Notes and Queries, Number 61, December 28, 1850
Chapter 1
Produced by The Internet Library of Early Journals; Jon Ingram, Patricia A Benoy, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES, GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
* * * * *
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
NO. 61.] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28. 1850. [Price Threepence. Stamped Edition 4d.
* * * * *{505}
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page Illustrations of Scottish Ballads, by Richard John King 505 The Red Hand--The Holt Family--Vincent Family 506 Vondel's Lucifer, by Janus Dousa 507 A Myth of Midridge 509 Folk Lore Miscellanies:--St. Thomas's Day--Black Doll at Old Store-shops--Snake Charming--Mice as a Medicine--"Many Nits, many Pits"--Swans hatched during Thunder--Snakes--Pixies or Piskies--Straw Necklaces--Breaking Judas' Bones 509 Local Rhymes and Proverbs of Devonshire 511 A Christmas Carol 513 A Note for little Boys 513 Similarity of Traditions 513 Pixey Legends 514 The Pool of the Black Hound 515 Popular Rhymes 515 Minor Notes:--"Passilodion" and "Berafrynde"-- Inscription on an Alms-dish--The Use of the French Word "savez"--Job's Luck--The Assassination of Mountfort in For folk Street, Strand--The Oldenburgh Horn--Curious Custom--Kite--Epitaph on John Randal--Playing Cards 515
QUERIES:-- Dragons: their Origin 517 John Sanderson, or the Cushion Dance; and Bab at the Bowster 517 Did Bunyan know Hobbes? by J.H. Friswell 518 Minor Queries:--Boiling to Death--Meaning of "Mocker"--"Away, let nought to love displeasing" --Baron Münchausen--"Sing Tantararara Rogues all," &c.--Meaning of "Cauking" 519
REPLIES:-- The Wise Men of Gotham, by J.B. Colman 520 Replies to Minor Queries:--Master John Shorne-- Antiquity of Smoking--Meaning of the Word "Thwaites"--Thomas Rogers of Horninger--Earl of Roscommon--Parse--The Meaning of "Version" --First Paper-mill in England--"Torn by Horses" --Vineyards--Cardinal--Weights for Weighing Coins--Umbrella--Croziers and Pastoral Staves 520
MISCELLANEOUS:-- Notes on Books, Sales, Catalogues, &c. 523 Notices to Correspondents 524 Advertisements 524
* * * * *
NOTES.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF SCOTTISH BALLADS.
In the ballad of "Annan Water" (_Border Minstrelsy_, vol. iii.) is the following verse:--
"O he has pour'd aff his dapperpy coat, The silver buttons glanced bonny; The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, He was sae full of melancholy."
A very unexpected effect of sorrow, but one that does not seem to be unprecedented. "A plague of sighing and grief," says Falstaff. "It blows a man up like a bladder."
A remarkable illustration of Falstaff's assertion, and of the Scottish ballad, is to be found in this _Saga of Egil Skallagrimson_. Bodvar, the son of Egil, was wrecked on the coast of Iceland. His body was thrown up by the waves near Einarsness, where Egil found it, and buried it in the tomb of his father Skallagrim. The _Saga_ continues thus:--
"After that, Egil rode home to Borgar; and when he came there, he went straightway into the locked chamber where he was wont to sleep; and there he laid him down, and shot forth the bolt. No man dared speak a word to him. And thus it is said that Egil was clad when he laid Bodvar in the tomb. His hose were bound fast about his legs, and he had on a red linen kirtle, narrow above, and tied with strings at the sides. And men say that his body swelled so greatly that his kirtle burst from off him, and so did his hose."--P. 602.
It is well known that the subjects of many ballads are common to Scotland, and to the countries of Northern Europe. Thus, the fine old "Douglas Tragedy," the scene of which is pointed out at Blackhouse Tower, on the Yarrow, is equally localised in Denmark:
"Seven large stones," says Sir Walter, "erected upon the neighbouring heights of Blackhouse, are shown as marking the spot where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas Burn is avowed to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink; so minute is tradition in ascertaining, the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering, the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event."
The corresponding Danish ballad, however, that of "Ribolt and Guldborg," which has been translated by Mr. Jamieson, is not less minute in pointing out the scene of action. The origin of ballads, which are thus widely spread, must probably be sought in very high antiquity; and we cannot wonder if we find them undergoing considerable {506} change in the passage from one country to another. At least the "Douglas Tragedy" betrays one very singular mark of having lost something of the original.
In "Ribolt and Guldborg," when the lady's brothers have all but overtaken the fugitives, the knight addresses her thus:
"Light down, Guldborg, my lady dear, And hald our steeds lay the renyes here. And e'en sae be that ye see me fa' Be sure that ye never upon me ca'; And e'en sae be that ye see me bleed, Be sure that ye name na' me till dead."
Ribolt kills her father and her two eldest brothers, and then Guldborg can no longer restrain herself:
"Hald, hald, my Ribolt, dearest mine, Now belt thy brand, for its 'mair nor time. My youngest brother ye spare, O spare, To my mither the dowie news to bear."
But she has broken her lover's mysterious caution, and he is mortally wounded in consequence:
"When Ribolt's name she named that stound, 'Twas then that he gat his deadly wound."
In the Scottish ballad, no such caution is given; nor is the lady's calling on her lover's name at all alluded to as being the cause of his death. It is so, however, as in the Danish version:
"She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Lord William, she said, For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair."
There is no note in the _Kæmpe Viser_, says Mr. Jamieson, on this subject; nor does he attempt to explain it himself. It has, however, a clear reference to a very curious Northern superstition.
Thorkelin, in the essay on the Berserkir, appended to his edition of the _Kristni-Saga_, tells us that an old name of the Berserk frenzy was _hamremmi_, _i.e._, strength acquired from another or strange body, because it was anciently believed that the persons who were liable to this frenzy were mysteriously endowed, during its accesses, with a strange body of unearthly strength. If, however, the Berserk was called on by his own name, he lost his mysterious form, and his ordinary strength alone remained. Thus it happens in the _Svarfdæla Saga:_
"Gris called aloud to Klanfi, and said, 'Klanfi, Klanfi! keep a fair measure,' and instantly the strength which Klanfi had got in his rage, failed him; so that now he could not even lift the beam with which he had been fighting."
It is clear, therefore, continues Thorkelin, that the state of men labouring under the Berserk frenzy was held by some, at least, to resemble that of those, who, whilst their own body lay at home apparently dead or asleep, wandered under other forms into distant places and countries. Such wanderings were called _hamfarir_ by the old northmen; and were held to be only capable of performance by those who had attained the very utmost skill in magic.
RICHARD JOHN KING.
* * * * *
THE RED HAND.--THE HOLT FAMILY. (Vol. ii., pp. 248. 451.)
Your correspondent ESTE, in allusion to the arms of the Holt family, in a window of the church of Aston-juxta-Birmingham, refers to the tradition that one of the family "murdered his cook, and was afterwards compelled to adopt the red hand in his arms." Este is perfectly correct in his concise but comprehensive particulars. That which, by the illiterate, is termed "the bloody hand," and by them reputed as an abatement of honour, is nothing more than the "Ulster badge" of dignity. The tradition adds, that Sir Thomas Holt murdered the cook in a cellar, at the old family mansion, by "running him through with a spit," and afterwards buried him beneath the spot where the tragedy was enacted. I merely revert to the subject, because, within the last three months, the ancient family residence, where the murder is said to have been committed, has been levelled with the ground; and among persons who from their position in society might be supposed to be better informed, considerable anxiety has been expressed to ascertain whether any portion of the skeleton of the murdered cook has been discovered beneath the flooring of the cellar, which tradition, fomented by illiterate gossip, pointed out as the place of his interment. Your correspondents would confer a heraldic benefit if they would point out other instances--which I believe to exist--where family reputation has been damaged by similar ignorance in heraldic interpretation.
The ancient family residence to which I have referred was situated at Duddeston, a hamlet adjoining Birmingham. Here the Holts resided until May, 1631, when Sir Thomas took up his abode at Ashton Hall, a noble structure in the Elizabethan style of architecture, which, according to a contemporary inscription, was commenced in April, 1618, and completed in 1635. Sir Thomas was a decided royalist, and maintained his allegiance to his sovereign, although the men of Birmingham were notorious for their disaffection, and the neighbouring garrison of Edgbaston was occupied by Parliamentarian troops. When Charles I., of glorious or unhappy memory, was on his way from Shrewsbury to the important battle of Edgehill, {507} on the confines of Warwickshire, he remained with Sir Thomas, as his guest, from the 15th to the 17th of October (vide Mauley's _Iter Carolinum_, Gutch's _Collectanea_, vol. ii. p. 425.); and a closet is still pointed out to the visitor where he is said to have been concealed. A neighbouring eminence is to the present day called "King's Standing," from the fact of the unhappy monarch having stood thereon whilst addressing his troops. By his acts of loyalty, Sir Thomas Holt acquired the hostility of his rebellious neighbours; and accordingly we learn that on the 18th of December, 1643, he had recourse to Colonel Leveson, who "put forty muskettiers into the house" to avert impending dangers; but eight days afterwards, on the 26th of December, "the rebels, 1,200 strong, assaulted it, and the day following tooke it, kil'd 12, and ye rest made prisoners, though w'th losse of 60 of themselves." (Vide Dugdale's _Diary_, edited by Hamper, 4to. p. 57.) The grand staircase, deservedly so entitled, bears evident marks of the injury occasioned at this period, and an offending cannon-ball is still preserved.
Edward, the son and heir of Sir Thomas, died at Oxford, on the 28th August, 1643, and was buried in Christ Church. He was an ardent supporter of the king. The old baronet was selected as ambassador to Spain by Charles I., but was excused on account of his infirmities. He died A.D. 1654, in the eighty-third year of his age. His excellence and benevolence of character would afford presumptive evidence of the falsehood of the tradition, if it were not totally exploded by the absurdity of the hypothesis upon which it is grounded. Sir Thomas was succeeded in the baronetcy by his grandson, Robert, who in compliance with his will built an almshouse or hospital for five men and five women. It is unnecessary to pursue the family further, excepting to state that nearly at the close of the last century the entail was cut off: the family is now unknown in the neighbourhood, excepting in its collateral branches, and the hall has passed into the possession of strangers. Its last occupant was James Watt, Esq., son of the eminent mechanical philosopher. He died about two years ago, and the venerable mansion remains tenantless.
With reference to the ancient family residence of the Holts, at Duddeston, it will be sufficient to observe, that in the middle of the last century the house and grounds were converted into a tavern and pleasure gardens, under the metropolitan title of Vauxhall: and for a century they continued to afford healthful recreation and scenic amusement to the busy inhabitants of Birmingham. The amazing increase in the size and population of the town has at length demanded this interesting site for building purposes. Within the last three months the house and gardens have been entirely dismantled, a range of building has already been erected, and old Vauxhall is now numbered amongst the things that were.
J. GOODWIN.
Birmingham.
_"Bloody Hands at Stoke d'Abernon, Surrey._--The legends of Sir Richard Baker (Vol. ii., pp. 67. 244.) and of a member of the Holt family (Vol. ii., p. 451.) recall to my mind one somewhat similar, connected with a monument in the church of Stoke d'Abernon, Surrey, the appearance of a "bloody hand" upon which was thus accounted for to me:--
"Two young brothers of the family of Vincent, the elder of whom had just come into possession of the estate, were out shooting on Fairmile Common, about two miles from the village; they had put up several birds, but had not been able to get a single shot, when the elder swore with an oath that he would fire at whatever they next met with. They had not gone much further before the miller of a mill near at hand (and which is still standing) passed them, and made some trifling remark. As soon as he had got by, the younger brother jokingly reminded the elder of his oath, whereupon the latter immediately fired at the miller, who fell dead upon the spot. Young Vincent escaped to his home, and by the influence of his family, backed by large sums of money, no effective steps were taken to apprehend him, and he was concealed in the 'Nunnery' on his estate for some years, when death put a period to the insupportable anguish of his mind. To commemorate his rash act and his untimely death, this 'bloody hand' was placed on his monument."
So runs the story as far as I remember; the date I cannot recollect. The legend was told me after I had left the church, and I had paid no particular attention to the monument; but I thought at the time that the hand might be only the Ulster badge. I shall be obliged to any of your readers who will throw further light upon this matter. A pilgrimage to Stoke d'Abernon, whose church contains the earliest known brass in England, would not be uninteresting even at this season of the year.
ARUN.
* * * * *
VONDEL'S LUCIFER.
I have to complain of injustice done by a correspondent of "NOTES AND QUERIES," to the Dutch poet Vondel. To the question mooted by F. (Vol. i. p. 142.), whether my countryman's _Lucifer_ has ever been translated into English, Hermes answers by a passage taken from the _Foreign Quarterly Review_ for April, 1829; and subjoins a list of the _dramatis personæ_ "given from the _original Dutch_ before him. The tragedy itself is condensed by your correspondent into a simple "&c." Now, if HERMES, instead of referring to a stale review for a comparison between Vondel's tragedy and the _Paradise Lost_, without showing by _any_ proof that Milton's justly renowned epic {508} is indeed superior to this, one of the Dutch poet's masterpiece--if HERMES, being, as I conclude from his own words, conversant with the language of _our_ Shakspeare, had taken pains to _read Lucifer_, he would not have repeated a statement unfavourable to Vondel's poetical genius. I, for my part, will _not_ hazard a judgment on poems so different and yet so alike, I will _not_ sneer at Milton's demon-gods of Olympus, nor laugh at "their artillery discharged in the daylight of heaven;" for such instances of bad taste are to be considered as clouds setting off the glories of the whole; but _this_ I will say, that Vondel wrote his _Lucifer_ in 1654, the sixty-seventh of his life, while Milton's _Paradise Lost_ was composed four years later. The honour of precedence, in time, at least, belongs to my countryman. All the odds were against the British poet's competitor, if one who wrote before him may be so called; for, while Milton enjoyed every privilege of a sound classical education, Vondel had still to begin a course of study when more than twenty-six years of age; and, while the Dutch poet told the price of homely stockings to prosaic burghers, the writer of _Paradise Lost_ was speaking the language of Torquato Tasso in the country enraptured by the first sight of _la divina comedia_.
I am no friend of polemical writing, and I believe the less we see of it in your friendly periodical, the better it is; but still I _must_ protest against such copying of partially-written judgments, when good information can be got. I say not by stretching out a hand, for the book was already opened by your correspondent--but alone by using one's eyes and turning over a leaf or two. Else, why did HERMES learn the Dutch language? I ask your subscribers if the following verses are _weak_, and if they would not have done honour to the English Vondel?
CHORUS OF ANGELS.
(From _Lucifer_.)
"Who sits above heaven's heights sublime, Yet fills the grave's profoundest place, Beyond eternity, or time, Or the vast round of viewless space: Who on Himself alone depends-- Immortal--glorious--but unseen-- And in his mighty being blends What rolls around or flows within. Of all we know not--all we know-- Prime source and origin--a sea, Whose waters pour'd on earth below Wake blessing's brightest radiancy. 'Tis power, love, wisdom, first exalted And waken'd from oblivion's birth; Yon starry arch--yon palace, vaulted-- Yon heaven of heavens, to smile on earth. From his resplendent majesty We shade us 'neath our sheltering wings, While awe-inspired, and tremblingly We praise the glorious King of Kings, With sight and sense confused and dim; O name--describe the Lord of Lords, The seraph's praise shall hallow Him;-- Or is the theme too vast for words?"
RESPONSE.
"'Tis God! who pours the living glow Of light, creation's fountain-head: Forgive the praise--too mean and low-- Or from the living or the dead. No tongue thy peerless name hath spoken, No space can hold that awful name; The aspiring spirit's wing is broken;-- Thou wilt be, wert, and art the same! Language is dumb. Imagination, Knowledge, and science, helpless fall; They are irreverent profanation, And thou, O God! art all in all. How vain on such a thought to dwell! Who knows Thee--Thee the All-unknown? Can angels be thy oracle, Who art--who art Thyself alone? None, none can trace Thy course sublime, For none can catch a ray from Thee, The splendour and the source of time-- The Eternal of eternity. Thy light of light outpour'd conveys Salvation in its flight elysian, Brighter than e'en Thy mercy's rays; But vainly would our feeble vision Aspire to Thee. From day to day Age steals on us, but meets thee never; Thy power is life's support and stay-- We praise thee, sing thee, Lord! for ever."
CHORUS.
"Holy, holy, holy! Praise-- Praise be His in every land; Safety in His presence stays; Sacred is His high command!"
Dr. Bowring's version,--though a good one, if the difficulty be considered of giving back a piece of poetry, whose every word is a poem in itself, and by whose rhyme and accentuation a feeling of indescribable awe is instilled into the most fastidious reader's mind,--Dr. Bowring's version is but a feeble reverberation of the holy fire pervading our Dutch poet's anthem. But still there rests enough in his copy to give one a high idea of the original. I borrow the same Englishman's words when I add:--
"The criticism that instructs, even though it instructs severely, is most salutary and most valuable. It is of the criticism that insults, and while it insults, informs not, that we have a right to complain."--_Batavian Anthology_, p. 6.
JANUS DOUSA.
Manpadt House.
* * * * *{509}
A MYTH OF MIDRIDGE;
_Or, A Story anent a witless Wight's Adventures with the Midridge Fairies in the Bishoprick of Durham; now more than two Centuries ago._