Which will bear washing in Cocker, and not lose a strand”—
proved too much even for the ingenuity of the Father of Evil, and if he stuck to his bargain Cockerham must be the happiest place on earth! This legend of the Three Tasks is not confined to Lancashire, but is also narrated in connection with Merton Sands, Cheshire, and a Cornish version forms the subject of “Featherstone’s Doom,” one of the Rev. R. S. Hawker’s wildest lyrics. Another curious story is that which says that the parochial church of Burnley was originally intended to be built on the site occupied by the old Saxon Cross in Godly Lane; “but however much the masons might have built during the day, both stones and scaffolding were invariably found where the church now stands on their coming to work next morning.” This legend is told also of Rochdale, Winwick, Samlesbury, Over, Saddleworth, Churchdown, and many other churches.
A winding-sheet in the candle, spilling the salt, crossing knives, and various other trifles, are omens of evil to thousands even at this day. Should one of your children fall sick when on a visit to a friend’s house, it is held to be sure to entail bad luck on that family for the rest of the year, if you stay over New Year’s Day. Persons have been known to travel sixty miles with a sick child, rather than run the risk. A flake of soot on the bars of the grate is said to indicate the approach of a stranger; a bright spark on the wick of a candle, or a long piece of stalk in the tea-cup, betokens a similar event. When the fire burns briskly some lover smirks or is good-humoured. A cinder thrown out of the fire by a jet of gas from burning coals is looked upon as a coffin if its hollow be long; as a purse of gold if the cavity be round. Crickets in houses are said to indicate good fortune, but should they forsake the chimney corner, it is a sure sign of coming misfortune.
By this time the mixture of races in Lancashire is so complete that it is not easy to gather at first hand fresh data as to indigenous superstitions. This is more especially the case in the populous districts, where immigrants from every part of the United Kingdom and from abroad have been attracted by the great industries of the County Palatine. These influxes have necessarily had their influence upon the population and its beliefs. There is the danger of mistaking for a genuine product of the Lancashire soil what is merely an exotic. This danger exists as to oral tradition, but is still greater with regard to what has become literature. It will be well to illustrate this by a concrete example. In the pleasant volume of “Poems and Songs” by Thomas Newbigging there is a poem entitled “The Story of Old Gamul,” narrating as a Rossendale tradition one of those strange legends which are links in the history of fiction. According to Mr. Newbigging’s story, old Gamul had the enmity of but one man—the keeper, who determined to work his destruction. This villain caused a pit to be dug, and cunningly covered over with turf and branches. Thinking that the victim is already there, the keeper goes to the place and falls into it himself. Gamul soon after passes, and hearing a cry for help, lets down ropes, and pulls up, first a lion, then a serpent, then an ape, and last of all his enemy. The keeper invites Gamul to his house, and when he goes there, knocks him down with a club, and casts him forth as dead. Gamul, however, recovers, and when next he goes to the wood, he is aided in his labour by the ape, the serpent brings him “the adder’s magic stone,” and the lion shows him a cave full of treasure.
“That lucky night went Gamul home,
The richest wight in Christendom.”
The keeper finally hangs himself for vexation, and the old woodman becomes Sir Gamul.
“Nor e’er were turned the homeless poor
Unfriended from the open door.”
A work by a German named Massenius was published at Cologne in 1657. It was entitled “Palæstra Dramatica,” and contained, amongst other curious narratives, one of a certain Signor Vitalis, who fell into a pit in which a lion, a monkey, and a serpent had also fallen. They were all rescued by an honest countryman, Massaccio, to whom Vitalis promised a marriage-dower and his palace. Once safe, he denies all knowledge of his deliverer. The beasts prove more grateful, but a gem which is given to the peasant by the serpent leads to a suspicion that he has stolen it. At the trial Vitalis again denies him, but is overwhelmed with confusion when the beasts enter the court and force from him an involuntary confession. A translation of this story appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine for March, 1835. The fable was, however, not invented by Massenius, for in a slightly different form it occurs in the “Gesta Romanorum,” that famous collection of mediæval stories. It also attracted the notice of Gower, and is told in the “Confessio Amantis,” in this the lion is omitted. Matthew Paris gives it as an apologue told by Richard of the Lion Heart. Finally it is found in that storehouse of Eastern legend, the Calilah u Dimnah. This was translated by Doni into Italian, and an English rendering of his version appeared in 1570. Massenius may have obtained the story either from the “Gesta,” or from this book of Doni. It is very probable that many other versions exist. But does Mr. Newbigging’s poem really represent a Lancashire tradition? To solve this doubt the readiest way was to put the question to him. The following is his reply:—“With some differences my ‘reverend Grannie’ used to relate this story to amuse my childhood. I cannot help smiling when I look back and remember the time when, if some casualty, such as an unusually wet night, or a ‘hawket heel,’ or any of the thousand and one ills attendant on boyhood, kept me chained to the fireside, my invariable petition was, ‘Grannie! gie’s auld Guy!’ (she gave the hero’s name as Guy, not Gamul, as I have given it) and forthwith ‘Auld Guy’ was related for the fiftieth time by the same patient lips, and to the same eager listener. I had never been able, though I had looked long and carefully, to find anything like it in print. My good grandam (who was a rare old Scotch woman, full of old-world lore) heard the story from her father, and she believed that he had read it in some old book.”