“The Romans used to cook their cœna demonum for the house-spirits, and the Hindoos prepared food for them.” From them it has passed through the gypsies to Eastern Europe, and now the Roumanian, who has by a simple ceremony made a contract with the devil, receives from him an attendant spirit called a spiridsui or spiridush which will
“Serve his master faithfully
For seven long year,”
but in return expecting the first mouthful of every dish eaten by his master.
“So many differing fancies have mankind,
That they the master-sprites may spell and bind.”
Nearly connected with the Roumanian we have the beliefs in magic of the Transylvanian Saxons, all of them shared with the gypsies and probably partially derived from them. Many people must have wondered what could have been the origin of the saying in reference to a very small place that “there was not room to swing a cat in it.” “But I don’t want to swing a cat in it,” was the very natural rejoinder of a well-known American litterateur to this remark applied to his house. It is possible that we may find the origin of this odd saying in a superstition current in Transylvania, whither it in all probability was carried by the gypsies, whose specialty it is to bear the seeds of superstitions about here and there as the winds do those of plants. In this country it is said that if a cat runs away, when recovered she must be swung three times round to attach her to the dwelling. The same is done by a stolen cat by the thief if he would retain it. Truly this seems a strange way to induce an attachment—or pour encourager les autres. It is evident, however, that to the professional cat-stealer the size of his room must be a matter of some importance. It is a pity that this saying and faith were unknown to Moncrief-Maradan, “the Historiogriffe of Cats,” (“Œuvres,” Paris, 1794), who would assuredly have made the most of it.
As regards entering new houses in Transylvania the rule is not “Devil take the hindmost,” but the foremost. The first person or being who enters the maiden mansion must die, therefore it is safe to throw in a preliminary dog or cat. The scape-cat is, however, to be preferred.
I can remember once, when about six years of age, looking down into a well in Massachusetts and being told that the reflection which I saw was the face of a little boy who lived there. This made a deep impression on me, and I reflected that it was very remarkable that the dweller in the well could assume the appearance of every one who looked at him. In Transylvania it is, says Mrs. E. Gerard, “dangerous to stare down long into a well, for the well-dame who dwells at the bottom is easily offended. But children are often curious, and so, bending over the edge, they call out mockingly, ‘Dame of the Well, pull me down into it!’ and then run away rapidly.”
Whoever has been robbed and wishes to find the thief should take a black hen, and for nine Fridays must with the hen fast strictly; the thief will then either bring back the plunder or die. This is called “taking up the black fast” against any one. It is said that a peasant of Petersdorf returned one day from Bistritz with 200 florins, which he had received for oxen. Being very tipsy he laid down to sleep, having first hidden his money in a hole in the kitchen wall. When he awoke he missed his coin, and having quite forgotten what he had done with it believed it had been stolen. So he went to an old Wallachian, probably a gypsy, and induced him to take up the black fast against the thief. But as he himself had the money the spell worked against him and he grew weaker and pined away as it went on. By some chance at the last moment he found his money, but it was too late, and he died. Pages of black hen-lore may be gathered from the works of Friedrich, De Gubernatis and others; suffice it to say that Bubastis, the Egyptian moon-goddess, appears to have been the original mistress of the mysterious animal, if not the black hen as well as cat herself, and mother of all the witches.