Summer solstice

Click to enlarge this nice image from The Sketch, Sep 30, 1896 of an open air concert at Stonehenge: an example of how perceptions of the use/sanctity of ancient monuments has changed with time. See previously: Review: Prehistoric Wessex - Towards a Deep Map.

See also Keith Laumer's SF-Arthurian A Trace of Memory.

- Ray

Gawain & the Green Knight

Oh, wow! Yesterday we went to the Four of Swords Theatre's Gawain & the Green Knight in Exeter Cathedral. If you're in the region, check out out future productions.

Ups and downs

Rosa Raine, one of many visitors taking the 'picturesque tour' of the Isle of Wight in the mid-1800s, repeats a strange anecdote about the landscape near Shanklin: variable hills.

The Dread Wrecker Featherstone

Further to Ropes of sand: a Teignmouth penance, Angela Williams of Literary Places kindly sent me another local-ish example of someone condemned to posthumous torment weaving sand ropes on the beach, this time commemorated through a poem.

Ropes of sand: a Teignmouth penance

One of those historical snippets that will probably never be elucidated. I just found this Notes & Queries snippet about Sir Warwick Hele Tonkin, a Teignmouth worthy who, for some unknown reason, acquired a ghostly penance in the late 1800s.

Ibong Adarna: Google Mistranslate

from Project Gutenberg Tagalog edition

Ibong Adarna is the title of a massively popular epic fantasy in the mythology and culture of the Philippines; it originally went under the snappy title of Corrido ng Pinagdaanang Buhay nang Tatlong Principeng, Magcacapatid na Anac nang haring Fernando at nang Reina Valeriana sa Caharian ng Berbania ("Corrido of the Traveled/Travailed Life of Three Princes, Sibling Children of King Fernando and Queen Valeriana of the Kingdom of Berbania"). Despite the Spanish names, it evidently pre-dates the Spanish Era in the Philippines.

One of the most beautiful tales which the Filipinos are wont to hear in their youth since time immemorial is the “Ibong Adarna”. This tale, or awit, is known all over the Philippines and was told vocally probably  centuries before it was anonymously printed in Tagalog in about 1860, thereafter appearing in the different vernacular dialects  — Visayan, Pampango, Ilocano and Bicol where its version varies. It is a four-thousand-one-hundred-thirty-six-line metrical romance in quartillas, of iambic tetrameter, on the life and adventures of the three sons of King Ferdinand of Berbania — one if not the most interesting of the fantastic tales in Philippine literature. According to the more reliable studies on the subject the tale is of Pre-Spanish origin and so is indigenous, although it is not free in its modern version from outside influence, like the other native corridos that were "derived" from European romances, that are greatly saturated with the "medieval flavor and setting of chivalry". It is comparable or possibly on a par with the world-famous Arabian Nights' Entertainments — a book included in the outside reading texts of both public and private schools. Although its language is not as literary as Florante at Laura, the work nevertheless indicates that it is the product of a pen of the stamp of a Balagtas, which in spite of not having the academic preparation of that prince of Tagalog poets, in fact it is like an uncut diamond which though it does not glitter as much as the cut and polished one, yet does not on that account cease to be a diamond.
- The Adarna Bird (A Filipino Tale of Pre-Spanish Origin Incorporated in the Development of Philippine Literature, the Rapid Growth of Vernacular Belles-letters from Its Earliest Inception to the Present Day), Eulogio Balan Rodriguez, General Printing Press, 1933.

See the paper ANG MGA INAGDAANANG BUHAY NG IBONG ADARNA: Narrative and Ideology in the Adarna's Corrido and Filmic Versions (Francisco Benitez, Department of Comparative Literature, University of Washington) for a detailed analysis of the story's content and cultural significance.

As you can gather from the synopsis at the Wikipedia page Ibong Adarna (mythology), it's a fairly convoluted story of the adventures of three princes, Pedro, Diego and Juan. The first two conspire against Juan, as they go on a quest to heal their ailing father (who has got ill from worrying about a dream in which two traitors conspire against Juan). The title refers to the Adarna bird that's central to the story and has properties probably unique  for a mythical creature. It has powers of magic and healing, but a dangerous aspect: petrifying poo! At the end of the day it sings seven songs that lull listeners to sleep, changing colour with each song, then defecates - and anyone incautious enough to be underneath is turned to stone.

Which leads to the Google Translate weirdness. "Ibong Adarna" means "Adarna bird" ("Adarna" is a proper name of, as far as I can tell, unknown etymology). But if you put it into Google Translate, it correctly detects the language as Filipino (the prestige register of Tagalog), but translates the whole phrase as "Toilet Slave" [or did so at the time of the screen shot below - it has now been fixed].

This is peculiar, to say the least. With the individual words, it translates "Ibong" as "Birds" (which is on the right track) and can't translate "Adarna" (which is expected). The problem is only with the phrase "Ibong Adarna". Is it a malicious mistranslation someone submitted to the database? Some inexplicably garbled allusion to the defecating Adarna bird? Or what? Knowing zero about the Filipino language and the workings of Google Translate, I can't fathom it. Any thoughts?

- Ray (finder's credits to Pinkie17 on Yahoo! Answers)

Addendum: Mark Liberman at the linguistics weblog Language Log kindly mirrored the topic - Really lost in translation - and the Google translation has now been fixed. The mystery still remains as to where the original translation came from.

The Dolbury Dragon

Further to Sunday's post about Killerton: I noticed the location board for the park had a little dragon on the wooded summit of Killerton Clump. Looking afterward at the literature found the explanation for various dragon-themed wooden structures around the hill: a children's trail, the Dolbury Dragon Quest.

I assumed uncharitably that this had just been invented as a marketing angle to add children's interest to a woodland walk. But no, it turns out to be based on a real piece of regional folklore involving dragons and treasure. Google Books rapidly tracked it back at least to Francis Grose's 1787 A provincial glossary:

If Cadburye-caſtle and Dolbury-hill dolven were,
All England might ploughe with a golden ſheere.

Cadbury-caſtle, (alias Caderbyr) the land of William de Campo Arnulphi, and after of Willowby, Furſden, and now Carew. This caſtle may be ſeene farr offe (ſo they tearme of highe upright, topped hill, by nature and flyght art anciently fortified, which, in thoſe Roman, or Saxon warrs might be of goode ſtrength, conteyninge within the compaſs thereof, near - - - - acres. Here you may ſee ſome fyve myle diſtant, to the ſouth-eaſt, in the pariſh of Broad Clyet, another down, called Dolbury-hill, between theſe two hills (you may be pleaſed to hear a pretty tale) that is ſaid (I sett not downe thoſe wordes to leſſen your belief of the truthe of the matter) but to lett you knowe that, nil præter auditum habeo.

Take yt on this condition.
Yt holds credyt by tradition.

That a fiery dragon, or ſome igniſ fatuuſ in such lykeneſs, hath bynne often ſeene to flye between theſe hills, komming from the one to the other in the night ſeaſon, whereby it is ſuppoſed ther is a great treaſure hydd in each of them, and that the dragon is the truſty treaſurer and ſure keeper thereof, as he was of the golden fleece in Cholcos, which Jaſon, by the help of Medea, brought thence; for, as Ovid ſayth, he was very vigilant.

A watchfull dragon ſett,
This golden fleece to keep,
Within whoſe careful eyes
Come never wink of ſleep.

And, as the two relations may be as true one as the other, for any thinge I knowe, for it is conſtantly believed of the credulous heer, and ſome do averr to have ſeene yt lately. And of this hydden treaſure the ryming proverbe here quoted goes commonly and anciently.—Ibid [Weſtcot's Hiſt. Devon. Harl. MSS, No. 2307]

- pp 192-194, A provincial glossary: with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions, Francis Grose, Printed for S. Hooper, 1787 (Internet Archive ID aprovincialglos03grosgoog).

Grose furthermore cites his source: "Westcote's History of Devon", which is given as the Harley Manuscript 2307 (the Harley Manuscripts being one of the major and founding collections of the British Library). It doesn't seem to be referenced in the BL online catalogue, but it dates from 1630, and what appears to be the same work appears in a modernised imprint as A View of Devonshire in MDCXXX: With a Pedigree of Most of Its Gentry (by Thomas Westcote, Gent., edited by the Rev. George Oliver, D.D., and Pitman Jones, Esq. [pub] Exeter, William Roberts, 197, High-Street, 1845 - Internet Archive ID viewofdevonshire00west). The dragon story appears on pages 110-111. It was heavily recycled in any number of 19th century accounts of Devon and folklore (see Google Books).

It's interesting to compare this story with the claimed Topsham / Duke of Monmouth connection (see "Make of thee a city"); folklore of genuine antiquity, like that of the Dolbury dragon hoard, tends to have a paper trail longer than the late 19th century. Dolbury is, incidentally, an Iron Age hillfort dating from around c.400 BC—43 AD. It doesn't seem to have been much - if at all - investigated archaeologically.

- Ray

Legends of Torquay and nearby

Torquay c. 1850 - Legends of Torquay frontispiece

I think I just spotted a bibliographic connection. Kevin Dixon's excellent Torquay's other history series featured a recent post, A deal with the Devil at Daddyhole Plain, mentioning an 1850 book called Legends of Torquay. and a story about a demon-hunter set at Daddy's Hole, a coastal chasm at Torquay.

The book is online in Google Books - Legends of Torquay, &c (1850, ed. anonymous, pub. Torquay, RT Wreford, Braddons Row. London, Whittaker & Co., Ave Maria Lane). It's a very slim volume of three stories: The Mysterious Chamber! - a legend of Ilsam; The Demon Hunter! - a legend of Daddy's Hole; and the poem Berry Pomeroy Castle. The distinctly literary stories reek of being 'made-up' legends rather than retellings of authentic ones, and in this immediately recalled the also anonymously-compiled Legends of Devon (1848, ed. and author(s) anonymous, pub. London: Whittaker and Company, Exeter: Holden - Wallis, Dawlish LA Westcott) that I mentioned in the blog post Parsons unknown about two years ago.

The particular point of the shared London publisher, Whittaker, along with the same regional origin and general flavour, strongly suggest to me that the two books were compiled by the same person. As I mentioned in the previous post, the 1868 Notes and Queries had a brief correspondence in which it was revealed of Legends of Devon ...

The legends in question were severally composed by members of a very agreeable little private society, some thirty years ago, of whom I was one. The lady who collected and printed them, and was also one of the contributors, is dead, and so are some of her associates; and to give the names (even if I had permission), would interest few now. But I can say pretty confidently from memory, that they were each and all original whims of the moment, and not reproductions of popular legends.
- Jean Le Trouveur [pseudonym]

I can't find anything at all about Legends of Torquay &c., except for a brief advert for it in Trewman's Exeter Flying Post for June 6, 1850.

I also suspect some authorial crossover with Lays and Legends of the West: A Series of Papers on Some of the Less Known of Our Local Traditions, &c., &c., with Minor Poems of a Miscellaneous Character (1850, ed. Frank Curson [Curzon in later editions], London: Whittaker and Co. Exeter: Curson and Son; Falmouth: Lake) which has a similar Westcountry / Whittaker publication trail, and a largely similar mix of inauthentic-smelling folklore. For example, its story A Night in the Cathedral is an abridged version of Dicky Cross, the idiot of Exeter in Henry Glassford Bell's 1832 fiction anthology My Old Portfolio; or Tales and Sketches, and the character Geoffry Arundel, central to the other Exeter-based story The Yellow Head, appears in no historical or folklore source prior to Lays and Legends of the West.

- Ray

"Make of thee a city"

I guess most settlements have their historical myths, and Topsham is no different. I've been meaning for a while to check out the origins of a verse about Topsham that regularly crops up in the kind of books and magazine articles that don't question local historical factoids:

Topsham, thou'rt a pretty town-—
I think thee very pretty,
And when I come to wear the crown
I'll make of thee a City!

It's attributed (an attribution often cited as hard fact) to the Duke of Monmouth in the late 1600s.

However, the first print citation I can find for this rhyme is the late 19th century, and it comes with plenty of qualifications.

Monmouth had always been singularly popular in Devonshire. Five years before the death of his father he had been received in Exeter with royal honours, and more than loyal enthusiasm. Even to this day some oral traditions of his visit are preserved in the neighbourhood. He is said to have visited Topsham, the port of Exeter, and to have composed these doggerel lines, which may with more probability be attributed to some local poetaster:

<poem snipped>

- Quarter Sessions under James II, AHA Hamilton, Fraser's Magazine, August 1877, p228.

And other contemporary sources take the same cautious view:

Topsham and the Duke of Monmouth.— According to Mr. A. H. A. Hamilton, in his work on Quarter Sessions from Elizabeth to Antic, Monmouth is said to have visited Topsham, the port of Exeter, and to have composed these doggerel lines:—

<poem snipped>

Mr. Hamilton hints that they " may with more probability be attributed to some local poetaster." I think so, too, but shall be glad to know if they were derived from oral tradition or from written record. Kearly.
- The Western Antiquary, Volume 6, Page 48, 1887

Slightly later sources start losing the doubt element. For example, this one quotes Hamilton, removing all reference to his opinion about the origin:

<poem snipped>

Said by the Duke of Monmouth when he visited the port of Exeter.  Quarter Sessions from Elizabeth to Anne, by A. H. A. Hamilton : CY. vi. 48.
- English folk-rhymes, a collection of traditional verses relating to places and persons, customs, superstitions, etc (GF Northall, pub. London, Paul, 1892, Internet Archive ID englishfolkrhyme00nortuoft)

And:

At Topsham, near Exeter, we find a reminiscence of the ill-fated Monmouth rebellion, crushed at Sedgemoor. The Duke is recorded to have said—

<poem snipped>

- The Gentleman's Magazine, Part 2, Page 70, 1900

And:

[These lines] "are represented as having been probably spoken by the ill-fated Duke of Monmouth on his return from Plymouth with Charles II. in 1670 (or rather July, 1671) as they drove over Haldon on their way from Dartmouth to Exeter, and looked down on the estuary of the Exe. Even if the Duke accompanied his father on that visit, which does not seem certain, though mentioned by Jewitt in his History of Plymouth, Devon and Cornwall, may I suggest a far more probable occasion?  In August, 1680, at the instigation of the Earl of Shaftesbury, the Protestant Duke set out upon a quasi-royal progress  through the western counties, a district not too well affected towards the Throne ... His progress brought him to Exeter, and after spending the night with that well-known Whig, Sir Walter Yonge, at Otterton, he set out next morning for Exeter, and doubtless his route led him through Topsham, which was at that time the busy port of Exeter and at the height of its prosperity "whither the merchants convey on horses their Serges and soe load their shipps which comes to this place all for London" (Miss Cecilia Fienne's Diary). The tidings of his visit had preceded him, and a vast crowd assembled to greet him, "a brave company of stout young men, all clothed in linen waistcoats and drawers, white and harmless, having not so much as a stick in their hands," met him on the way and escorted him into the city. They ran "into toon crying 'God bless the Protestant Duke and the devil take the Pope ' " — an expression hardly in character with their spotless raiment (Hist. MSS. Rep. 12, App. 7, p. 170). This hearty reception may very well have given rise to the sentiment expressed in the lines which local tradition attributes to the Duke ; and a "Monmouth Street" and a "Monmouth Head" inn-sign still commemorate the event.
- Roger Granville, Devon & Cornwall Notes & Queries, Volume 6, Part 1 - Page 163, 1911

This last is a very naughty conflation of irrelevant local colour and unproven assumptions: "doubtless his route led him" / "may very well have given rise to".

The bottom line seems to be that there are no contemporary accounts of Monmouth visiting Topsham or commenting on it, and (at least in works scanned by Google) no attribution trail to the poem prior to AHA Hamilton's 1877 account.

- Ray

Strange and wonderful propaganda

A spot of anecdote / folklore that was new to me:

Strange and wonderful news from Exeter: giving an account of the dreadful apparitions that was seen by Mr. Jacob Seley of Exeter on Monday, September the 22th, 1690, who gave the full account to the judges the next day, who were going the western circuit (published London : Printed by T.M 1690).

I can't find a transcript of this pamphlet online anywhere that's not behind a paywall or institutional password, but a couple of book accounts paraphrase it:

The traveller [Seley], going to Taunton, stopped at an inn and called for a pot of beer and a noggin of brandy. Proceeding on his way he met a country-like farmer, whom he was persuaded to accompany three miles, on the promise of good lodging. Presently the farmer and his horse vanished away, and immediately there appeared a hundred or two—men, women, and children; "some like judges, some like magistrates, some like clergymen, and some like country people." The last made at the stranger with spears, upon which he adjured them in the name of the Trinity. Of this they took no notice, but covered him with a net. Then he alighted off his horse, and when he let go the bridle the horse disappeared, and he never saw him more. In this plight he waited till four in the morning, and, being constantly attacked, thrust at his assailants with his sword, finding nothing but shadow, though he presently perceived a "man was cut, and his four fingers hung by the skin, and a woman was cut in the forehead, leaving blood upon the sword." After this came along ten funerals, one after the other; then two bodies were dragged along, both apparently just slain. In the morning the traveller got away, and happening to meet the Judges on their way to Wells, he gave them an account of his adventure.

If anyone wished to be satisfied of the truth of this story, he was to go to Mr. William Brown, next door to the Windsor Castle, Charing Cross.

Omitting to notice the consumption of beer and brandy, the narrator suddenly remembers, "'tis remarkable" that on the sign post of the inn one of Monmouth's men was hanged, and that about there several were buried who had been either killed or executed.
- p. 57, On some Somerset Chap-Books, Emanuel Green, Proceedings, Volume 24, Somersetshire Archaeological and Natural History Society, pub. F. May, 1879. 

And the second:

And now, to finish up with Exeter witchcraft while we are about it, we may as well relate the sad story of Mr. Jacob Seley, which set all the ever faithful city gossiping so long ago as .Monday, September 23rd, 1690, and is very worthy to be remembered even yet. Mr. Seley, it appears, set forth from his own home in Exeter on the day just named, with the full purpose and intention of riding to Taunton in Somerset. As far as we can gather he jogged along quite comfortably for a considerable distance, following the road through Hinton Clist to Blackdown, at which place there is a public-house called Cleston, "where the coach and waggons usually lodge on that road." Here Mr. Seley stopped some time, and refreshed the inner man. Perhaps he was a thought imprudent; for after he had called for a pot of beer, he had also a noggin of brandy ; but if there was excess, surely even rigid moralists will admit that his punishment was more than he deserved. For when he at last resumed his journey, (the quotation is from a tract entitled "Strange and Wonderful News from Exeter,") "he met with a country-like farmer, being about seven or eight at night; and in the country-like farmer persuaded Mr. Seley to ride back a mile and a half to lodge, telling him there was very good quarters, but at his return, he supposed it to be about three mile; and then he brought him to a plat of ground near the house, and the country-like farmer and his horse vanished away."

This of itself was sufficiently startling to a tired man, and might serve to point the moral how rash it is to ride back upon your road with people whom you do not know. But mark the sequel. "Immediately near 100 or 200 appeared to him, men, women, and children, some like judges, some like magistrates, some like clergymen, and some like country people; and the country people had spears who made at him, and then he made use of Scripture, but they made him no answer. Then he did abjure them." We may pause to remark that it might have helped him more if he had abjured noggins of' brandy. "He did abjure them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; for it is written, the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head." However, there seemed to be something wrong in the abjuration, for Mr. Seley did not succeed in bruising the serpent's head, though having laid about him with a hanger which he wore, he formed the conclusion that he had cut off some of its fingers. At any rate there was blood upon his hanger, and then the enemy hung over his head "something like a fishing net," with what purpose exactly does not appear, but no doubt it was a wicked one. All this went on by Mr. Seley's account in a plat of ground not above four yards square. "At last he lighted off his horse, and his horse laid his nose on his shoulder as if he had been a Christian." But even this sorry comfort poor Mr. Seley did not long enjoy; for the spirits gave his horse "something like treacle, and then he let go his horse and never saw him after."

There is a good deal more of this story, prepared doubtless for the consumption of Mrs. Seley when her lord returned. But where Mr. Seley really was all this time is a matter of pure speculation.

- pp46-47, Highways and Byways in Devon and Cornwall, Arthur Hamilton Norway, pub. Macmillan, 1898.

What a complete crock. The chiefly notable thing about this story is that it's timed precisely five years after the 'Bloody Assizes', retributory trials of Monmouth sympathizers conducted, in Taunton and elsewhere, in the aftermath of the Monmouth Rebellion. As such, there's more in it than merely (as the retellings suggest) some meaningless drunken hallucination; as an indictment of the establishment executioners as hostile apparations, it's clearly pro-Monmouth propaganda.

I ran into Mr Jacob Seley on the staff page of Dr Lucy Ryder of the University of Chester, author of the just-published The Historic Landscape of Devon, a write-up of her PhD at the University of Exeter. Her research area looks very interesting:

"the intersections between folklore and archaeology (evidence in published and forthcoming work), and my current research interests focus on the relationship between landscapes and folkloric traditions; using folk belief to examine how societies functioned in past".

I don't terribly trust folklore as having any clear meaning, because its agenda is highly malleable. Ronald Hutton's Stations of the Sun: A History of the Ritual Year in Britain has a particular local example of how bonfire celebrations in southern England, such as that at Ottery St Mary, have clear-cut origins in anti-Catholic celebration, but have been reinvented as having vastly ancient pagan origin. But the thrust remains: the existence of traditions attached to a location seems to indicate that something was significant about the place.

- Ray

Betty Stogs

Beachcombing's Bizarre History Blog, in an article about the largely forgotten Cornish folklorist William Bottrell - see William Bottrell and the Strangest Funeral Procession in the World - just quoted a wonderful uncredited obituary imagining a funeral cortège for Bottrell consisting of a throng of characters and entities (most of whom/which I'd never heard of) from Cornish folklore.

One not there, who ought to be, is Betty Stogs. The earliest account I can find of her is in Robert Hunt's 1865 Popular romances of the west of England; or, The drolls, traditions, and superstitions of old Cornwall (here's a 1908 reprint in the Internet Archive: ID popularromanceso00huntuoft). It's an extremely interesting book.

The story Betty Stogs and Jan the Mounster, which has a bit of a social engineering subtext, tells of Betty, a scruffy, lazy woman given to "courseying" (wandering house-to-house to gossip); in the version collected by Hunt, she allegedly lived near Towednack. She never darns her stockings, but just lets them sag to hide the worn heels. She finds an equally scruffy partner, Jan the Mounster (i.e. monster) who gets her pregnant but refuses to marry her until her father comes up with a dowry. They don't get on because Betty has in addition got a gin habit, can't cook, and tries to wash his watch in dirty dishwater. She's extremely neglectful to her baby, which gets as dirty as its parents. But at a year old, he disappears. After a search, he's found in a thicket, on a bed of moss, wrapped in clean clothing and sprinkled with flowers, spick and span from having been cleansed in the morning dew. The fairies had planned to take him as a changeling, but had taken so long to clean him up that dawn had broken, and they had to leave him behind. Betty and Jan are chastened by the experience, and mend their ways (or at least somewhat). Here's the story, starting page 103, or you can read the 1865 edition at Google Books.

Betty Stogs beer pump logo

Beer drinkers will recognise Betty from her incarnation as Skinner's Brewery's' "Queen of Cornish Beer"; their flagship beer is named after her. I didn't realise until Googling her name last week that she was based on a folklore character. Skinner's  has adopted her in both her original scruffy incarnation with wrinkled socks, and in her cleaned-up version in which she has become something of a force of nature, represented by the brewery at festivals and charity fundraisers in true mumming / folk custom fashion as a burly man - former Cornish-style wrestling champion Fred Thomas - in drag.

Skinner's promotional poster

I especially like the style of the new promotional poster by by Nick Berringer and Stuart Thorn, "intended to emphasise the ale’s origins as Betty remains devoutly Cornish while exploring the big wide world", in which the now-slightly-genteel Betty goes to a posh restaurant, but still has beer and a giant Cornish pasty. They promise more. See the Skinner's events page for details.

- Ray

Bismarck fears the wurst

I seem to have known forever the apocryphal story about a proposed duel with sausages between the conservative German statesman Otto von Bismarck and his liberal/radical political antagonist (and groundbreaking biologist) Rudolph Virchow. The current edit of the Wikipedia article on Virchow (06:16, 16 July 2012) summarises it as follows ...

The Sausage Duel
As a co-founder and member of the liberal party (Deutschen Fortschrittspartei) he was a leading political antagonist of Bismarck. He was opposed to Bismarck’s excessive military budget, which angered Bismarck sufficiently to challenge Virchow to a duel in 1865. There are two versions of this anecdote: in one version, Virchow declined because he considered dueling an uncivilized way to solve a conflict. The second has passed into legend but was well documented in the contemporary scientific literature. It states that Virchow, having been the challenged and therefore entitled to choose the weapons, selected two pork sausages: a cooked sausage for himself and an uncooked one, loaded with Trichinella larvae for Bismark. His challenger declined the proposition as too risky.

... and at least the existence of the story is well-cited to an article in the journal Emerging Infectious Diseases (Rudolph Virchow, Myron Schulz, Emerg Infect Dis. 2008 September; 14(9): 1480–1481. doi: 10.3201/eid1409.086672).

I'll cut straight to the chase on this one. It needs going back to German primary sources, and Hella Machetanz did exactly that in 1978.

Die tödlichen Trichinen als von Virchow gewählte Waffen sind aber in keiner der zahlreichen deutschen Veröffentlichungen uber dieses Thema zu finden, auch nicht in den Briefen an seine Eltern noch in der Biographie von Ackerknecht. Die Duell-Förderung ist dagegen als gesichert anzusehen, wie aus den Stenographischen Berichten des Preußischen Landtags hervorgeht.

(The deadly Trichinella selected as weapon by Virchow is however to be found in none of the numerous German publications about this topic, nor in the letters to his parents still in the biography by Ackerknecht. The duelling challenge, to the contrary, is deemed to be verified, as appearing in the stenographic records of the Prussian Landtag.)

- Trichinen und die Duell-Forderung Bismarcks an Virchow im Jahre 1865, Hella Machetanz Medizinhistorisches Journal Bd. 13, H. 3/4 (1978), pp. 297-306 Published by: Franz Steiner Verlag

There's an English account of the Landtag dispute between Bismarck and Virchow in the foreign section of the Sydney Morning Herald for August 15th 1865: see the Germany section, columns 3/4, page 3. The duel challenge is there, but no sausages.

As to the English incarnation of the sausage variant, Google Books finds a particular crop of variously embroidered English repetitions of this story in the early 1900s, and tracking a litte back finds the first English citations in American medical journals in 1893. For example:

It is said that Bismarck once sent a challenge to Virchow because of some frank speaking on the part of the great pathologist. The latter instantly remarked that as the challenged party he had the choice of weapons, and held up two sausages apparently exactly alike, saying: "One of these is filled with deadly trichinae, and the other is perfectly healthy. Let Bismarck choose which of these he will eat, and eat it, and I will eat the other." The duel was not fought.
- uncredited anecdote, The American Lancet, p494, Volume 17, 1893

However, it goes back further, and at least one US newspaper carries this version of the story:

A Berlin journal relates that the famous Bismarck once challenged Dr. Virchow for offensive language used in parliamentary debate. The learned doctor was at that time engaged in investigations relating to trichinosis. He is said to have thus replied to the messenger who bore Bismarck’s challenge: “My arms; there they are—those two sausages. One of them is full of trichinae; the other is pure. Let his Excellency breakfast with me. We will eat the sausages; and he shall take his choice of them.
- The Hawaiian Gazette, August 5th, 1868.

A pity we're not told what "Berlin journal" this allegedly came from. The whole anecdote seems to be a cross-fertilisation between the real story of his political conflict with Bismarck leading to a duel challenge, and another real story arising Virchow's activism concerning trichinosis (in particular its association with raw sausages - i.e. not precisely raw, but ones for uncooked consumption made with very lightly cured pork). In Germany in the mid-1800s, this was highly controversial, as Virchow was challenging the safety of a highly-established food industry.

This circumstance seems to be the prototype for the sausage duel story.  The Lancet of February 1866 reports:

At Berlin, a meeting of town-councillors, butchers, doctors, and a sprinkling of the general public, was held shortly before Christmas. Professor Virchow addressed the meeting, and urged the necessity of instituting a microscopical examination of all pork. At the conclusion of his speech, he handed to the president a piece of smoked sausage, and a piece of meat from a pig which had been recognised as tricniuous. Thereupon a veterinary practitioner, of the name of Urban, rose and combated all that science has acquired during the last five years as an unfounded illusion. "Trichinae, he said, "are the most harmless animals in the world. It is only doctors without practice who make a noise about them, in order to create some occupation for themselves," &c. (Great interruption; the president is obliged to stop the veterinarian.) Drs. Virchow and Mason demand an apology from M. Urban. Dr. Mason challenges Urban to eat some of the sausage on the president's table. (Great applause.) Urban wishes to explain. The meeting calls upon him to eat. "He had not spoken of Berlin doctors (' Eat, eat!'); but of those at Hedersleben. ('Eat!') He would first see whether the sausage contained trichinae." (Great laughter, and continued shouts of "Eat! eat! eat!") Whereupon M. Urban suddenly seizes the sausage on the president's table, bites off a piece, eats it, and leaves the ball forthwith, amidst the applause and laughter of the assembly.

About five days later (on 23rd December) the Oelkszeitung [sic] reported that the veterinarian, Urban, was ill. He was confined to his bed, and his arms and legs were paralysed. A hope was expressed that the illness was not caused by trichinae contained in the sausage of which he had been badgered to swallow a piece. Vain hope!

- The Trichina Disease, Dr Thudichum, The Lancet, February 1866, reprinted as pp18-19, The half-yearly abstract of the medical sciences, Volume 43, 1867

This has an urban myth flavour - the poetic justice is just a little too apt. A more reliable summary of events is contained in this dissertation by Lars Harald Feddersen: Die Darstellung Rudolf Virchows in der Vossischen Zeitung im Zeitraum vom 1. Januar 1844 bis zum 31. Dezember 1865 (The Representation of Rudolf Virchow in the "Vossische Zeitung" during the Period of 1st of January 1844 until the 31st of December 1865).

Mr Feddersen's detailed examination of Virchow coverage in the Vossische Zeitung (a prestigious liberal Berlin-published newspaper) confirms that there was a heated meeting at which the veterinary surgeon Urban - a trichina denier - was heckled into eating a suspect sausage. However, there was no report of his subsequently getting ill. The follow-up was that Virchow issued a statement saying the sausage, being four weeks old and heavily smoked, contained only dead trichinae. The newspaper shortly after denied this, saying it was contaminated, but not with trichinae.

Nach diesen Ausführungen sah sich V[irchow] groben Anschuldigungen des ebenfalls anwesenden Tierarztes Dr. Urban ausgesetzt: Dieser warf V neben Oberflächlichkeit und Schwindel vor, er würde die Angst vor den Trichinen schüren. Urban verleugnete, dass eine Trichinenproblematik existierte. Das aufgebrachte Publikum strafte den Tierarzt mit beleidigenden Zwischenrufen.  Dieses veranlasste Urban schließlich, von der mitgebrachten Wurst zu essen. Es kam zum Eklat. V erklärte enttäuscht, dass er die Versammlung nicht ein zweites Mal besuchen wolle. (vgl. VZ 17.12.1865-Nr. 296)

Wenige Tage darauf ging V anlässlich eines Vortrags im „Berliner Handwerkerverein“ erneut auf die Trichinenfrage ein: Er erklärte, dass die Wurst, von der Tierarzt Urban in der „Schlächterversammlung“ gegessen hatte, nur bereits tote Trichinen enthielt. Die Wurst, so V, war bereits vier Wochen alt und stark geräuchert. (vgl. VZ 21.12.1865-Nr. 299)

Zwei Tage später dementierte die VZ diesen Bericht: Die Wurst, von welcher Urban in der Versammlung gegessen hatte, sollte zuverlässigen Meldungen zufolge bei der Untersuchung durch V nun doch nicht trichinös verseucht gewesen sein. (vgl. VZ 23.12.1865-Nr. 301) 

If any fluent German readers can confirm/correct my reading of this, I'd be grateful.

Ray

Einstein, Darwin and bee apocalypse

Bee swarm, Majorfield Road, Topsham, 12th May 2012

An update to Tracking bee story (9th June 2008) and That bee story again (13th May 2010).

Bonnie Taylor-Blake kindly e-mailed me with a link to her further exploration of the origins of the urban myth (much-repeated in popular ecology articles) that Einstein said: "If the bee disappears off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left". (Wrong, whether he said it or not - see On Einstein, Bees, and Survival of the Human Race).

In a post on the LINGUIST List, the American Dialect Society's discussion group's listserv) - Einstein on bees revisited ( 29 Jun 2012, and followups here) - Ms Taylor-Blake tracks a number of precursors to the story, including a 1941 letter to The Canadian Bee Journal, in which an Ernest A Fortin ascribes to Einstein the statement "Remove the bee from the earth and at the same stroke you remove at least one hundred thousand plants that will not survive", and a number of Charles Darwin quotations about the ecological interconnections involving bees.

Despite regular debunking, the bogus Einstein quote still regularly appears in media articles. For example: This mite be the bees' worst enemy (Sydney Morning Herald, 26th June); No sign of our extinction yet (Londonderry Sentinel, 13th June); Honeybees call Morris Canal Park in Clifton home (Northjersey.com, 8th June 2012); Einstein was right - honey bee collapse threatens global food security (The Telegraph, 6th February 2011); and so on.

A quick Google finds Ms Taylor-Blake to be "a neuroscience researcher at the University of North Carolina, amateur word sleuth and the American Dialect Society's foremost authority on 'Black Friday' etymology": see The origins of Black Friday (Journal Sentinel Online, 24th Nov 2011). She also runs a blog, Spokelore ("Thoughts on folklore surrounding quotations, expressions of the spoken word, and apocryphal attributions"). There aren't many posts at present, but there are very good articles on the folklore of American political rhetoric (Dirty Politics: Smathers, Pepper, and Quasi Malediction in American Political Folklore) and the anecdote of charging WW2 Japanese soldiers yelling, "To hell with Babe Ruth".

- Ray