted window. Gammadion is said to be derived from the fact that the symbol was considered to consist of four Greek capital "gammas" conjoined; as such it was in high favor with early secret societies but also with Byzantine ecclesiastical decorators. In the mythology of the North it was held to symbolize "Mjolnir" the formidable cross-formed hammer of Thor, and is accordingly called Thor's hammer. The swastika cross was well known among the Buddhists of India, among whom it appears to have symbolized the Western Paradise or the tree of knowledge. These are the usual meanings of the sign."

Also the following from Rev. Anselm Weber, O. F. M., from St. Michael's Mission, Arizona:
"I received your inquiry concerning the swastika cross. I am afraid I must disappoint you. The Navajos attach no meaning whatever to that symbol. They use it very extensively, it is true, but they were possibly led to do so by the Indian traders. They may have obtained it from the Mexicans or the Pueblo Indians. It is probable, also, that they copied it from a pictograph found in Canon del Muerto, a branch canon of Canon de Chelly in the Navajo Reservation. I send you a photograph on which you can plainly see that swastika cross, painted there centuries ago by the prehistoric cliff-dwellers. You are welcome to the photograph."

Mr. G. P. Milne, a master in St. Paul's School, describes this swastika as about a foot square, and says that it is either painted or slightly cut into the rock about sixty feet above the ground. Mr. Milne has traveled extensively in Arizona but says that he has seen only one other such swastika on the canon walls there.

The following item from the Smithsonian Institute is interesting in this connection:
"The swastika is of prehistoric origin. Nothing certain is known about its original significance. It preceded Christianity and even Buddhism, in connection with which latter it is still in use. It is true that the Swastika, together with the Egyptian symbol of life (crux Ansata) was used by the early Christians as a symbol of their religion, and in the Catacombs, the swastika is sometimes combined with the Christogram. It was explained by early Christian authors as a combination of two Z's which were said to mean "thou shalt live." It might also be explained to mean Christ, who calls himself the 'Life'. But these explanations are an afterthought, just as Greek antiquarians explained the two Z's in the swastika as the monogram of Zeus. It is certain that the swastika was not invented by Christians, but was adopted by them, and was gradually superseded by the Christogram and the definite acceptance of the cross as the emblem of Christianity."
(Signed) I. M. Cassanowicz, Asst. Curator,
             Dept. of Historic Archeology.

It is the well-nigh universal and varied use of the swastika that demonstrates the great part played by this mysterious sign in the life of ancient as well as contemporary human races. It is probable that the meaning of the swastika has undergone many changes, according to the epoch and traditions of each race.

The Catholic must recognize in this mysterious swastika a teaching of far greater import than the conclusions arrived at by ethnologists. Every swastika conceals the sign of the cross, and as the books of the Bible are prophetic of the coming of our Lord so this symbol is prophetic of the coming of the Founder of Christianity.

It is one of the great religious symbols of the world It has been revered all over Europe and Asia. It is one of the oldest things in history, and there is scarcely a land in whose ruined temples it is not found.

By those who look upon the region to the northwest of India as the primal home of the blonde races of the world that ancient land is also looked upon as the birthplace of the swastika. With the successive emigrations of the Aryans from Northern India all over Europe the swastika spread. The Arabs and Jews knew it not. As the "hammer of Thor" it is fabled to have crushed the head of "the serpent." It is the cross which every swastika contains, which destroys the evil of the serpent to-day, and faith in this holy sign restores the dead to life everlasting. It is another proof that the inhabitants of the new world came from the old and brought the symbol of the salvation of the Christian faith with them. In the cross of this Christian faith is the salvation for all peoples—-and its influence goes steadily on. Believing in His Cross and promise, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of all things," we cling to the Christian faith.

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Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Milo, Hitler's Mein Kampf and other Book News (Jan 4 2017)



Leslie Jones Rips Simon & Schuster for Publishing Book by White Nationalist Troll Milo Yiannopoulos

Chicago lit review editor talks 'imperfect solution' to Yiannopoulos book deal

UK publishers shy away from 'alt-right' star Milo Yiannopoulos
Despite a big-money deal in the US for the Breitbart journalist’s memoir, major UK publishers say they are likely to refuse ‘a toxic book’

MILO Book Rockets to Top of Amazon Political Humor Category, Beats The Daily Show Book

Hitler's 'Mein Kampf' becomes German bestseller

Banning Mein Kampf

Man who writes in rhyme has launched daily news blog


Trump's book 'Art of the Deal' is a bestseller again

Color us amazed: Adult coloring book craze is here to stay

This Book Designer Redesigned The Bible As A Novel

Amazon list of 2016’s best-selling books proves ‘the power of Potter is still strong’

JK Rowling confirms she's writing two new novels

Meet the elite group of authors who sell 100 million books - or 350 million

Wall Street Journal's best-selling books

10 Business Books Every Entrepreneur Should Read in 2017


Forget ‘Pat the Bunny.’ My Child Is Reading Hemingway.

New Book Exposes How EPA Distorts Science To Fit Its Political Goals

Pensioner launches campaign to save 'Dracula' castle from development
[Joe Allan wants Slains Castle, in Aberdeenshire, to be saved for the people of Scotland. Bram Stoker was inspired by the castle when he wrote parts of Dracula while on holiday nearby.]

Carrie Fisher's books become best sellers after her death

The real horror of ‘Frankenstein:’ Human extinction

Ultra-rare Jane Austen £5 note found in Christmas card in Scottish Borders

Arthur Conan Doyle revealed: 5 things you didn't know about Sherlock Holmes's creator

7 crime novels from 2016 you need to read


Sherlock star Benedict Cumberbatch is related to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Jane Austen to appear on both the £2 coin and £10 note to mark the 200th anniversary of her death

Banned Books: Giving Up White Male Authors
[One day, a friend and I were talking about books, and she said, "I’m kind of trying not to read things by white men.]

10 Books to Read If You Love True Crime

Six true crime books about lesser-known, suspected serial killers

TOP 10 BEST STEPHEN KING HORROR MOVIES, AS RANKED BY FANS

Hidden gems of 2016: the best books you may have missed

Florida Librarians Create Fake Patron to Keep Books

A new bookstore opens in North Carolina; a Connecticut bookstore expands with podcasts; one of the country’s smallest bookstores goes on the market; and more.

'Rude' shopowner branded 'bookseller from hell'

Long Unseen By Readers, H.G. Wells Ghost Story Finally Debuts In Print

Book News: For A Deeper Sleep, Forgo The E-Reader Before Bed

Barnes & Noble, Microsoft Part Ways Over The Nook

USA Today’s Kelly Lawler Falsely Brands MILO as ‘White Nationalist,’ ‘Racist,’ and ‘Alt Right’

Is "Banned Books Week" a Myth?

Is "Banned Books Week" a Myth?

As we wrap up 2015’s Banned Book Week (September 27 – October 3), Ruth Graham at Slate rightly takes the American Library Association (ALA) to task for trafficking “in fear-mongering over censorship, when in fact the truth is much sunnier: There is basically no such thing as a ‘banned book’ in the United States in 2015.”

That’s true, but Graham understates the problem with the ALA’s campaign of disinformation.
She points out that to maintain the semblance of relevance in an era of ever-freer access to books of all kinds, the ALA has begun to conflate the categories of banned books and challenged books. “The modifier ‘banned or challenged’ contains a lot of wiggle room,” says Graham.
A “challenge,” in the ALA’s definition, is a “formal, written complaint, filed with a library or school requesting that materials be removed because of content or appropriateness.”
In other words, every time parents complain about a book they think is inappropriate for their children, the ALA records that as a challenge, and therefore the number of “banned or challenged” books ticks up for that year, increasing the general sense of alarm among supporters of free speech.
Last year, there were 311 books “banned or challenged” in US schools and libraries. “It would be easy to assume,” Graham comments, “that the literal banning of books is still a routine occurrence in the United States.

In addition to distinguishing a library’s actual removal of a book from the far more frequent (and uneventful) “challenges,” Graham further distinguishes between public libraries and school libraries.  “Even if you’re firmly opposed to ‘banning books’ — and I am!” she says, “it’s hard to argue that parents should have no right to weigh in on what their children read at school.”

Graham reviewed the ALA’s database of challenges between 2007 and 2012. After eliminating both mere challenges and book removals from schools, she found “the ALA documents a whopping four cases that definitively ended with a book being completely removed from circulation” during that six-year period.

“Suffice it to say,” she concludes, “there is no tidal wave of censorship inundating our nation’s libraries.”

While Graham is on the right track, her conclusion is puzzling. If we were really talking about censorship (a term she uses but never defines), would we consider our liberties safe just because the actual violations were selective and rare?

Unfortunately, Graham’s equivocations are typical of most conversations about free speech.
For libertarians, censorship is wrong when it is a coercive authority suppressing a peaceful communication.

If a website moderates its comments, that’s not censorship.

If a TV networks removes all the dirty words from a script, that’s not censorship.

If a private school decides to remove all references to sexuality from its library, or if a private library wanted to include only one religious perspective on its shelves, those would not be cases of censorship, however illiberal we may consider such policies.

Yes, they would be banning books. But private “bans” are not a violation of anyone’s right to produce or consume the prohibited material. As Graham herself notes,
We’re now living in an era of unprecedented access to reading material. If your local library declines to carry what you want to read these days, there has been no time in history where it’s easier for you to read it anyway.
Contrast these examples with the history of real censorship in the United States.
  1. In 1798, President John Adams signed the Alien and Sedition Acts into law. These included “An Act for the Punishment of Certain Crimes against the United States” making it illegal to oppose or resist any US law. This was defined to include writing or publishing “false, scandalous, and malicious writing” about the president or Congress — but specifically not the vice president, Thomas Jefferson, who opposed the acts as unconstitutional.
  2. From the 1830s through the Civil War, the US postmaster general refused to allow the postal system to carry abolitionist pamphlets in the South. (And because the government post office holds a legal monopoly — a privilege it defends aggressively — the federal government really was in effect banning antislavery literature in those states that held the most human beings in bondage.)
  3. In 1873, Congress passed an act for the “Suppression of Trade in, and Circulation of, Obscene Literature and Articles of Immoral Use.” Popularly known as the Comstock Law, it used the postal monopoly to ban not only erotica but all literature about birth control. The great 19th-century libertarian Moses Harman was sentenced to hard labor breaking rocks at Joliet prison at the age of 75 for violating Comstock.
Contrast Moses Harman’s story to the “challenges and bans” in the ALA’s database.
Even within the lifetime of some readers, there have been famous cases of genuine, that is government, censorship:
  1. The publishers of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl were arrested in the mid-1950s on obscenity charges.
  2. Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer was published in France in 1934, but banned in the United States. Its American publication in 1961 by Grove Press led to obscenity trials.
  3. Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs was banned in Boston and Los Angeles in the early 1960s.
(Notice that in 2015 we can link to Kindle editions of all three, allowing you to acquire these no-longer-banned books in a matter of seconds.)

When governments outlaw any peaceful exchange, it violates our rights and makes us all worse off. When private organizations decide not to provide a certain product — even pamphlets, magazines, and books — that’s the decision of those who need to manage their own scarce resources.
When we’re talking about state censorship versus private discretion, these issues are pretty straightforward. But they become murkier in the ALA’s domain, because the vast majority of American libraries are paid for through taxation.

When taxes pay for services, taxpayers will inevitably demand a say in which services do and don’t get included. That’s practically the definition of democracy. But when the service in question involves books, many free-speech advocates insist that this debate is per se out of bounds.

The ALA presents itself as championing freedom, but what the organization is really doing is waging a campaign of “fear-mongering over censorship” to make us feel grateful to them as guardians of our rights, when they are, in fact, the guardians of tax-funded librarians.

“Banned Books Week is well-intentioned,” according to Graham, “and it’s unquestionably run by the good guys.”

That’s a conclusion that relies on the sort of semantic “wiggle-room” that Graham takes the ALA to task for.

But it's not in the ALA's interest to promote better semantic precision, because greater clarity over the government's unique role in the power to suppress communication might prompt more people to question the propriety of so much government involvement in our schools and libraries in the first place.
B.K. Marcus
B.K. Marcus
B.K. Marcus is a Contributing Editor of FEE.
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

Shockheaded Peter (Struwwelpeter) German Nursery Tales


Shockheaded Peter (Struwwelpeter) German Nursery Tales

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[Der Struwwelpeter (or Shockheaded Peter) is a German children's nursery book by Heinrich Hoffmann that was very popular in the 19th century and beyond. I remember looking at these when I was a child in Germany in the 1960's. This article was written in The Spectator as a celebration of these stories when Hoffman died in 1894.]

The children of Europe and America have lost their poet-laureate, Dr. Heinrich Hoffmann, the immortal author of the songs that tell of Shockheaded Peter, Harriet and the Matches, and the Blackamoor. If the babies could be polled, there can be no question that they would give their votes in favor of the "Struwwelpeter" as the king of nursery-books. The verses and pictures hit the children of from two to five just between wind and water, and make them happy as do no others in all their literature. It is true that Mr. Lear's nonsense-poems and nonsense-drawings are always very pleasing to the children, and are probably enjoyed more greatly by the older boys and girls than even Dr. Hoffmann's book. They have, too, a literary and artistic excellence beyond that which can be claimed by the "Struwwelpeter." Still, take it all in all, the little ones love more to hear about Cruel Frederick and Dog "Tray" than even about the old man of Spithead, who opened the window and said, "Chickabee, Chickabaw, and he said nothing more." People of from two to five are not quite advanced enough to see the acuteness of the nonsense in Edward Lear's writings, and find greater pleasure in Dr. Hoffmann's poems. The "Struwwelpeter," then, must be reckoned one of the really great nursery-books—not the comet of a season, but a classic,—-a book which will be as much read by our children's children as by us. To have written such a work is no small achievement. It means that the author has managed to touch a very difficult and fastidious public, and to touch it just where it feels most keenly.

It is worth while to inquire more in detail what are the elements in the "Struwwelpeter" which give it its peculiar charm. We believe that it is the young child's book above all others, because it so successfully appeals to every one of the emotions which interest and please children. In the first place, the poems are all narrative,-—tell, that is, a simple story. But the first thing a child wants to hear is a simple story. Next, they all have in them the element of the strange and the marvellous,—-the element of exaggeration and wonderfulness. It is this love of the grotesquely marvellous that makes children so fond of stories of pink bears and blue cats. Next, children all like to hear about children. Dr. Johnson was utterly wrong when he said, "Depend upon it, Sir, babies don't want to hear about other babies." That is always exactly the thing they do want to hear about. But every one of the poems in the "Struwwelpeter" has to do with babies. Next, the poems are about naughty children. Little boys and girls undoubtedly like to have their flesh made to creep by hearing about their wicked brothers and sisters. A wicked grown-up person rather
appalls them, and is seldom a favorite. He is out of proportion. The naughty child is, however, near enough to be interesting and not too dreadful. His deeds of darkness give, too, a pleasant sense of virtue to those who hear about them. Without being hypocrites, the children have a right to feel satisfied that they are not as Shockheaded Peter, Cruel Frederick, Augustus, Suck-a-Thumb, or Johnny Head-in-Air. Then, too, children are by nature intensely didactic. They love a moral, and a moral which is well rammed home to their own breasts. Nothing is more delightful to a child than to say sententiously, "Little boys should be seen and not heard." The effect is not the least spoiled to the child by the fact that the enunciation of this great principle cuts clean through Mr. Jones's eloquent description of how he nearly voted for the wrong candidate at the last General Election, owing to a fixed mental confusion between Johnson and Jones which has always possessed his mind. Again, children have a keen sense of fun, and the "Struwwelpeter" is full of fun. Lastly, children have very quick ears, and the "Struwwelpeter" is written in a very pretty jingle,—-a jingle which is well kept up in the English version. The "Struwwelpeter" thus gives children satisfaction all along the line, and supplies all their emotional needs, moral and aesthetic. It is a perfect child's book because it tells just the things children want to hear. If any of the poems are examined in detail, it will be seen how exactly they fulfil the conditions we have named. Take, for example, the poem of Cruel Frederick. It is a capital short story of a boy who was punished for cruelty:—

"He caught the flies, poor little things,
 And then tore off their tiny wings.
 He killed the birds and broke the chairs,
 And threw the kitten down the stairs.
 And oh! far worse than all beside,
 He whipped his Mary till she cried."

The infantile sense of pity and terror is delightfully played upon. There is something awfully thrilling in reading of these desperate acts. The poem, too, pleasantly reminds the good little boys and girls how virtuous they are in not yielding to these temptations. The poetic justice, for which children are always so hungry, is amply rendered. After Frederick has tortured good-dog "Tray," he is severely bitten in the leg in return:—

"So Frederick had to go to bed,
His leg was very sore and red.
The doctor came and shook his head
And made a very great to-do,
And gave him nasty physic too."

But the curtain cannot fall till the rewards have been distributed as well as the punishments:—

"But good dog Tray is happy now,
He has no time to say 'Bow-wow,'
He seats himself in Frederick's chair
And laughs to see the good things there!
The soup he swallows sup by sup
And eats the pies and puddings up."

Here, too, that sense of fun which children possess so greatly—-the sense which shows them not to be little savages, but the young of a civilized race—-is specially appealed to. The notion of dog "Tray" sitting up and eating Frederick's dinner, is to them delicious-—especially when brought home by the picture of "Tray, with a napkin round his neck, standing up on a red-seated chair, with his forepaws on the table, enjoying his soup. Over the back of the chair hangs Frederick's whip. The feeling of horror is conveyed by the story of "Harriet and the Matches." This, it will be remembered, is the story of the girl who burnt herself to death while a troop of pussy-cats first warned her, and then bewailed ner fate, like the chorus in a Greek tragedy:—

"Then how the pussy-cats did mew!
What else, poor pussies, could they do?
They screamed for help—-'twas all in vain,
So then they said 'we'll scream again.'"

Who can have forgotten the picture that closes the story? The pussy-cats, with mourning bows on their tales, weeping over the fate of naughty Harriet! The fairy-tale side is represented by the story of the boys who mocked the harmless Blackamoor, and were, in consequence, seized by tall Agrippa and put into the great inkstand. It is not stated who Agrippa was, but one always imagined him to be a magician. This was no case of premature knowledge that there was such a person as Cornelius Agrippa, but simply a deduction from general appearances. It is true that Agrippa wears a brown dressing-gown and bedroom slippers, but these cannot conceal the nature of the man. His fur cap with a red top is ample compensation for any little irregularities in the rest of his get-up. For children of four, Agrippa stands for the romantic and the marvellous. He is what "The Arabian Nights" and all the cycles of romance, Merlin, and the Knights of Logress or of Lyonesse, are to the grown-up. "The Story of the Man that went out Shooting" is almost pure comedy, but it has the great charm of introducing an animal who puts on spectacles and fires a gun. A child's first idea of fun is generally derived from the notion of an animal acting as a man. Why this should be it is not easy to see. Perhaps because that incongruity which is the rock-basis of all humor, according to Sydney Smith, is most plainly visible in a bear getting into bed or eating porridge. It might be supposed that "The Story of Augustus who would not have any Soup" would have been a little too much of a home-thrust to be a favorite. Yet, somehow or other, that tale of childish recklessness is always eagerly asked for in the nursery:

"Augustus was a chubby lad,
Fat ruddy checks Augustus had ,
And everybody saw with joy
The plump and hearty, healthy boy."

The lines are simple enough, but it is impossible to repeat them without feeling the sensations which are popularly attributed to the old war horse at the sound of the bugle. One sees at once, in the mind's eye, the lovely blue pictures in which the law of diminishing returns is operating on the plump body of Augustus, and hears the refrain:

"Oh take the nasty soup away,
I wont have any soup to-day."

Who, too, can forget the two last pictures? The last but one shows Augustus a mere shadow. The last, a little grass grave with a headstone marked "Augustus," and on the grave a tureen marked "Soup."

It would be an error not to pay special attention to the charm of the pictures in the "Struwwelpeter." It is impossible to imagine anything better suited to delight young children. If it is artistic to interpret a motive with force, simplicity and directness, and yet ingenuity, then assuredly these pictures are artistic. The drawing may be primitive, and the coloring more than crude, but as illustrations of the poems they are perfect. Especially good are all the details. Shock-headed Peter is displayed in his green gaiters and red tunic, and his yellow "hay-rick head of hair," standing on a pedestal ornamented with combs and scissors. That does not sound much, but placed as these emblems are, the result is most effective. How good, too, is the picture of the kitten that was thrown downstairs by Cruel Frederick. It lies dead at the bottom of a flight of steps with a brickbat on it, and enormously heightens the appeal of the whole composition. Inimitable is Frederick in his very German bed with the doctor by him, dressed in a blue coat and green trousers, and holding a large bottle marked "for Frederick." Observe, too, the chest of drawers in the picture of "Harriet and the Matches." The present writer can well remember meeting exactly that chest of drawers in the Tyrol, and at once recalling his "Struwwelpeter." And then Agrippa's inkpot. Never did artist draw an inkpot with a nobler and more liberal sweep of hand. It is an epic inkpot-—a joy and yet a mystery to every beholder. But one would run on for ages if one were to notice all the glories and descant on the expression of the fishes in "Johnny Head-in-air," or on the charm of the landscape in "The Story of Flying Robert"—-the church, the hill, the poplar, the rain-cloud and the red umbrella. These must be left to some Ruskin of the rattle and the hobby-horse. It is enough to say that the men and women who were lucky enough to be brought up on "Struwwelpeter"—-and few are they who were not, who were born after 1850—will always remember with delight the pictures in this enchanting book.

The genesis of the idea on which the "Struwwelpeter" rests, given us by Dr. Hoffmann himself, shows that he had a real insight into and sympathy for children. He found in his practice as a doctor, that it was often necessary to gain the confidence of the children he had to examine. This was most easily accomplished by a story and a rough drawing. These stories and rough drawings, done on the spur of the moment, were afterwards collected and became first a MS. nursery-book for his son, and then the most popular nursery-book of the world at large. Dr. Hoffmann did not sit down and say, "Now I will write a child's book," and then and there compose on abstract principles a book "suitable for young children." Instead, and with his eye as it were always on the object, and with a definite, practical aim, he made something which amused his boy and girl patients. Hence the fact that he never misses the mark, but always strikes the nursery bullseye. It was doubtless this which saved him from sentimentality,—-the bane of most children's books. There is not a trace of sentimentality in the whole work, and no infant, however precocious, could possibly shed "the tears of sensibility" over the "Struwwelpeter." It is all good healthy fun and nonsense, and the morals are as plain as a pikestaff. The strange thing is that, as far as we know, Dr. Hoffmann wrote no other children's books. In these days the publishers would never have allowed that. Dr. Hoffmann would have been simply forced to do a dozen sequels. In the forties, however, either men were made of sterner stuff, or there was less competition in the trade. Dr. Hoffmann was permitted to obtain immortality on twenty-four pages of verses and pictures.
—The Spectator.


Monday, 2 January 2017

The Old Man and the Fox (Blackfoot Tale) by George Bird Grinnell 1907


The Old Man and the Fox (Blackfoot Tale) by George Bird Grinnell 1907

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THE FOX

One day Old Man went out hunting and took the fox with him. They hunted for several days, but killed nothing. It was nice warm weather in the late fall. After they had become very hungry, as they were going along one day, Old Man went up over a ridge and on the other side he saw four big buffalo bulls lying down; but there was no way by which they could get near them. He dodged back out of sight and told the fox what he had seen, and they thought for a long time, to see if there was no way by which these bulls might be killed.

At last Old Man said to the fox: "My little brother, I can think of only one way to get these bulls. This is my plan, if you agree to it. I will pluck all the fur off you except one tuft on the end of your tail. Then you go over the hill and walk up and down in sight of the bulls, and you will seem so funny to them that they will laugh themselves to death."

The fox did not like to do this, but he could think of nothing better, so he agreed to what Old Man proposed. Old Man plucked him perfectly bare, except the end of his tail, and the fox went over the ridge and walked up and down. When he had come close to the bulls, he played around and walked on his hind legs and went through all sorts of antics. When the bulls first saw him, they got up on their feet, and looked at him. They did not know what to make of him. Then they began to laugh, and the more they looked at him, the more they laughed, until at last one by one they fell down exhausted and died. Then Old Man came over the hill, and went down to the bulls, and began to butcher them. By this time it had grown a little colder.

"Ah, little brother," said Old Man to the fox, "you did splendidly. I do not wonder that the bulls laughed themselves to death. I nearly died myself as I watched you from the hill. You looked very funny." While he was saying this, he was working away skinning off the hides and getting the meat ready to carry to camp, all the time talking to the fox, who stood about, his back humped up and his teeth chattering with the cold. Now a wind sprang up from the north and a few snowflakes were flying in the air. It was growing colder and colder. Old Man kept on talking, and every now and then he would say something to the fox, who was sitting behind him perfectly still, with his jaw shoved out and his teeth shining.

At last Old Man had the bulls all skinned and the meat cut up, and as he rose up he said: "It is getting pretty cold, isn't it? Well, we do not care for the cold. We have got all our winter's meat, and we will have nothing to do but feast and dance and sing until spring." The fox made no answer. Then Old Man got angry, and called out: "Why don't you answer me? Don't you hear me talking to you?" The fox said nothing. Then Old Man was mad, and he said, "Can't you speak?" and stepped up to the fox and gave him a push with his foot, and the fox fell over. He was dead, frozen stiff with the cold.


OLD MAN AND THE LYNX

Old Man was travelling round over the prairie, when he saw a lot of prairie-dogs sitting in a circle. They had built a fire, and were sitting around it. Old Man went toward them, and when he got near them, he began to cry, and said, "Let me, too, sit by that fire." The prairie-dogs said: "All right, Old Man. Don't cry. Come and sit by the fire." Old Man sat down, and saw that the prairie-dogs were playing a game. They would put one of their number in the fire and cover him up with the hot ashes; and then, after he had been there a little while, he would say sk, sk, and they would push the ashes off him, and pull him out.

Old Man said, "Teach me how to do that"; and they told him what to do, and put him in the fire, and covered him up with the ashes, and after a little while he said sk, sk, like a prairie-dog, and they pulled him out again. Then he did it to the prairie-dogs. At first he put them in one at a time, but there were many of them, and pretty soon he got tired, and said, "Come, I will put you all in at once." They said, "Very well, Old Man," and all got in the ashes; but just as Old Man was about to cover them up, one of them, a female heavy with young, said, "Do not cover me up; the heat may hurt my children, which are about to be born." Old Man said: "Very well. If you do not want to be covered up, you can sit over by the fire and watch the rest." Then he covered up all the others.

At length the prairie-dogs said sk, sk, but Old Man did not sweep the ashes off and pull them out of the fire. He let them stay there and die. The old she one ran off to a hole and, as she went down in it, said sk, sk. Old Man chased her, but he got to the hole too late to catch her. So he said: "Oh, well, you can go. There will be more prairie-dogs by and by."

When the prairie-dogs were roasted, Old Man cut a lot of red willow brush to lay them on, and then sat down and began to eat. He ate until he was full, and then felt sleepy. He said to his nose: "I am going to sleep now. Watch for me and wake me up in case anything comes near." Then Old Man slept. Pretty soon his nose snored, and he woke up and said, "What is it?" The nose said, "A raven is flying over there." Old Man said, "That is nothing," and went to sleep again. Soon his nose snored again. Old Man said, "What is it now?" The nose said, "There is a coyote over there, coming this way." Old Man said, "A coyote is nothing," and again went to sleep. Presently his nose snored again, but Old Man did not wake up. Again it snored, and called out, "Wake up, a bob-cat is coming." Old Man paid no attention. He slept on.

The bob-cat crept up to where the fire was, and ate up all the roast prairie-dogs, and then went off and lay down on a flat rock, and went to sleep. All this time the nose kept trying to wake Old Man up, and at last he awoke, and the nose said: "A bob-cat is over there on that flat rock. He has eaten all your food." Then Old Man called out loud, he was so angry. He went softly over to where the bob-cat lay, and seized it, before it could wake up to bite or scratch him. The bob-cat cried out, "Hold on, let me speak a word or two." But Old Man would not listen; he said, "I will teach you to steal my food." He pulled off the lynx's tail, pounded his head against the rock so as to make his face flat, pulled him out long, so as to make him small-bellied, and then threw him away into the brush. As he went sneaking off, Old Man said, "There, that is the way you bob-cats shall always be." That is the reason the lynxes look so today.

Old Man went back to the fire, and looked at the red willow sticks where his food had been, and it made him mad at his nose. He said, "You fool, why did you not wake me?" He took the willow sticks and thrust them in the coals, and when they took fire, he burned his nose. This pained him greatly, and he ran up on a hill and held his nose to the wind, and called on it to blow hard and cool him. A hard wind came, and it blew him away down to Birch Creek. As he was flying along, he caught at the weeds and brush to try to stop himself, but nothing was strong enough to hold him. At last he seized a birch tree. He held on to this, and it did not give way. Although the wind whipped him about, this way and that, and tumbled him up and down, the tree held him. He kept calling to the wind to blow gently, and finally it listened to him and went down.

So he said: "This is a beautiful tree. It has kept me from being blown away and knocked all to pieces. I will ornament it and it shall always be like that." So he gashed it across with his stone knife, as you see it to-day.


Sunday, 1 January 2017

The Sea and its Legends by Benjamin Taylor 1900


The Sea and its Legends by Benjamin Taylor 1900

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ONE of the oldest superstitions connected with the sea is undoubtedly that which associated peril with the malefic influence of some individual on shipboard. We find it in the case of the seamen of Joppa, who, when overtaken by a 'mighty tempest' on the voyage to Tarshish, said to each other, 'Come and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is cast upon us.' The lot, as we know, fell upon Jonah, and after some vain wrestling with the inevitable, the men at last 'took up Jonah and cast him forth into the sea, and the sea ceased from her raging.'

Without offering here any comment on, or explanation of, the Scriptural narrative, let us compare it with the following remarkable story, which that indefatigable delver after old-world wonders, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, reproduced.

Somewhere about midsummer of the year 1480, a ship, sailing out of the Forth for a port in Holland, was assailed by a furious tempest, which increased to such a remarkable degree for the mild season of the year, that the sailors were overcome with fear, and gave themselves up for lost. At length an old woman, who was a passenger by the vessel, came on deck and entreated them to throw her overboard as the only means of preserving their own lives, saying that she had long been haunted by an 'incubus' in the shape of a man, from whose grasp she could not free herself. Fortunately for all parties there was another passenger on board—a priest—who was called to the rescue. After a long admonition, and many sighs and prayers, 'there issued forth of the pumpe of the ship,' says Hollinshed, 'a foul and evil-favoured blacke cloud, with a mightie terrible noise, flame, smoke, and stinke, which presentlie fell into the sea, and suddenlie, thereupon, the tempest ceassed, and the ship passing in great quiet the residue of her journie, arrived in safetie at the place whither she was bound.'

There is doubtless some association between this class of superstition and the old Talmudic legend, according to which the devils were specially angered when, at the creation, man received dominion over the things of the sea. This was a realm of unrest and tempest, which the devils claimed as belonging to themselves. But, says the legend, although denied control of the life that is in the sea, the devils were permitted a large degree of power over its waters, while over the winds their rule was supreme.

There is scarcely a current legend or superstition which cannot be traced to very remote sources. Thus, in the Chaldæo-Babylonian cosmogony there was a Triad which ruled the three zones of the universe: the heaven, by Anu; the surface of the earth and the atmosphere, by Bel; and the under-world, by Nonah. Now, Nonah is held to be both the same as the Assyrian Hea, or Saviour, and as the Noah of the Bible. So when Tiamat, the dragon, or leviathan, opens 'the fountains of the great deep,' and Anu, 'the windows of heaven,' it is Hea, or Noah, who saves the life of man.

This legend is supposed by M. François Lenormant to explain an allusion in one of the most ancient Accadian manuscripts in the British Museum to 'the serpent of seven heads, that beats the sea.' This Hydra was the type of the destructive water-demon who figures in the legends of all countries.

In the same way, to the Syrian fish deities, Dagon and Artergatis, must we look for the origin of our Undines and fish-maidens, and mermaidens.

The 'Nixy' of Germany has by some been supposed traceable to 'Old Nick'; but this is not probable, since St. Nicholas has been the patron-saint of sailors for many centuries. It was during the time of the Crusades that a vessel on the way to the Holy Land was in great peril, and St. Nicholas assuaged a tempest by his prayers. Since then he has been supposed to be the protector of mariners, even as Neptune was in ancient times; and in most Roman Catholic countries you will find in seaport towns churches dedicated to St. Nicholas, to which sailors resort to return thanks for preservation at sea, and to make votive offerings.

The German Nixy was, no doubt, a later form of the old Norse water-god Nikke. You meet with him again, in another form, in Neckan, the soulless, of whom Matthew Arnold sings:

'In summer on the headlands
The Baltic sea along
Sits Neckan with his harp of gold,
And sings his plaintive song.'

The 'Nixa' along the Baltic coast was once, however, much feared by the fishermen. It was the same spirit which appears as the Kelpie in Scotland—a water-demon which caused sudden floods to carry away the unwary, and then devoured them.

There was a river-goddess in Germany, whose temple stood at Magdeburg, of whom a legend exists that she also once visited earth and went to market in a Christian costume, where she was detected by a continual dripping of water from the corner of her apron. Generally speaking, however, the Nixies may be described as the descendants of the Naiads of ancient times, and as somewhat resembling the Russian Rusalkas, of which the peasantry live in much dread.

A Russian peasant, it is said, is so afraid of the water-spirits that he will not bathe without a cross round his neck, nor ford a stream on horseback without signing a cross on the water with a scythe or knife. In some parts these water-spirits are supposed to be the transformed souls of Pharaoh and his host, when they were drowned, and the number is always being increased by the souls of those who drown themselves.

It is said that 'in Bohemia' fishermen have been known to refuse aid to drowning persons lest 'Vodyany' would be offended and prevent the fish from entering the nets.

This 'Vodyany,' however, seems rather a variant of the old Hydra, who reappears in the diabolical names so frequently given to boiling springs and dangerous torrents. The 'Devil's Tea-kettles' and 'Devil's Punch-bowls' of England and America have the same association as the weird legends connected with the Strudel and Wirbel whirlpools of the Danube, and with the rapids of the Rhine, and other rivers. Curiously enough, we find the same idea in The Arabian Nights, when 'The sea became troubled before them, and there arose from it a black pillar ascending towards the sky, and approaching the meadow, and behold it was a Jinn of gigantic stature.'

This demon was a waterspout, and waterspouts in China are attributed to the battles of dragons. 'The Chinese,' says Mr. Moncure Conway, 'have canonised of recent times a special protectress against the storm-demons of the coast, in obedience to the wishes of the sailors.'

The swan-maidens, who figure in so many legends, are mere varieties of the mer-maiden, and, according to the Icelandic superstition, they and all fairies were children of Eve, whom she hid away on one occasion when the Lord came to visit her, because they were not washed and presentable! They were, therefore, condemned to be invisible for ever.

A Scotch story, quoted by Mr. Moncure Conway, rather bears against this theory. One day, it seems, as a fisherman sat reading his Bible, a beautiful nymph, lightly clad in green, came to him out of the sea, and asked if the book contained any promise of mercy for her. He replied that it contained an offer of salvation to 'all the children of Adam,' whereupon she fled away with a loud shriek, and disappeared in the sea. But the beautiful stories of water-nymphs, of Undines and Loreleis, and mer-women, are too numerous to be even mentioned, and too beautiful, in many cases, to make one care to analyze.

There is a tradition in Holland that when, in 1440, the dikes were broken down by a violent tempest, the sea overflowed the meadows. Some women of the town of Edam, going one day in a boat to milk their cows, discovered a mermaid in shallow water floundering about with her tail in the mud. They took her into the boat, brought her to Edam, dressed her in women's clothes, and taught her to spin, and to eat as they did. They even taught her something of religion, or, at any rate, to bow reverently when she passed a crucifix; but they could not teach her to speak. What was the ultimate fate of this remarkable creature is not disclosed.

Everybody, of course, is familiar with the old sea-legend of the Flying Dutchman, whether in stories of phantom ships, or in the opera of Wagner. The spirit of Vanderdecken, which is still supposed to roam the waters, is merely the modern version of our old friend, Nikke, the Norwegian water-demon. This is a deathless legend, and used to be as devoutedly believed in as the existence of Mother Carey, sitting away up in the north, despatching her 'chickens' in all directions to work destruction for poor Jack. But Mother Carey really turns out on inquiry to be a most estimable being, as we shall presently see.

'Sailors,' says Brand, in his Popular Antiquities, 'usually the boldest Men alive, are yet frequently the very abject slaves of superstitious Fear. They have various puerile Apprehensions concerning Whistling on Shipboard, carrying a Corpse, etc., all which are Vestiges of the old Woman in human Nature, and can only be erased by the united Efforts of Philosophy and Religion.'

It is to be regretted, however, that the good Brand did not devote as much attention to the superstitions of sailors as he did to those of some other folks.

As is the case with almost all folk-lore, little variety is to be found in the sea superstitions of different nations. The ideas of the supernatural on shipboard are pretty much the same, whether the flag flown be the Union Jack, the German Eagle, the French Tricolor, the American Stars and Stripes, or even the Chinese Dragon. These superstitions are numerous, and are tenaciously preserved, but yet it would not be fair to say that seamen are, as a class, more superstitious than landsmen of their own rank. The great mystery of the sea; the uncertainty of life upon its bosom; the isolation and frequent loneliness; the wonder of the storms, and calms, and lights—everything connected with a sailor's occupation is calculated to impress him with the significance of signs and omens.

That mariners do not like to have a corpse on board is not remarkable, for many people ashore get rather 'creepy' if they have to sleep in a house where lies a dead body. Moreover, the old idea of bad luck which led to the throwing overboard of Jonah, is in this case transferred from the living to the dead. The objection to whistling is also explainable by the time-honoured practice of 'whistling for a wind,' for an injudicious whistler might easily bring down a blow from the wrong quarter.

There are some animals and birds which have a peculiar significance at sea. The cat, for instance, is generally disliked, and many sailors will not have one on board at any price. If there is one which becomes unusually frisky, they will say the cat has got a gale of wind in her tail. On one part of the Yorkshire coast, it is said, sailors' wives were in the habit of keeping black cats to insure the safety of their husbands at sea, until black cats became so scarce and dear that few could afford to buy one. Although Jack does not like a cat in the ship, he will not throw one overboard, for that would bring on a storm.

Miss L. A. Smith, in her book about the Music of the Waters, states that a dead hare on a ship is considered a sign of an approaching hurricane; and Cornish fishermen declare that a white hare seen about the quays at night indicates that there will be rough weather.

The pig is an object of aversion to Japanese seamen, and also to Filey fishermen, who will not go to sea if they meet one in the early morning. But, indeed, the pig seems to be generally disliked by all seafarers—except in the form of salt pork and bacon.

Rats, however, are not objected to; indeed, it would be useless to object, for they overrun all ships. And rats are supposed to leave a vessel only when it is going to sink. A Welsh skipper, however, once cleared his ship of them without the risk of a watery grave, by drawing her up to a cheese-laden ship in harbour. He quietly moored alongside, and, having left the hatches open all night, cast off with a chuckle in the morning, leaving a liberal legacy to his neighbour.

The stormy petrel is supposed to herald bad weather, and the great auk to tell that land is very near. This is true enough as regards the auk, which never ventures beyond soundings; but one doubts the truth of the popular belief that when the sea-gulls hover near the shore, a storm is at hand. The Scotch rhyme runs:

'Seagull, seagull, sit on the sand;
It's never good weather when you're on the land!'


Mr. Thiselton-Dyer quotes from Sinclair's Statistical Account of Scotland, in confirmation of this belief, that in the county of Forfar, 'when they appear in the fields, a storm from the southeast generally follows; and when the storm begins to abate, they fly back to the shore.' This does not accord with the present writer's experience of the west coast of Scotland, where the sea-gulls frequent the lochs and hillsides far inland all the summer. Naturally there are storms sometimes after their appearance, but just as often fine weather continues. As well say that the flocks of these beautiful birds that follow in the wake of a tourist steamer, to pick up unconsidered trifles, presage sea-sickness to the passengers!

One has heard that in Cornwall sailors will not walk at night along portions of the shore where there have been many wrecks, because they believe that the souls of the drowned haunt such localities, and that the 'calling of the dead' is frequently audible. Some even say that they have heard the voices of dead sailors hailing them by name. One can readily excuse a timorousness in Jack in such circumstances. Many persons besides sailors shrink from localities which have been the scenes of murder or sudden death.

Friday is the sailor's pet aversion, as an unlucky day on which to sail or begin work. But this is not surprising, when we remember that Friday has everywhere more superstition and folk-lore attached to it than any other day in the week, originating, perhaps, as Mr. Thiselton-Dyer suggests, from the fact that it was the day on which Christ was crucified. Lord Byron had the superstitious aversion to Friday; and even among the Brahmins no business must be commenced on this day. In Lancashire a man will not 'go a-courting on Friday'; and Brand says: 'A respectable merchant of the city of London informed me that no person will begin any business, that is, open his shop for the first time, on a Friday.' The 'respectable merchant' might be hard to find nowadays, but still one does not need to go to sailors to find a prejudice against Friday.

Other things which are accounted unlucky by superstitious seamen are: to sneeze on the left side at the moment of embarking; to count the men on board; to ask fishermen, before they start, where they are bound for; to point with the finger to a ship when at sea; to lose a mop or water-bucket; to cut the hair or nails at sea, except during a storm.

These are a few of the sea superstitions as preserved in rhyme:

'The evening gray, and the morning red,
Put on your hat or you'll wet your head.'
(Meaning that it will rain.)

'When the wind shifts against the sun,
Trust it not, for it will run.'
(That is, soon change again.)

'When the sun sets in the clear,
An easterly wind you need not fear.

'The evening red and morning gray
Are sure signs of a fine day.'

(A distich not peculiar to followers of the sea.)

'But the evening gray and morning red
Makes the sailor shake his head.'

This refers to the barometer:

'First rise, after low,
Indicates a stronger blow.'
And this:

'Long foretold, long last;
Short notice, soon past.

These, however, are hardly superstitions, but maxims based on experience. Of the same character are the following:

'In squalls
When the rain's before the wind
Halyards, sheets, and braces mind.'
Also,

'When the wind's before the rain
Soon you may make sail again.'
And

'When the glass falls low,
Prepare for a blow;
When it rises high,
Let all your kites fly.

'A rainbow in the morning,
Sailors take warning;
A rainbow at night
Is the sailor's delight.'

The Manx fishermen have some curious sayings about herrings. Thus the common expression, 'As dead as a herring,' is due to them. They say also, 'Every herring must hang by its own gills'; and their favourite toast is, 'Life to man and death to fish.' They count one hundred and twenty-four fish to the hundred, thus: they first sort out lots of one hundred and twenty, then add three to each lot, which is called 'warp,' and then a single herring, which is called 'tally.' Before shooting the nets at sea, every man goes down on his knees at a sign from the skipper of the boat, and, with his head uncovered, prays for a blessing on the fishing. This, at least, used to be the general practice, but in how prevailing at the present day is doubtful.

The sound of the death-bell is often supposed to be heard at sea before a wreck, and this idea may be either associated with the bell-buoy which marks many sunken, dangerous rocks, or with the religious ceremonies of the old days.

At Malta it is, or was, usual to ring the church bells for an hour during a storm 'that the wind may cease and the sea be calmed,' and the same custom prevails both in Sicily and Sardinia.

A Cornish legend of the bells of a church, which were sent by ship that was lost in sight of the town, owing to the blasphemy of the captain, says that the bells are supposed to be in the bay, and they announce by strange sounds the approach of a storm.

There is a suggestion of Sir Ralph the Rover in this legend; but, indeed, the superstitions of those connected with the sea are so interwoven, that it is not easy to disentangle them, and they are numerous enough to need a book to themselves. No doubt our mariners derived many of them from the old Spanish navigators who once swayed the main, for the Spaniards are one of the most superstitious peoples in the world.

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January and Janus in Mythology, 1896 Article


January and Janus in Mythology, 1896 Article

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This name of the first month of the year has come down to us from our Roman grandfathers. Our Saxon ancestors gave us the names of the days of the week, but the Romans named for us the months of the year. Janus was as great a deity among the Romans as was Odin among the Norsemen. Janus was the deity who presided over the beginnings of all undertakings. But not only did he begin them, he directed their course and brought them to a close. A good beginning was considered of the greatest importance by the Romans. They used to say, “Everything depends on the beginning.” We have the same proverb now in “What is well begun is half done.” So the first month in the year was called January. Janus not only looked forward, directing the beginning and progress of all undertakings, but he looked backward also and brought all undertakings to a close. So it came about that our Roman grandfathers believed him to have two faces; one of these was like the face of a youth, for the beginnings of things are always young, the other was the face of an old man, who looked upon events after they had become old and brought them to an end. In their temple the Romans erected a statue of Janus with his youthful face looking toward the east, the beginning of the day, and his old face looking toward the west. When the Romans were carrying on any great enterprise, especially a great war, they kept both the east and the west doors of this temple open night and day, so that the god might be able to see both ways, to the beginning and to the close of it, and know better how to direct it. As he sat there he held a key in one hand, with which he opened the door of a new enterprise and closed the door of one that he had brought to an end. He held a scepter in the other hand, which was an emblem of his power to begin, to conduct, and to close all the undertakings of both the gods and men. There was only one deity who was superior to him. This was Jupiter, who must first give his consent before Janus could undertake anything.

There is a great deal of significance, therefore, in the name by which we call this, the first month of the year. It is the closing up of the old and the beginning of the new, and many people, old and young, make it the time for new resolves, and the breaking away from that which was bad in their former life. All of us rejoice on New Year's day, and wish each other well, because of our hope that the coming year will be fuller of blessings than was the last.