LL-L "Folklore" 2002.08.20 (12) [E/S]

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From: erek gass <egass at caribline.com>
Subject: LL-L "Folklore"

Living here in PA where "Belsnickling" USED to be common, I thought I'd
add memories of that tradition shared with me by older persons who
actually experienced it in York County.  The tradition was strong enough
that it was often included with Santa Claus in the "Dutch townships"
(those roughly west of today's route I-83 in southern York County, if
any of you want to look at a map) in the German/French/Swiss church
traditions (that is, Lutheran and Reformed).  I think that the German
Catholics included it their traditions also, but they were very few in
number in this area, and I've never spoken to any of them about it and
thus I'm reluctant to state their usage as a fact.

Curiously, the custom did spread into the adjoining "Irish townships"
(those east of I-83), and, I've actually heard more from them than from
the Deitsch!  There, the  was carried on completely secularly (that is,
outside of their churches -- I suspect because it really didn't coincide
with anything Presbyterian).  It was especially well remembered by
old-time residents of Stewartstown.

---------

From: RBlaustein at aol.com
Subject: LL-L "Folklore" 2002.08.20 (08) [E]

Dear Lowlanders, Ron's comments re: the character of the Pelznickl and
the
mummery
associated with him inspired me to do a search on Belsnickling. I found
a
number of
sources, including a very concise yet detailed article published in the
Page
County (Virginia) News & Courier on 13 September 2001:

Belsnickling – when dressing in costumes wasn’t just for Halloween

<<Halloween isn’t even upon us yet and the latter 20th century
tradition of
Halloween AND Christmas decorations in the store is before us already.
So, in
the same spirit, I say, “why not?” – time for a story that does
justice to
both seasons that the retailers bring to us so early-on this time of the
year. And yes “Virginia,” this story does pertain to Page County and
the
Shenandoah Valley . . .

Sometime during the third quarter of the 20th century, an old custom
seemed
to fade away. Perhaps only few recall the name “Belsnickle,” but
there are
some – even here in Page – that might recall a time when, on
Christmas Eve
(not Halloween as some may think), some folks would dress in hideous
disguises and distribute nuts and cakes to naughty boys and girls. These
“gifts” were thrown upon the floor, but if a child were to try to
recover
them in the presence of the Belsnickler, the child would quickly receive
a
“whack” on the backside with a whip. In “Pennsylvania Germans of
the
Shenandoah Valley,” it was noted that this practice might even go well
beyond
just one evening, running for nearly two weeks, starting a week before
Christmas and continuing until New Year.

Seemingly a strange old custom, Belsnickling had roots in German
ancestry.
Belsnicklers usually traveled in groups – much like trick-or-treaters
of
contemporary times – from farm to farm, “making merriment as they
went, a
boisterous, noisy, and happy group.” Starting shortly after dark, the
practice would end long before midnight. While not welcome in all homes,
in
some instances, Belsnicklers were invited in, and after unmasking and
identifying themselves, were rewarded with refreshments of doughnuts,
mol
asses cakes, coffee, lemonade, or cider.

Early on, costumes were typically made from stockings and burlap or
paper
bags. In many cases, people used charcoal to blacken their faces – the
ultimate goal being to disguise yourself enough as to prevent
identification.
In time, the art of creativity in costumes, much like the changes in
Halloween today, seemed to fade away and was replaced by costumes and
masks
manufactured and sold at various retail stores.

Another practice similar to Belsnickling was “Kris Kringling.”

The roots of “Kris-Kringling” can be found in the original “St.
Nicholas the
gift-giver” who was superseded by a representation of the infant Jesus
(the
Christ child, or "Christkindlein"). Ultimately, both Belsnickling and
Kris-Kringling have common ties in the “Christkindlein” that
accompanied
Nicholas-like figures. In time, this person changed into a dwarf-like
helper
who wore furs (known as “Belsnickle” or "Pelznickel"). While the
Belsnickle
greeted awake children on Christmas Eve, the Christkindlein was credited
with
bringing gifts to children that slept – the same gifts that would be
found on
Christmas morning. In time, the word Christkindlein seemed to mutate
into
"Kris Kringle" and ultimately became the more recognized Santa Claus
that we
know today.

While Santa began to come into a more recognizable form around the 1840s
with
Clement Moore’s famous story and in the 1860s with caricatures by
Thomas
Nast, Belsnickling still existed – as I’ve mentioned – into the
20th
century. However, the fur-wearing Belsnickler also contributed one other
thing to Santa before all was said and done – ah yes, Santa does were
a
fur-trimmed red coat doesn’t he?! Who would have ever thought that a
custom
practiced right here in Page and the Valley contributed something to
that
jolly old fellow? >>

http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Hills/1850/PageHH/handh09-13-01.html

[Richard Blaustein]

----------

From: Sandy Fleming [sandy at scotstext.org]
Subject: "Folklore"

> From: R. F. Hahn <sassisch at yahoo.com>
> Subject: Folklore
>
>    The _brownie_ was of a quite different type. In Scottish folklore,
> this was a small, industrious fairy or hobgoblin believed to inhabit
> houses and barns and who did good by stealth at night provided you fed
> him bread and milk. This term has survived much better in American
> English than in British. Larry Niven's use of it to name little
> industrious and helpful alien creatures in _The Mote in God's Eye_ must
> have puzzled many English readers, who mostly know Brownies as clubs of
> brown-uniformed girls who are the junior wing of the Girl Guides (Girl
> Scouts to you in the US).

Wonderful novel, shame about the blatant sexism. I seem to
remember the Scots in it being reasonable in an easy-for-
English-speakers-to-understand way, although the authors
didn't seem to grasp the fact that it doesn't take
concentration for a native speaker to speak Scots!

The classic tale of the Scots brownie is found in "The
Brounie o Blednoch" which was recorded by William Nicholson
in his "Tales in Verse and Miscellaneous Poems", and reprinted
with an illustration in the inimitable Grafik Orzel style in
Hannah Aitken's "A Forgotten Heritage" (Scottish Academic Press,
1973). It was nice to come across those Grafik Orzel illustrations,
because when I was a student it was always any excuse for some of
us to go up to the studio and listen to the artist's vast music
collection and read his vast library and watch him drawing the
drawings which, at the time, he was so famous for.

Anyway, nostalgia aside, here's the poem, and although it's very
long, it's well worth reading. I think I have the sheet music for
it stashed away somewhere, which I could look out if anybody
fancies learning and singing a song of such a length!

One thing you need to know is that a brownie never accepts payment
other than a little food. This is the significance of Aiken Drum
being offered a pair of "breeks".

The Brounie o Blednoch

There cam a strange wicht to oor toun-en',
An the fient a body did him ken;
He tirled na lang, but he glided ben
    Wi a dreary, dreary hum.

His face did glare like the glow o the west
When the drumlie cloud haes it hauf owercast;
Or the strugglin muin when she's sad distrest-
    O sirs! 'twas Aiken-drum.

I trew the bauldest stuid aback
Wi a gape an a glower till their lugs did crack,
An the shapeless phantom mummlin spak,
    "Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum?"

O haed ye seen the bairns' fricht
As they stared at this wild an unyirthly wicht
As he stauket in 'tween the dark an licht
    An graned oot, "Aiken-drum!"

"Sauf us!" qo Jock, "d'ye see sic een!"
Cries Kate, "there's a hole where a nose should hae been
An the mooth's like a gash that a horn haed ri'en;
    Wow! keep's frae Aiken-drum!"

The black dug growlin cowered his tail,
The lassie swarfed, loot fa' the pail;
Rob's lingle brak as he men't the flail
    At the sicht o Aiken-drum.

His matted heid on his breist did rest,
A lang blue beard wan'ered doun like a vest;
But the glare o his e'en nae bard hath expressed,
    Nor the skimes o Aiken-drum.

Roon' his hairy form there was naething seen
But a philabeg o the rashes green,
An his knotted knees played aye knoit between;
    What a sicht was Aiken-drum!

On his wauchie airms three claws did meet
As they trailed on the grun' bi his taeless feet;
E'en the auld guidman himsel did sweat
    To leuk at Aiken-drum.

But he drew a score, himsel did sain;
The auld wife tried, but her tongue was gane;
While the young ane closer clasped her wean
    An turned frae Aiken-drum.

But the canny auld wife cam till her braith,
An she deemed the Bible micht ward aff scaith,
Be it benshee, bogle, gaist or wraith-
    But it feart na Aiken-drum.

"His presence protect us!" qo the auld guidman;
"What wad ye, where won ye--bi sea or bi lan'?
I conjure ye - speak - bi the Beuk in my han'!"
    What a grane ga'e Aiken-drum!

"I live in a lan' where we saw nae sky,
I dwelt in a spot where a burn rins na by;
But I'se dwal nou wi you if ye like to try-
    Ha'e ye wark for Aiken-drum?

"I'll shiel a' your sheep i' the mornin suin,
I'll berry your crap by the licht o the muin,
An baa the bairns wi an unken'd tune
    If ye'll keep puir Aiken-drum.

"I'll lowp the linn when ye canna wade,
I'll kirn the kirn, an I'll turnt he breid,
An the wildest fillie that ever ran rede,
    I'se tame't," qo Aiken-drum!

"To wier the tod frae the flock on the fell-
To gaither the dew frae the heather bell-
An to leuk at my face in your clear crystal well
    Micht gie pleasure to Aiken-drum.

"I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond nor mark;
I uise nae beddin, shuin nor sark;
But a cogfu o brose 'tween the licht an dark
    Is the wage o Aiken-drum."

Qo the wylie auld wife, "The thing speaks weel;
Oor workers are scant--we hae routh o meal;
Giff he'll do as he says--be he man, be he deil,
    Wow! we'll try this Aiken-drum."

But the wenches skirled, "He's no be here!
His eldritch leuk gars us swarf wi fear,
An the fient a ane will the hoose come near
    If they think but o Aiken-drum.

For a foul an a stalward gaist is he
Despair sits brooding abuin his ee bree,
An unchancie to licht o a maiden's ee
    Is the grim glower o Aiken-drum."

"Puir slipmalabours! ye hae little wit;
Is't na hallowmas nou, an the crap oot yet?"
Sae she silenced them a' wi a stamp o her fit;
    "Sit yer wa's doun, Aiken-drum."

Roon' a' that side what wark was duin
Bi the streamer's gleam or the glance o the muin;
A wird or a wish-an the brounie cam suin,
    Sae helpfu was Aiken-drum.

But he slade aye awa or the sun was up;
He ne'er could leuk straucht on Macmillan's cup,
They watched--but nane saw him his brose or sup,
    Nor a spuin socht Aiken-drum.

On Blednoch's banks an on crystal Cree
For mony a day a toiled wicht was he;
While the bairnies played hermless roon' his knee,
    Sae social was Aiken-drum.

But a new-made wife, fou o rippish freaks,
Fond o a' things feat for the first five weeks,
Laid a mouldy pair o her ain man's breeks
    Bi the brose o Aiken-drum.

Let the learned decide when they convene
What spell was him an the breeks between;
For frae that day forth he was nae mair seen,
    An sair missed was Aiken-drum.

He was heard bi a herd gaun by the Threive,
Cryin, "Lang, lang nou mey I greet an grieve;
For alas! I hae gotten baith fee an leave,
    O luckless Aiken-drum!"

Awa! ye wranglin sceptic tribe!
Wi your pros an your cons wad ye decide
Gainst the 'sponsible voice o a hale country-side
    On the facts 'boot Aiken-drum?

Tho the "Brounie o Blednoch" lang be gane,
The mark o his feet's left on mony a stane;
An mony a wife an mony a wean
    Tell the feats o Aiken-drum.

E'en nou licht loons that jibe an sneer
At spiritual guests an a' sic gear
At the Glashnock mill hae swat wi fear
    An leuked roond for Aiken-drum.

An guidly folk hae gotten a fricht
When the muin was set an the stars gied nae Licht
At the roarin linn in the howe o the nicht
    Wi suchs like Aiken-drum.

Sandy
http://scotstext.org
A dinna dout him, for he says that he
On nae accoont wad ever tell a lee.
                          - C.W.Wade,
                    'The Adventures o McNab'

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