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The success of the first edition of this little work, compels its author to say a few words on the issue of a second. “Expressive silence” would now be in him the excessive impudence of not acknowledging, as he respectfully does acknowledge, that success to be greatly ascribable to the eminent artists who have drawn and engraved the illustrations.
“A man’s worst wish for his enemy is that he might write a book,” is a generally-received notion, of whose accuracy it is hoped there is no impertinence in suggesting a doubt. To reflect on having contributed, however slightly, to the innocent amusement of others, without giving pain to any, is alone an enjoyment well worth writing for. But when even so unpretending a trifle as this is, can, besides, bring around its obscure author fresh and valuable friendships, the hackneyed exclamation would appear more intelligible if rendered thus: “Oh, that my friend would write a book!”
In former days, possibly, things may have been very different from what they now are. Haply, the literary highway may, heretofore, have been not particularly clean, choked with rubbish, badly drained, ill lighted, not always well paved even with good intentions, and beset with dangerous characters, bilious-looking Thugs, prowling about, ready to pounce upon, hocus, strangle, and pillage any new arrival. But all that is now changed. Now, the path of literature is all velvet and roses. The race of quacks and impostors has become as extinct, as are the saurian and the dodo; and every honest flourisher of the pen, instead of being tarred and feathered, is hailed as a welcome addition to “the united happy family” – of letters.
Much of this agreeable change is owing to the improvement of the literary police, which is become a respectable, sober, well-conducted body of men, who seldom go on duty as critics, without a horse-shoe. Much is owing to the propagation of the doctrines of the Peace Society, even among that species of the genus irritabile, authors themselves, who have at last learned
Chiefly, however, is the happy change attributable to the discriminating and impartial judgment of the reading public of this golden Victorian era. In the present day, it may be considered a general rule, that no picture is admired, no book pronounced readable, no magazine or newspaper circulated, unless in each case it developed intrinsic merit. The mere name of the artist, or author, or editor, has not the slightest weight with our present intelligent, discriminating community, who are never enslaved, or misled, by whim, caprice, or fashion. It has been said, but it seems too monstrous for belief, that, formerly, persons were actually to be found so extremely indolent, or stupid, or timid, as never to think for themselves; but who followed with the crowd, like a swarm of bees, to the brazen tinkle of a mere name! Happily, the minds of the present age are far too active, enlightened, independent, and fearless, for degradation so unworthy. In our day, the professed wit hopes not for the homage of a laugh, on his “only asking for the mustard;” the artist no longer trusts to his signature on the canvas for its being admired; no amount of previous authorship-celebrity preserves a book from the trunk-maker; and the newspaper-writer cannot expect an extensive sale, unless his leaders equal, at least, the frothy head of “Barclay’s porter,” or possess the Attic salt of “Fortnum and Mason’s hams.” At the same time, the proudest notable in literature can now no longer swamp, or thrust aside, his obscurer peers; nor is the humblest votive offering at the shrine of intellect, in danger, as formerly, from the hoofs of spurious priests, alike insensible to receive, and impotent to reflect or minister, light or warmth, from the sacred fire they pretend to cherish. In short, such is the pleasant change which has come over literary affairs, that, however apposite in past times, there is not, in the present, any fitness in the exclamation, “Oh, that mine enemy would write a book!”
With reference to the observation, made by more than one correspondent, that the horse-shoe has not always proved an infallible charm against the devil, the author, deferentially, begs to hazard an opinion that, in every one of such cases, the supposed failure may have resulted from an adoption of something else than the real shoe, as a protection. Once upon a time, a witness very sensibly accounted for the plaintiff’s horse having broken down. “‘Twasn’t the hoss’s fault,” said he; “his plates was wore so thin and so smooth, that, if he’d been Hal Brook his self, he couldn’t help slipping.”
Peradventure, the alleged failures may be similarly accounted for; the party, in each case, having perhaps nailed up, not a shoe, but a slipper, the learned distinction respecting which was thus judicially recognized. The deed which the devil signed, must, like a penal statute, be construed strictly. It says nothing of a slipper; and it has been held by all our greatest lawyers, from Popham and Siderfin, down to Ambler and Walker, that a slipper is not a shoe.
Another solution suggests itself. Possibly the horse-shoe, even if genuine, was not affixed until after the Wicked One had already got possession. In that case, not only would the charm be inefficacious to eject him, but would actually operate as a bar to his quitting the premises; for that eminent juris consult, Mephistopheles himself, has distinctly laid it down as “a law binding on devils, that they must go out the same way they stole in.” Nailing up a shoe to keep the devil out, after he has once got in, is indeed too late; and is something like the literary pastime of the “Englishman,” who kept on showing cause against the Frenchman’s rule, long after the latter had, on the motion of his soldiers, already made it absolute with costs.
There is one other circumstance the author begs to refer to, from a desire to dispel any uneasiness about our relations with the Yezidi government. The late distinguished under-secretary for foreign affairs, as every one knows, not regarding as infra dig. certain great, winged, human-headed bulls, that would have astonished Mr. Edgeworth, not less than they puzzle all Smithfield, and the rest of the learned “whose speech is of oxen,” has imported those extraordinary grand-junction specimens, which, with their country-folk, the Yezidis, Dr. Layard has particularly described in his book on Nineveh. When speaking of the Yezidis, he has observed, “The name of the evil spirit is, however, never mentioned; and any allusion to it by others so vexes and irritates them, that it is said they have put to death persons who have wantonly outraged their feelings by its use. So far is their dread of offending the evil principle carried, that they carefully avoid every expression which may resemble in sound the name of Satan, or the Arabic word for ‘accursed.’ Thus, in speaking of a river, they will not say Shat, because it is too nearly connected with the first syllable in Sheitan, the devil; but substitute Nahr. Nor, for the same reason, will they utter the word Keitan, thread or fringe. Naal, a horse-shoe, and naal-band, a farrier, are forbidden words; because they approach to laan, a curse, and māloun, accursed.” – Layard
Notwithstanding all this, the author has the pleasant satisfaction of most respectfully assuring his readers, on the authority of the last Yezidi Moniteur, that the amicable relations of this country with the Yezidi government are not in the slightest danger of being disturbed by this little book; and that John Bull is, at present, in no jeopardy of being swallowed up by those monstrous distant cousins of his, of whom Mr. Layard has brought home the above-mentioned speaking likenesses.
“And it is for trouth reported, that where this signe dothe appere, there the Evill Spirite entreth not.” – SERMON ON WITCHES.
To all good folk in Christendom to whom this instrument shall come the Devil sendeth greeting: Know ye that for himself and heirs said Devil covenants and declares, that never at morn or evening prayers at chapel church or meeting, never where concords of sweet sound sacred or social flow around or harmony is woo’d, nor where the Horse-Shoe meets his sight on land or sea by day or night on lowly sill or lofty pinnacle on bowsprit helm mast boom or binnacle, said Devil will intrude.
The courteous reader’s indulgence will, it is hoped, extend to a waiver of all proofs and vouchers in demonstration of the authenticity of this tale, which is “simply told as it was told to me.” Any one who can show that it is not the true tale, will greatly oblige, if he can and will a tale unfold, that is the true one. If this is not the true story and history of the horse-shoe’s charm against the wicked one, what is? That’s the question.
There’s nothing like candour; and so it is here candidly and ingenuously confessed that the original deed mentioned in the poem, has hitherto eluded the most diligent searches and researches. As yet, it cannot be found, notwithstanding all the patient, zealous, and persevering efforts of learned men, erudite antiquarians, law and equity chiffonniers, who have poked and pored, in, through, over, and among, heaps, bundles, and collections, of old papers, vellums, parchments, deeds, muniments, documents, testaments, instruments, ingrossments, records, writings, indentures, deed polls, escrows, books, bills, rolls, charters, chirographs, and exemplifications, in old English, German text, black letter, red letter, round-hand, court-hand, Norman French, dog Latin, and law gibberish, occupying all sorts of old boxes, old bookcases, old chests, old cupboards, old desks, old drawers, old presses, and old shelves, belonging to the Dunstan branch of the old Smith family. At one moment, during the searches, it is true, hopes were excited on the perception of a faint brimstone odour issuing from an antiquated iron box found among some rubbish; but instead of any vellum or parchment, there were only the unused remains of some bundles of veteran matches, with their tinder-box accomplice, which had been thrown aside and forgotten, ever since the time when the functions of those old hardened incendiaries, flint and steel, were extinguished by the lucifers. All further search, it is feared, will be in vain; and the deed is now believed to be as irrecoverably lost, as the musty muster-roll of Battle Abbey.
A legal friend has volunteered an opinion, that certain supposed defects in the alleged deed evince its spuriousness, and even if genuine, its inefficiency. His words are, “The absence of all legal consideration, that is to say, valuable consideration, such as money, or money’s worth; or good consideration, such as natural love and affection, would render the deed void, or voidable, as a mere nudum pactum. [See Plowden.] Moreover, an objection arises from there being no Anno Domini, [Year Book, Temp. Ric. III.] and no Anno Regni, [Croke Eliz.] and no condition in pœnam. [Lib. Ass.] Now, if the original deed had been thus defective, the covenanting party thereto is too good a lawyer, not to have set it aside.”
To these learned subtleties it may be answered, that the deed was evidently intended, not so much as an instrument effectively binding “the covenanting party,” as a record whereby to justify a renewal of punishment, in case of contravention of any of the articles of treaty. It would have been informal to make mention of money as the consideration, it being patent that this “covenanting party” considers it of no value at all. For however dearly all “good folk in Christendom” may estimate and hug the precious bane, as the most valuable consideration on earth, he, old sinner that he is, wickedly disparages it, as being mere filthy lucre, only useful horticulturally, to manure his hot-beds of iniquity. With regard to the consideration of natural love and affection, it is humbly submitted that the facts are at variance with such a suggestion.
Another friend, not of the legal, but the equestrian order, has tendered, according to his ideas, an explanation of the especial protecting virtue of the horseshoe. His notions are given as follows, ipsissimis verbis. “There is not in the whole world, a nobler animal than that splendid fellow, the horse. He is the embodiment of all that is magnificent, possessing strength, swiftness, courage, sagacity, and gracefulness. He never drinks more than he needs, or says more than he ought. If he were an opposition M.P. – and a horse was once a consul – his speech against Government bills, would be only a dignified neigh. Base and unworthy measures he disdains.
“His proud step is on all fours with his love of a fair field and no favour. The grandeur of his nature is such, that the idea of a beggar on horseback is proverbially the most revolting of all inequitable absurdities and incongruities in human economy; while, on the other hand, as was once well remarked by a distinguished lecturer, this superb animal stamped his very name itself on that for which our loftiest princes and nobles, before the present degenerate age of iron, were emulous of distinguishing themselves. In proportion as they developed unblemished honour, with undaunted bravery, graceful bearing, and magnanimous generosity, were they deemed worthy to rank among Christendom’s bright chivalry.
“The horse-shoe was, no doubt, regarded as typical of the noble qualities of its wearer. These being so hateful to the ugly, sly, intriguing, slandering, malevolent, ill-conditioned, pettifogging, pitiful arch-enemy, it might well be supposed that the mere apparition of that type would scare him away. To this supposition is ascribable the adoption of the horse-shoe, as an infallible charm against the visits of old Iniquity.”
An acknowledgment is due, and is hereby offered, to the unknown correspondent, who has obligingly communicated the following copy of the coat of arms of the Dunstan family.
“Azure, on a chevron gules between three harps, a horse-shoe supported by two pairs of pincers, proper. Crest – An arm embowed, couped at the shoulder, the hand grasping a hammer, all proper. Motto – ‘SARUED HYM RIGHTE.'”
Taken from The Horse Shoe: The True Legend of Saint Dunstan and the Devil, Showing How the Horse-Shoe Came to be a Charm Against Witchcraft by Edward G Flight, with illustrations by George Cruikshank, engraved by John Thompson, 3rd edition, London, England, 1871. Text and illustrations available on the Project Gutenberg web site. E-text prepared by Clare Boothby, David Garcia, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team.