They are also called “Le Grammaille” or “Grand-Mêle,”[171] and a distinction is made between the Grand-Mêle and the Petit-Mêle.
Among the effects which the possessors of these books are said to be able to produce is that of causing persons to walk in their sleep, and to direct their steps towards any point to which the dabbler in magic may wish them to go, but in order to accomplish this, it is necessary that he should have previously drawn blood from the person on whom he intends to practise his unlawful art. So small a quantity however as that produced by the scratch of a pin is amply sufficient for the purpose.
These books are said to be indestructible. If thrown on the fire they remain unconsumed, if sunk in the sea, or buried in the earth, they will be found again the next day in the cupboard or chest from whence they were taken.[172]
[170] From Miss E. Chepmell.
[171] Mr. Métivier in his dictionary translates Grand-Mêle as Grimoire, or the book by which sorcerers pretend to raise the dead, being derived from the old Norse word grîma, a spectre, a witch, a word which is, he says, also the origin of “grimace.” The Grand-Mêle of the Guernsey folk was literally the big book, just as the Petit-Mêle was the little book, Mêle being nothing but a survival of the Gothic Meli—a writing, discourse, or song. Also Ma’l, with the Norsemen, as Veda with the Hindoos, and as Scripture with us, was simply the collective name of all the holy books.
[172] From Elizabeth Matthieu.
Editor’s Notes.
Nowadays the people, in speaking of the “bad books” as they frequently term them, call them the “Grand Albert” and the “Petit Albert,” the former being undoubtedly derived from “Albertus Magnus.” The “Petit Albert” is an abridgment of the larger book, and is supposed to be comparatively harmless, and, with proper precautions, some say it may even be used by good Christians. The country people to this day believe these books to be imperishable, and many is the tale they tell of how they will neither drown, nor burn, and how in particular, one old wizard’s books at Saints’ Bay had to be buried, and part of the funeral service read over them, to keep them from reappearing on their accustomed shelf.
Our old nurse, Margaret Mauger, has often told me the story of the books belonging to an extremely clever old gentleman who owned an estate in the country. At his death, when his daughters came to divide his large library, they were horrified to find many “witch books” and atheistical books included in it. These they set aside to be burnt, and also a great many harmless but dull histories, biographies, and sermons, which they did not wish to keep, and made one huge bonfire. But (and it was one of the daughters who vouched for the truth of this story) the good books would not burn with the bad books! A frightful smell arose, and thick columns of black smoke, but none were consumed, and they all had to be re-sorted, and made into two separate piles,—the sheep and the goats—and then they all burnt readily enough.—From Margaret Mauger.
“In Denmark and some neighbouring countries it is believed that a strange and formidable book exists, by means of which you can raise or lay the Devil—called the Book of Cyprianus. The owner of it can neither sell, bury or burn it, and if he cannot get rid of it before his death he becomes the prey of the fiend.”—Demonology and Devil-Lore, by Moncure Conway, Vol. 2., p. 282.