Section 4. The Transference of Evil in Europe.
THE EXAMPLES of the transference of evil hitherto adduced have been
mostly drawn from the customs of savage or barbarous peoples. But similar
attempts to shift the burden of disease, misfortune, and sin from one's self
to another person, or to an animal or thing, have been common also
among the civilised nations of Europe, both in ancient and modern times. A
Roman cure for fever was to pare the patient's nails, and stick the parings
with wax on a neighbour's door before sunrise; the fever then passed from
the sick man to his neighbour. Similar devices must have been resorted to
by the Greeks; for in laying down laws for his ideal state, Plato thinks it too
much to expect that men should not be alarmed at finding certain wax
figures adhering to their doors or to the tombstones of their parents, or
lying at cross-roads. In the fourth century of our era Marcellus of
Bordeaux prescribed a cure for warts, which has still a great vogue among
the superstitious in various parts of Europe. You are to touch your warts
with as many little stones as you have warts; then wrap the stones in an
ivy leaf, and throw them away in a thoroughfare. Whoever picks them up
will get the warts, and you will be rid of them. People in the Orkney Islands
will sometimes wash a sick man, and then throw the water down at a
gateway, in the belief that the sickness will leave the patient and be
transferred to the first person who passes through the gate. A Bavarian
cure for fever is to write upon a piece of paper, "Fever, stay away, I am
not at home," and to put the paper in somebody's pocket. The latter then
catches the fever, and the patient is rid of it. A Bohemian prescription for
the same malady is this. Take an empty pot, go with it to a cross-road,
throw it down, and run away. The first person who kicks against the pot will
catch your fever, and you will be cured. 1
Often in Europe, as among savages, an attempt is made to transfer a pain
or malady from a man to an animal. Grave writers of antiquity
recommended that, if a man be stung by a scorpion, he should sit upon an
ass with his face to the tail, or whisper in the animal's ear, "A scorpion has
stung me"; in either case, they thought, the pain would be transferred from
the man to the ass. Many cures of this sort are recorded by Marcellus. For
example, he tells us that the following is a remedy for toothache. Standing
booted under the open sky on the ground, you catch a frog by the head,
spit into its mouth, ask it to carry away the ache, and then let it go. But the
ceremony must be performed on a lucky day and at a lucky hour. In
Cheshire the ailment known as aphtha or thrush, which affects the mouth
or throat of infants, is not uncommonly treated in much the same manner. A
young frog is held for a few moments with its head inside the mouth of the
sufferer, whom it is supposed to relieve by taking the malady to itself. "I
assure you," said an old woman who had often superintended such a
cure, "we used to hear the poor frog whooping and coughing, mortal bad,
for days after; it would have made your heart ache to hear the poor
creature coughing as it did about the garden." A Northamptonshire,
Devonshire, and Welsh cure for a cough is to put a hair of the patient's
head between two slices of buttered bread and give the sandwich to a
dog. The animal will thereupon catch the cough and the patient will lose it.
Sometimes an ailment is transferred to an animal by sharing food with it.
Thus in Oldenburg, if you are sick of a fever you set a bowl of sweet milk
before a dog and say, "Good luck, you hound! may you be sick and I be
sound!" Then when the dog has lapped some of the milk, you take a swig
at the bowl; and then the dog must lap again, and then you must swig
again; and when you and the dog have done it the third time, he will have
the fever and you will be quit of it. 2
A Bohemian cure for fever is to go out into the forest before the sun is up
and look for a snipe's nest. When you have found it, take out one of the
young birds and keep it beside you for three days. Then go back into the
wood and set the snipe free. The fever will leave you at once. The snipe
has taken it away. So in Vedic times the Hindoos of old sent consumption
away with a blue jay. They said, "O consumption, fly away, fly away with
the blue jay! With the wild rush of the storm and the whirlwind, oh, vanish
away!" In the village of Llandegla in Wales there is a church dedicated to
the virgin martyr St. Tecla, where the falling sickness is, or used to be,
cured by being transferred to a fowl. The patient first washed his limbs in a
sacred well hard by, dropped fourpence into it as an offering, walked
thrice round the well, and thrice repeated the Lord's prayer. Then the fowl,
which was a cock or a hen according as the patient was a man or a
woman, was put into a basket and carried round first the well and
afterwards the church. Next the sufferer entered the church and lay down
under the communion table till break of day. After that he offered sixpence
and departed, leaving the fowl in the church. If the bird died, the sickness
was supposed to have been transferred to it from the man or woman, who
was now rid of the disorder. As late as 1855 the old parish clerk of the
village remembered quite well to have seen the birds staggering about from
the effects of the fits which had been transferred to them. 3
Often the sufferer seeks to shift his burden of sickness or ill-luck to some
inanimate object. In Athens there is a little chapel of St. John the Baptist
built against an ancient column. Fever patients resort thither, and by
attaching a waxed thread to the inner side of the column believe that they
transfer the fever from themselves to the pillar. In the Mark of Brandenburg
they say that if you suffer from giddiness you should strip yourself naked
and run thrice round a flax-field after sunset; in that way the flax will get
the giddiness and you will be rid of it. 4
But perhaps the thing most commonly employed in Europe as a
receptacle for sickness and trouble of all sorts is a tree or bush. A
Bulgarian cure for fever is to run thrice around a willow-tree at sunrise,
crying, "The fever shall shake thee, and the sun shall warm me." In the
Greek island of Karpathos the priest ties a red thread round the neck of a
sick person. Next morning the friends of the patient remove the thread and
go out to the hillside, where they tie the thread to a tree, thinking that they
thus transfer the sickness to the tree. Italians attempt to cure fever in like
manner by tethering it to a tree The sufferer ties a thread round his left wrist
at night, and hangs the thread on a tree next morning. The fever is thus
believed to be tied up to the tree, and the patient to be rid of it; but he must
be careful not to pass by that tree again, otherwise the fever would break
loose from its bonds and attack him afresh. A Flemish cure for the ague is
to go early in the morning to an old willow, tie three knots in one of its
branches, say, "Good-morrow, Old One, I give thee the cold;
good-morrow, Old One," then turn and run away without looking round. In
Sonnenberg, if you would rid yourself of gout you should go to a young
fir-tree and tie a knot in one of its twigs, saying, "God greet thee, noble fir.
I bring thee my gout. Here will I tie a knot and bind my gout into it. In the
name," etc. 5
Another way of transferring gout from a man to a tree is this. Pare the
nails of the sufferer's fingers and clip some hairs from his legs. Bore a hole
in an oak, stuff the nails and hair in the hole, stop up the hole again, and
smear it with cow's dung. If, for three months thereafter, the patient is free
of gout, you may be sure the oak has it in his stead. In Cheshire if you
would be rid of warts, you have only to rub them with a piece of bacon,
cut a slit in the bark of an ash-tree, and slip the bacon under the bark.
Soon the warts will disappear from your hand, only however to reappear in
the shape of rough excrescences or knobs on the bark of the tree. At
Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, there used to be certain oak-trees which
were long celebrated for the cure of ague. The transference of the malady
to the tree was simple but painful. A lock of the sufferer's hair was pegged
into an oak; then by a sudden wrench he left his hair and his ague behind
him in the tree. 6