Author Archives: Alison

The Scottish Play

Background Information:

My informant is a theatre major. She has told me that theatre people are very superstitious, and have many rituals that they do before and after a performance for good luck. Inversely, they avoid saying some things as they believe it will bring them bad luck. One of these things is saying the same of Shakespeare’s play “Hamlet” inside a theatre. There are various reasons for this superstition and as many ways to ward it off if it is accidentally spoken. She learned this as a member of the theatre community, and it is a both a superstition that she doesn’t disbelieve, and also a fun initiation ritual to distinguish people new to theatre. She is signified in this conversation by the initials B.I.

Main Piece:

B.I.: So basically you’re not supposed to say the name “Macbeth” in a theatre. Like when one of us accidentally said it in rehearsals, we were told by our director that instead of saying “Macbeth” we should call it “the Scottish play.”

A.: Do you know where that superstition comes from?

B.I.: As far as I know there’s a lot of different reasons that the superstition exists. One of my friends told me that it comes from the fact that the witches in the play chant some actual words that witches said, and so it casts an incomplete spell which brings bad luck to a performance. It’s mostly to do with the witches I think, that they’re casting some kind of spell on the play. I’ve also heard that when the play was being performed some time in the past, the props director stole a cauldron from an actual coven of witches, and they cursed anyone who said the name of the play in a theatre.

A: And what kind of bad luck does saying it bring?

B.I.: Well I’ve actually never seen it bring any disaster, but from what I’ve heard people say that the actual performance will be disastrous, like people will forget their lines, and the lights or mics won’t work, that kind of stuff. Sometimes the actual play itself will go bust too, and it’s run will be cancelled. I’ve heard people say that the theatre could burn down too, or that it could flood.

A: If someone does say “Macbeth” what are they supposed to do next?

B.I.: They spin around in a circle and say “Macbeth” three times, sometimes outside the theatre, and then they come back inside. I’ve heard of people spitting too, maybe to get the word out of their mouth, but that’s not something we really do. It’s a kind of cleansing thing I think, like they’re forcing the witches and the curse outside of the theatre.

Performance Context:

After watching an episode of “Blackadder” in which two characters seemed to satirize the ritual of what to do should someone say the name “Macbeth,” I asked my friend in theatre whether or not she had heard of this before, and she related to me this ritual in person.

My thoughts:

I had often heard of this superstition before, and especially the parody of the cleansing rituals in the BBC comedy Blackadder, in which two actors have increasingly complex and violent ways of counteracting the curse, which the titular character keeps inciting in order to annoy the actors. Ghosts are a common theme in theatre and film superstitions, such as in the superstition surrounding the ‘ghost light’ that she later told me about. In the cleansing ritual, the use of the number three in the amount of times one must spin around is particularly important, as the number three often appears in folklore as the number of tries before a hero wins a fight, or the amount of trials a hero must face in a tale. This use of threes is part of Axel Olrik’s Epic Laws of Folk Narrative, and so therefore has often been noted in reference to folktales in particular, and extended to all aspects of modern life. I have heard of people turning the lights on and off three times before they go to bed, or checking three times that the front door is locked.

Fairy Forts

Background Information:

My informant is my aunt from rural Kerry. She is signified in this conversation by the initials J.O. She lived in a farmhouse growing up which had cows in a cowshed around the back of the house. This cowshed was said to be cursed as it was built on a fairy fort. Often (mis)identified as ringforts, fairy forts are small earthen mounds which are usually about the size of an anthill. They were said to be the homes of the Sí, or the fairy folk, who were the mischievous creatures who roamed pre-Christian Ireland. Belief in the Sí has not entirely died out, although it would rather be classed as legend now, a kind of thing that you “don’t not believe,” and is perhaps more confined to rural Ireland, yet she does not totally disbelieve in them. Building on a fairy fort was said to bring bad luck to those who interfered with the Sí.

Main Piece:

A: So tell me about the fairy fort at the house.

J.O.: Well there was a fairy fort around the back of the house, at the cow sheds.

A: And did the folk interact with you at all?

J.O.: Actually, and I’m not sure whether or not to believe in this, the fairies would interfere with the cows. I remember Dad coming in some evenings and saying that a cow had died, despite the fact there was no reason for them too. After they had all died we bought new cows, but they wouldn’t produce any milk. You’d try day after day and there would be absolutely nothing. After a while, Dad called in the vet, who couldn’t find a thing wrong with them, and asked about the others’ deaths, and the vet couldn’t explain it. So then Dad called in the priest, who went looking around the land, and sure enough at the back of the shed there was a small mound, maybe a foot high and a sort of round thing, and he said it was a fairy fort. He went on saying that building things on the forts angered the fair folk and that it was best to move the shed, lest they start bothering the house. I always thought it odd that the priest would tell us that, but Dad said that’s what you did when the Sí were acting up. That summer Dad knocked the shed and built it again at the end of the field. After that, the cows were grand. There was no problem with them, and the shed is still there today as far as I know.

A: And do you believe that it was the fairy folk that were messing with the cows?

J.O.: I don’t know what to believe to be honest. I mean, I can’t explain that the cows were fine once the shed was moved, but at the same time, it seems madness to actually attribute it to the fairy folk. Especially seeing as the priest and the vet couldn’t offer any better explanation. I’d be hesitant to believe it fully, but I would also have my land checked before building anything just to avoid any hassle, you know?

 

Performance Context: This folk belief was related to me over the phone, after I asked my aunt about the fairy forts, which were mentioned in class around this time. She then related to me this story about the fairy forts in her life.

 

My thoughts:

This is a classic story of suspended belief in legend. It utilizes a contrasting claim to land by both the fairy folk and the modern owners and the power of the fairy folk to influence the living. What is perhaps most striking, however, is the mention that it was the priest that noted the presence of the fairy folk. Ireland is an unusual case, as prehistoric beliefs in such peoples still persevere despite a heavy Catholic influence. This feels like a kind of cognitive dissonance, in which it is incredibly strange to align these two beliefs with such vastly different outlooks. Like many legends, such as Valk’s account of ghosts in Estonian property issues, the outside characters of the priest and the vet, a religious man and a scientist, serve to bolster the story and affirm the happenings on both counts. Again, it is worth noting that belief in the Sí is not entirely disregarded as part of the part, and is a living part of Irish history.

 

Putting a Child of Prague statue in the garden for good weather at weddings

Background:

Informant is 56-year old IT technician living in Dublin, Ireland. This piece of folklore has to do with the Child of Prague statues that are so popular in Ireland. The statue is usually less than a foot high and features Jesus Christ dressed as a king, similar to the one indicated above, but with occasional variations in the color of the cloak according to the time of the year. The statue is a replica of the original wax-wooden statue housed in the Disacled Carmelite Church of Our Lady in Malá Strana, Prague. It was said to have belonged to Saint Teresa of Avila, and is now located to the right of the altar, halfway up the Church. This is a tradition the informant is familiar with from his childhood, and is a fond memory. He is signified in this conversation by the initials D.O.

 

Main Piece:

D.O.: Mam would always do this whenever one of my sisters was getting married. You place the Child of Prague statue in the front garden of the bride’s house in a bush or under a hedge – basically somewhere it’s not going to get knocked over. You could even bury it in the ground – that’d happen a lot in the winter. It’s supposed to bring good weather the day of a wedding. Burying it in the winter was a kind of evasive manoeuvre, as if hiding it better would make the weather even better, or rather combat the winter.

 

A: And do you think it worked?

 

D.O.: Maybe half of the time, but sure half of the time it probably wasn’t going to rain anyways. People are more likely to have weddings in the summer, so the weather was going to be fine enough in the first place. There was another superstition actually, about if the statue was missing a head. Some people would say that the statue was luckier, because if it was missing a head that meant that it had been around for a long time and it worked better – tried and tested, like – but some people said it was an omen that the statue was cursed or had been knocked over or broken. Ours had a head but the neighbors swore by the headless statue.

 

A: And would you still do that today?

 

D.O.: I probably would for tradition’s sake if it was someone important to me getting married. I don’t think it’s as prevalent today as it was when I was younger. I suppose Ireland is a less Catholic country now than the one I grew up in.

 

Performance context: I interviewed this informant over the phone considering that I am in California and he in Dublin. He mentioned that there was a family wedding coming up and that, seeing as it’s winter, he joked about putting out a Child of Prague. My resulting questioning forms the rest of this analysis.

 

My thoughts: This is probably one of the more bizarre folk beliefs I have heard from Ireland. I don’t quite understand the connection between this statue and the weather, nor where the belief came from. The idea of hiding or burying the statue seems to be implicit to the success of its weather-controlling powers, which again seems to have no obvious links. The combination of two-fold superstition with not only the weather-controlling aspect of the statue, but the idea that it is ‘luckier’ with its’ head broken off, combines Christian beliefs with superstitions that would perhaps have more to do with Ancient Greco-Roman cult statues than Christianity in a confusing mix. Perhaps this is why Ireland is such an odd and interesting country to examine folklore from – although it seems a canonical and thoroughly Catholicized state, in isolation very unique folk beliefs to do with traditional religion, preexisting culture and superstition have been created in an eccentric and confusing mix.

Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná Béarla cliste

Translation: Broken Irish is better than clever English

Background: Informant is 56-year old IT technician living in Dublin, Ireland. His first language is English, but is proficient in Irish. Therefore, sayings such as this tend to pepper his speech, making him an active bearer of this tradition. He enjoys using these phrases in conversation as they are Irish, and also appropriate in many situations. He is signified in this conversation by the initials D.O.

Main Piece:

A.: Could you give me the gist of that phrase?

 

D.O.: Is fearr Gaeilge bhriste ná Béarla cliste? Of course. It means ‘broken Irish is better than clever English.’ I didn’t used to hear it when I was younger, I don’t think it’s one of the classic seanfhoclai, sure I could be wrong but I think it’s a modern invention.

 

A.: Why do you think that?

 

D.O.: Well I suppose the rhyme for one thing – like there is rhyme in Irish, of course, but this seems purposefully rhymed, if you get me. I suppose the amount of Irish speakers has gone down hugely since I was younger, so a nice catchphrase might do a good job of encouraging interest in the language. And especially the fact that it’s broken Irish in particular – I think that’s an incentive to give speaking what Irish you know a go, without being afraid you’ll be laughed at for not sounding perfect. A lot of countries have that kind of thing though – once you make a bit of effort with the people to speak their language they lighten up a bit, they appreciate the effort. It’s just a nice thing to do I think – sort of respectful of another culture, by acknowledging that you’re not just another ignorant tourist!

 

A.: I remember being told that phrase back in my spoken exams in secondary school.

 

D.O.: Exactly – it’s always worth trying, especially with something people consider a ‘dead’ language. It’s important to try and get a bit of the language into general circulation, especially with the young people. They can try and get a bit of the language back if they make it seem less – what’s the word – archaic?

 

A.: When was the first time you heard this phrase?

 

D.O.: I first heard it when I was studying, and I suppose at that point the language was declining in everyday use. As the language declined I heard it more and more, which was interesting, but I suppose that’s the point of the saying, to revive the language.

 

Performance context: I interviewed this informant over the phone considering that I am in California and he in Dublin. In a conversation in a mix of English and Irish, he mentioned this phrase in reference to the multiple misunderstandings on my part due to my less-than-perfect Irish. I had heard the phrase before as a kind of encouragement to keep trying when learning Irish.

 

My thoughts: This is a useful phrase to encourage people to keep trying when learning Irish, without being condescending. The fact that it rhymes definitely helps it appeal to people who may be learning Irish and find a rhyming sentence easier to remember. It also teaches a few rules of the language in itself, such as adding the ‘h’ to bhriste. From his testimony, it seems to be a new proverb addition to the folkloristic canon, and it is interesting both that it was created to be written in Irish in its’ native form, and also that it has taken off so rapidly and been accepted into the canon of seanfhoclai. As a new-ish addition, it shows that proverbs are still being created, and its’ prevalence within the school community in particular – in my experience – suggests that proverbs are not simply for use by older people, as it can often seem. They also serve a didactic function not only to be taught to the youth, but to be used among them.

The Jólakötturinn

Background Information:

My informant is a 23-year-old student originally from Iceland, but studying in Dublin. She was born and raised in Reykjavik and moved to Ireland in her 20’s to come to University there. The Jólakötturinn, literally translating to ‘Christmas Cat’, is also known in English as the Yule Cat, a tradition similar to that of Krampus, where a giant cat would come around to check if children had gotten all their chores done before Christmas. If they had, he would not eat them. Interestingly, he seems to be confined to Icelandic folklore, and does not crop up in larger Scandinavian Yuletide traditions. She is signified by the initials A.J.

Main Piece:

A.J.: In Iceland, it is traditional for children to be given the last of their household chores to finish up before Christmas, like decorating the tree, sweeping the floor, helping out with the cooking – that kind of thing. If the children did that, they’d be given new clothes to wear for Christmas Day among their presents. The Jólakötturinn is a huge – and I mean huge, as in, bigger and taller than a house – sized cat that lives in the woods and wanders around from house to house looking in the windows to see what presents the children got for Christmas, so you have to leave all your curtains open on Christmas Eve night to let him see in. If he sees that the children have been given clothes as presents, he assumes they have been good and moves on. Even poor people do this, something as small as socks or a hat will do. But, if you haven’t gotten clothes, the Jólakötturinn will firstly eat your dinner that you would have had on Christmas Day, and then he will eat you. I think the purpose of it is similar to that of Santa Claus, in checking whether or not you have been good during the year. But I think this tradition is meant to make people also generous, because sometimes on the last day of school before winter break the teacher will give the children chores to do in the classroom, like tidying up the presses and cleaning the tables, and then the teacher hands out socks usually to the children, and you can give them to someone who did a really good job. In the end, everyone ends up with a pair of socks. It’s good for people who don’t have as much money, to keep the tradition alive without the parents having to spend a lot of money. I also think it’s nice thing to do with your friends, and makes everyone work a bit harder.

A: And do you know where the tradition came from?

A.J.: It’s been around for a long time, as my great grandmother tells me that she was told it by her grandmother, and that was a very long time ago. It’s a bit of fun to believe in, I don’t seriously believe in it but again, I got clothes every year so I didn’t have to experience whether it was truly real or not. Also it’s a good way of making kids behave, and so this seems to me to be why it has survived for so long. I was told the story by my parents when I was about five or so, and I think I will pass on the tradition in my family in the future.

My Thoughts:

The concept of someone or something checking whether or not a child has been well-behaved around Christmastime is not one unique to Icelandic tradition. The popular character of Santa Claus serves the same purpose, if not with such grave consequences should the child have been bad, rather giving them coal. It speaks to the heavy emphasis on generosity and community within the culture. The use of the cat is Iceland-specific, and this seems to me to reference the fat that cats were the companions of Vikings, and so there is a large population of cats in Nordic countries, and so it is natural to choose something so prevalent in a culture when personifying a tradition.

For another oikotype of this, see the Krampus tradition in Germany and surrounding areas: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2013/12/131217-krampus-christmas-santa-devil/