Today is what English folks call "Good Friday". But in French folklore, it is FAR from being a good day. In fact, it was one of the most dangerous days of the year. You were forbidden from doing ANYTHING.
Don't do business or travel anywhere, else it will fail or bring you ruin.
Don't weave, or you'll bring death to your house.
Don't plough the earth, or it will bleed.
Don't go fishing, or you shall catch human corpses in your net.
Don't eat eggs, or you shall be devoured from the inside by snake-toads.
"Good Friday" was the horror day of the Easter week in old France.
For those who don't know, being a myth literalist can be bad for many reasons. One of those being that no matter how divinely inspired it is, ALL mythology is written by flawed beings that aren't perfect and WILL have some of their own personal opinions and biases slip in, even when they try not to.
Other reasons being that much of ancient mythology was written by beings that were trying to make sense of things within the natural world that they didn't know the mechanics of. For example, we know how volcanoes work but they didn't. So to them, an angry volcano god made much more sense.
There's also the fact that many myths are symbolic. A good example of this is the story of Hades and Persephone. Of course Hades kidnapped Persephone. That's what death does. It takes a young girl from her mother's arm, driving the mother to mourn (winter caused by Demeter).
German fairytales: the forest is dark and eternal, mind who you bargain with, don't trust the king; only his daughter, destinies met on moutaintops, cabins in the wood, woodsmoke pouring from the chimney, the witch only helps herself, winter will find you no matter how far you run, follow the crow's caw, if it owes you a debt, it'll probably save you, piles of gold await, abandonned castles in the moutains, nothing is stronger than a sibling's love, shrieking cats, mystical help doesn't guarantee happy endings, something lurks in the corner of your eye, if you're born lucky everyone will hate you, the cold wind through the fir trees, lumbering giants, revenge will be rewarded, small creatures with bad tempers, if he's acting weird it's probably the Devil in disguise, don't trust the big bad wolf
French fairytales : evil stepmothers, talking animals, beautiful fountains with something weird lurking in the rosebushes, rule of three, flesh-hungry ogres living in the forest, kindheartedness and politeness will always save you, beware of fairies and tricksters, if it's beautiful it's probably deadly, abusive families are the one curse you can never free yourself from, impossible tasks, a child will save the day, blackberries picked from thornbushes, don't look back you know it's following you, pure hearts will prevail, don't trust your parents, enchanted wells, selfishness leads to suffering, the youngest knows better, a nap in a flower field might result in waking up in another realm, tragedy-struck castles, mark your way as you go, moonlit water springs, never dismiss the old crone
Thought I’d share my regular little trinkets and tools I use in my practice. I house them in a craft painted box I did with my ancestors’ combined plants and symbols, and the cover has my great grandma Florida’s house on it.
We got:
A loom-woven cloth from my grandma Colombe
My Acadian memento locket (it has sand and beach glass from Grand-Pré and shell bits from Beaubassin)
My protection charm locket I just made
A red flannel pendant for when I get colds (Acadian folk remedies used red flannel to chase away bad coughs)
A seashell
A bluejay figurine (they just make me really happy when I see them)
A compass I had repainted myself
A pocketknife with a folk carved whistle and Saint Hubert medal attached to it.
A stirring spoon for those little tea breaks and intention setting
Local gems that are usually found in Canada (sold as Canadian gems in most souvenir shops)
A bottle of snipped holy palm fronds
Balsam Fir essential oil, as it’s a holy scent (used to make the Holy Chrism Oils) in Catholic tradition.
A bottle of holy water with a Saint Benedict medal on it
A wooden urn filled with graveyard dirt from the cemetery where most of my folks are buried in Saguenay
My rosary and its Assomption sash style pouch
A compact mirror for scrying
A wooden incense disc
A pocket rosary for those rosary tossing folk spells
I have just read “Boca; or Virtue Recompensed” (published 1730, France) by Françoise le Marchand. Because of its length and the depth of the characters it’s a fantasy novella more than a literary fairy tale, but part of it are delightful. And may I say, delightfully queer. The story is not linear and bits of it are rather confused, but I desperately need everyone to know that its core story goes like this:
Princess Abdelazis was the only child of the king and queen of the Isle of Ebony. Her mother, the princess of the Isle of Ivory, was under the protection of the fay Beneficent and asked her to bring several of her sisters to bless her child. The fay came and Beneficent was named Abdelazis’ protectress. Then they blessed her with all manner of gifts of the mind and heart and all would have been well, if the fay Envious had not been present. Her blessing – a punishment in disguise – was that she would be loved by her nephew Prince Jealous. This marriage would be a great alliance, but Beneficent was sure that the fay Envious meant to make both children unhappy by pronouncing them destined for each other. To aid this destined marriage Abdelazis is brought up without any men around, except Prince Jealous, so she will not be able to compare him unfavourably to any other man.
Of course this backfire’s spectacularly and Princess Abdelazis is more than capable of disliking Prince Jealous simply because he is horrible to her and spends most of her time with her favourite lady in waiting, Zineby. Prince Jealous is – shocker – jealous of Zineby, because the relationship between the young ladies includes:
The two of them hiding away in Abdelazis’ private garden pavilion, nicknamed “the palace of pleasure”, where she demands no one even mention Prince Jealous.
Abdelazis wishing that the prince was more like Zineby, so she wouldn’t have so much difficulty in submitting to him.
Zineby sighing that since she has no lover, all she has to occupy her is her affection for the princess.
Abdelazis lamenting why she must be plagued with a prince and Zineby teasing her that it is to punish her for being more beautiful and intelligent than anyone else.
Swearing that they will love no one but each other. (They are young teens at this point, but they do not speak at all like children.)
Their love is not uncomplicated, however, because when Abdelazis is around 15 and Zinoby around 19 years old, they find a beautiful young woman dressed in finery washed up on the beach. She introduces herself as Zobeide, proclaims Abdelazis the most perfect creation of the gods and while refusing to let the ladies help her change, she accepts their gift of food, clothes and shelter in the palace of pleasures. For fear of the Abdelazis’ governess sending Zobeide away they keep her hidden there, and now the relationship between these three young people includes:
Zobeide regularly proclaiming she will Die Of Sadness if she cannot see Abdelazis.
Zineby visiting Zobeide every day and making up schemes for Abdelazis to see her too as often as possible.
Abdelazis being jealous that Zineby gets to see Zobeide more often.
Zineby being jealous of the tenderness between Abdelazis and Zobeide, but doting on both of them.
Abdelazis proclaiming she has never loved Zineby more, but that she thinks she will love Zobeide as much as her.
At last when the fay Beneficent returns Abdelazis tells her about Zobeide and the fay reproaches her only for keeping a secret, saying she will not oppose her tenderness for Zobeide any more than her love for Zinoby, but that she must soon be married to Prince Jealous. Abdelazis confesses that this might well cost her her life, because she cannot enjoy his violent, jealous affection, knowing Beneficent’s kindness and Zinoby’s tenderness to be so superior. Beneficent then suggests marrying Zobeide to Prince Jealous and Abdelazis is thrown into terror, proclaiming she cannot be separated from her.
This being the case, after many preparations, Beneficent reveals to Abdelazis that Zobeide was born Prince Sedy Assan, an exiled prince fleeing from a usurper to his throne. Sedy Assan nearly drowned and was mistaken by them for a woman because *checks notes* he was too beautiful to resemble a man. Zinoby, with much affection for both, explains that she found out Zobeide’s secret some time before. Since Abdelazis and Sedy Assan do not waver in their devotion and Zinoby vows to only quit her princess in death, the fay Beneficent gives in and allows Sedy Assan to ask Abdelazis for her hand and for them all to attempt to break through the destiny laid out for them by the fay Envious.
With the disinterested aid of a simple commoner, Boca, Zineby is saved from death, Abdelazis released from Prince Jealous, and Sedy Assan restored to the throne. (It is Boca, with unbiased ignorance, who interprets paintings of Zobeide/Sedy Assan as a beautiful woman who is sometimes dressed as a man). All villains are vanquished and Beneficent has blessings for all. Abdelazis and Sedy Assan get married, Zinoby still at their side, and while Beneficent advises her to choose a husband from the fine men at their court, it is never mentioned that she does and last we see of her in full description is her being caressed by Abdelazis <3
Day 5 | Aragorn and the Rangers Hunting the Beast of Gévaudan
But the beast had been making fools of them for nearly a week now, and even the Elves were losing patience. Elrohir’s hair clung damply to his face from the rain, and again and again he made an irritable gesture to push it back. Elladan complained loudly every few hours about the mud on his boots and the water in his clothes. Only Ruinith tramped on beside them, silent and stoic, though discontent was reflected in her face as well.
“I suggest we find a house to sleep in this time,” Elladan announced over the drumming rain. “I shall not spend another night out of doors—especially not if it snows again.”
Aragorn grinned at him. He felt wet, weary, and filthy, but his spirits always lifted when he could tease an Elf. “First find a Man who will let you into his house in such a state. A sheep that has stood out in a field all day would be cleaner.”
Read on Ao3.
Written for @tolkienfolkloreweek Day 5 | Local Legends
the Winter Ones: Folkloric Figures of Winter; part 2
by Keziah Zibelmann
Winter, so commonly known by magical practitioners as the dark half of the year, is the backdrop of many traditions, folktales, and superstitions. A season of uncertainty, of difficult weather, of illness, of hardship; but also a season of magic, blessings, and togetherness, winter is a time of duality, and the many figures associated with winter reflect that — with gift bringers, home protectors, and helpful hands, as well as extreme disciplinarians, agents of retribution, and horrifying haunters.
Many such figures were covered in my piece the Winter Ones: Folklorlic Figures of Winter, Christmas, and Yule (2024) — a whopping twelve personalities, not counting all of the individual Yule Lads I covered. Still, there really is never an end to the unique and interesting characters scattered throughout the winter folklore around the world, such as the few characters featured in this year's addition to this winter series. For your reading pleasure, I now bring you the tales of a brutal whipper, pickled children, dancing bulls, bringers of luck, and banishers of evil.
Père Fouettard
(French, Belgian, and Swiss folklore)
Across European folklore we find that there are varying companions for jolly old St. Nicholas. They typically travel around with St. Nicholas, doling out punishments to the naughty whilst St. Nicholas delivers gifts to the good. In French folklore (particularly within northern and eastern regions of France), as well as in some regions of Switzerland and southern Belgium, St. Nicholas is accompanied by none other than Père Fouettard.
His name means 'Father Whipper,' which fits him especially well, as some tales warn that he beats or whips badly behaved children and even that he brings a whip with him wherever he goes. Later versions of the tale, though, claim he merely delivers lumps of coal, parsnips, or potatoes.
[Bonhomme Noël/Père Noël/Father Christmas/St. Nicholas/Santa Claus with Père Fouettard; public domain]
Most often, Père Fouettard is described as a large man who was once a butcher. He is clad in dark, disheveled and tattered clothes or robes, and he has long, unkempt hair, and an equally neglected beard. Père Fouettard is said to be armed with a whip, chain, switch, or even a staff, walking stick, or club to be used on badly behaved children. Some depictions feature a whicker basket upon his back, similar to that which Krampus is often described as carrying. The basket is sometimes said to hold his switches, chains, or whips, though some tales say it's used to haul off the naughtiest of children.
The best known of Père Fouettard's origin stories can be found in a mid-13th century tale, in which a butcher commits a particularly gruesome crime — he nabs up three children and takes their young lives from them. Some versions involve his wife as an accomplice, and there are many tales claiming that he stored their bodies in a barrel. St. Nicholas discovers and resurrects the children, forcing Père Fouettard to travel with him for eternity, working as St. Nicholas' assistant as a punishment. Some narratives instead see Père Fouettard as willingly becoming St. Nicholas' helper as a means of atonement for the grave sins he's committed.
This origin story for Père Fouettard overlaps with a popular late-medieval tale of one of St. Nicholas' miracles, so popular a tale in the Middle Ages that it was featured in songs, such as in the 16th-century French folk song Légende de Saint Nicolas [1][2].
In this tale, a butcher kills three children and hides their bodies in a pickling barrel, intending to pickle the children and either sale them as pork or eat them himself. The tale alleges that this happened during a period of famine, and St. Nicholas had travelled to the region to administer aid and care to the hungry. In the story, St. Nicholas passes by the butcher's home and knows what the butcher has done. He makes the sign of the cross over the barrel and doing so resurrects the children.
In the words of the song,
[...] Ils n'étaient pas sitôt entrés
Que le boucher les a tués,
Les a coupés en p'tits morceaux,
Mis au saloir comme pourceaux.
Saint Nicolas, au bout d'sept ans,
Vint à passer dedans ce champ,
Alla frapper chez le boucher:
"Boucher, voudrais-tu me loger?"
Entrez, entrez, saint Nicolas,
Il y'a d'la place, il n'en manq'pas."
Il n'était pas sitôt entré
Qu'il a demandé à souper.
"Du p'tit salé je veux avoir
Qu'il y a sept ans qu'est dans l'saloir."
Quand le boucher entendit ça,
Hors de la porte il s'enfuya.
"Boucher, boucher, ne t'enfuis pas;
Repens-toi, Dieu t'pardonnera."
Saint Nicolas alla s'asseoir
Dessus le bord de ce saloir.
"Petits enfants qui dormez là,
Je suis le grand saint Nicolas."
Et le saint étendit trois doigts.
Les p'tits se lèvent tous les trois.
The verses featured above — I've only included verses telling what happened with the children and butcher after the children entered his home, as well as what happened when St. Nicholas later came calling — are translated [3] as,
The butcher seized a knife straitway,
And did the little creatures slay.
He put them in a tub of brine,
In pieces small as they were swine.
St. Nicholas, at seven years end,
His way did to the forest wend.
He sought the butcher's cottage drear:
"Butcher! I would rest me here!"
"Enter! enter, St. Nicholas!
You are welcome, St. Nicholas!
Enter! enter, St. Nicholas!
There's place for you the night to pass."
Scarce had the Saint his entrance made,
He would the supper board was laid.
"Will you have of ham a slice?"
"I will not, for it is not nice!"
"Of this veal you'll take a bit?"
"No! I do not relish it."
"Give me of the little swine,
For seven long years have laid in brine!"
The butcher caught the words he said,
And forthwith from the portal fled.
"Butcher! Butcher! Do not flee,
Repent and [G-d] will pardon thee!"
St. Nicholas the tub drew near,
And lo! He placed three fingers there.
The fist one said, "I sweetly rest!"
The second said, "I, too, am blest!"
The third replied, "'Tis well with me,
In Paradise I seem to be!"
Another possible origin story of Père Fouettard comes from mid-16th century war-torn France. In 1552, King Charles V of Spain invaded and overtook Metz [4]. In protest against what was happening, some locals in Lorraine crafted an effigy of Charles V. This effigy, which had been created by an association of local tanners, was paraded through the streets. The tanners, who, it's said, were armed with whips and chains, then publicly burned the effigy.
This effigy is believed to be part of Père Fouettard's origin story, as it seems that that the effigy and the tanners with their whips were, over the course of many, many years, blended together with the tale of a butcher, the three children, and St. Nicholas, becoming the story of Père Fouettard that we know today. This tale is still told in songs and reenactments in some regions in France. The Nancy St. Nicholas Day Parade, for example, features players reenacting the tale of Père Fouettard and St. Nicholas every year, with Père Fouettard cracking his whip and handing out turnips, potatoes, or lumps of coal to the crowd. [5]
Turoń
(Polish folklore)
Wales has the Mari Lwyd, but Poland has Turoń, the blessing-bestowing bull. Turoń takes its name from 'tur,' the Poilsh word for the aurochs, which is a long-extinct species of bovine. Much like with the Mari Lwyd, a part-puppet, part-costume of Turoń is made, worn, and included in mumming traditions, though with a different purpose than that of the Mari Lwyd.
[Туронь. Этнографический музей в Кракове, Польша. 1926. // Turonie (Turońs). From the Ethnographic Museums in Krakow, Poland. 1926.]
Turoń was once a common feature in many Polish mumming parades, which often took place starting from Christmas and running on through Lent.
"The tradition of Turoń coming to your door around Christmas more or less died out in the 20th century, though mummers dressed as aurochs were sometimes spotted in the days leading up to Ash Wednesday and other times of year." -Emma Cieslik (2023) [6]
The Turoń costume features a sheet, cloth, leather, or pelt to conceal the mummer's body. The head of the costume is that of a bull's. Some costumes would feature a real skull or real horns, while others were simply fashioned to look as such. Some costumes also featured a bell around Turoń's neck, like that which cattle would wear [7].
In mumming parades, Turoń dances through the streets, going from home-to-home. When he enters the home, he will dance as carolers sing or musicians play, jump around wildly, chase and play with the children, chase and tease or play tricks upon the women, and playfully snap his jaws and gnash his teeth. After much dancing and playing, he would faint, falling to the floor. The household would attempt to revive him in a variety of ways, such as massaging him or attempting to undo hexes or curses that may have caused his weakness and depletion of energy; but his strength could always be restored by the gift of vodka from the homeowners. He is believed to bring blessings of fertility, particularly blessings of virility and male sexual prowess.
Turoń's association with virility comes from the tur, or the aurochs, which featured in pre-Christian Polish fertility rituals. Men would wear the horns of the aurochs or don costumes fashioned after the aurochs. The ritual involved dancing in these costumes to invoke the virility and strength of the animal. In the later mumming tradition, Turoń could bestow the blessings of fertility upon someone by poking them with his horns.
Perchten
(Alpine, Austrian, Bavarian folklore)
While I wrote about Perchta in last year's part one of the Winter Ones: Folkloric Figures of Winter, Yule, & Christmas, I only briefly touched upon Perchta's entourage of spirits and demons, known as Perchten. Perchten is also the name of the masks worn at Midwinter festivals or parades (or Perchtenlauf) honoring Perchta.
Perchten is the plural form of Perchta, and is used to refer to those who travel with and serve Perchta. There are many tales in which Perchta leads the Wild Hunt during Midwinter, and the Perchten travel with her in those stories. In most tales featuring these figures, Perchta's party of spirits and demons would cause a ruckus, tearing through the night, bringing noise and howling winds with them, as well as the clattering of hooves (sometimes their own hooves, as many depictions of Perchten are bestial, featuring fur, horns, tusks, and hooves; and sometimes the hooves of the great spirit steeds they ride).
Perchten, thus, bear a strong association with Midwinter and the twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany, as well as January 5th and January 6th — Perchtentag Eve and Perchentag, respectively. Even now, there are parades and processions in some areas of Austria and Bavaria during these times, involving participants donning full-body costumes of Perchten [8][9], of which there are two types — Schiachperchten, or "ugly Perchten;" and Schönperchten, or "pretty Perchten."
Come the 1600s, Schiachperchten were used to scare away harmful spirits or demons. Their fearsome appearance, with great horns, fangs, and tusks, are, similarly to gargoyles, believed to have warding and protective capabilities, as are the bells that many Perchten costumes feature. A procession of Schiachperchten through the streets could rid the area of malevolent beings, and some traditional processions involve going from house-to-house to cast evil spirts from each home. Schönperchten, on the other hand, were believed to bring blessings in their wake, specifically blessings of fortune, abundance, and good luck.
"During Krampus processions, participants will whip spectators with switches and sometimes grab them. In contrast, the Perchten are more restrained, even though some of the Schiachperchten, or ugly Perchten, may appear intimidating. The Schönperchten, the beautiful Perchten who follow behind Perchta, tend to be either comical or orderly." -Joy Anderson (2024) [9]
With the Schiachperchten dispelling evil spirits and the Schönperchten bringing blessings of good luck and bounty (likely an important tradition especially for farming communities), Perchta's company certainly became a unique winter tradition with a distinct Alpine character, and a tradition that is gradually making a comeback.
With the rise in popularity in Krampuslauf events, interest in reviving "alternative" winter traditions has been on the rise, and this has led to many communities and organizations bringing back and taking part in Perchten processions, Père Fouettard parades, mumming, and similar customs, perhaps proving that there is something in these "forgotten" or long-neglected communal events and traditions that we feel in want of. It may be the active partaking in community that we crave; or we may crave the connection to historic customs and to our ancestors that may have kept them; it may be that more and more of us are seeking traditions outside of mainstream, organized religious customs or secular lifestyles; it may be a great many reasons. Whatever it is, the traditions and figures featured in this piece are all making their comeback, and that is something, in my opinion at least, to celebrate.
[4] Savez-vous que le père Fouettard est né à Metz? (2020) [www.republicain-lorrain.fr/insolite/2020/12/06/savez-vous-que-le-pere-fouettard-est-ne-a-metz]
[5] Beware the Christmas Cannibal of France: How a Whip-Wielding Butcher Because St. Nick's Sidekick (2023); Richards, Anna
[6] Meet Turoń, Poland’s Dancing Bull-Beast of Winter (2023); Cieslik, Emma
[7] Dzieła Wszystkie, Tom 5, Krakowskie; Cz.1 (1871; Kraków: Drukarnia Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego; pg. 67); Kolberg, Oskar
[9] Krampus Has Come and Gone. Next Up, the Perchten. (2024) - Anderson, Joy
Sources & Further Reading:
Christmas: Theological Anticipations (2016) - English, Adam C.
Dzieła Wszystkie, Tom 5, Krakowskie; Cz.1 (1871; Kraków: Drukarnia Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego) - Kolberg, Oskar
Fearsome Frau Perchta Is an Ancient Alpine Winter Goddess (2023) - Linchong, Victoria
The Golden Bough. A Study in Magic and Religion (1920) - Frazer, (Sir) James George
Nicholas of Myra (2006) - Lendering, Jona
Percht und Krampus, Kramperl und Schiach-Perchten (1999) - Müller, Felix; Müller, Ulrich
Perchta the Belly-Slitter and Her Kin: A View of Some Traditional Threatening Figures, Threats and Punishments in Folklore: Vol. 115, No. 2 (2004) - Smith, John B.
Salt: Grain of Life (2001; Columbia University Press) - Laszlo, (Prof.) Pierre
[wikipedia.org/wiki/Père_Fouettard]
The Winter Goddess: Percht, Holda, and Related Figures in Folklore: Vol. 95, No. 2 (1984) - Motz, Lotte
the Winter Ones: Folkloric Figures of Winter, Yule, & Christmas (2023) - Zibelmann, Keziah
Légendes rustiques by George Sand, completed English translation
Original French at Project Gutenberg
Les Légendes rustiques is a collection of twelve creepy French folk legends gathered up and written down by George Sand and illustrated by her son, Maurice Sand, published in 1858. These stories were collected in the Berry region, but there are connections made to legends from Brittany and Normandy as well.
I came across a mention of the Rustic Legends a few years ago and realized there was no official English translation available, despite that George Sand is a very famous author. It turns out, Sand was such a prolific writer that much of her work has never been translated into English. I ordered a "translation" from Amazon and was disappointed to find that someone had just run the text through translation software without any editing or providing any cultural context. It was unreadable and I threw it in the trash.
I asked some fandom friends if they would be interested in trying to translate all twelve legends into English on our own. It has been a few years and each story has had several revisions and rounds of editing. This was a challenging translation project - there are many words in archaic French or not in French at all. Thanks to everyone who helped - I am really proud of the results here.
The purpose of this project is simply to make these twelve legends accesible to an English-reading audience. They have been available in the original French at Project Gutenberg for a long time. Use this post as a table of contents - each line will take you to a new story published on Tumblr. Sometimes they are creepy, they are often funny, and Sand's rambling style is cozy, making you feel like she is sitting right across a candle from you, telling you a story she once heard from someone else, a long time ago. Enjoy!
