Water World as Another Home for the English Nation Reflected in the English Folklore - Иностранные языки - Скачать бесплатно
The British are a most curious nation in many aspects. When a tourist
from whatever continent comes to visit Britain the first conclusion he
arrives at is how bizarre the people living there are. The main reason to
their uniqueness will certainly lie on the surface: Great Britain is an
island that had to grow up and all the long way of its history alone being
separated from the rest of the world by great amounts of water. This very
characteristics turned them into not only a curious nation, but also an
interesting and special one, whose history and culture one of the richest
in the world. And the water surrounding the island played not a minor part
in its forming. So the British people respect and cherish their “watery”
neighbour who from the earliest stages of their history up to now gave them
food, drink, work, power, respect of other nations, wealth and after all
entertainment. It inspired a huge number of stries, tales, poems ,
superstitions and prejudicies and it has always been worshipped by the
people.
The field of the country’s economy connected with water was always a
great concern for those who ruled it for they naturally attached much
importance to it. From the times when the English society was being born
and only beginning to take shape kings already would interest themselves in
the conditions of trading across the sea. In the eleventh century Cnut on a
pilgrimage to Rome took the opportunity of obtaining from the Emperor and
other rulers he met there greater security and reduction of talls for his
subjects, traders and others, travelling in their lands. Already in the
eighth century an English merchant called Botta was settled at Marceilles,
perhaps as an agent for collecting goods to be sold in England. The Viking
rades of the late eighth and ninth centuries disrupted trade on the
Continent, but Englishmen may well have taken part in the Baltic trade
opened up by this time. At least, there is no reason to deny English
nationality to a certain Wulfstan who described to King Alfred a journey
taken to the Frisches Haff; he has an English name.
On the other hand, we hear of foreign traders in England from early
times. Bede speaks of London as the “mart of many nations, resorting to it
by sea and land”, and mentions the purchase of a captive by a Frisian
merchant in London. But the strongest evidence for the amount of sea
traffic in Frisian hands is the assumption of an Anglo-Saxon poet that a
seaman is likely to have a Frisian wife:
Dear is the welcome guest to the Frisian woman when the ship
comes to land. His ship is come and her husband, her own bread –
winner, is at home, and she invites him in, washes his stained
raiment and gives him new clothes, grants him on land what his love
demands.
Men from other lands came also. At the end of the tenth century a
document dealing with trade in London speaks of men from Rouen, Flanders,
Ponthieu, Normandy, France; from about the same date comes a description of
York as the resort of merchants from all quarters, especially Danes.
The merchants and seamen plied an honoured trade. The poets speak with
appreciation of the seaman “who can boldly drive the ship across the salt
sea” or “can steer the stem on the dark wave, knows the currents, (being)
the pilot of the company over the wide ocean”, and it was at least a
current opinion in the early eleventh century that the merchant who had
crossed the sea three times at his own cost should be entitled to a thane’s
rank. The merchant in Aelfric’s “Colloquy” stresses the dangers of his lot:
I go on board my ship with my freight and row over the regions
of the sea, and sell my goods and buy precious things which are not
produced in this land, and I bring it hither to you with great danger
over the sea, and sometimes I suffer shipwreck with the loss of all
my goods, barely escaping with my life.
As we see people working in the sea or over the seas gained much
respect in the society and were loved by others. But so much for the
economical aspect. The water, as we already mentioned earlier, was one of
the greatest attractions as a source of entertainment.
Fishing, like hunting, was highly popular in England, but these were
pleasures reserved for the nobility. In the twelfth century, when the kings
had normally been so strong, they had claimed such oppressive fishing –
rights that all the classes had united in protest. One of the demands of
the rebels in 1381 was that hunting and fishing should be common to all;
not only was this refused, but in 1390 Parliament enacted a penalty for one
year’s imprisonment for everyone who should presume to keep hunting – dogs
or use ferrets or snares to catch deer, rabbits, or any other game. Fishing
and hunting, said the statute, was the sport for gentlefolk.
So this is a scetch or an outline of reasons explaining why our
ancestors valued so much the rivers, lakes, seas of their land – and it is
worth mentioning that their land abounds in all that – and why they
respected the work of sailors, merchants or travellers. All this is
important for the understanding of how it was becoming an unseparable part
of their culture and how it is reflected in their culture. In this work we
would like to pay close attention to just one aspect of the whole rich
cultural inheritance, and that is folklore.
CHAPTER 2
What is folklore? Funk and Wagnall’s “Standard Dictionary of
Folklore, Mythology and Legend” (1972) offers a staggering 22 definitions,
running to half a dozen pages. In recent years definitions have tended to
be all – embracing in their simplicity: folklore is made up of “the
traditional stories, customs and habits of a particular community or
nation” says the “Collins Cobuild Dictionary” of 1987.
More specific definitions also abound; perhaps, folklore should be
identified as the community’s commitment to maintaining stories, customs
and habits purely for their own sake. ( A perfect example of this would be
the famous horse race at Siena in Italy: the p a l i o attracts many
thousands of tourists, yet if not a single outsider attend, the people of
the community would still support the event year after year).
But what about those events or beliefs which have been recently
initiated or which are sustained for reasons of commercial gain or tourism?
Many customs are not as ancient as their participants may claim but it
would be foolish to dismiss them as irrelevant. Some apparently ancient
customs are, in fact, relatively modern, but does this mean they cannot be
termed as folklore? The spectacular fire festival at Allendale, for
instance, feels utterly authentic despite the fact that there is no record
of the event prior to 1853. There are many other cases of new events or
stories which have rapidly assumed organic growth and therefore deserve the
status of being recognised as folklore.
Any work covering the question of folklore must be selective, but here
we shall attempt to explore and celebrate the variety and vigour of
Britain’s folklore concerning “waterworld” traditions, beliefs and
superstitions. A wide geographical area is covered: England, Scotland and
Wales with some reference to Ireland and other territories.
Entire books – indeed, whole libraries of books – have been written on
every aspect of folklore: on epitaphs and weather lore, folk medicine and
calendar customs, traditional drama and sports and pastimes, superstitions,
ghosts and witchcraft, fairs, sea monsters and many others. While trying to
cram much into little work I have avoided generalisation. Precise details
such as names, dates and localities are given wherever possible and there
are some references to features that still can be seen - a mountain, a
bridge, a standing stone or a carving in a church.
Classic folklore belongs within the country to the basic unit of the
parish. Most parishes could produce at least a booklet and in some cases a
substantial volume on their own folklore, past and present . It would be a
mistake, however, to think that rural customs, dance and tale were the
whole picture, because there is a rich picture of urban and industrial
folklore as well – from the office girl’s prewedding ceremonies to urban
tales of phantom hitchhickers and stolen corpses.
In this age of fragmentation, speed and stress, people often seem to
thirst for something in which they can take an active part. There is a need
to rediscover something which is more permanent and part of a continuing
tradition. By tapping into our heritage of song and story, ritual and
celebration, our lives are given shape and meaning.
In some cases all we have to do is join in with an activity which is
already happening; in others it will perhaps mean reviving a dance or a
traditional play. But however we choose to participate, as long as we
continue to use, adapt and develop the elements of our folklore heritage it
will survive.
So this work may be regarded as an attempt to encourage us all to seek
out the stories and customs of country, county, town, village, to
understand and enjoy them and to pass them on.
THE WATERY WORLD
Not a single town or village in England is situated more than a
hundred miles from the sea, except for a few places in the Midlands, and
most of those in Wales and Scotland are nearer still. The coastline lies
for thousands of miles, with a host of off-shore islands ranging from
Scilly to Shetland and Wight to Lewis. It is hardly surprising then that
our long and eventful maritime history is complemented by a rich heritage
of nautical stories and superstitions, beliefs and customs, many of which
continue to affect our daily lives – even oil rigs, very much a twentieth –
century phenomenon, have tales of their own. Inland water, too, are the
subjects of stories which echoes the folklore of the coasts and seas.
BENEATH THE WAVES
Many tales are told of submerged lands, and of church bells ringing
ominously from beneath the waves. Between Land’s End and the Scilly Islands
lies a group of rocks called The Seven Stones, known to fishermen as “The
City” and near to which the land of Lyoness is believed to lie, lost under
the sea. There is a rhyme which proclaims:
Between Land’s End and Scilly
Rocks
Sunk lies a town that ocean
mocks.
Lyoness was said to have had 140 churches. These and most of its
people were reputed to have been engulfed during the great storrn of 11
November 1099. One man called Trevilian foresaw the deluge, and moved his
family and stock inland – he was making a last journey when the waters
rose, but managed to outrun the advancing waves thanks to the fleetness of
his horse. Since then the arms of the grateful Trevilian have carried the
likeness of a horse issuing from the sea. A second man who avoided the
catastrophe erected a chapel in thanksgiving which stood for centuries near
Sennen Cove.
Another area lost under water is Cantre’r Gwaelod, which lies in
Cardigan Bay somewhere between the river Teifi and Bardsey Island. Sixteen
towns and most of their inhabitants were apparently overwhelmed by the sea
when the sluice gates in the protective dyke were left open. There are two
versions of the story as to who was responsible: in one it is a drunken
watchman called Seithenin; in another, Seithenin was a king who preferred
to spend his revenue in dissipation rather than in paying for the upkeep of
the coastal defences.
A moral of one kind or another will often be the basis of tales about
inland settlements lost beneath water. For example Bomere Lake in
Shropshire – now visited as a beauty spot was created one Easter Eve when
the town which stood there was submerged as a punishment for reverting to
paganism. One Roman soldier was spared because he had attempted to bring
the people backto Christianity, but he then lost his life while trying to
save the woman he loved. It is said that his ghost can sometimes be seen
rowing across the lake at Easter, and that the town,s bells can be heard
ringing. There is another version of the same story in the same place, but
set in Saxon times: the people turn to Thor and Woden at a time when the
priest is warning that the barrier which holds back the meter needs
strengthening. He is ignored, but as the townsfolk are carousing at
Yuletide the water bursts in and destroys them.
There is a cautionary tale told of Semerwater, another lake with a
lost village in its depth. Semerwater lies in north Yorkshire not far from
Askrigg, which is perhaps better known as the centre of “Herriot country”,
from the veterinary stories of James Herriot. The story goes that a
traveller – variously given as an angel, St Paul, Joseph of Arimathea, a
witch, and Christ in the guise of a poor old man – visited house after
house seeking food and drink , but at each one was turned away, until he
reached a Quaker’s home, just beyond the village: htis was the only
building spared in the avenging flood that followed.
One lost land off the Kent coast can be partially seen at high tide:
originally, the Goodwin Sands were in fact an island, the island of Lomea
which according to one version disappeared under the waves in the eleventh
century when funds for its sea defences were diverted to pay for the
building of a church tower at Tenterden. The blame for that is laid at the
door of a n abbot of St Augustine’s at Canterbury who was both owner of
Lomea and rector of Tenterden. However, sceptics say that Tenterden had no
tower before the sixteenth century, nor can archeologists find any trace of
habitation or cultivation of the sands. Even so, the tales continue to be
told; one of these blame Earl Godwin, father of King Harold, for the loss
of the island. He earl promised to build a steeple at Tenterden in return
for safe delivery from a battle, but having survived the battle, he forgot
the vow and in retribution Lomea, which he owned, was flooded during a
great storm. The Sands still bear his name.
Yet worse was to follow, for scores of ships and the lives of some 50
000 sea farers have been lost on the Goodwins, and ill-fortune seems to dog
the area. For example, in 1748 the “Lady Lovibond” was deliberatly steered
to her destruction on the Sands by the mate of the vessel, John Rivers.
Rivers was insanely jealeous because his intended bride, Anetta, had
foresaken him to marry his captain, Simon Reed. The entire wedding party
perished with the ship in the midst of the celebrations, but the remarkable
thing is that the scene made a phantom reappearance once every fifty years
– until 1948, when the “Lady Lovibond” at last failed to re-enact the
drama.
Another fifty - year reappearance concerns the Nothumberland; she
was lost on the Goodwind sands in 1703 in a storm, along with twelve other
men – of - war, but in 1753 seen again by the crew of an East Indiaman –
sailors were leaping in to the water from the stricken vessel though their
shouts and screams could not be heard.
The Nothumberland was under the command of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, to
whom is attached a further tale. Three years afterwards, the admiral’s
flagship, the Association, was wrecked on the Gilstone Rock near the Scilly
Isles. The fleet was homeward bound after a triumphant campaign against the
French and some maintain that the crews were drunk. But the story which
Scillonians believe to this day is that a sailor aboard the flagship warned
that the fleet was dangerously near the islands, and that for this he was
hanged at the yardarm for unsubordination, on the admiral’s orders. The man
was granted a last request to read from the Bible, and turned to the 109
psalm: “ Let his days be few and another take his place. Let his children
be fatherless and his wife a widow”. As he read the ship began to strike
the rocks.
The admiral was a very stout man and his buoyancy was sufficient to
carry him ashore alive, though very weak. However, official searches found
him dead, stripped off his clothing and valuables, including a fine emerald
ring. The body was taken to Westminster Abbey for interment, and his widow
appealed in vain for the return of the ring. Many years later a St Mary’s
islander confessed on the deathbed that she had found Sir Cloudesley and
had “squeezed the life out of him” before taking his belongongs. The hue
and cry had forced her to abandon the idea of selling the emerald, but she
had felt unable to die in peace before revealing her crime.
A commemorative stone marks the place where the admiral’s body was
temporarily buried in the shingle of Porth Hellick, on St Mary’s Island. No
grass grows over the grave.
THE WRECK OF THE RAMILIES
Many hundreds of shipwrecks have their own songs and stories. Although
the Ramilies, for example, was wrecked well over 200 years ago, tradition
perpetuates the event as clearly as if it had happened only yesterday. In
February 1760 the majestic, ninety – gun, triple decked ship was outward
bound from Plymouth to Quiberon Bay when hurricane – force winds blew up in
the Channel and forced the captain to turn back and run for shelter.
Sailing East , the master thought he had passed Looe Island, and had only
to round Rame Head to reach the safety of Plymouth Sound. In fact the ship
was a bay further on and the land sighted was Burgh Island, in Bigbury Bay.
The Promontory was Bolt Tail with its four hundred foot cliffs, and beyond
lay no safe harbour at all, but several miles of precipitous rocks. As soon
as the sailing master realised his mistake the ship was hove to, but the
wind was so violent that the masts immediately snapped and went overboard.
The two anchores that were dropped held fast, but their cables fouled each
other, and after hours of fierce friction, they parted and the ship was
driven to destruction on the rocks.
Of more than seven hundred men on board only about two dozen reached
safety. Led by Midshipman John Harrold, they scrambled up the cliffs, by
pure luck choosing the one place where this was possible. Next day a
certain William Locker travelled to the scene to try to find the body of
his friend, one of the officers. Locker himself would have been aboard the
“Ramillies” but his lieutenant’s commission had come from the admiralty too
late, arriving just a few hours after she had sailed. He found the shores
of Bigbury Bay strewn with hundreds of corpses, their clothing torn away by
the sea’s pounding, their features unrecognisable. The village nearest to
the scene of the wreck was Inner Hope, and some there still maintain that a
Bigbury man aboard the “Ramillies” pleaded with the captain to alter
course; but he was clapped in irons, and went down with the ship. They say
that only one officer survived because others were prevented from leaving
the stricken vessel.
Most of the bodies were washed ashore at Thurlestone, a few miles to
the west. There used to be a depression in the village green which marked
the place where many of the seamen had been buried in a mass grave; this
has now been asphalted to make a carpark. Then in the mid – 1960s a child
digging in a sand dune found a bone. He showed it to a man on the beach who
happened to be a doctor and identified it as human. Further digging
revealed the skeletons of ten men, small in stature and buried in five –
foot intervals -- perhaps these had been washed up after the mass burial.
No scrap of clothing or equipment was found, and finally the bones were
thrown into a lorry and consigned to a rubbish tip. Even though two
centuries have elapsed since their deaths, one feels that the men of the
“Ramillies” deserved better. The ship still lies six fathoms down in the
cove which which has borne her name since 1760, and Wise’s Spring on the
cliffs is called after one of the seamen who scrambled ashore with the tiny
band of survivors.
PORTENTS OF DISASTER
Great pains are taken when first launching a vessel so as to ensure
good fortune, and one of the most important portents is the ritual bottle
of champagne which must break first time ( the liquid may be a substitute
for the blood of a sacrifice ). It is interesting that the various ships to
bear the name “Ark Royal” have always been lucky; for example when the
World War 11 vessel sunk there was minimal loss of life. The original ship
dated from Elizabethan times and had a crucifix placed beneath the mainmast
by the captain’s mistress; this apparently secured the good fortune for all
her successors. On the other hand there are vessels which seem perpetually
unlucky, some even jinxed and quite incapable of escaping misfortune.
Brunel’s fine ship the “Great Eastern” was launched in 1858 after
several ominously unsuccessful attempts. She ruined the man in whose yard
she was built, and caused a breakdown in Brunel’s health – he died even
before her maiden voyage. And despite her immense technical advantages, she
was never successful as the passenger - carrying vessel.
In 1895 she was in port in Holyhead. When the “Royal Charter” sailed
by, homeward bound from Australia, the passengers expressed a desire to see
her and their captain was only too pleased to oblige. However, the ship
strayed off course and a wild storm blew up. The ship was wrecked, with
great loss of life. Some of the trouble was attributed to the story of a
riveter and his boy who were said to have been accidentally sealed to the
famous double hull. Unexplained knockings were heard at various times but
although searches were made, nothing was found. When the vessel was broken
up at New Ferry, Cheshire, in 1888 it was rumoured that two sceletons were
discovered, their bony fingers still clenched round the worn – down hammers
which had beaten in vain for rescue.
The “Victoria” was commissioned on Good Friday, the thirteenth of the
month – and if this were not ill-luck enough, the fact that her name ended
in ‘a’ was considered another bad sign. In 1893 she sank with heavy losses
after a collision during the manoeuvres in the Mediterranean off Beirut,
and interestingly, various things happened which indicated calamity: two
hours earlier a fakir had actually predicted disaster, and at the time of
the collision crowds had gathered at the dockyards gates in Malta, drawn by
an instinctive apprehension of
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