During these early ages, war was considered to be the most honourable occupation. Valour constituted the highest virtue; and in the absence of all written records, tradition, in course of time, would add considerably to the prowess of any daring chieftain. A mighty conqueror would be considered by his followers as something more than human. The fear of his enemies would clothe him with attributes peculiar to their conceptions of inferior deities; and this, together with the almost universal "longing after immortality" which seems to pervade society in all its stages, sufficiently accounts for the origin of the heroes and heroines—the demi-gods and goddesses of every mythology. Hence Hercules—the younger Odin—and a numerous train of minor worthies to whom divine honours were decreed in the rituals of Italy and of the north.
On the introduction of Christianity, a powerful reactionary force was brought into the popular belief, and many of its grosser portions were speedily eliminated. The whole of the mythological creations were divided into two distinct classes, according to the attributes for which they were more particularly distinguished. Those whose tendencies inclined towards the benefit of mankind were translated to heavenly mansions, with God as supreme; whilst the wickedly disposed were consigned to the infernal regions, under the dominion of the Devil. The festivals of the gods were transformed into Christian seasons for rejoicing, their temples became churches, and the names of Christ, his apostles, the Virgin Mary, and the saints, took the places of those of Jupiter, Mercury, Thor, Freja, and Woden. All the inferior deities that presided over the woods, the mountains, the seas, and the rivers, were degraded into demons, and were classed amongst those fallen spirits who are employed by the evil one to harass and deceive mankind. Our early missionaries, however, had studied human nature too well to attempt too violent a change. They contented themselves, for the most part, with diverting the current of thought into different channels; they gave new names to old conceptions, and then left their more rational and more powerful faith to produce its known effects upon the superstitions of the masses. But the habits and opinions of a people who have long been under the influence of any mythological system, have become too deeply rooted to admit of easy eradication; and hence, in our own country, as in others, the transition from heathenism to Christianity was effected by almost imperceptible steps.
There are, however, many points of resemblance between the early Scandinavian and the Roman mythologies. Both had probably a common origin, but each became modified by increased civilization and the character of the localities occupied by each succeeding wave of a migratory population. "Every country in Europe," says the learned editor of Warton's History of Poetry, "has invested its popular belief with the same common marvels: all acknowledge the agency of the lifeless productions of nature; the intervention of the same supernatural machinery; the existence of elves, fairies, dwarfs, giants, witches, wizards, and enchanters; the use of spells, charms, and amulets." The explosions and rumbling sounds occasionally heard in the interior of Etna and Stromboli were attributed, in ancient times, to the rage of Typhon, or the labours of Vulcan: at this day, the popular belief connects them with the suffering souls of men in the infernal regions. "The marks which natural causes have impressed upon the unyielding granite were produced, according to the common creed, by the powerful hero, the saint or the god, and large masses of stone, resembling domestic implements in form, were the toys or the tools of the demi-gods and giants of old. The repetition of the voice among the hills of Scandinavia is ascribed by the vulgar to the dwarfs mocking the human speaker; in England the fairies are said to perform the same exploits; while the more elegant fancy of Greece gave birth to Echo, a nymph who pined for love, and who still fondly repeats the accents that she hears. The magic scenery occasionally presented on the waters of the Straits of Messina is ascribed by popular opinion to the power of the Fata Morgana; the gossamer threads which float through the haze of an autumnal morning are [in Lancashire also] supposed to be woven by the ingenious dwarfs; the verdant circlets in the dewy mead are traced beneath the light steps of the dancing elves; and St. Cuthbert is said to forge and fashion the beads that bear his name, and lie scattered along the shores of Lindisfarne."[3] If we draw our parallels a little closer, we shall find, as has been well observed, that "the Nereids of antiquity are evidently the same with the Mermaids of the British and northern shores: the inhabitants of both are placed in crystal caves, or coral palaces, beneath the waters of the ocean; they are alike distinguished for their partialities to the human race, and their prophetic powers in disclosing the events of futurity. The Naiades differ only in name from the Nixens of Germany, the Nisses of Scandinavia, or the Water-elves of the British Isles. The Brownies are of the same kindred as the Lares of Latium [and these agree exactly with the Portuni mentioned by Gervase of Tilbury in his Otia Imperialis]. The English Puck [the Lancashire Boggart], the Scotch Bogle, the French Goblin, the Gobelinus of the Middle Ages, and the German Kobold, are probably only varied names for the Grecian Khobalus, whose sole delight consisted in perplexing the human race, and evoking those harmless terrors that constantly hover round the minds of the timid. So, also, the German Spuck, and the Danish Spogel, correspond with the more northern Spog; whilst the German Hudkin, and the Icelandic Puki, exactly answer to the character of the English Robin Goodfellow."[4] Our modern devil, with his horns and hoof, is derived from the Celtic Ourisk and the Roman Pan.
Some of our elves and satyrs are arrayed in the costumes of Greece and Rome; and the Fairy Queen, with her attendants, have at times too many points of resemblance to escape being identified as Diana and her nymphs. The Roman Jupiter, by an easy transformation, becomes identical with the Scandinavian Thor—the thunderbolt and chariot of the former corresponding to the hammer and wagon of the latter. Odin takes the place of Mercury. Loki is the same as Lucifer, for, like him, he was expelled from heaven for disobedience and rebellion. Hother encountered Thor, as Diomede did Mars. "The Grendels of the north answer to the Titans of the south; they were the gods of nature to our forefathers—the spirits of the wood and wave." Jupiter's eagle, the war-sign of the Romans, is similar in character to Odin's raven among the Danes; both nations considered that if the bird appeared to flutter its wings on the banners, conquest was certain; but if they hung helplessly down, defeat would surely follow. Warcock Hill, on the borders of Lancashire and Yorkshire, has probably derived its name from the unfurling of this terrible ensign during the conflicts between the Saxons and the Danes for the possession of Northumbria;—the local nomenclature of the district attests the presence of colonists from both nations, and extensive traces of their fortifications still remain as evidence that our slopes and hill-tops formed at once the battle-fields and the strongholds of the country.
The power of the Devil, his personal appearance and the possibility of bartering the soul for temporary gain, must still be numbered among the articles of our popular faith. Repeating the Lord's Prayer backwards is said to be the most effectual plan for causing him to rise from beneath; but when the terms of the bargain are not satisfactory, his exit can only be secured by making the sign of the cross and calling on the name of Christ.[5]
When we come to examine the miscellaneous customs and superstitions of the county, we find many remarkable traces of a former belief. Tradition has again been true to her vocation; and in several instances has been most careful to preserve the minutiæ of the mode of operation and supposed effects of each minor spell and incantation. The principal difficulty now lies in the selection; for the materials are so plentiful that none but the most striking can be noticed. Among these we observe that, a ringing in the ears; shooting of the eyes; throwing down, or spilling the salt; putting on the left shoe first; lucky and unlucky days; pouring melted lead into water; stopping blood by means of charms; the use of waxen images; enchanted girdles; and lovers' knots, are all observed and explained almost exactly as amongst the Greeks and Romans. The details in many have been preserved to the very letter, whilst the supposed effects are exactly the same both in the ancient and modern times. Our marriageable maidens never receive knives, or any pointed implements, from their suitors, for the very same reason that such presents were rejected by their Scandinavian ancestors—they portend a "breaking off" in the matrimonial arrangements, and are notorious for "severing love."
"If you love me as I love you,
No knife shall cut our love in two."
We never return thanks for a loan of pins. A "winding sheet" on the candle forebodes death; and dogs howling indicate a similar calamity.[6] Almost every one is aware that cuttings of human hair ought always to be burnt; that if thirteen sit down to dinner one of them will die before the end of the year; that it is unlucky to meet a woman the first thing in the morning; and that a horse-shoe nailed or let into the step of the door will prevent the entrance of any evil-disposed person. We have probably derived nearly the whole of these notions from the Scandinavian settlers in the North of England. They considered it quite possible too to raise the Devil by the same means now practised by our "wise men;" and after their conversion to Christianity they are known to have marked their dough with a cross in order to ensure its rising—a practice which many of our country matrons still retain. Sodden bread is always considered to be bewitched, provided the yeast be good, and hence the necessity for the protection of the cross.
We always get out of bed either on the right side, or with the right foot first; we take care not to cross two knives on the table; mothers never allow a child to be weighed soon after its birth; our children still blow their ages at marriage from the tops of the dandelion; and all these for similar reasons, and with similar objects, to those of the peasantry of Northumbria during the period of Danish rule. They supposed that the dead followed their usual occupations in the spirit-world, and hence, probably, the weapons of war and the implements of domestic life which we find amongst the ashes of their dead. They were also of opinion that buried treasure caused the ghosts of the owners to haunt the places of concealment; and many of our country population retain the same opinions without the slightest modification.
The Folk-lore of dreams is an extensive subject, and would require a series of essays for its full elucidation. The Royal Dream Book, and Napoleon's Book of Fate, command an extensive sale amongst our operatives, and may be consulted for additional information. Our country maidens are well aware that triple leaves plucked at hazard from the common ash, are worn in the breast for the purpose of causing prophetic dreams respecting a dilatory lover. The leaves of the yellow trefoil are supposed to possess similar virtues; and the Bible is not unfrequently put under their pillows with a crooked sixpence placed on the 16th and 17th verses of the first chapter of Ruth, in order that they may both dream of, and see, their future husbands. "Opening the Bible for direction" is still practised after any troublesome dream, or when about to undertake any doubtful matter. To dream of the teeth falling out betokens death, or the loss of a lawsuit. Other signs of death are dreaming of seeing the Devil; or hearing a sound like the stroke of a wand on any piece of furniture. The proverb that "lawyers and asses always die in their shoes," is invariably quoted when any sudden calamity befalls one of the profession.