[162] Editor’s Note.—“It is an example of the completeness and consistency with which a theory may organise its myth, that the fatal demons are generally represented as abhorring salt,—the preserving agent against decay.… The Devil, as heir of death-demons, appears in all European folk-lore as a hater of salt.” Demonology and Devil-Lore, by Moncure Conway, Vol. I., p. 288.
[163] Editor’s Note.—Susanne de Quetteville, daughter of Jehannet de Quetteville and his wife Colliche de Sausmarez, was born in 1586, married the Rev. Jean Perchard in 1611, and died in 1612.
Wizards and Witches.
There are some families in Guernsey whose members have the reputation of being sorcerers from their birth. These individuals require no initiation into the diabolic mysteries of the “Sabbat,” Satan claiming them as his own from the very cradle. They are, however, furnished by him with a familiar, generally in the shape of a fly, so that the phrase “avoir une mouque” is well understood as meaning that the person of whom it is said is one of the infernal fraternity. Indeed, in talking of persons who are addicted to magical arts, it is reckoned highly imprudent to speak of them as “sorciers” or “sorcières,” or to call them by the now almost-forgotten name of “Quéraud.”[164] By so doing you give offence, and, what is of still more consequence, you put it in their power to injure you. It is, however, quite safe to speak of them as “gens du Vendredi,”[165] or “gens du hoc.”[166]
Satan does not always wait for their death to claim their souls as his own, but sometimes carries them off bodily; and a former schoolmaster of the Vale, who, from his eccentricities, had acquired the reputation of being a wizard, having disappeared mysteriously, and having never been seen again, is commonly believed, to this day, to have been spirited away.
Those who are born sorcerers have the faculty of transporting themselves at will wherever they please, but those who seek admission into the fraternity, and are initiated into the diabolical rites, are furnished by their infernal master with a certain ointment with which they anoint every part of their bodies before undertaking their aerial journeys. They are also supposed to be able to introduce themselves at night through the chinks and crevices of the buildings into the sheds in which the cattle are housed, for the purpose of milking the cows, not only thus depriving the owner of his property, but also worrying and alarming the poor animals, whose altered looks in the morning shew the ill-treatment to which they have been subjected. An old horse-shoe nailed on the door or lintel, or a naturally pierced flintstone pebble attached to the key of the stable door, are both considered efficacious in warding off these attacks—but an infallible method of driving off the witches is to suspend wreaths of the bramble from the rafters. Witches and wizards travelling, not on land, but through the air, finding these unexpected obstacles in their way, get scratched.[167]
After having rubbed themselves over with this ointment they are then instructed to pronounce without intermission the words “Roule, roule, par dessus ronces et buissons.” (“Roll, roll, above brambles and brakes”).
This was discovered in the following manner:—A prying valet, who lived in the service of a gentleman who was a wizard, of which fact he was nevertheless ignorant, was one day amusing himself by peeping through the key-hole of his master’s bed chamber. He observed his master make use of the ointment, and heard distinctly the words which he pronounced, immediately after which he became invisible. Wishing to try the effect of the unguent on his own person, he entered the room, and went through the process of anointment, but when he came to pronounce the magic formula, he made use of the word “dessous” instead of “dessus” (“under” instead of “over.”) Perhaps he was an Englishman, to whom the French “u” was an insurmountable difficulty. Be this as it may, he had reason to repent bitterly of his indiscreet curiosity, for, no sooner were the words out of his mouth, than he felt himself lifted up, and carried at a fearful rate through furze brakes and bramble hedges, while at the same time he had the mortification to see his master gliding along through the air, several feet above the bushes, and laughing heartily at his misfortunes. At last, dreadfully scratched and torn, and more dead than alive, he arrived at the spot where the infernal troops had their rendezvous, but was too much frightened to notice what took place there, only too happy to escape without being forced, against his will, to enrol himself among them. His curiosity, however, was effectually cured, and he vowed nevermore to pry into his master’s secrets.[168]
“Old Harbour.”