A horrid Kelpie or water-horse is said to infest the Yore, near Middleham. Every evening he rises from the stream and ramps along the meadows searching for prey, and it is believed that the Kelpie claims at least one human victim annually.
The River Spey must also have at least one victim yearly, while
Blood-thirsty Dee
Each year needs three.
Another curious belief concerning the Dee may also be noted. In his Itinerary through Wales Giraldus Cambrensis states that the inhabitants of places near Chester assert that the waters of the river change their fords every month and that as it inclines more towards England or Wales they can with certainty prognosticate which nation will be successful or unfortunate during the year.
The saying runs that “St. John the Baptist must have a runner, must have a swimmer, must have a climber.” As if this were not enough, in Cologne he requires no less than seven swimmers and seven climbers.
Even to this day some German rivers, such as the Saale and the Spree, require their victims on Midsummer Day. During that parlous season people are careful not to bathe in it. Again, where the beautiful Neckar flows under the ruins of Heidleberg Castle, the spirit of the river seeks to drown three persons, one on Midsummer Eve, one on Midsummer Day, and one on the day after. On these nights if you hear a shriek, as of a drowning man or woman from the water, beware of running to the rescue; for it is only the water-fairy shrieking to lure you to your doom. In Voigtland it was formerly the practice to set up a fine May tree, adorned with all kinds of things, on St. John’s Day. The people danced round it, and when the lads had fetched down the things with which it was tricked out, the tree was thrown into the water. But before this was done, they sought out somebody whom they treated in the same manner, and the victim of this horseplay was called “the John.” The brawls and disorders, which this custom provoked, led to a suppression of the whole ceremony which was obviously only a modification of an older custom of actually drowning a human being. At Rotenberg on the Neckar people throw a loaf of bread into the water on St. John’s Day, otherwise the river-god would grow angry and carry away a man. Elsewhere, however, the water-sprite is content with flowers. In Bohemia people cast garlands in the water on Midsummer Eve and if the water-sprite pulls one of them down, it is a sign that the person who threw the garland in will die. In the villages of Hesse the girl who first comes to a well early in the morning of Midsummer Day places on the mouth of the well a gay garland of many sorts of flowers culled by her from fields and meadows. Sometimes a number of such garlands are twined together to form a crown with which the well is decked. At Fluda, in addition to the floral decorations of the wells, the neighbours choose a Lord of the Wells and announce his election by sending him a great nosegay of flowers. His house is decorated with green boughs and children walk in procession to it. He goes from house to house collecting materials for a feast, of which the neighbours partake on the following Sunday. What the other duties of the Lord of Wells may be, we are not told. We may however conjecture, says Sir James Frazer, that in old days he had to see to it that the spirits of the water received their dues from men and maidens on that important day.[45]
In those moments of the civilized man’s life when he casts off hard dull science, and returns to childhood’s fancy, the world-old book of animated nature is open to him anew. Then, says Tylor, the well-worn thoughts come back fresh to him, of the stream’s life that is so like his own; once more he can see the rill leap down the hillside like a child, to wander playing among the flowers; or can follow it as, grown to a river, it rushes through a mountain gorge, henceforth in sluggish strength to carry heavy burdens across the plain. In all that water does, the poet’s fancy can discern its personality of life. It gives fish to the fisher, and crops to the husbandman; it swells in fury and lays waste the land; it grips the bather with chill and cramp, and holds with inexorable grasp its drowning victim:—
“Tweed said to Till,
‘What gars ye tin sae still?’