XII.

FOLLY OF BELIEF IN GHOSTS.—WHY GHOSTS ARE ALWAYS WHITE.—A TRUE STORY.—THE GHOST OF THE CAMP.—A GHOSTLY SENTRY-BOX.—A MYSTERY.—THE NAGLES FAMILY.—RAISING THE DEAD.—A LIVELY STAMPEDE.—HOLY WATER.—CÆSAR’S GHOST AT PHILIPPI.—LORD BYRON AND DR. JOHNSON.—GHOST OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.—“JOCKEYING A GHOST.”—THE WOUNDED BIRD.—A BISHOP SEES A GHOST.—MUSICAL GHOSTS.—A HAUNTED HOUSE.—ABOUT WITCHES.—“WITCHES IN THE CREAM.”—HORSE-SHOES.—WOMAN OF ENDOR NOT A WITCH.—WEIGHING FLESH AGAINST THE BIBLE.—THERE ARE NO GHOSTS, OR WITCHES.

FOLLY OF BELIEF IN GHOSTS.—WHY GHOSTS ARE ALWAYS WHITE.—A TRUE STORY.—THE GHOST OF THE CAMP.—A GHOSTLY SENTRY-BOX.—A MYSTERY.—THE NAGLES FAMILY.—RAISING THE DEAD.—A LIVELY STAMPEDE.—HOLY WATER.—CÆSAR’S GHOST AT PHILIPPI.—LORD BYRON AND DR. JOHNSON.—GHOST OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.—“JOCKEYING A GHOST.”—THE WOUNDED BIRD.—A BISHOP SEES A GHOST.—MUSICAL GHOSTS.—A HAUNTED HOUSE.—ABOUT WITCHES.—“WITCHES IN THE CREAM.”—HORSE-SHOES.—WOMAN OF ENDOR NOT A WITCH.—WEIGHING FLESH AGAINST THE BIBLE.—THERE ARE NO GHOSTS, OR WITCHES.

Is it not quite time—I appeal to the sensible reader—that such folly was expunged from our literature? What is a ghost? Who ever saw, heard, felt, tasted, or smelled one? Must a person possess some miraculous quality of perception beyond the five senses commonly allotted to man in order to become cognizant of a ghostly presence?

BELIEVERS IN GHOSTS.

What stupid folly is ghost belief! Yet there are very many individuals in this enlightened day and generation, who, from perverted spirituality, or great credulousness, will accept a ghost story, or a “spiritual revelation,” without wincing.

It would seem that many great men of the past, as Calvin,Bacon, Milton, Dante, Lords Byron and Nelson, Sir Walter Scott, Wordsworth, and others, believed in the existence of ghosts and spirits on this mundane sphere.

There are but two classes who believe in ghosts, viz., the ignorant as one class, and persons with large or perverted spirituality—phrenologically speaking—as the other. These are the believers in dreams, in ghosts, in spirits, and fortune-telling. These, too, are the religious (?) fanatics, etc.

The Origin of the word Ghost

is curious.

“The first significance of the word, as well as ‘spirit,’ is breath, or wind.” It is of Anglo-Saxon origin, and is fromgust, the wind. Hence, agustofwind. The Irish wordgoath, wind, comes nearer to the modern English pronunciation, and shows how easily it could have been corrupted toghost.

It is easy to imagine the good old Saxon ladies, sitting around the evening fireside, and just as one of them has finished some marvellous story of that superstitious age, they are startled by a sudden blast of wind, sweeping around the gabled cottage, and her listeners exclaim, in suppressed breath,—

“Hark! There’s a fearful gust!”

The transit fromgusttoghostis easily done. The clothes spread upon the bushes without, or pinned to the lines, flapping in the night air, are seen through the shutterless windows, and they become the object of attraction. Theeffectsupersedes thecause, and the clothes become the gust, goath, or ghost! The clothes, necessarily, must be white, or theycould not be seen in the night time! Hence a ghost is always clothed in white. Therefore the wind (gust) is no longer the ghost, but any white object seen moving in the night air.

“HARK! THERE’S A FEARFUL GUST!”

“But I am a wandering ghost—I am an idle breath,That the sweets of the things now lostAre haunting unto death.Pity me out in the cold,Never to rest any more,Because of my share in the purple and gold,Lost from the world’s great store.“I whirl through empty space,A hapless, hurried ghost;For me there is no place—I’m weary, wandering, lost.Safe from the night and cold,All else is sheltered—all,From the sheep at rest in the fold,To the black wasp on the wall.”

Moffat says that a tribe of Caffres formerly employed the wordMorinoto designate the Supreme Being; but as theysank into savagery, losing the idea of God, it came to mean only a fabulous ghost, of which they had great terror.

Having briefly shown the folly of the existence of the word in our vocabulary, I will proceed to explode a few of the best authenticated—so called—“ghost stories;” and if I leave anything unexplained in ghostology, let the reader attribute it to either my want of space in which to write so much, or the neglect of my early education in thedead languages.

The Ghost of the Camp.

I obtained the following story from one of the sentries:—

At Portsmouth, R. I., there was a camp established during the late war, 186-. There was a graveyard in one corner of the enclosed grounds, where several soldier-boys had been buried from the hospital, and here a guard was nightly stationed.

Of course there were many stories told around the campfires, of ghosts and spirits that flitted about the mounds at the dead hours of the night, circulated particularly to frighten those stationed at that point on picket duty.

The body of a soldier had recently been exhumed and placed in a new and more respectable coffin than the pine box coffin furnished by Uncle Sam, in which he had been buried, and the old one was left on the ground.

Partly to protect himself from the inclemency of the weather, and quite as much to show his utter disregard of all ghostly visitors, my informant secured the old pine coffin, “washed it out, though it was impossible to remove all the stains,” and, driving a stake firmly into the ground, he stood the coffin on one end, and, removing the lid, used to stand therein on rainy nights.

“When it did not rain, I turned it down, and my companion and myself used to sit on the bottom.

“One day a soldier-boy had died in the hospital, and hisfriends came to take the body home for Christian burial. It was necessary to remove him in a sheet to the place where they had an elegant casket, bought by his wealthy friends, to receive the remains.

“That very night I was on duty with my friend Charley S., when, near midnight, seated upon the empty coffin, with my gun resting against the side, and my head resting in the palms of my hands, I fell into a drowse.

A GRAVE SENTRY.

“Waking up suddenly, I saw something white through the darkness before me; for it was a fearfully dark night, I assure you. I rubbed my sleepy eyes to make sure of my sight, and took another look. I discerned a form, higher than a man, moving about over the mounds but a few yards distant. It had wide side-wings, but they did not seem to assist in the motion of the body part, which did not reach to the ground. I thought I must be asleep, and actually pinched my legs to awake myself before I took a final look at his ghostship. There he stood, stock still. I listened for my companion, without removing my eyes from the white object before me. Still I was not scared, but meant to see it out. I knew I could not see a man far through that impenetrable darkness, for there were no stars nor moon to reveal him. I would not call for help, for if it was a farce to scare me, I should become the laughing-stock of the whole camp.

A GHOST IN CAMP.

“Just then I heard the grass crackle, and I knew Charley was approaching in the rear. Still there hung the apparition. I arose from the coffin, my eyes fixed on the object before me, picked up my musket, took deliberate aim at the centre of the thing, and just as I cocked my rifle, I heard Charley set back the hammer of his ‘death-dealer.’ He, too, had discovered the very remarkable appearance, whatever it was; and now the guns of two ‘unfailing shots’ covered the object. In another second it had suddenly disappeared! I then spoke, and we ran forward, but found nothing! Where had it gone so very suddenly? It had vanished without sight or sound. We gave up the search; but still I did not believe we had seen anything supernatural.

“There was no little discussion in camp on the following day on the subject. Charley said but little. I could not explain the remarkable phenomenon, and a splendid ghost story was about established, in spite of me, before the mystery became unravelled.

“A tall fellow, who worked about the hospital, and who assisted in taking away the corpse, was returning with the sheet, when he thought he would give the sentry a scare from his coffin by throwing the sheet over his head and stretching out his arms like wings. His clothes being black, his legs did not show; hence the appearance of a white object floating in the air. Hearing the guns cocked, he instantly jerked the sheet from his head; winding it up, he turned and ran away. This accounted for it becoming so instantaneously invisible.

“‘Yes,’ said the sentry, ‘and in a second more you would have been made a ghost!’”

Raising the Dead.

The Nagles Family.—The following remarkable and ridiculous affair transpired in a village where the writer once resided. The Nagleses were Irish. The family consisted of old Nagles, his wife,—who did washing for my mother,—John Tom and Tom John, besides Mary. The reason of having the boys named as above was, that in case either died, the sainted names would still be in the family. This was old Mrs. Nagles’ explanation of the matter.

The old man worked about the wharves, wheeled wood and carried coal, and did such like jobs during summer, and chopped wood in the winter. I well remember of hearing stories of his greenness when he first came to town. He was early employed to wheel wood on board a coaster lying at the dock. The captain told him to wheel a load down the plank, cry “Under!” to the men in the hold, and tip down the barrow of wood. All went well till old Nagles got to the stopping-place, over the hold, when he dumped down the load, and cried out, “Stand ferninst, there, down cellar!” to the imminent peril of breaking the heads of the wood-stevedores below.

OLD NAGLES.

I well remember also the first appearance of the two boys at the village school one winter.

“What is your name?” inquired the master of the eldest.

“Me name, is it? John Tom Nagles, sir, is me name, and who comes after is the same.”

He always was called by us boys “John Tom Nagles, sir,” thenceforward. He certainly was the rawest specimen I ever met.

One day the old man was wheeling wood on board a vessel. It was at low water, and there was a distance of sixteen feet from the plank to the bottom of the vessel’s hold. The poor old fellow, by some mishap or neglect, let go the barrow, when he called, “Stand ferninst, there, below!” when wood, barrow, and old Mr. Nagles, all went down together. By the fall he broke his neck. I never shall forget the awful lamentation set up by the combined voices of the poor old woman, John Tom, Tom John, and Mary, as they followed the corpse, borne on a wagon, past our house, on the way from the vessel to the Nagles’ residence.

THE NAGLES BOYS.

On the following day great preparations were made to “wake” the old gentleman according to the most approved fashion in the old country. There were many Irish living—staying, at least—in that town, and large quantities of pipes, tobacco, and whiskey were bought up, and the wholetown knew that a “powerful time” was anticipated by the Irish who were invited to old Nagles’ wake. It was an unusual occurrence, and several boys and young men of the village went to the locality of the Nagles’ house to get a look upon the scene when it got under full pressure. I certainly should have been there had not my parents forbidden me to go, and I regret the inability to give my personal testimony to the truth of the statement of what followed, as I do to what preceded, as related above.

CHIEF MOURNERS.

“When the wake was at its height, the room full of tobacco smoke, and the jovial mourners full of Irish whiskey,—strychnine and fusel oil,—there was an alarm of fire in theneighborhood. There was a grand rush from the room, as well as from the windows where stood the listeners, and only one old and drunken woman remained to watch the corpse. The door was left open, and some of the young men outside, thinking it a good opportunity to play a joke on the drunken party, ran into the room, and, seeing only the old woman, who was too drunk to offer any objections, they removed the body from the board, depositing it behind the boxes on which the board was laid, and one of their number took the place of the corpse, barely having time to draw the sheet over his face, when the ‘wakers’ returned.

“The candles burned dimly through the hazy atmosphere of the old room, and no one noticed the change. The pipes were relighted, the whiskey freely passed, and finally one fellow proposed to offer the corpse a lighted pipe and a glass of whiskey, ‘for company’s sake, through purgatory.’

“Suiting the action to the word, he approached, attempted to raise the head of the ‘lively corpse,’ and thrust the nasty pipe between his teeth.

“The young man ‘playing corpse’ was no smoker, and in infinite disgust he motioned the fellow away, who, too drunk to notice it, stuck the pipe in his face, saying, ‘Here, ould man, take a shmoke for your ghost’s sake.’

“‘Bah! Git away wid the div’lish nasty thing,’ exclaimed the young man, rising and sitting up in the coffin.

“There was an instantaneous stampede from the room of every waker who was capable of rising to his legs, followed by the fellow in the sheet, who, dropping the ghostly covering at the door, mingled with the rabble, and was not recognized. The priest and the doctor were speedily summoned. The former arrived, heard, outside the house, the wonderful story, and then proceeded to lay the spirit by sprinkling holy water on the door-stone, thence into the room. By this time the smoke had sufficiently subsided to allow a view of the room, when the stiff, frigid body of oldNagles was discovered on the floor, where ‘it had fallen,’ as they supposed, ‘in attempting to walk.’ Of course the doctor ridiculed the idea of a stark, cold body rising and speaking; but the Irish, to this day, believe old Nagles, for that once, refused a pipe and a glass of whiskey. The few young men dared not divulge the secret, and it never leaked out till the entire family of Nagles had gone to parts unknown.”

A CORPSE THAT WOULD NOT SMOKE.

I find a great many ghost stories in books, which are not explained; but since the writer knows nothing of their authenticity, nor the persons with whom they were connected, they are unworthy of notice here.

The Ghost of Cæsar at Philippi.

Dr. Robert Macnish, of Glasgow, in his “Philosophy of Sleep,” says, “No doubt the apparition of Cæsar which appeared to Brutus, and declared it would meet him at Philippi, was either a dream or a spectral illusion—probably the latter. Brutus, in all likelihood, had some idea that the great battle which was to decide his fate would be fought at Philippi. Probably it was a good military position, which he had in his mind fixed upon as a fit place to make a final stand; and he had done enough to Cæsar to account for his mind being painfully and constantly engrossed with the image of the assassinated dictator. Hence the verification of this supposed warning; hence the easy explanation of a supposed supernatural event.”

“The ghost of Byron” may help to verify the above. Sir Walter Scott was engaged in his study at Abbotsford, not long after the death of Lord Byron, at about the twilight hour, in reading a sketch of the deceased poet. The room was quiet, his thoughts were intensely centred upon the person of his departed friend, when, as he laid down the volume, as he could see to read no longer, and passed into the hall, he saw before him theeidolonof the deceased poet. He remained for some time impressed by the intensity of the illusion, which had thus created a phantom out of some clothes hanging on a screen at the farther end of the hall.

This is not the first time that Byron had appeared to his friends, as the following, from his own pen, will show:—

Byron wrote to his friend, Alexander Murray, less than two years before the death of the latter, as follows:—

“In 1811, my old schoolmate and form-fellow, Robert Peel, the Irish secretary, told me that he saw me in St. James Street. I was then in Turkey. A day or two afterwards, he pointed out to his brother a person across thestreet, and said, ‘There is the man I took for Byron.’ His brother answered, ‘Why, it is Byron, and no one else.’ I was at this timeseen(by them?) to write my name in the Palace Book! I was then ill of a malaria fever. If I had died,” adds Byron, “here would have been a ghost story established.”

Dr. Johnson says, “An honest old printer named Edward Cave had seen a ghost at St. John’s Gate.” Of course, the old man succumbed to the apparition.

The Ghost of Conscience.

I have yet to find the record of a good man seeing what he believed to be a ghostly manifestation. It is only the guilty in conscience who conjure up “horrible shadows,” as pictured in Shakspeare’s ghost of Banquo, as it appeared to Macbeth. What deserving scorn, what scathing contempt, were conveyed in the language of Lady Macbeth to her cowardly, conscience-stricken lord, as she thus rebuked him!—

“O, proper stuff!This is the very painting of your fear;This is the air-drawn dagger which you saidLed you to Duncan! O, these flaws and starts(Impostors to true fear) would well becomeA woman’s story at a winter’s fire,[5]Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!... When all’s done,You look but on a stool!”

There is a great truth embodied in a portion of the king’s reply, that—

“If charnel-houses and our graves must sendThose that we bury, back, our monumentsShall be the maws of kites.”

The gay and dissipated Thomas Lyttleton, son of Lord George Lyttleton, and his successor in the peerage, has beenthe subject of “a well-authenticated ghost story, which relates that he was warned of his death three days before it happened, in 1779, while he was in a state of perfect health, and only thirty-five years of age.” This is what says a biographer. Now let us present the truth of the matter.

He was a dissipated man. He was subject to fits. A gentleman present at the time of his seeing a vision, says “that he had been attacked several times by suffocative fits the month before.” Here, then, was abody diseased. The same authority says, “It happened that he dreamed, three days before his death, that he saw afluttering bird; and afterwards, that he saw (dreamed) a woman in white apparel, who said to him, ‘Prepare to die; you will not exist three days.’

PREPARE TO DIE!

“His lordship was much alarmed, and called his servant, who slept in an adjoining closet, who found his master in a state of great agitation, and in a profuse perspiration.”

Fear blanches the cheek; perspiration is rather a symptom of bodily weakness, and the result of a laborious dream, or even a fit. He had no fear, for, on the third day, while his lordship was at breakfast with “the two Misses Amphlett, Lord Fortescue,” and the narrator, he said, lightly,—

“‘If I live over to-night,I shall have jockeyed the ghost,for this is the third day.’ That day he had another fit. He dined at five, and retired at eleven, when his servant was about to give him some prescribed rhubarb and mint-water, but his lordship, seeing him about to stir the mixture with a toothpick, exclaimed,—

“‘You slovenly dog, go and fetch a teaspoon.’

“On the servant’s return, he found his master in another fit, and, the pillow being high, his chin bore on his windpipe, when the servant, instead of relieving his lordship from his perilous position, ran away for help; but on his return, found his master dead.”

He had strangled. Is it anything strange that a dissipated, weakened man should die after having a score of suffocative fits? It had been more surprising if he had survived them. Then, as respecting the dream, it was the result of a “mind diseased.”

There was evidence that his lordship had seduced the Misses Amphlett, and prevailed upon them to leave their mother; and he is said to have admitted, before his death, that the woman seen in his dream was the mother of the unfortunate girls, and that she died of grief, through the disgrace and desertion of her children, about the time that the guilty seducer saw her in the vision. How could his dreams but have been disturbed, with the load of guilt and remorse that he ought to have had resting upon his conscience? The “fluttering bird” was the first form that the wretched mother assumed in his vision, as a bird might flutter about the prison bars that confined her darling offspring. The more natural form of the mother finally appeared to the guilty seducer, and to dream that he heard a voice is no unusual occurrence in the life of any person. The peculiar words amount to nothing. Lyttleton gave them no serious thoughts, and it was an accident of bodily position that caused his sudden death. The whole thing seems to be too flimsy for even a respectable “ghost story.”

The Bishop sees a Ghost!

An amusing as well as instructive ghost story is related by Horace Walpole, the indolent, luxurious satirist of fashionable and political contemporaries, whose twenty thousand a year enabled him to live at his ease, “coquetting haughtily with literature and literary men, at his tasty Gothic toy-house at Strawberry Hill.”

THE BISHOP’S GHOSTLY VISITOR.

He relates that the good old Bishop of Chichester was awakened in his palace at an early hour in the morning by his chamber door opening, when a female figure, clothed in white, softly entered the apartment, and quietly took a seat near him. The prelate, who, with “his household, was a disbeliever in ghosts” and spirits, said he was not at all frightened, but, rising in his bed, said, in a tone of authority,—

“Who are you?”

“The presence in the room” made no reply. The bishop repeated the question,—

“Who are you?”

The ghost only heaved a deep sigh, and, while the bishop rang the bell, to call his slumbering servant, her ghostship quietly drew some old “papers from its ghost of a pocket,” and commenced reading them to herself.

After the bishop had kept on ringing for the stupid servant, the form arose, thrust the papers out of sight, and left as noiselessly and sedately as she had arrived.

“Well, what have you seen?” asked the bishop, when the servants were aroused.

“Seen, my lord?”

“Ay, seen! or who—what was the woman who has been here?”

“Woman, my lord?”

(It is said one of the fellows smiled, that a woman should have been in the aged bishop’s bed-chamber in the night.)

When the bishop had related what he had seen, the domestics apprehended that his lordship had been dreaming, against which the good man protested, and only told what his eyes had beheld. The story that the bishop had been visited by a ghost soon got well circulated, which greatly “diverted the ungodly, at the good prelate’s expense, till finally it reached the ears of the keeper of a mad-house in the diocese, who came and deposed that a female lunatic had escaped from his custody on that night” (in light apparel), who, finding the gates and doors of the palace open, had marched directly to his lordship’s chamber. The deponent further stated that the lunatic wasalways reading a bundle of papers.

“There are known,” says Walpole, “stories of ghosts, solemnly authenticated, less credible; and I hope you will believe this, attested by the father of our own church.”

Musical Ghosts.

We occasionallyhearof this kind, but seldom, if ever,seethem. An old lady of Adams, Mass., came to the writer ina state bordering on monomania. She stated that at aboutthree o’clockin the night she would awake and distinctly hear bells ringing at a distance. She would awake her husband, and often compel him to arise and listen “till the poor man was almost out of patience with the annoyance;” not of the bells, for he heard none, but of being continually “wakened because of her whim,” as he stated. A brief medical treatment for the disease which caused the vibration of the tympanum dispelled the illusion of bells.

The Piano-forte Ghost.

A family residing, three years since, but a few miles out of Boston, used to occasionally, during summer only, hear a note or two of the piano strike at the dead hour of the night. A Catholic servant girl and an excellent cook left their situations in consequence of the ghostly music. In vain the family removed the instrument to another position in the room. The musical sounds would startle them from their midnight slumbers.

One thing very remarkable occurred after changing the piano: the sound, which only transpired occasionally, with no regularity as to time, would always begin with the high notes, and end with the lower. Finally, the family—I cannot say why—removed to the city, and the house was sold. The deed of conveyance did not include the ghost, but he remained with the premises, nevertheless. The writer has seen him!

“O, what a pretty cat!” exclaimed a child of the new occupant of the haunted house, on discovering the domestic animal which the late possessor had left.

“Yes; and she looks so very domestic and knowing, she may stay, if no one comes for her, and you’ll have her for a playfellow,” replied the mother.

A few nights after their settlement, the new family were startled by hearing the piano sound! No particular tune, butit was surely the piano notes that had been distinctly and repeatedly heard. A search revealed nothing. The piano was kept closed thereafter, and no further annoyance occurred, until one night when the company had lingered till nearly midnight, and the instrument had been left open, the sound again occurred. The gentleman quickly lighted a lamp, ran down stairs, and closing the door leading to the connecting room, he found the cat secreted beneath the piano. The instrument was purposely left open the following night, and a watch set, when, no sooner was all quiet, than the cat entered, and leaped upon the piano keys. After touching them a few times with her fore paws, she jumped down, and hid beneath the instrument. “The cat was out.” Only one thing remained for explanation, viz., why the change of sound occurred after removing the piano by the first occupants of the house. It occurred in summer. They removed the piano so that the cat, entering a side window, usually left a little raised, had necessarily jumped upon the high keys.

If anybody has got a good ghost, spirit, or witch about his premises, the writer would like to investigate it.

The following silly item is just going the rounds of the press:—

“A haunted House.

“The first floor of Mrs. Roundy’s house, at Lynn, in which the recent murder occurred, is occupied by an apparently intelligent family bearing the name of Conway, who assert that they have heard supernatural noises every night since the tragedy; and they are so sincere in their belief that they are preparing to vacate in favor of their ‘uncanny’ visitors.”

There’s nothing to it to investigate.

A few Words about Witches.

My colored boy, Dennis, assures me that an old woman in Norfolk, Va., having some spite against him, “didsomething to him that sort o’ bewitched him; got some animal into him, like.” The symptoms are those ofascarides, but I could not persuade him to take medicine therefor.

“’Tain’t no use, sir,” he replied, solemnly; “I knowed she done it; I feels it kinder workin’ in yer (placing his hand on his stomach); what med’cine neber’ll reach.”

Neither reason nor ridicule will “budge” him. He knows he’s bewitched!

THE MUSICAL PUSS.

A DARKEY BEWITCHED.

Witches in the Cream.

Through all the long, long winter’s day,And half the dreary night,We churned, and yet no butter came:The cream looked thin and white.Next morning, with our hopes renewed,The task began again;We churned, and churned, till back and armsAnd head did ache with pain.The cream rose up, then sulking fell,Grew thick, and then grew thin;It splashed and spattered in our eyes,On clothes, and nose, and chin.We churned it fast, and churned it slow,And stirred it round and round;Yet all the livelong, weary day,Was heard the dasher’s sound.The sun sank in the gloomy west,The moon rose ghastly pale;And still we churned, with courage low,And hopes about to fail,—When in walked Granny Dean, who heard,With wonder and amaze,Our troubles, as she crossed herself,And in the fire did gaze.“Lord, help us all!” she quickly said,And covered up her face;“Lord, help us all! for, as you live,There’s witches in the place!“There’s witches here within this churn,That have possessed the cream.Go, bring the horse-shoe that I sawHang on the cellar-beam.”The shoe was brought, when, round and round,She twirled it o’er her head;“Go, drive the witches from that cream!”In solemn voice she said;—Then tossed it in the fire, till redWith heat it soon did turn,And dropped among the witches dread,That hid within the churn.Once more the dasher’s sound was heard,—Have patience with my rhyme,—For, sure enough, the butter cameIn twenty minutes’ time.Some say the temperature was changedWith horse-shoe glowing red;But when we ask old Granny Dean,She only shakes her head.—Hearth and Home.

Horse-shoes.

One would suppose the folly of putting horse-shoes into cream, “fish-skins into coffee, to settle it,” and forcing filthy molasses and water down the throats of new-born babes, were amongst the follies of the past; but they are not yet,with many other superstitious, and even cruel and dangerous notions, done away with. For some prominent instances of this course of proceedings the reader may consult next chapter.

Riding through the rural districts of almost any portion of the Union, one will sometimes find the horse-shoe nailed over the stable, porch, or even house front door, to keep away the witches. As in Gay’s fable of “The Old Woman and her Cats:”—

“Straws laid across my path retard,The horse-shoes nailed each threshold guard,”

In Aubrey’s time, he tells us that “most houses of the west end of London have the horse-shoe at the threshold.”

The nice little old gentleman who keeps the depot at Boylston Station is a dry joker, in his way. Over each door of the station he has an old horse-shoe nailed.

“What have you got these nailed up over the door for?” a stranger asks.

BOYLSTON STATION.

“To keep away witches. I sleep here nights,” solemnly replies the station-master; and one must be familiar with that ever agreeable face to detect the sly, enjoyable humor with which he is so often led to repeat this assertion.

In numerous towns within more than half of the states,—I state from personal inquiry,—there are at this day old women, who children, at least, are taught to believe have the power of bewitching! My first fright, when a little boy on my way to school, was from being told that an old woman, whose house we were passing, was a witch.

These modern witches may not have arrived at the dignity of floating through the air on a broomstick, or crossing the water in a cockle-shell, as they were said to in ancient times; but the belief in their existence at this enlightened period of the world is more disgraceful than in the darker ages, and the frightening of children and the naturally superstitious is far more reprehensible.

There is no such thing as a ghost. There are no witches.

“The Bible teaches that there were witches,” has often been wrongly asserted. That “choice young man and goodly,” whose abilities his doting parent over-estimated when he sent him outin search of the three stray asses, and whose idleness prompted him to consult the seer Samuel, and by whose indolence and procrastination the asses got home first, was a very suitable personage to consult a “woman of a familiar spirit” (or any other woman, save his own wife), from which arose the great modern misnomer of the “Witch of Endor.”

“To the Jewish writers, trained to seek counsel only of Jehovah (not even from Christ), the ‘Woman of Endor’ was a dealer with spirits of evil. With us, who have imbibed truth through a thousand channels made turbid by prejudice and error, she is become a distorted being, allied to the hags of a wild and fatal delusion. We confound her with the (fabled) witches of Macbeth, the victims of Salem, and the modern Moll Pitchers.

“The Woman of Endor! That is a strange perversion of taste that would represent her in hideous aspect. To me she seemeth all that is genial and lovely in womanhood.”

“Hearken thou unto the voice of thine handmaid, and let me set a morsel of bread before thee, and eat, that thou mayest have strength when thou goest on thy way.”

Then she made and baked the bread, killed and cooked the meat,—all she had in the house,—and Saul did eat, and his servants.

I see nought in this but an exhibition of rare domestic ability and commendable hospitality; in the previous act (revelation), nothing more than a manifestation of the power of mind over mind (possibly the power of God, manifested through her mind?), wherein she divined the object of Saul’s visit, and, through the same channel, surmised who he was that consulted her.

WEIGHING A WITCH BY BIBLE STANDARD.

Witches are said to be “light weight.” But a little abovea hundred years ago, a woman was accused in Wingrove, England, by another, of “bewitching her spinning-wheel, so it would turnneither the one way nor the other.” To this she took oath, and the magistrate, with pomp and dignity, “followed by a great concourse of people, took the woman to the parish church, her husband also being present, and having stripped the accused to her nether garment, put her into the great scales brought for that purpose, with the Bible in the opposite balance, which was the lawful test of a witch, when, to the no small astonishment and mortification of her maligner, she actually outweighed the book, and was honorably acquitted of the charge!”

Just imagine the picture. In an enlightened age, a Christian people, in possession of the Bible, that gives no intimation of such things as witches, stripping and weighing a female in public, to ascertain if she really was heavier than a common Bible!

MEDICAL SUPERSTITIONS.

OLD AND NEW.—THE SIGN OF JUPITER.—MODERN IDOLATRY.—ORIGIN OF THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.—HOW WE PERPETUATE IDOLATRY.—SINGULAR FACT.—CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES.—“OLD NICK.”—RIDICULOUS SUPERSTITIONS.—GOLDEN HERB.—HOUSE CRICKETS.—A STOOL WALKS!—THE BOWING IMAGES AT RHODE ISLAND.—HOUSE SPIDERS.—THE HOUSE CAT.—SUPERSTITIOUS IDOLATRIES.—WONDERFUL KNOWLEDGE.—NAUGHTY BOYS.—ERRORS RESPECTING CATS.—SANITARY QUALITIES.—OWLS.—A SCARED BOY.—HOLY WATER.—UNLUCKY DAYS.—THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.—A KISS.

OLD AND NEW.—THE SIGN OF JUPITER.—MODERN IDOLATRY.—ORIGIN OF THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.—HOW WE PERPETUATE IDOLATRY.—SINGULAR FACT.—CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES.—“OLD NICK.”—RIDICULOUS SUPERSTITIONS.—GOLDEN HERB.—HOUSE CRICKETS.—A STOOL WALKS!—THE BOWING IMAGES AT RHODE ISLAND.—HOUSE SPIDERS.—THE HOUSE CAT.—SUPERSTITIOUS IDOLATRIES.—WONDERFUL KNOWLEDGE.—NAUGHTY BOYS.—ERRORS RESPECTING CATS.—SANITARY QUALITIES.—OWLS.—A SCARED BOY.—HOLY WATER.—UNLUCKY DAYS.—THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.—A KISS.

Medicine, above all the other sciences, was founded upon superstition. Medicine, more than all the other arts, has been practised by superstitions. Stretching far back through the vista of time to the remotest antiquity, reaching forward into the more enlightened present, it has partaken of all that was superstitious in barbarism, in heathenism, in mythology, and in religion.

In showing the Alpha I am compelled to reveal the Omega.

Let us begin with Jupiter. I know that some wise Æsculapian—no Jupiterite—will turn up his nose at this page, while to-morrow, if he gets a patient, he will demonstratewhat I am saying, and further, help to perpetuate the ignorant absurdities which originated with the old mythologists, by placing “℞”—the ill-drawn sign of Jupiter—before his recipe.

THE GOD OF RECIPES.

De Paris tells us that the physician of the present day continues to prefix to his prescriptions the letter “℞,” which is generally supposed to mean “recipe,” but which is, in truth, a relic of the astrological symbol of Jupiter, formerly used as a species of superstitious invocation, or to propitiate the king of the gods that the compound might act favorably.

There are still in use many other things which presentprima facieevidence of having been introduced when the users placed more faith in mythological or planetary influence than in any innate virtue of the article itself. For instance, at a very early period all diseases were regarded as the effects of certain planetary actions; and not only diseases, but our lives, fortunes, conduct, and the various qualities that constitute one’s character, were the consequences of certain planetary control under which we existed. Are there not many who now believe this?

“In ancient medicine pharmacy was at one period only the application of the dreams of astrology to the vegetable world. The herb which put an ague or madness to flight did so by reason of a mystic power imparted to it by a particular constellation, the outward signs of which quality were to be found in its color or shape.” Red objects had a mysterious influence on inflammatory diseases, and yellow ones on persons discolored by jaundice. Corals were introduced as a medicine, also to wear about the neck on the same principle.

These notions are not yet obsolete. Certain diseases are still attributed to the action of the moon. Certain yellowherbs are used for the jaundice and other diseases. Thehepatica triloba(three-lobed) is recommended for diseases of the lungs as well as liver (as its first name,hepatica, indicates), and some other medicines for other complaints, without the least regard to their innate qualities. Corals are still worn for nose-bleed, red articles kept about the bed and apartments of the small-pox patient, and the red flag hung out at the door of the house, though few may know why aredflag is so hung, or that it originated in superstition.

The announcement of an approaching comet strikes terror to the hearts of thousands; the invalid has the sash raised that he may avoid first seeing the new moon through the glass, and the traveller is rejoiced to catch his first glimpse of the young queen of the night over his right shoulder, “for there is misfortune in seeing it over the left.”

But we are not yet done with ancient symbols.

“The stick came down from heaven,” says the Egyptian proverb.

“The physician’s cane is a very ancient part of his insignia. It has nearly gone into disuse; but until very recently no doctor of medicine would have presumed to pay a visit, or even be seen in public, without this mystic wand. Long as a footman’s stick, smooth, and varnished, with a heavy gold head, or a cross-bar, it was an instrument with which, down to the present century, every prudent aspirant to medical practice was provided. The celebrated gold-headed cane which Radcliffe, Mead, Askew, Pitcairn, and Baillie successively bore, is preserved in the College of Physicians, London. It has a cross-bar, almost like a crook, in place of a knob. The knob in olden times was hollow, and contained a vinaigrette, which the man of science held to his nose when he approached a sick person, so that its fumes might protect him from the disease.”

The cane, doubtless, came from the wand or caduceus of Mercurius, and was a “relic of the conjuring paraphernaliawith which the healer, in ignorant and superstitious times, always worked upon the imagination of the credulous.” The present barber’s pole originated with surgeons. The red stripe represented the arterial blood; the blue, the venous blood; the white, the bandages.

The superstitious ancients showed more wisdom in their selections of names, as well as in emblems, than we do in retaining them. Heathen worship and mythological signs are mixed and interwoven with all our arts, sciences, and literature. Our days of the week were named by the old Saxons, who worshipped idols—the sun, moon, stars, earth, etc., and to their god’s, perpetual honor gave to each day a name from some principal deity. Thus we are idolaters, daily, though unconsciously.

I think not one person in a thousand is aware of this fact; therefore I give a sketch of each.

Sunday.

The name of our first day of the week, Sunday, is derived from the SaxonSunna-dæg, which they named for the sun. It was also calledSun’s-dæg.

SUN—Sunday.

As the glorious sunlight brought day and warmth, and caused vegetation to spring forth in its season, warmed the blood, and made the heart of man to rejoice, they made that dazzling orb the primary object of their worship. When its absence brought night anddarkness, and the storm-clouds shrouded its face in gloom, or the occasional eclipse suddenly cut off its shining, which they superstitiously attributed to the wrath of their chief deity, it then became the object of their supplication. With them, and all superstitious people, all passions, themes, and worships must be embodied—must assume form and dimensions, and as they could not gaze upon the dazzling sun, they personified it in the figure of a man—as being superior to woman with them—arrayed in a primitive garment, holding in his hand a flaming wheel. One day was specially devoted to sun worship.

The modern Sunday is the day, according to historical accounts of the early Christians, on which Christ rose from the dead. It does not appear to have been the same day as, or to have superseded, the Jewish Sabbath, although the Christians early celebrated the day, devoting it to religious services. With the Christians, labor was suspended on this “first day of the week,” and Constantine, about the year 320, established an edict which suspended all labor, except agricultural, and forbade also all court proceedings. In 538 A. D. the third Council of Orleans published a decree forbidding all labor on Sunday.

The Sabbath (HebrewShabbath) of the Jews, meaning a day of rest, originated as far back as Moses—probably farther. It was merely a day of rest, which was commanded by Jehovah; and if considered only on physiological grounds, it evinces the wisdom and economy of God in setting apart one day in seven to be observed by man as a season of rest and recuperation. As such it only seems to have been regarded till after the forty years of exile, when it changed to a day of religious rites and ceremonies, which is continued till the present day by “that peculiar people.” That particular day, given in the “law of Moses,” corresponds—it is believed by the Jews—to our Saturday. Christ seemed to teach that the Jewish Sabbath was no moresacred than any other day, and he accused the Pharisees with hypocrisy in their too formal observance thereof. He attended their service on the Sabbath, on the seeming principle that he did other meetings, and as he paid the accustomed tax, because it was best to adapt one’s self to the laws and customs of the country.

We do not purpose to enter into any theological discussion as to which of the two days should be observed for rest and religious observances; for who shall decide? Physiologically considered, it makes no difference. There should be one day set apart for rest in seven at the most, and all men should respect it.

Without a Sabbath (day of rest) we should soon relapse into a state of barbarism, and also wear out before our allotted time. “In the hurry and bustle of every-day life and labor, we allow ourselves too little relaxation, too little scope for moral, social, and religious sentiments; therefore it is well to set apart times and seasons when all cares and labors may be laid aside, and communion held with nature and nature’s God.” And it were better if we all could agree upon one day for our Sabbath; and let us call it “Sabbath,” and not help to perpetuate any heathen dogmas and worship by calling God’s holy day after the idolatrous customs of the ancient Saxons.

Monday.

The second day of the week the Saxons calledMonandæg, or Moon’s day; hence our Monday.

This day was set apart by that idolatrous people for the worship of their second god in power. In their business pursuits, as well as devotional exercises, they devoted themselves to the moon worship. The nameMonandægwas written at the top of all communications, and remembrance had to their god in all transactions of the day. Eachmonath(new moon or month) religious (?) exercises were celebrated.

The idol Monandæg had the semblance of a female, crowned or capped with a hood-like covering, surmounted by two horns, while a basque and long robe covered the remainder of her person. In her right hand she held the image of the moon.

MOON—Monday.TUISCO—Tuesday.

Tuesday.

The third object of their worship was Tuisco—corresponding with GermanTuisto—the son ofTerra(earth),the deified founder of the Teutonic race. He seems to have been the deity who presided over combats and litigations; “hence Tuesday is now, as then, court-day, or the day for commencing litigations.” In some dialects it was calledDings-dag, or Things-day—to plead, attempt, cheapen: hence it is often selected as market-day, as well as a time for opening assizes. Hence the godTuiscowas worshipped in the semblance of a venerable sage, with uncovered head, clothed in skins of fierce animals, touching the earth, while he held in his right hand a sceptre, the appropriate ensign of his authority.

Thus originated the name of our third day of the week, and some of its customs.

WODEN—Wednesday.

Wednesday.

This day was named forWoden,—the same asOdin,—and was sacred to the divinity of the Northern and Eastern nations. He was the Anglo-Saxons’ god of war, “who came to them from the East in a very mysterious manner, and enacted more wonderful and brilliant exploits of prowess and valor than the Greek mythologists ascribed to their powerful god Hercules.” AsOdin, this deity was said to have been a monarch (in the flesh) of ancientGermany, Denmark, Scandinavia, etc., and a mighty conqueror. All those tribes, in going into battle, invoked his aid and blessing upon their arms. He was idolized as a fierce and powerful man, with helmet, shield, a drawn sword, agyrdanabout his loins, and feet and legs protected by sandals and knee-high fastenings of iron, ornamented with a death’s head.

THOR—Thursday.FRIGA—Friday.

Thursday.

From the deityThorour Thursday is derived. This Saxon god was the son of Woden, or Odin, and his wife Friga. He was the god of thunder, the bravest and most powerful, after his father, of the Danish and Saxon deities.

Thor is represented as sitting in majestic grandeur upon a golden throne, his head surmounted by a golden crown, richly ornamented by a circle in front, in which were set twelve brilliant stars. In his right hand he grasped the regal sceptre.

Friday.

The sixth day of the week was named in honor ofFriga, or Frigga, the wife of Woden and the mother of Thor. In most ancient times she was the same as Venus, the goddess of Hertha, or Earth. She was the most revered of the female divinities of the Danes and Saxons. Friga is represented draped in a light robe suspended from the shoulder, low neck and bare arms. She held in her right hand a drawn sword, and a long bow in the left. Her hair is long and flowing, while a golden band, adorned by ostrich feathers, encircle her snowy brow.

There is nothing in the name or attributes to indicate the ill luck which superstition has attached to the day.

SEATER—Saturday.

Saturday.

The godSeater, for whom the last day of the week is named, is the same as Saturn, which is from Greek—Time.

He is pictured, unlike Saturn, with long, flowing hair and beard, thin features, clothed in person with one entire garment to his ankles and wrists, with his waist girded by a linen scarf. In his right hand he carries a wheel, to represent rolling time. In his left hand he holds a pail of fruit and flowers, to indicate young time as well as old. The fish which is his pedestal represents his power over the abundance of even the sea.

Christmas Festivals.

Amongst the very pleasant and harmless customs which have been handed down to us from the idolatrous rites and superstitions of the ancient Saxons, Scandinavians, etc., are those connected with our Christmas festivities. The whole observance and connections form a strange mixture of Christian and heathen ceremonies, illustrative of the unwillingness with which a people abandon pagan rites to the adoption of those more consistent with the spirit of a Christianized and enlightened faith.

Now, little folks and big, I am not going to ridicule or deny your right to Christmas and St. Nicholas enjoyments; I will merely hint at their origin, for your own benefit. The day brings more happiness—and folks—to the homes and firesides of the people of thewhole worldthan any other holiday we celebrate.[6]Thanksgiving, you know, is mostly a New England custom. The 25th of December is just as good as any other day on which to have a good time. Ancient people used to celebrate the first andsixth of January. The first three months of the year are named after heathen gods.

Thenameof the day we celebrate is derived from a Christian source: the rest from pagan. A good feeling was always engendered amongst the most ancient people at the commencement of the lengthening of days in winter, and the approach of a new year. The hanging up of the mistletoe, with the ceremony of gathering it, the kindling of the Yule log, and giving of presents, we trace to the Druids, who were the priests, doctors, and judges of the ancient Celts, Gauls, Britons, and Germans. Our modern stoves and furnaces have shut out the pleasant old log fires, and the candles only remain. The gifts originated in the giving away of pieces of the mistletoe by the grizzly old priests.

Who St. Nicholas was, is only conjectured,not known, any more than who St. Patrick was. It makes no difference where he sprang from; he is a good, jolly, benevolent fellow, who brings lots of presents, and, with the little folks, we are bound to defend him.

It is supposed that the original St. Nicholas lived in Lycia, in Asia Minor, during the fourth century, and was early adopted as a saint of the Catholic church, and also by the Russians and ancient Germans, Celts, and others.

“He has ever been regarded as a very charitable personage, and as the particular guardian of children. Great stories are told of his charity and benevolence. One of these, and that, perhaps, which attaches him to the peculiar festivities of Christmas, is to the effect that a certain nobleman had three lovely daughters, but was so reduced to poverty that he was unable to give them a marriage portion, as was the indispensable custom, and was about to give them over to a life of shame. St. Nicholas was aware of this, and determined in a secret way to assist the nobleman.

“He wended his way towards the nobleman’s house, thinking how he could best do this, when he espied an openwindow, into which he threw a purse of gold, which dropped at the nobleman’s feet, and he was enabled to give his daughter a marriage portion. This was repeated upon the second daughter and the third daughter; but the nobleman, being upon the watch, detected his generous benefactor, and thus the affair was made public. From this rose the custom upon St. Nicholas Day, December 6, for parents and friends to secretly put little presents into the stockings of the children. Doubtless this custom, so near the festivities of Christmas, gradually approximated to that day, and become identical with Christmas festivities throughout the world. St. Nicholas is often represented bearing three purses, or golden balls, and these form the pawn-broker’s well-known sign, which is traced to this source as its origin—not, we should judge, from their resemblance to the charity of St. Nicholas, but emblematic of his lending in time of need.”

Popular Notions and Whims.

There was a superstition in Scotland against spinning or ploughing on Christmas; but the Calvinistic clergy, in contempt for all such superstitions, compelled their wives and daughters to spin, and their tenants to plough, on that day.

It is a popular notion to the present time in Devonshire that if the sun shines bright at noon on Christmas day, there will be a plentiful crop of apples the following year.

Bees were thought to sing in their hives on Christmas eve, and it was believed that bread baked then would never mould.

So prevalent was the idea that all nature unites in celebrating the great event of Christ’s birth, that it was a well received opinion in some sections of the old world that the cattle fell on their knees at midnight on Christmas eve.

Ridiculous Superstitions.

“Merlin! Merlin! turn again;Leave the oak-branch where it grew.Seek no more the cress to gain,Nor the herb of golden hue.”

Merlin, the reputed great enchanter, flourished in Britain about the fifth century. He is said to have resided in great pomp at the court of “Good King Arthur.” You all know the beautiful rhyme about the latter, if not about “Merlin! Merlin!” etc.

“When good King Arthur ruled the land,—He was a goodly king,—He stole three pecks of barley-mealTo make a bag pudding.”

Sublime poetry! Easy mode of obtaining the barley-meal (or Scotch territory). Merlin attached many superstitious beliefs to some of our medicinal plants. The “cress” is supposed to be the mistletoe. “The herb of gold”—golden herb—was a rare plant, held in great esteem by the peasant women of Brittany, who affirmed that it shone like gold at a distance. It must be gathered by or before daybreak.

The most ridiculous part of the affair was in the searching for the “herb of golden hue.” None but devout females, blessed by the priests for the occasion, were permitted the great privilege of gathering it. In order to be successful in the search, the privileged person started before daylight, barefooted, bareheaded, anden chemise. (Of course the priest knew the individual, and when she was going.) The root must not be cut or broken, but pulled up entire. If any one trod upon the plant, he or she would fall into a trance, when they could understand the language of fowls and animals—a belief not half as ridiculous as that of the present day, that a person may fall into a trance, and understand the language of the dead; yes, dead and decayed, theorgans of speech gone! Yet thousands believe such stuff to-day.

The Mandrake.—Great superstition was formerly attached to this root, and even now is, in some rural districts. The root often resembles the lower half of a human being, and it was credulously believed it would shriek and groan when pulled from its mother earth. This notion is expressed in Romeo and Juliet:—

“Mandrakes, torn out of the earth,That mortals, hearing them, run mad.”

Again, in Henry VI.:—

“Would curses kill, as doth the bitter mandrake’s groans.”

GATHERING THE MANDRAKE.

A favorite mode of uprooting this coveted plant—because of its defensive properties, when once gained—was to fasten cords to a dog’s neck, thence to the base of thestem of the plant, and sealing their own ears with wax to prevent hearing the groans, which was death or madness, they whipped the unfortunate dog till he drew out the roots, or was killed in the attempt; for the dog usually died then or soon after the cruel beating, and the shrieks of the mandrake were supposed to have caused his death.

The Scabious, or “Devil’s bit,” was regarded with great superstition. “The old fantastic charmers,” said the quaint Gerarde, “say that the Devil bit away the greater part of this root for envy, because of its many virtues and benefits to mankind.” Dr. James Smith (1799) as quaintly observes, “The malice of the Devil has unfortunately been so successful, that no virtue can now be found in the remainder of the root or herb.”

House Crickets.—The superstition respecting these cheerful and harmless littlechirpersis remarkable. Some consider their presence a lucky sign, others their absence more fortunate. To kill one, with some persons, is a sign of death in the house. Very strange! They, blind fools, do not see that the saying originated in the death of the poor little cricket.

The following very remarkable occurrence was related to the writer, as having actually taken place at Providence, R. I., a few years since. Mrs. D., a respectable lady, residing in the city, was reported to have been followed about the house and up stairs by a “cricket,”—a wooden one, used for a foot-stool. People called at her residence to inquire into the truth of the matter; others even requested to see the remarkable phenomenon of a cricket or stool walking off on all fours, until the lady became so annoyed by the continual stream of credulous callers, that she inserted a notice in the city journals denying the truth of the strange rumor. It was supposed to have started from some neighbor’s seeing or hearing a house cricket when on a visit at the lady’s house.

The Bowing Images.—A still more amusing story is related respecting the two images surmounting the wall each side of the gate at the residence of Professor Gammel, of Providence. A report became current among the school-boys of the city, that when the imagesheardthe clock strike nine in the forenoon they bowed their heads. My informant said it was no unusual thing to see a dozen boys waiting, with books and slates, in front of the professor’s gate, to see the images bow at nine. Being late at school, the teacher would inquire,—

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