{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_41006/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_41006","id":"gutenberg_41006","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41006","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairies","Fairy tales","Folk literature","Folklore"],"text":"Produced by Douglas L. Alley, III, Delphine Lettau and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY,\n\n\n ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE\n\n\n Romance and Superstition of Various Countries;\n\n\n\n\n BY\n\n\n THOMAS KEIGHTLEY,\n\n Author of the Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy; Histories of\n Greece, Rome, England, and India, The Crusaders, &c., &c.\n\n\n\n\n\n Another sort there be, that will\n Be talking of the Fairies still;\n Nor never can they have their fill,\n As they were wedded to them\n DRAYTON.\n\n\n\n\n\n A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND GREATLY ENLARGED\n\n\n\n\n\n LONDON:\n GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK ST., COVENT GARDEN,\n AND NEW YORK.\n\n 1892.\n\n\n\n\n LONDON:\nREPRINTED FROM STEREOTYPE PLATES BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.\n STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.\n\n\n\n\n TO\n\n THE RIGHT HONOURABLE\n\n FRANCIS EARL OF ELLESMERE,\n\n IN TESTIMONY OF\n\n ESTEEM AND RESPECT FOR PUBLIC AND PRIVATE VIRTUE,\n\n LITERARY TASTE, TALENT, AND ACQUIREMENTS,\n\n AND PATRONAGE OF LITERATURE AND THE ARTS.\n\n\n This Volume is Inscribed\n\n BY\n\n THE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE.\n\n\nA preface is to a book what a prologue is to a play--a usual, often\nagreeable, but by no means necessary precursor. It may therefore be\naltered or omitted at pleasure. I have at times exercised this right,\nand this is the third I have written for the present work.\n\nIn the first, after briefly stating what had given occasion to it, I\ngave the germs of the theory which I afterwards developed in the Tales\nand Popular Fictions. The second contained the following paragraph:--\n\n\"I never heard of any one who read it that was not pleased with it. It\nwas translated into German as soon as it appeared, and was very\nfavourably received. Goethe thought well of it. Dr. Jacob Grimm--perhaps\nthe first authority on these matters in Europe--wrote me a letter\ncommending it, and assuring me that even to _him_ it offered something\nnew; and I was one Christmas most agreeably surprised by the receipt of\na letter from Vienna, from the celebrated orientalist, Jos Von Hammer,\ninforming me that it had been the companion of a journey he had lately\nmade to his native province of Styria, and had afforded much pleasure\nand information to himself and to some ladies of high rank and\ncultivated minds in that country. The initials at the end of the\npreface, he said, led him to suppose it was a work of mine. So far for\nthe Continent. In this country, when I mention the name of Robert\nSouthey as that of one who has more than once expressed his decided\napprobation of this performance, I am sure I shall have said quite\nenough to satisfy any one that the work is not devoid of merit.\"\n\nI could now add many names of distinguished persons who have been\npleased with this work and its pendent, the Tales and Popular Fictions.\nI shall only mention that of the late Mr. Douce, who, very shortly\nbefore his death, on the occasion of the publication of this last work,\ncalled on me to assure me that \"it was many, many years indeed, since he\nhad read a book which had yielded him so much delight.\"\n\nThe contents of the work which gave such pleasure to this learned\nantiquary are as follows:--\n\n I. Introduction--Similarity of Arts and Customs--Similarity of\n Names--Origin of the Work--Imitation--Casual\n Coincidence--Milton--Dante. II. The Thousand and One\n Nights--Bedoween Audience around a Story-teller--Cleomades and\n Claremond--Enchanted Horses--Peter of Provence and the fair\n Maguelone. III. The Pleasant Nights--The Dancing Water, the Singing\n Apple, and the Beautiful Green Bird--The Three Little\n Birds--Lactantius--Ulysses and Sindbad. IV. The Sh\u00e2h-N\u00e2meh--Roostem\n and Soohr\u00e2b--Conloch and Cuchullin--Macpherson's Ossian--Irish\n Antiquities. V. The Pentamerone--Tale of the Serpent--Hindoo Legend.\n VI. Jack the Giant-killer--The Brave Tailoring--Thor's Journey to\n Utgard--Ameen of Isfahan and the Ghool--The Lion and the Goat--The\n Lion and the Ass. VII. Whittington and his Cat--Danish\n Legends--Italian Stories--Persian Legend. VIII. The Edda--Sigurd and\n Brynhilda--V\u00f6lund--Helgi--Holger Danske--Ogier le\n Danois--Toko--William Tell. IX. Peruonto--Peter the Fool--Emelyan\n the Fool--Conclusion. Appendix.\n\nNever, I am convinced, did any one enter on a literary career with\nmore reluctance than I did when I found it to be my only\nresource--fortune being gone, ill health and delicacy of constitution\nexcluding me from the learned professions, want of interest from\nevery thing else. As I journeyed to the metropolis, I might have sung\nwith the page whom Don Quixote met going a-soldiering:\n\n A la guerra me lleva--mi necesidad,\n Si tuviera dineros--no fuera en verdad\n\nfor of all arts and professions in this country, that of literature is\nthe least respected and the worst remunerated. There is something\nactually degrading in the expression \"an author by trade,\" which I have\nseen used even of Southey, and that by one who did not mean to disparage\nhim in the slightest degree. My advice to those who may read these pages\nis to shun literature, if not already blest with competence.\n\nOne of my earliest literary friends in London was T. Crofton Croker,\nwho was then engaged in collecting materials for the Fairy Legends of\nthe South of Ireland. He of course applied to his friends for aid and\ninformation; and I, having most leisure, and, I may add, most\nknowledge, was able to give him the greatest amount of assistance. My\ninquiries on the subject led to the writing of the present work, which\nwas succeeded by the Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, and the\nTales and Popular Fictions; so that, in effect, if Mr. Croker had not\nplanned the Fairy Legends, these works, be their value what it may,\nwould in all probability never have been written.\n\nWriting and reading about Fairies some may deem to be the mark of a\ntrifling turn of mind. On this subject I have given my ideas in the\nConclusion; here I will only remind such critics, that as soon as this\nwork was completed, I commenced, and wrote in the space of a few\nweeks, my Outlines of History; and whatever the faults of that work\nmay be, no one has ever reckoned among them want of vigour in either\nthought or expression. It was also necessary, in order to write this\nwork and its pendent, to be able to read, perhaps, as many as eighteen\nor twenty different languages, dialects, and modes of orthography,\nand to employ different styles both in prose and verse. At all events,\neven if it were trifling, _dulce est desipere in loco_; and I shall\nnever forget the happy hours it caused me, especially those spent over\nthe black-letter pages of the French romances of chivalry, in the old\nreading-room of the British Museum.\n\nMany years have elapsed since this work was first published. In that\nperiod much new matter has appeared in various works, especially in the\nvaluable Deutsche Mythologie of Dr. Grimm. Hence it will be found to be\ngreatly enlarged, particularly in the sections of England and France. I\nhave also inserted much which want of space obliged me to omit in the\nformer edition. In its present form, I am presumptuous enough to expect\nthat it may live for many years, and be an authority on the subject of\npopular lore. The active industry of the Grimms, of Thiele, and others,\nhad collected the popular traditions of various countries. I came then\nand gathered in the harvest, leaving little, I apprehend, but gleanings\nfor future writers on this subject. The legends will probably fade fast\naway from the popular memory; it is not likely that any one will relate\nthose which I have given over again; and it therefore seems more\nprobable that this volume may in future be reprinted, with notes and\nadditions. For human nature will ever remain unchanged; the love of gain\nand of material enjoyments, omnipotent as it appears to be at present,\nwill never totally extinguish the higher and purer aspirations of mind;\nand there will always be those, however limited in number, who will\ndesire to know how the former dwellers of earth thought, felt, and\nacted. For these mythology, as connected with religion and history, will\nalways have attractions.\n\n October, 1850.\n\nWhatever errors have been discovered are corrected in this impression.\n\n January, 1870. T. K.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n INTRODUCTION. Page\n Origin of the Belief in Fairies 1\n Origin of the Word Fairy 4\n\n ORIENTAL ROMANCE.\n PERSIAN ROMANCE 14\n The Peri-Wife 20\n ARABIAN ROMANCE 24\n\n MIDDLE-AGE ROMANCE.\n\n FAIRY-LAND 44\n\n SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEENE 55\n\n EDDAS AND SAGAS 60\n THE ALFAR 64\n THE DUERGAR 66\n Loki and the Dwarf 68\n Thorston and the Dwarf 70\n The Dwarf-Sword Tirfing 72\n\n SCANDINAVIA.\n ELVES 78\n Sir Olof in the Elve-Dance 82\n The Elf-Woman and Sir Olof 84\n The Young Swain and the Elves 86\n Svend Faelling and the Elle-Maid 88\n The Elle-Maids 89\n Maid V\u00e6 89\n The Elle-Maid near Ebeltoft 90\n Hans Puntleder 91\n DWARFS OR TROLLS 94\n Sir Thynn\u00e8 97\n Proud Margaret 103\n The Troll Wife 108\n The Altar-Cup in Aagerup 109\n Origin of Tiis Lake 111\n A Farmer tricks a Troll 113\n Skotte in the Fire 113\n The Legend of Bodedys 115\n Kallundborg Church 116\n The Hill-Man invited to the Christening 118\n The Troll turned Cat 120\n Kirsten's Hill 121\n The Troll-Labour 122\n The Hill-Smith 123\n The Girl at the Troll-Dance 125\n The Changeling 125\n The Tile-Stove jumping over the Brook 127\n Departure of the Trolls From Vendsyssel 127\n Svend Faelling 128\n The Dwarfs' Banquet 130\n NISSES 139\n The Nis Removing 140\n The Penitent Nis 141\n The Nis and the Boy 142\n The Nis Stealing Corn 143\n The Nis and the Mare 144\n The Nis Riding 145\n The Nisses in Vosborg 146\n NECKS, MERMEN, AND MERMAIDS 147\n The Power of the Harp 150\n Duke Magnus and the Mermaid 154\n\n NORTHERN ISLANDS.\n ICELAND 157\n FEROES 162\n SHETLAND 164\n Gioga's Son 167\n The Mermaid Wife 169\n ORKNEYS 171\n ISLE OF R\u00dcGEN 174\n Adventures of John Dietrich 178\n The Little Glass Shoe 194\n The Wonderful Plough 197\n The Lost Bell 200\n The Black Dwarfs of Granitz 204\n\n GERMANY.\n DWARFS 216\n The Hill-Man at the Dance 217\n The Dwarf's Feast 218\n The Friendly Dwarfs 220\n Wedding-Feast of the Little People 220\n Smith Riechert 221\n Dwarfs stealing Corn 222\n Journey of Dwarfs over the Mountain 223\n The Dwarfs borrowing Bread 226\n The Changeling 227\n The Dwarf-Husband 232\n Inge of Rantum 232\n THE WILD-WOMEN 234\n The Oldenburg Horn 237\n KOBOLDS 239\n Hinzelmann 240\n H\u00f6deken 255\n King Goldemar 256\n The Heinzelm\u00e4nchen 257\n NIXES 258\n The Peasant and the Waterman 259\n The Water-Smith 260\n The Working Waterman 261\n The Nix-Labour 261\n\n SWITZERLAND.\n DWARFS 264\n Gertrude and Rosy 266\n The Chamois-Hunter 271\n The Dwarfs on the Tree 273\n Curiosity punished 273\n The Rejected Gift 275\n The Wonderful Little Pouch 276\n Aid and Punishment 277\n The Dwarf in search of Lodging 278\n\n GREAT BRITAIN.\n ENGLAND.\n The Green Children 281\n The Fairy-Banquet 283\n The Fairy-Horn 284\n The Portunes 285\n The Grant 286\n The Luck of Eden Hall 292\n The Fairy-Fair 294\n The Fairies' Caldron 295\n The Cauld Lad of Hilton 296\n The Pixy-Labour 301\n Pixy-Vengeance 303\n Pixy-Gratitude 304\n The Fairy-Thieves 305\n The Boggart 307\n Addlers and Menters 308\n The Fary-Nurseling 310\n The Fary-Labour 311\n Ainsel 313\n Puck 314\n SCOTTISH LOWLANDS.\n The Fairies' Nurse 353\n The Fairy-Rade 354\n The Changeling 355\n Departure of the Fairies 356\n The Brownie 357\n\n CELTS AND CYMRY.\n IRELAND.\n Clever Tom and the Leprechaun 373\n The Leprechaun in the Garden 376\n The Three Leprechauns 379\n The Little Shoe 382\n SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.\n The Fairy's Inquiry 385\n The Young Man in the Shian 386\n The two Fiddlers 387\n The Fairy-Labour 388\n The Fairy borrowing Oatmeal 389\n The Fairy-Gift 389\n The Stolen Ox 390\n The Stolen Lady 391\n The Changeling 393\n The Wounded Seal 394\n The Brownies 395\n The Urisk 396\n ISLE OF MAN.\n The Fairy-Chapman 398\n The Fairy-Banquet 399\n The Fairies' Christening 400\n The Fairy-Whipping 400\n The Fairy-Hunt 401\n The Fiddler and the Fairy 402\n The Phynnodderee 402\n WALES.\n Tale of Elidurus 404\n The Tylwyth T\u00eag 408\n The Spirit of the Van 409\n Rhys at the Fairy-Dance 415\n Gitto Bach 416\n The Fairies banished 417\n BRITTANY.\n Lai D'Ywenec 422\n Lord Nann and the Korrigan 433\n The Dance and Song of the Korred 438\n\n SOUTHERN EUROPE.\n GREECE 443\n ITALY 447\n SPAIN 456\n The Daughter of Peter do Cabinam 456\n Origin of the House of Haro 458\n La Infantina 459\n Pepito el Corcovado 461\n FRANCE.\n Legend of Melusina 480\n\n EASTERN EUROPE.\n FINNS 487\n SLAVES 490\n Vilas 492\n Deer and Vila 493\n\n AFRICANS, JEWS,\n AFRICANS 495\n JEWS 497\n The Broken Oaths 498\n The Moohel 506\n The Mazik-Ass 510\n\n APPENDIX 513\n\n INDEX 557\n\n\n\n THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY\n\n\n\n\n INTRODUCTION.\n\n In old\u00e8 day\u00e8s of the King Arto\u00far,\n Of which that Bretons spoken gret hono\u00far,\n All was this lond fulfilled of fa\u00ebrie;\n The elf-qrene with hir jolie companie\n Danced full oft in many a gren\u00e8 mede.\n CHAUCER.\n\n\n ORIGIN OF THE BELIEF IN FAIRIES.\n\n\nAccording to a well-known law of our nature, effects suggest causes;\nand another law, perhaps equally general, impels us to ascribe to the\nactual and efficient cause the attribute of intelligence. The mind of\nthe deepest philosopher is thus acted upon equally with that of the\npeasant or the savage; the only difference lies in the nature of the\nintelligent cause at which they respectively stop. The one pursues the\nchain of cause and effect, and traces out its various links till he\narrives at the great intelligent cause of all, however he may\ndesignate him; the other, when unusual phenomena excite his attention,\nascribes their production to the immediate agency of some of the\ninferior beings recognised by his legendary creed.\n\nThe action of this latter principle must forcibly strike the minds of\nthose who disdain not to bestow a portion of their attention on the\npopular legends and traditions of different countries. Every\nextraordinary appearance is found to have its extraordinary cause\nassigned; a cause always connected with the history or religion,\nancient or modern, of the country, and not unfrequently varying with a\nchange of faith.[1]\n\nThe noises and eruptions of \u00c6tna and Stromboli were, in ancient times,\nascribed to Typhon or Vulcan, and at this day the popular belief\nconnects them with the infernal regions. The sounds resembling the\nclanking of chains, hammering of iron, and blowing of bellows, once to\nbe heard in the island of Barrie, were made by the fiends whom Merlin\nhad set to work to frame the wall of brass to surround Caermarthen.[2]\nThe marks which natural causes have impressed on the solid and\nunyielding granite rock were produced, according to the popular creed,\nby the contact of the hero, the saint, or the god: masses of stone,\nresembling domestic implements in form, were the toys, or the\ncorresponding implements of the heroes and giants of old. Grecian\nimagination ascribed to the galaxy or milky way an origin in the teeming\nbreast of the queen of heaven: marks appeared in the petals of flowers\non the occasion of a youth's or a hero's untimely death: the rose\nderived its present hue from the blood of Venus, as she hurried barefoot\nthrough the woods and lawns; while the professors of Isl\u00e2m, less\nfancifully, refer the origin of this flower to the moisture that exuded\nfrom the sacred person of their prophet. Under a purer form of religion,\nthe cruciform stripes which mark the back and shoulders of the patient\nass first appeared, according to the popular tradition, when the Son of\nGod condescended to enter the Holy City, mounted on that animal; and a\nfish only to be found in the sea[3] stills bears the impress of the\nfinger and thumb of the apostle, who drew him out of the waters of Lake\nTiberias to take the tribute-money that lay in his mouth. The repetition\nof the voice among the hills is, in Norway and Sweden, ascribed to the\nDwarfs mocking the human speaker, while the more elegant fancy of Greece\ngave birth to Echo, a nymph who pined for love, and who still fondly\nrepeats the accents that she hears. The magic scenery occasionally\npresented on the waters of the Straits of Messina is produced by the\npower of the Fata Morgana; the gossamers that float through the haze of\nan autumnal morning, are woven by the ingenious dwarfs; the verdant\ncirclets in the mead are traced beneath the light steps of the dancing\nelves; and St. Cuthbert forges and fashions the beads that bear his\nname, and lie scattered along the shore of Lindisfarne.[4]\n\nIn accordance with these laws, we find in most countries a popular\nbelief in different classes of beings distinct from men, and from the\nhigher orders of divinities. These beings are usually believed to\ninhabit, in the caverns of earth, or the depths of the waters, a\nregion of their own. They generally excel mankind in power and in\nknowledge, and like them are subject to the inevitable laws of death,\nthough after a more prolonged period of existence.\n\nHow these classes were first called into existence it is not easy to\nsay; but if, as some assert, all the ancient systems of heathen\nreligion were devised by philosophers for the instruction of rude\ntribes by appeals to their senses, we might suppose that the minds\nwhich peopled the skies with their thousands and tens of thousands of\ndivinities gave birth also to the inhabitants of the field and flood,\nand that the numerous tales of their exploits and adventures are the\nproduction of poetic fiction or rude invention. It may further be\nobserved, that not unfrequently a change of religious faith has\ninvested with dark and malignant attributes beings once the objects of\nlove, confidence, and veneration.[5]\n\nIt is not our intention in the following pages to treat of the awful\nor lovely deities of Olympus, Valhalla, or Mer\u00fb. Our subject is less\naspiring; and we confine ourselves to those beings who are our\nfellow-inhabitants of earth, whose manners we aim to describe, and\nwhose deeds we propose to record. We write of FAIRIES, FAYS, ELVES,\n_aut alio quo nomine gaudent_.\n\n\n ORIGIN OF THE WORD FAIRY.\n\nLike every other word in extensive use, whose derivation is not\nhistorically certain, the word Fairy has obtained various and opposite\netymons. Meyric Casaubon, and those who like him deduce everything\nfrom a classic source, however unlikely, derive Fairy from \u03a6\u03b7\u03c1, a\nHomeric name of the Centaurs;[6] or think that _f\u00e9e_, whence Fairy, is\nthe last syllable of _nympha_. Sir W. Ouseley derives it from the\nHebrew \u05e4\u05d0\u05e8 (_pe\u00ebr_), _to adorn_; Skinner, from the Anglo-Saxon [Old\nEnglish: faran], _to fare_, _to go_; others from Feres, companions, or\nthink that Fairy-folk is _quasi_ Fair-folk. Finally, it has been\nqueried if it be not Celtic.[7]\n\nBut no theory is so plausible, or is supported by such names, as that\nwhich deduces the English Fairy from the Persian Peri. It is said that\nthe Paynim foe, whom the warriors of the Cross encountered in\nPalestine, spoke only Arabic; the alphabet of which language, it is\nwell known, possesses no _p_, and therefore organically substitutes an\n_f_ in such foreign words as contain the former letter; consequently\nPeri became, in the mouth of an Arab, Feri, whence the crusaders and\npilgrims, who carried back to Europe the marvellous tales of Asia,\nintroduced into the West the Arabo-Persian word _Fairy_. It is further\nadded, that the Morgain or Morgana, so celebrated in old romance, is\nMerjan Peri, equally celebrated all over the East.\n\nAll that is wanting to this so very plausible theory is something like\nproof, and some slight agreement with the ordinary rules of etymology.\nHad Fe\u00ebrie, or Fairy, originally signified the individual in the\nFrench and English, the only languages in which the word occurs, we\nmight feel disposed to acquiesce in it. But they do not: and even if\nthey did, how should we deduce from them the Italian Fata, and the\nSpanish Fada or Hada, (words which unquestionably stand for the same\nimaginary being,) unless on the principle by which Menage must have\ndeduced Lutin from Lemur--the first letter being the same in both? As\nto the fair Merjan Peri (D'Herbelot calls her Merjan Banou[8]), we\nfancy a little too much importance has been attached to her. Her name,\nas far as we can learn, only occurs in the Caherm\u00e2n N\u00e2meh, a Turkish\nromance, though perhaps translated from the Persian.\n\nThe foregoing etymologies, it is to be observed, are all the\nconjectures of English scholars; for the English is the only language\nin which the name of the individual, Fairy, has the canine letter to\nafford any foundation for them.\n\nLeaving, then, these sports of fancy, we will discuss the true origin\nof the words used in the Romanic languages to express the being which\nwe name Fairy of Romance. These are _Fa\u00e9e_, _F\u00e9e_, French; _Fada_,\nProven\u00e7al (whence _Hada_, Spanish); and _Fata_, Italian.\n\nThe root is evidently, we think, the Latin _fatum_. In the fourth\ncentury of our \u00e6ra we find this word made plural, and even feminine, and\nused as the equivalent of Parc\u00e6. On the reverse of a gold medal of the\nEmperor Diocletian are three female figures, with the legend _Fatis\nvictricibus_; a _cippus_, found at Valencia in Spain, has on one of its\nsides _Fatis Q. Fabius ex voto_, and on the other, three female\nfigures, with the attributes of the M\u0153r\u00e6 or Parc\u00e6.[9] In this last place\nthe gender is uncertain, but the figures would lead us to suppose it\nfeminine. On the other hand, Ausonius[10] has _tres Charites_, _tria\nFata_; and Procopius[11] names a building at the Roman Forum \u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\n\u03c6\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, adding \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03c9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u1fe5\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. The Fat\u00e6 or\nFata, then, being persons, and their name coinciding so exactly with the\nmodern terms, and it being observed that the M\u0153r\u00e6 were, at the birth of\nMeleager, just as the F\u00e9es were at that of Ogier le Danois, and other\nheroes of romance and tale, their identity has been at once asserted,\nand this is now, we believe, the most prevalent theory. To this it may\nbe added, that in Gervase of Tilbury, and other writers of the\nthirteenth century, the Fada or F\u00e9e seems to be regarded as a being\ndifferent from human kind.[12]\n\nOn the other hand, in a passage presently to be quoted from a\ncelebrated old romance, we shall meet a definition of the word _F\u00e9e_,\nwhich expressly asserts that such a being was nothing more than a\nwoman skilled in magic; and such, on examination, we shall find to\nhave been all the F\u00e9es of the romances of chivalry and of the popular\ntales; in effect, that _f\u00e9e_ is a participle, and the words _dame_ or\n_femme_ is to be understood.\n\nIn the middle ages there was in use a Latin verb, _fatare_,[13] derived\nfrom _fatum_ or _fata_, and signifying to enchant. This verb was\nadopted by the Italian, Proven\u00e7al[14] and Spanish languages; in French\nit became, according to the analogy of that tongue, _faer_, _f\u00e9er_. Of\nthis verb the past participle _fa\u00e9_, _f\u00e9_; hence in the romances we\ncontinually meet with _les chevaliers fa\u00e9s_, _les dames fa\u00e9es_, _Oberon\nla fa\u00e9_, _le cheval \u00e9toit fa\u00e9_, _la clef \u00e9tait f\u00e9e_, and such like. We\nhave further, we think, demonstrated[15] that it was the practice of the\nLatin language to elide accented syllables, especially in the past\nparticiple of verbs of the first conjugation, and that this practice had\nbeen transmitted to the Italian, whence _fatato-a_ would form _fato-a_,\nand _una donna fatata_ might thus become _una fata_. Whether the same\nwas the case in the Proven\u00e7al we cannot affirm, as our knowledge of that\ndialect is very slight; but, judging from analogy, we would say it was,\nfor in Spanish _Hadada_ and _Hada_ are synonymous. In the Neapolitan\nPentamerone _Fata_ and _Maga_ are the same, and a Fata sends the heroine\nof it to a sister of hers, _pure fatata_.\n\nAriosto says of Medea--\n\n E perch\u00e8 per virt\u00f9 d' erbe e d'incanti\n Delle Fate una ed immortal fatta era.\n _I Cinque Canti_, ii. 106.\n\nThe same poet, however, elsewhere says--\n\n Queste che or Fate e dagli antichi foro\n Gi\u00e0 dette Ninfe e Dee con pi\u00f9 bel nome.--_Ibid._ i. 9.\n\nand,\n\n Nascemmo ad un punto che d'ogni altro male\n Siamo capaci fuorch\u00e8 della morte.--_Orl. Fur._ xliii. 48.\n\nwhich last, however, is not decisive. Bojardo also calls the\nwater-nymphs Fate; and our old translators of the Classics named them\n_fairies_. From all this can only, we apprehend, be collected, that\nthe ideas of the Italian poets, and others, were somewhat vague on the\nsubject.\n\nFrom the verb _faer_, _f\u00e9er_, to enchant, illude, the French made a\nsubstantive _faerie_, _f\u00e9erie_,[16] illusion, enchantment, the meaning\nof which was afterwards extended, particularly after it had been\nadopted into the English language.\n\nWe find the word Faerie, in fact, to be employed in four different\nsenses, which we will now arrange and exemplify.\n\n1. Illusion, enchantment.\n\n Plusieurs parlent de Guenart,\n Du Loup, de l'Asne, de Renart,\n De _faeries_ et de songes,\n De phantosmes et de mensonges.\n _Gul. Giar. ap. Ducange._\n\nWhere we must observe, as Sir Walter Scott seems not to have been\naware of it, that the four last substantives bear the same relation to\neach other as those in the two first verses do.\n\n Me bifel a ferly\n Of _fa\u00ebrie_, me thought.\n _Vision of Piers Plowman_, v. 11.\n\n Maius that sit with so benigne a chere,\n Hire to behold it seemed _fa\u00ebrie_.\n _Chaucer, Marchante's Tale._\n\n It (_the horse of brass_) was of _fa\u00ebrie_, as the peple semed,\n Divers\u00e8 folk divers\u00ebly han demed.--_Squier's Tale._\n\n The Emperor said on high,\n Certes it is a _fa\u00ebrie_,\n Or elles a vanit\u00e9.--_Emare._\n\n With phantasme and _fa\u00ebrie_,\n Thus she blered\u00e8 his eye.--_Libeaus Disconus._\n\n The God of her has made an end,\n And fro this world\u00e8s _fa\u00ebrie_\n Hath taken her into companie.--_Gower, Constance._\n\n\nMr. Ritson professes not to understand the meaning of _faerie_ in this\nlast passage. Mr. Ritson should, as Sir Hugh Evans says, have 'prayed\nhis pible petter;' where, among other things that might have been of\nservice to him, he would have learned that 'man walketh in a _vain_\nshew,' that 'all is _vanity_,' and that 'the fashion of this world\npasseth away;' and then he would have found no difficulty in\ncomprehending the pious language of 'moral Gower,' in his allusion to\nthe transitory and deceptive vanities of the world.\n\n2. From the sense of illusion simply, the transition was easy to that\nof the land of illusions, the abode of the Fa\u00e9s, who produced them;\nand Faerie next came to signify the country of the Fays. Analogy also\nwas here aiding; for as a Nonnerie was a place inhabited by Nonnes, a\nJewerie a place inhabited by Jews, so a Faerie was naturally a place\ninhabited by Fays. Its termination, too, corresponded with a usual one\nin the names of countries: Tartarie, for instance, and 'the regne of\nFeminie.'\n\n Here beside an elfish knight\n Hath taken my lord in fight,\n And hath him led with him away\n Into the _Fa\u00ebrie_, sir, parmafay.--_Sir Guy._\n\n La puissance qu'il avoit sur toutes _faeries_ du monde.\n _Huon de Bordeaux._\n\n En effect, s'il me falloit retourner en _faerie_, je ne s\u00e7auroye\n ou prendre mon chemin.--_Ogier le Dannoys._\n\n That Gawain with his old\u00e8 curtesie,\n Though he were come agen out of _fa\u00ebrie_.\n _Squier's Tale._\n\n He (Arthur) is a king y-crowned in _Fa\u00ebrie_,\n With sceptre and pall, and with his regalty\n Shall\u00e8 resort, as lord and sovereigne,\n Out of _Faerie_, and reign\u00e8 in Bretaine,\n And repair again the ould\u00e8 Round\u00e8 Table.\n _Lydgate, Fall of Princes_, bk. viii. c. 24.\n\n3. From the country the appellation passed to the inhabitants in their\ncollective capacity, and the Faerie now signified the people of\nFairy-land.[17]\n\n Of the fourth kind of Spritis called the Phairie.\n _K. James, Demonologie_, 1. 3.\n\n Full often time he, Pluto, and his quene\n Proserpina, and alle hir _fa\u00ebrie_,\n Disporten hem, and maken melodie\n About that well.--_Marchante's Tale._\n\n The feasts that underground the _Fa\u00ebrie_ did him make,\n And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake.\n _Drayton, Poly-Olb., Song IV._\n\n4. Lastly, the word came to signify the individual denizen of\nFairy-land, and was equally applied to the full-sized fairy knights\nand ladies of romance, and to the pygmy elves that haunt the woods and\ndells. At what precise period it got this its last, and subsequently\nmost usual sense, we are unable to say positively; but it was probably\nposterior to Chaucer, in whom it never occurs, and certainly anterior\nto Spenser, to whom, however, it seems chiefly indebted for its future\ngeneral currency.[18] It was employed during the sixteenth century[19]\nfor the Fays of romance, and also, especially by translators, for the\nElves, as corresponding to the Latin Nympha.\n\n They believed that king Arthur was not dead, but carried awaie by\n the _Fairies_ into some pleasant place, where he should remaine\n for a time, and then returne again and reign in as great authority\n as ever.\n\n _Hollingshed_, bk. v. c. 14. Printed 1577.\n\n Semicaper Pan\n Nunc tenet, at quodam tenuerunt tempore nymph\u00e6.\n _Ovid, Met._ xiv. 520.\n\n The halfe-goate Pan that howre\n Possessed it, but heretofore it was the _Faries'_ bower.\n _Golding_, 1567.\n\n H\u00e6c nemora indigen\u00e6 fauni nymph\u00e6que tenebant,\n Gensque virum truncis et duro robore nata.\n _Virgil, \u00c6neis_, viii. 314.\n\n With nymphis and faunis apoun every side,\n Qwhilk _Farefolkis_ or than _Elfis_ clepen we.\n _Gawin Dowglas._\n\n The woods (quoth he) sometime both fauns and nymphs, and gods of\n ground,\n And _Fairy-queens_ did keep, and under them a nation rough.\n _Phaer_, 1562.\n\n Inter Hamadryadas celeberrima Nonacrinas\n Na\u00efas una fuit.--_Ovid, Met._ l. i. 690.\n\n Of all the nymphes of Nonacris and _Fairie_ ferre and neere,\n In beautie and in personage this ladie had no peere.\n _Golding._\n\n Pan ibi dum teneris jactat sua carmina nymphis.\n _Ov. Ib._ xi. 153.\n\n There Pan among the _Fairie-elves_, that daunced round\n togither.\n _Golding._\n\n Solaque Na\u00efadum celeri non nota Dian\u00e6.--_Ov. Ib._ iv. 304.\n\n Of all the _water-fayries_, she alonely was unknowne\n To swift Diana.--_Golding._\n\n Nymphis latura coronas.--_Ov. Ib._ ix. 337.\n\n Was to the _fairies_ of the lake fresh garlands for to bear.\n _Golding._\n\nThus we have endeavoured to trace out the origin, and mark the progress\nof the word Fairy, through its varying significations, and trust that\nthe subject will now appear placed in a clear and intelligible light.\n\nAfter the appearance of the Faerie Queene, all distinctions were\nconfounded, the name and attributes of the real Fays or Fairies of\nromance were completely transferred to the little beings who,\naccording to the popular belief, made 'the green sour ringlets whereof\nthe ewe not bites.' The change thus operated by the poets established\nitself firmly among the people; a strong proof, if this idea be\ncorrect, of the power of the poetry of a nation in altering the\nphraseology of even the lowest classes[20] of its society.\n\nShakspeare must be regarded as a principal agent in this revolution;\nyet even he uses Fairy once in the proper sense of Fay; a sense it\nseems to have nearly lost, till it was again brought into use by the\ntranslators of the French Contes des F\u00e9es in the last century.\n\n To this great Fairy I'll commend thy acts.\n _Antony and Cleopatra_, act iv. sc. 8.\n\nAnd Milton speaks\n\n Of Faery damsels met in forests wide\n By knights of Logres or of Lyones,\n Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellinore.\n\nYet he elsewhere mentions the\n\n Faery elves,\n Whose midnight revels by a forest side\n Or fountain some belated peasant sees.\n\nFinally, Randolph, in his Amyntas, employs it, for perhaps the last\ntime, in its second sense, Fairy-land:\n\n I do think\n There will be of Jocastus' brood in Fairy.\n Act i. sc. 3.\n\nWe must not here omit to mention that the Germans, along with the\nFrench romances, early adopted the name of the F\u00e9es. They called them\nFeen and Feinen.[21] In the Tristram of Gottfried von Strazburg we are\ntold that Duke Gylan had a syren-like little dog,\n\n Dez wart dem Herzoge gesandt 'Twas sent unto the duke, pard\u00e9,\n Uz Avalun, der _Feinen_ land, From Avalun, the Fays' countrie,\n Von einer Gottinne.--V. 1673. By a gentle goddess.\n\nIn the old German romance of Isotte and Blanscheflur, the hunter who\nsees Isotte asleep says, I doubt\n\n Dez sie menschlich sei, If she human be,\n Sie ist sch\u00f6ner denn eine _Feine_, She is fairer than a Fay.\n Von Fleische noch von Beine Of flesh or bone, I say,\n Kunte nit gewerden Never could have birth\n So sch\u00f6nes auf der erden. A thing so fair on earth.\n\nOur subject naturally divides itself into two principal branches,\ncorresponding to the different classes of beings to which the name\nFairy has been applied. The first, beings of the human race, but\nendowed with powers beyond those usually allotted to men, whom we\nshall term FAYS, or FAIRIES OF ROMANCE. The second, those little\nbeings of the popular creeds, whose descent we propose to trace from\nthe cunning and ingenious Duergar or dwarfs of northern mythology, and\nwhom we shall denominate ELVES or POPULAR FAIRIES.\n\nIt cannot be expected that our classifications should vie in accuracy\nand determinateness with those of natural science. The human\nimagination, of which these beings are the offspring, works not, at\nleast that we can discover, like nature, by fixed and invariable laws;\nand it would be hard indeed to exact from the Fairy historian the\nrigid distinction of classes and orders which we expect from the\nbotanist or chemist. The various species so run into and are\nconfounded with one another; the actions and attributes of one kind\nare so frequently ascribed to another, that scarcely have we begun to\nerect our system, when we find the foundation crumbling under our\nfeet. Indeed it could not well be otherwise, when we recollect that\nall these beings once formed parts of ancient and exploded systems of\nreligion, and that it is chiefly in the traditions of the peasantry\nthat their memorial has been preserved.\n\nWe will now proceed to consider the Fairies of romance; and as they\nare indebted, though not for their name, yet perhaps for some of their\nattributes, to the Peries of Persia, we will commence with that\ncountry. We will thence pursue our course through Arabia, till we\narrive at the middle-age romance of Europe, and the gorgeous realms of\nFairy-land; and thence, casting a glance at the Faerie Queene, advance\nto the mountains and forests of the North, there to trace the origin\nof the light-hearted, night-tripping elves.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The mark on Adam's Peak in Ceylon is, by the Buddhists, ascribed to\nBuddha; by the Mohammedans, to Adam. It reminds one of the story of the\nlady and the vicar, viewing the moon through a telescope; they saw in\nit, as they thought, two figures inclined toward each other: \"Methinks,\"\nsays the lady, \"they are two fond lovers, meeting to pour forth their\nvows by earth-light.\" \"Not at all,\" says the vicar, taking his turn at\nthe glass; \"they are the steeples of two neighbouring churches.\"\n\n[2] Faerie Queene, III. c. iii. st. 8, 9, 10, 11. Drayton,\nPoly-Olbion, Song VI. We fear, however, that there is only poetic\nauthority for this belief. Mr. Todd merely quotes Warton, who says\nthat Spenser borrowed it from Giraldus Cambrensis, who picked it up\namong the romantic traditions propagated by the Welsh bards. The\nreader will be, perhaps, surprised to hear that Giraldus says nothing\nof the demons. He mentions the sounds, and endeavours to explain them\nby natural causes. Hollingshed indeed (l. i. c. 24.) says, \"whereof\nthe superstitious sort do gather many toys.\"\n\n[3] The Haddock.\n\n[4] For a well-chosen collection of examples, see the very learned and\nphilosophical preface of the late Mr. Price to his edition of Warton's\nHistory of English Poetry, p. 28 _et seq._\n\n[5] In the Middle Ages the gods of the heathens were all held to be\ndevils.\n\n[6] \u03a6\u03b7\u03c1 is the Ionic form of \u03b8\u03b7\u03c1, and is nearly related to the German\n_thier_, beast, animal. The Scandinavian _dyr_, and the Anglo-Saxon\n[Old English: deor], have the same signification; and it is curious to\nobserve the restricted sense which this last has gotten in the English\n_deer_.\n\n[7] Preface to Warton, p. 44; and Breton philologists furnish us with\nan etymon; not, indeed, of Fairy, but of Fada. \"Fada, fata, etc.,\"\nsays M. de Cambry (Monumens Celtiques), \"come from the Breton _mat_ or\n_mad_, in construction _fat_, good; whence the English, _maid_.\"\n\n[8] D'Herbelot _titre_ Mergian says, \"C'est du nom de cette F\u00e9e que\nnos anciens romans ont form\u00e9 celui de _Morgante la D\u00e9connue_.\" He here\nconfounds Morgana with Urganda, and he has been followed in his\nmistake. D'Herbelot also thinks it possible that _F\u00e9erie_ may come\nfrom _Peri_; but he regards the common derivation from _Fata_ as much\nmore probable. Cambrian etymologists, by the way, say that Morgain is\nMor Gwynn, the _White Maid_.\n\n[9] These two instances are given by Mdlle. Am\u00e9lie Bosquet (La\nNormandie Romanesque, etc. p. 91.) from Dom Martin, _Rel. des\nGaulois_, ii. ch. 23 and 24.\n\n[10] Gryphus ternarii numeri.\n\n[11] De Bell. Got. i. 25.\n\n[12] See below, _France_. It is also remarked that in some of the\ntales of the Pentamerone, the number of the _Fate_ is three; but to\nthis it may be replied, that in Italy every thing took a classic\ntinge, and that the Fate of those tales are only Maghe; so in the\nAmadigi of Bernardo Tasso we meet with La _Fata_ Urganda. In Spain and\nFrance the number would rather seem to have been seven. Cervantes\nspeaks of \"los siete castillos de las _siete_ fadas;\" in the Rom. de\nla Infantina it is said, \"_siete_ fadas me _fadaron_, en brazos de una\nama mia,\" and the _F\u00e9es_ are _seven_ in La Belle au Bois dormant. In\nthe romance, however, of Guillaume au Court-nez, the _F\u00e9es_ who carry\nthe sleeping Renoart out of the boat are _three_ in number.--See Grimm\nDeutsche Mythologie, p. 383.\n\n[13] A MS. of the 13th century, quoted by Grimm (_ut sup._ p. 405),\nthus relates the origin of Aquisgrani (Aix la Chapelle): Aquisgrani\ndicitur Ays, et dicitur eo, quod Karolus tenebat ibi quandam _mulierem\nfatatam_, sive quandam _fatam_, qu\u00e6 alio nomine _nimpha_ vel _dea_ vel\n_adriades_ (l. _dryas_) appellatur, et ad hanc consuetudinem habebat,\net eam cognoscebat; et ita erat, quod ipso accedente ad eam vivebat\nipsa, ipso Karolo recedente moriebatur. Contigit dum quadam vice ad\nipsam accessisset ut cum ea delectaretur, radius solis intravit os\nejus, et tunc Karolus vidit _granum auri_ lingue ejus affixum, quod\nfecit abscindi et contingenti (l. in continenti) mortua est, nec\npostea revixit.\n\n[14]\n\n \"Aissim _fadaro_ tres serors\n En aquella ora qu' ieu sui natz\n Que totz temps fos enamoratz.\"--_Folquet de Romans._\n\n(Thus three sisters _fated_, in the hour that I was born, that I\nshould be at all times in love.)\n\n\"Aissi fuy de nueitz _fadatz_ sobr' un puegau.\"--_Guilh. de Poitou._\n(Thus was I _fated_ by night on a hill.)--Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 383.\n\n[15] See our Virgil, Excurs. ix.\n\n[16] Following the analogy of the Gotho-German tongues, _zauberei_,\nGerm. _trylleri_, Dan. _trolleri_, Swed. illusion, enchantment. The\nItalian word is _fattucchieria_.\n\n[17] Here too there is _perhaps_ an analogy with _cavalry_,\n_infantry_, _squierie_, and similar collective terms.\n\n[18] The Faerie Queene was published some years before the Midsummer\nNight's Dream. Warton (Obs. on the Faerie Queene) observes: \"It appears\nfrom Marston's Satires, printed 1598, that the Faerie Queene occasioned\nmany publications in which Fairies were the principal actors.\n\n Go buy some ballad of the FAERY KING.--_Ad Lectorem._\n\n Out steps some Faery with quick motion,\n And tells him wonders of some flowerie vale--\n Awakes, straight rubs his eyes, and prints his tale.\n B. III. Sat. 6.\"\n\n\n[19] It is in this century that we first meet with _Fairy_ as a\ndissyllable, and with a plural. It is then used in its fourth and last\nsense.\n\n[20] The Fata Morgana of the Straits of Messina is an example; for the\nname of Morgana, whencesoever derived, was probably brought into Italy\nby the poets.\n\n[21] Dobenek, des deutschen Mittelalters und Volksglauben. Berlin, 1816.\n\n\n\n\n ORIENTAL ROMANCE.[22]\n\n[Illustration: SADEE.]\n\n All human beings must in beauty yield\n To you; a PERI I have ne'er beheld.\n\n\n PERSIAN ROMANCE.\n\nThe pure and simple religion of ancient Persia, originating, it is\nsaid, with a pastoral and hunting race among the lofty hills of\nAderbij\u00e2n, or, as others think, in the elevated plains of Bactria, in\na region where light appears in all its splendour, took as its\nfundamental principle the opposition between light and darkness, and\nviewed that opposition as a conflict. Light was happiness; and the\npeople of Ir\u00e2n, the land of light, were the favourites of Heaven;\nwhile those of Tur\u00e2n, the gloomy region beyond the mountains to the\nnorth, were its enemies. In the realms of supernal light sits\nenthroned Ormuzd, the first-born of beings; around him are the six\nAmshaspands, the twenty-eight Izeds, and the countless myriads of\nFerohers.[23] In the opposite kingdom of darkness Aherman is supreme,\nand his throne is encompassed by the six Arch-Deevs, and the numerous\nhosts of inferior Deevs. Between these rival powers ceaseless warfare\nprevails; but at the end the prince of darkness will be subdued, and\npeace and happiness prevail beneath the righteous sway of Ormuzd.\n\nFrom this sublime system of religion probably arose the Peri-[24] or\nFairy-system of modern Persia; and thus what was once taught by sages,\nand believed by monarchs, has shared the fate of everything human, and\nhas sunk from its pristine rank to become the material and the\nmachinery of poets and romancers. The wars waged by the fanatical\nsuccessors of the Prophet, in which literature was confounded with\nidolatry, have deprived us of the means of judging of this system in\nits perfect form; and in what has been written respecting the Peries\nand their country since Persia has received the law of Mohammed, the\nadmixture of the tenets and ideas of Islam is evidently perceptible.\nIf, however, Orientalists be right in their interpretation of the name\nof Artaxerxes' queen, Parisatis, as Pari-zadeh[25] (_Peri-born_), the\nPeri must be coeval with the religion of Zoroaster.\n\nThe Peries and Deevs of the modern Persians answer to the good and\nevil Jinn of the Arabs, of whose origin and nature we shall presently\ngive an account. The same Suleymans ruled over them as over the Jinn,\nand both alike were punished for disobedience. It is difficult to say\nwhich is the original; but when we recollect in how much higher a\nstate of culture the Persians were than the Arabs, and how well this\nview accords with their ancient system of religion, we shall feel\ninclined to believe that the Arabs were the borrowers, and that by\nmingling with the Persian system ideas derived from the Jews, that one\nwas formed by them which is now the common property of all Moslems.\n\nIn like manner we regard the mountains of K\u00e2f, the abode alike of Jinn\nand of Peries and Deevs, as having belonged originally to Persian\ngeography. The fullest account of it appears in the Persian romance of\nHatim Ta\u00ef,[26] the hero of which often visited its regions. From this it\nwould seem that this mountain-range was regarded as, like that of the\nancient Greek cosmology, surrounding the flat circular earth like a\nring, or rather like the bulwarks of a ship, outside of which flowed the\nocean; while some Arab authorities make it to lie beyond, and to enclose\nthe ocean as well as the earth.[27] It is said to be composed of green\nchrysolite, the reflection of which gives its greenish tint to the sky.\nAccording to some, its height is two thousand English miles.\n\nJinnest\u00e2n is the common appellation of the whole of this ideal region.\nIts respective empires were divided into many kingdoms, containing\nnumerous provinces and cities. Thus in the Peri-realms we meet with\nthe luxuriant province of Shad-u-k\u00e2m (_Pleasure and Delight_), with\nits magnificent capital Juherab\u00e2d (_Jewel-city_), whose two kings\nsolicited the aid of Caherm\u00e2n against the Deevs,[28] and also the\nstately Amberab\u00e2d (_Amber-city_), and others equally splendid. The\nmetropolis of the Deev-empire is named Ahermanab\u00e2d (_Aherman's city_);\nand imagination has lavished its stores in the description of the\nenchanted castle, palace, and gallery of the Deev monarch, Arzshenk.\n\nThe Deevs and Peries wage incessant war with each other. Like mankind,\nthey are subject to death, but after a much longer period of\nexistence; and, though far superior to man in power, they partake of\nhis sentiments and passions.\n\nWe are told that when the Deevs in their wars make prisoners of the\nPeries, they shut them up in iron cages, and hang them from the tops\nof the highest trees, exposed to every gaze and to every chilling\nblast. Here their companions visit them, and bring them the choicest\nodours to feed on; for the ethereal Peri lives on perfume, which has\nmoreover the property of repelling the cruel Deevs, whose malignant\nnature is impatient of fragrance.[29]\n\nWhen the Peries are unable to withstand their foes, they solicit the\naid of some mortal hero. Enchanted arms and talismans enable him to cope\nwith the gigantic Deevs, and he is conveyed to Jinnest\u00e2n on the back of\nsome strange and wonderful animal. His adventures in that country\nusually furnish a wide field for poetry and romance to expatiate in.\n\nThe most celebrated adventurer in Jinnest\u00e2n was Tahmuras, surnamed\nDeev-bend (_Deev-binder_),[30] one of the ancient kings of Persia. The\nPeries sent him a splendid embassy, and the Deevs, who dreaded him,\ndespatched another. Tahmuras, in doubt how to act, consults the\nwonderful bird Seemurgh,[31] who speaks all languages, and whose\nknowledge embraces futurity. She advises him to aid the Peries, warns\nhim of the dangers he has to encounter, and discloses his proper line\nof action. She further offers to convey him to Jinnest\u00e2n, and plucks\nsome feathers from her breast, with which the Persian monarch adorns\nhis helmet.\n\nMounted on the Seemurgh, and bracing on his arm the potent buckler of\nJ\u00e2n-ibn-J\u00e2n,[32] Tahmuras crosses the abyss impassable to unaided\nmortality. The vizier Iml\u00e2n, who had headed the Deev embassy,\ndeserting his original friends, had gone over to Tahmuras, and through\nthe magic arts of the Deev, and his own daring valour, the Persian\nhero defeats the Deev-king Arzshenk. He next vanquishes a Deev still\nmore fierce, named Demrush, who dwelt in a gloomy cavern, surrounded\nby piles of wealth plundered from the neighbouring realms of Persia\nand India. Here Tahmuras finds a fair captive, the Peri Merj\u00e2n,[33]\nwhom Demrush had carried off, and whom her brothers, D\u00e2l Peri and\nMil\u00e2n Sh\u00e2h Peri, had long sought in vain. He chains the Deev in the\ncentre of the mountain, and at the suit of Merj\u00e2n hastens to attack\nanother powerful Deev named Houndkonz; but here, alas! fortune deserts\nhim, and, maugre his talismans and enchanted arms, the gallant\nTahmuras falls beneath his foe.\n\nThe great Deev-bend, or conqueror of Deevs, of the Sh\u00e2h-N\u00e2meh[34] is the\nillustrious Roostem. In the third of his Seven Tables or adventures, on\nhis way to relieve the Sh\u00e2h Ky-Caoos, whom the artifice of a Deev had\nled to Mazender\u00e2n, where he was in danger of perishing, he encounters in\nthe dark of the night a Deev named Asdeev, who stole on him in a\ndragon's form as he slept. Twice the hero's steed, Reksh, awoke him, but\neach time the Deev vanished, and Roostem was near slaying his good steed\nfor giving him a false alarm. The third time he saw the Deev and slew\nhim after a fearful combat. He then pursued his way to the cleft in the\nmountain in which abode the great Deev Sefeed, or White Deev. The\nseventh Table brought him to where lay an army of the Deev Sefeed's\nDeevs, commanded by Arzshenk, whose head he struck off, and put his\ntroops to flight. At length he reached the gloomy cavern of the Deev\nSefeed himself, whom he found asleep, and scorning the advantage he\nawoke him, and after a terrific combat deprived him also of life.\n\nMany years after, when Ky-Khosroo sat on the throne, a wild ass of\nhuge size, his skin like the sun, and a black stripe along his back,\nappeared among the royal herds and destroyed the horses. It was\nsupposed to be the Deev Akv\u00e2n, who was known to haunt an adjacent\nspring. Roostem went in quest of him; on the fourth day he found him\nand cast his noose at him, but the Deev vanished. He re-appeared; the\nhero shot at him, but he became again invisible. Roostem then let\nReksh graze, and laid him to sleep by the fount. As he slept, Akv\u00e2n\ncame and flew up into the air with him; and when he awoke, he gave him\nhis choice of being let fall on the mountains or the sea. Roostem\nsecretly chose the latter, and to obtain it he pretended to have heard\nthat he who was drowned never entered paradise. Akv\u00e2n thereupon let\nhim fall into the sea, from which he escaped, and returning to the\nfount, he there met and slew the Deev. Roostem's last encounter with\nDeevs was with Akv\u00e2n's son, Berkhyas, and his army, when he went to\ndeliver Peshen from the dry well in which he was confined by Afrasi\u00e2b.\nHe slew him and two-thirds of his troops. Berkhyas is described as\nbeing a mountain in size, his face black, his body covered with hair,\nhis neck like that of a dragon, two boar's tusks from his mouth, his\neyes wells of blood, his hair bristling like needles, his height 140\nells, his breadth 17, pigeons nestling in his snaky locks. Akv\u00e2n had\nhad a head like an elephant.\n\nIn the Hindoo-Persian Bahar Danush (_Garden of Knowledge_) of\nYn\u00e2yet-\u00fbllah, written in India A.D. 1650,[35] we find the following\ntale of the Peries, which has a surprising resemblance to European\nlegends hereafter to be noticed.[36]\n\n\n\n _The Peri-Wife._\n\nThe son of a merchant in a city of Hindostan, having been driven from\nhis father's house on account of his undutiful conduct, assumed the\ngarb of a Kalenderee or wandering Derweesh, and left his native town.\nOn the first day of his travels, being overcome with fatigue before he\nreached any place of rest, he went off the high road and sat down at\nthe foot of a tree by a piece of water: while he sat there, he saw at\nsunset four doves alight from a tree on the edge of the pond, and\nresuming their natural form (for they were Peries) take off their\nclothes and amuse themselves by bathing in the water. He immediately\nadvanced softly, took up their garments, without being seen, and\nconcealed them in the hollow of a tree, behind which he placed\nhimself. The Peries when they came out of the water and missed their\nclothes were distressed beyond measure. They ran about on all sides\nlooking for them, but in vain. At length, finding the young man and\njudging that he had possessed himself of them, they implored him to\nrestore them. He would only consent on one condition, which was that\none of them should become his wife. The Peries asserted that such a\nunion was impossible between them whose bodies were formed of fire and\na mortal who was composed of clay and water; but he persisted, and\nselected the one which was the youngest and handsomest. They were at\nlast obliged to consent, and having endeavoured to console their\nsister, who shed copious floods of tears at the idea of parting with\nthem and spending her days with one of the sons of Adam; and having\nreceived their garments, they took leave of her and flew away.\n\nThe young merchant then led home his fair bride and clad her\nmagnificently; but he took care to bury her Peri-raiment in a secret\nplace, that she might not be able to leave him. He made every effort\nto gain her affections, and at length succeeded in his object \"she\nplaced her foot in the path of regard, and her head on the carpet of\naffection.\" She bore him children, and gradually began to take\npleasure in the society of his female relatives and neighbours. All\ndoubts of her affection now vanished from his mind, and he became\nassured of her love and attachment.\n\nAt the end of ten years the merchant became embarrassed in his\ncircumstances, and he found it necessary to undertake a long voyage.\nHe committed the Peri to the care of an aged matron in whom he had the\ngreatest confidence, and to whom he revealed the secret of her real\nnature, and showed the spot where he had concealed her raiment. He\nthen \"placed the foot of departure in the stirrup of travel,\" and set\nout on his journey. The Peri was now overwhelmed with sorrow for his\nabsence, or for some more secret cause, and continually uttered\nexpressions of regret. The old woman sought to console her, assuring\nher that \"the dark night of absence would soon come to an end, and the\nbright dawn of interview gleam from the horizon of divine bounty.\" One\nday when the Peri had bathed, and was drying her amber-scented tresses\nwith a corner of her veil, the old woman burst out into expressions of\nadmiration at her dazzling beauty. \"Ah, nurse,\" replied she, \"though\nyou think my present charms great, yet had you seen me in my native\nraiment, you would have witnessed what beauty and grace the Divine\nCreator has bestowed upon Peries; for know that we are among the most\nfinished portraits on the tablets of existence. If then thou desirest\nto behold the skill of the divine artist, and admire the wonders of\ncreation, bring the robes which my husband has kept concealed, that I\nmay wear them for an instant, and show thee my native beauty, the like\nof which no human eye, but my lord's, hath gazed upon.\"\n\nThe simple woman assented, and fetched the robes and presented them to\nthe Peri. She put them on, and then, like a bird escaped from the\ncage, spread her wings, and, crying Farewell, soared to the sky and\nwas seen no more. When the merchant returned from his voyage \"and\nfound no signs of the rose of enjoyment on the tree of hope, but the\nlamp of bliss extinguished in the chamber of felicity, he became as\none Peri-stricken,[37] a recluse in the cell of madness. Banished\nfrom the path of understanding, he remained lost to all the bounties\nof fortune and the useful purposes of life.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Peri has been styled \"the fairest creation of poetical imagination.\"\nNo description can equal the beauty of the female Peri,[38] and the\nhighest compliment a Persian poet can pay a lady is to liken her to one\nof these lovely aerial beings.[39] Thus S\u00e2dee, in the lines prefixed to\nthis section, declares that only the beauty of a Peri can be compared\nwith that of the fair one he addresses; and more lately, Aboo Taleeb\nKh\u00e2n says to Lady Elgin, as he is translated by M. von Hammer,[40]\n\n The sun, the moon, the Peries, and mankind,\n Compared with you, do far remain behind;\n For sun and moon have never form so mild,\n The Peries have, but roam in deserts wild.\n\nSir W. Ouseley is at a loss what to compare them to. They do not, he\nthinks, resemble the Angels, the Cherubim and Seraphim of the Hebrews,\nthe D\u00e6mons of the Platonists, or the Genii of the Romans; neither do\nthey accord with the Houri of the Arabs. Still less do they agree with\nthe Fairies of Shakspeare; for though fond of fragrance, and living\non that sweet essential food, we never find them employed in\n\n Killing cankers in the musk-rose buds,\n\nor obliged\n\n To serve the fairy queen\n To dew her orbs upon the green.\n\nNeither is their stature ever represented so diminutive as to make\nkey-holes pervious to their flight, or the bells of flowers their\nhabitations. But Milton's sublime idea of a 'faery vision,' he thinks,\ncorresponds more nearly with what the Persian poets have conceived of\nthe Peries.\n\n Their port was more than human, as they stood;\n I took it for a faery vision\n Of some gay creatures of the element\n That in the colours of the rainbow live\n And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awestruck,\n And as I pass'd I worshipp'd.--_Comus._\n\n\"I can venture to affirm,\" concludes Sir William gallantly, \"that he\nwill entertain a pretty just idea of a Persian Peri, who shall fix his\neyes on the charms of a beloved and beautiful mistress.\"\n\nIf poetic imagination exhausted itself in portraying the beauty of the\nPeries, it was no less strenuous in heaping attributes of deformity on\nthe Deevs. They may well vie in ugliness with the devils of our\nforefathers. \"At Lahore, in the Mogul's palace,\" says William Finch,\n\"are pictures of Dews, or Dives, intermixed in most ugly shapes, with\nlong horns, staring eyes, shaggy hair, great fangs, ugly paws, long\ntails, with such horrible difformity and deformity, that I wonder the\npoor women are not frightened therewith.\"[41]\n\nSuch then is the Peri-system of the Mohammedan Persians, in which the\ninfluence of Isl\u00e2m is clearly perceptible, the very names of their\nfabled country and its kings being Arabic. Had we it as it was before\nthe Arabs forced their law on Persia, we should doubtless find it more\nconsistent in all its parts, more light, fanciful, and etherial.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[22] See D'Herbelot, Richardson's Dissertation, Ouseley's Persian\nMiscellanies, Wahl in the Mines de l'Orient, Lane, Thousand and One\nNights, Forbes, Hatim Ta\u00ef, etc., etc.\n\n[23] Ormuzd employed himself for three thousand years in making the\nheavens and their celestial inhabitants, the Ferohers, which are the\nangels and the unembodied souls of all intelligent beings. All nature\nis filled with Ferohers, or guardian angels, who watch over its\nvarious departments, and are occupied in performing their various\ntasks for the benefit of mankind.--_Erskine on the Sacred Books and\nReligion of the Parsis, in the Transactions of the Literary Society of\nBombay_, vol. ii. p. 318. The Feroher bears in fact a very strong\nresemblance to the Genius of the ancient Roman religion: see our\nMythology of Greece and Italy.\n\n[24] This word is pronounced _Perry_ or rather _Parry_.\n\n[25] [Illustration] Hence it follows that the very plausible idea of\nthe Peri having been the same with the Feroher cannot be correct.\n\n[26] Translated by Mr. Duncan Forbes. It is to be regretted that he\nhas employed the terms Fairies and Demons instead of Peries and Deevs.\n\n[27] See Lane, Thousand and One Nights, i. p. 21, _seq._\n\n[28] The Caherm\u00e2n N\u00e2meh is a romance in Turkish. Caherm\u00e2n was the\nfather of S\u00e2m, the grandfather of the celebrated Roostem.\n\n[29] It is in the Caherm\u00e2n N\u00e2meh that this circumstance occurs.\n\n[30] [Illustration] The Tahmuras N\u00e2meh is also in Turkish. It and the\nCaherm\u00e2n N\u00e2meh are probably translations from the Persian. As far as\nwe are aware, Richardson is the only orientalist who mentions these\ntwo romances.\n\n[31] [Illustration] It signifies 'thirty birds' and is thought to be\nthe roc of the Arabs. The poet S\u00e2dee, to express the bounty of the\nAlmighty says\n\n[Illustration]\n\n His liberal board he spreadeth out so wide,\n On K\u00e2f the Seemurgh is with food supplied.\n\nThe Seemurgh probably belongs to the original mythology of Persia, for\nshe appears in the early part of the Sh\u00e2h N\u00e2meh. When Z\u00e2l was born to\nS\u00e2m Nerim\u00e2n, his hair proved to be white. The father regarding this as\na proof of Deev origin, resolved to expose him, and sent him for that\npurpose to Mount Elburz. Here the poor babe lay crying and sucking his\nfingers till he was found by the Seemurgh, who abode on the summit of\nElburz, as she was looking for food for her young ones. But God put\npity into her heart, and she took him to her nest and reared him with\nher young. As he grew up, the caravans that passed by, spread the fame\nof his beauty and his strength, and a vision having informed S\u00e2m that\nhe was his son, he set out for Elburz to claim him from the Seemurgh.\nIt was with grief that Z\u00e2l quitted the maternal nest. The Seemurgh,\nwhen parting with her foster-son, gave him one of her feathers, and\nbade him, whenever he should be in trouble or danger, to cast it into\nthe fire, and he would have proof of her power; and she charged him at\nthe same time strictly never to forget his nurse.\n\n[32] See _Arabian Romance_.\n\n[33] [Illustration] a pearl. Life, soul also, according to Wilkins.\n\n[34] Ferdousee's great heroic poem. It is remarkable that the Peries\nare very rarely spoken of in this poem. They merely appear in it with\nthe birds and beasts among the subjects of the first Iranian monarchs.\n\n[35] Chap. xx. translation of Jonathan Scott, 1799.\n\n[36] See below, _Shetland_.\n\n[37] _i. e._ possessed, insane. It is like the \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03bb\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 of the\nGreeks.\n\n[38] It must be recollected that the Peries are of both sexes: we have\njust spoken of Peri _kings_, and of the _brothers_ of Merj\u00e2n.\n\n[39] In the Sh\u00e2h N\u00e2meh it is said of Prince Siyawush, that when he was\nborn he was _bright as a Peri_. We find the poets everywhere comparing\nfemale beauty to that of superior beings. The Greeks and Romans\ncompared a lovely woman to Venus, Diana, or the nymphs; the Persians\nto a Peri; the ancient Scandinavians would say she was Frith sem\nAlfkone, \"fair as an Alf-woman;\" and an Anglo-Saxon poet says of\nJudith that she was _Elf-sheen_, or fair as an Elf. In the Lay of\nGugemer it is said,\n\n Dedenz la Dame unt trov\u00e9e\n Ki de biaut\u00e9 resanbloit _F\u00e9e_.\n\nThe same expression occurs in M\u00e9on (3, 412); and in the Romant de la\nRose we meet, _jure que plus belle est que f\u00e9e_ (10, 425). In the\nPentamerone it is said of a king's son, _lo quale essenno bello comme\na no fato_.\n\n[40] Mines de l'Orient, vol. iii. p. 40. To make his version\ncompletely English, M. von Hammer uses the word Fairies; we have\nventured to change it.\n\n[41] In Purchas' Pilgrims, vol. i., quoted by Sir W. Ouseley.\n\n\n\n\n ARABIAN ROMANCE.\n\nThe Prophet is the centre round which every thing connected with Arabia\nrevolves. The period preceding his birth is regarded and designated as\nthe times of ignorance, and our knowledge of the ancient Arabian\nmythology comprises little more than he has been pleased to transmit to\nus. The Arabs, however, appear at no period of their history to have\nbeen a people addicted to fanciful invention. Their minds are acute and\nlogical, and their poetry is that of the heart rather than of the fancy.\nThey dwell with fondness on the joys and pains of love, and with\nenthusiasm describe the courage and daring deeds of warriors, or in\nmoving strains pour forth the plaintive elegy; but for the description\nof gorgeous palaces and fragrant gardens, or for the wonders of magic,\nthey are indebted chiefly to their Persian neighbours.[42]\n\nWhat classes of beings the popular creed may have recognised before\nthe establishment of Isl\u00e2m we have no means of ascertaining.[43] The\nSuspended Poems, and Antar, give us little or no information; we only\nknow that the tales of Persia were current among them, and were\nlistened to with such avidity as to rouse the indignation of the\nProphet. We must, therefore, quit the tents of the Bedoween, and the\nvalleys of 'Araby the Blest,' and accompany the khaleefehs to their\nmagnificent capital on the Tigris, whence emanated all that has thrown\nsuch a halo of splendour around the genius and language of Arabia. It\nis in this seat of empire that we must look to meet with the origin of\nthe marvels of Arabian literature.\n\nTransplanted to a rich and fertile soil, the sons of the desert\nspeedily abandoned their former simple mode of life; and the court of\nBagdad equalled or surpassed in magnificence any thing that the East\nhas ever witnessed. Genius, whatever its direction, was encouraged and\nrewarded, and the musician and the story-teller shared with the\nastronomer and historian the favour of the munificent khaleefehs. The\ntales which had amused the leisure of the Shahpoors and Yezdejirds\nwere not disdained by the Haroons and Almansoors. The expert narrators\naltered them so as to accord with the new faith. And it was thus,\nprobably, that the delightful Thousand and One Nights[44] were\ngradually produced and modified.\n\nAs the Genii or Jinn[45] are prominent actors in these tales, where\nthey take the place of the Persian Peries and Deevs, we will here give\nsome account of them.\n\nAccording to Arabian writers, there is a species of beings named Jinn\nor J\u00e2n (Jinnee _m._, Jinniyeh _f. sing._), which were created and\noccupied the earth several thousand years before Adam. A tradition\nfrom the Prophet says that they were formed of \"smokeless fire,\"\n_i.e._ the fire of the wind Simoom. They were governed by a succession\nof forty, or, as others say, seventy-two monarchs, named Suleyman, the\nlast of whom, called J\u00e2n-ibn-J\u00e2n, built the Pyramids of Egypt.\nProphets were sent from time to time to instruct and admonish them;\nbut on their continued disobedience, an army of angels appeared, who\ndrove them from the earth to the regions of the islands, making many\nprisoners, and slaughtering many more. Among the prisoners, was a\nyoung Jinnee, named 'Az\u00e2zeel, or El-H\u00e2rith (afterwards called Iblees,\nfrom his _despair_), who grew up among the angels, and became at last\ntheir chief. When Adam was created, God commanded the angels to\nworship him; and they all obeyed except Iblees, who, for his\ndisobedience, was turned into a Sheyt\u00e2n or Devil, and he became the\nfather of the Sheyt\u00e2ns.[46]\n\nThe Jinn are not immortal; they are to survive mankind, but to die\nbefore the general resurrection. Even at present many of them are slain\nby other Jinn, or by men; but chiefly by shooting-stars hurled at them\nfrom Heaven. The fire of which they were created, circulates in their\nveins instead of blood, and when they receive a mortal wound, it bursts\nforth and consumes them to ashes. They eat and drink, and propagate\ntheir species. Sometimes they unite with human beings, and the offspring\npartakes of the nature of both parents. Some of the Jinn are obedient to\nthe will of God, and believers in the Prophet, answering to the Peries\nof the Persians; others are like the Deevs, disobedient and malignant.\nBoth kinds are divided into communities, and ruled over by princes. They\nhave the power to make themselves visible and invisible at pleasure.\nThey can assume the form of various animals, especially those of\nserpents, cats, and dogs. When they appear in the human form, that of\nthe good Jinnee is usually of great beauty; that of the evil one, of\nhideous deformity, and sometimes of gigantic size.\n\nWhen the Z\u00f4ba'ah, a whirlwind that raises the sand in the form of a\npillar of tremendous height, is seen sweeping over the desert, the\nArabs, who believe it to be caused by the flight of an evil Jinnee,\ncry, Iron! Iron! (_Hadeed!_ _Hadeed!_) or Iron! thou unlucky one!\n(_Hadeed! y\u00e2 meshoom!_) of which metal the Jinn are believed to have a\ngreat dread. Or else they cry, God is most great! (_All\u00e2hu akbar!_)\nThey do the same when they see a water-spout at sea; for they assign\nthe same cause to its origin.[47]\n\nThe chief abode of the Jinn of both kinds is the Mountains of K\u00e2f,\nalready described. But they also are dispersed through the earth, and\nthey occasionally take up their residence in baths, wells, latrin\u00e6,\novens, and ruined houses.[48] They also frequent the sea and rivers,\ncross-roads, and market-places. They ascend at times to the confines\nof the lowest heaven, and by listening there to the conversation of\nthe angels, they obtain some knowledge of futurity, which they impart\nto those men who, by means of talismans or magic arts, have been able\nto reduce them to obedience.[49]\n\nThe following are anecdotes of the Jinn, given by historians of\neminence.[50]\n\nIt is related, says El-Kasweenee, by a certain narrator of traditions,\nthat he descended into a valley with his sheep, and a wolf carried off\na ewe from among them; and he arose and raised his voice, and cried,\n\"O inhabitant of the valley!\" whereupon he heard a voice saying, \"O\nwolf, restore him his sheep!\" and the wolf came with the ewe and left\nher, and departed.\n\nBen Shohnah relates, that in the year 456 of the Hejra, in the reign\nof Kaiem, the twenty-sixth khaleefeh of the house of Abbas, a report\nwas raised in Bagdad, which immediately spread throughout the whole\nprovince of Irak, that some Turks being out hunting saw in the desert\na black tent, beneath which there was a number of people of both\nsexes, who were beating their cheeks, and uttering loud cries, as is\nthe custom in the East when any one is dead. Amidst their cries they\nheard these words--_The great king of the Jinn is dead, woe to this\ncountry!_ and then there came out a great troop of women, followed by\na number of other rabble, who proceeded to a neighbouring cemetery,\nstill beating themselves in token of grief and mourning.\n\nThe celebrated historian Ebn Athir relates, that when he was at Mosul\non the Tigris, in the year 600 of the Hejra, there was in that country\nan epidemic disease of the throat; and it was said that a woman, of\nthe race of the Jinn, having lost her son, all those who did not\ncondole with her on account of his death were attacked with that\ndisease; so that to be cured of it men and women assembled, and with\nall their strength cried out, _O mother of Ankood, excuse us! Ankood\nis dead, and we did not mind it!_\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[42] Compare Antar and the Suspended Poems (translated by Sir W.\nJones) with the later Arabic works. Antar, though written by Asmai the\ncourt-poet of Haroon-er-Rasheed, gives the manners and ideas of the\nArabs of the Desert.\n\n[43] The Jinn are mentioned in the Kur\u00e2n and also in Antar.\n\n[44] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 37, _seq._ Lane, Thousand and\nOne Nights, _passim_.\n\n[45] Genius and Jinn, like Fairy and Peri, is a curious coincidence.\nThe Arabian Jinnee bears no resemblance whatever to the Roman Genius.\n\n[46] \"When we said unto the Angels, Worship ye Adam, and they\nworshiped except Iblees (who) was of the Jinn.\"--Kur\u00e2n. chap. xviii.\nv. 48. Worship is here prostration. The reply of Iblees was, \"Thou\nhast created _me_ of fire, and hast created _him_ of earth.\"--_Ib._\nvii. 11; xxxviii. 77.\n\n[47] It was the belief of the Irish peasantry, that whirlwinds of dust\non the roads were raised by the Fairies, who were then on a journey. On\nsuch occasions, unlike the Arabs, they used to raise their hats and say,\n\"God speed you, gentlemen!\" For the power of iron, see _Scandinavia_.\n\n[48] The Arabs when they pour water on the ground, let down a bucket\ninto a well, enter a bath, etc., say, \"Permission!\" (_Destoor!_) or,\nPermission, ye blessed! (_Destoor, y\u00e2 mub\u00e2rakeen!_)\n\n[49] For the preceding account of the Jinn, we are wholly indebted to\nLane's valuable translation of the Thousand and One Nights, i. 30,\n_seq._\n\n[50] The first is given by Lane, the other two by D'Herbelot.\n\n\n\n\n MIDDLE-AGE ROMANCE.\n\n Ecco quei che le carte empion di sogni,\n Lancilotto, Tristano e gli altri erranti,\n Onde conven che il volgo errante agogni.\n PETRARCA.\n\n\nFew will now endeavour to trace romantic and marvellous fiction to any\nindividual source. An extensive survey of the regions of fancy and their\nproductions will incline us rather to consider the mental powers of man\nas having an uniform operation under every sky, and under every form of\npolitical existence, and to acknowledge that identity of invention is\nnot more to be wondered at than identity of action. It is strange how\nlimited the powers of the imagination are. Without due consideration of\nthe subject, it might be imagined that her stores of materials and\npowers of combination are boundless; yet reflection, however slight,\nwill convince us that here also 'there is nothing new,' and charges of\nplagiarism will in the majority of cases be justly suspected to be\ndevoid of foundation. The finest poetical expressions and similes of\noccidental literature meet us when we turn our attention to the East,\nand a striking analogy pervades the tales and fictions of every region.\nThe reason is, the materials presented to the inventive faculties are\nscanty. The power of combination is therefore limited to a narrow\ncompass, and similar combinations must hence frequently occur.\n\nYet still there is a high degree of probability in the supposition of\nthe luxuriant fictions of the East having through Spain and Syria\noperated on European fancy. The poetry and romance of the middle ages\nare notoriously richer in detail, and more gorgeous in invention, than\nthe more correct and chaste strains of Greece and Latium; the island\nof Calypso, for example, is in beauty and variety left far behind by\nthe retreats of the fairies of romance. Whence arises this difference?\nNo doubt\n\n When ancient chivalry display'd\n The pomp of her heroic games,\n And crested knights and tissued dames\n Assembled at the clarion's call,\n In some proud castle's high-arch'd hall,\n\nthat a degree of pomp and splendour met the eye of the minstrel and\nromancer on which the bards of the simple republics of ancient times had\nnever gazed, and this might account for the difference between the\npoetry of ancient and of middle-age Europe. Yet, notwithstanding, we\ndiscover such an Orientalism in the latter as would induce us to\nacquiesce in the hypothesis of the fictions and the manner of the East\nhaving been early transmitted to the West; and it is highly probable\nthat along with more splendid habits of life entered a more lavish use\nof the gorgeous stores laid open to the plastic powers of fiction. The\ntales of Arabia were undoubtedly known in Europe from a very early\nperiod. The romance of Cleomades and Claremonde, which was written in\nthe thirteenth century,[51] not merely resembles, but actually is the\nstory of the Enchanted Horse in the Thousand and One Nights. Another\ntale in the same collection, The two Sisters who envied their younger\nSister, may be found in Straparola, and is also a popular story in\nGermany; and in the Pentamerone and other collections of tales published\nlong before the appearance of M. Galland's translation of the Eastern\nones, numerous traces of an oriental origin may be discerned. The\nprincipal routes they came by may also be easily shown. The necessities\nof commerce and the pilgrimage to Mecca occasioned a constant\nintercourse between the Moors of Spain and their fellow-sectaries of the\nEast; and the Venetians, who were the owners of Candia, carried on an\nextensive trade with Syria and Egypt. It is worthy of notice, that the\nNotti Piacevoli of Straparola were first published in Venice, and that\nBasile, the author of the Pentamerone, spent his youth in Candia, and\nwas afterwards a long time at Venice. Lastly, pilgrims were notorious\nnarrators of marvels, and each, as he visited the Holy Land, was anxious\nto store his memory with those riches, the diffusal of which procured\nhim attention and hospitality at home.\n\nWe think, therefore, that European romance may be indebted, though not\nfor the name, yet for some of the attributes and exploits of its\nfairies to Asia. This is more especially the case with the romances\ncomposed or turned into prose in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and\nsixteenth centuries; for in the earlier ones the Fairy Mythology is\nmuch more sparingly introduced.\n\nBut beside the classic and oriental prototypes of its fairies, romance\nmay have had an additional one in the original mythology of the Celtic\ntribes, of which a being very nearly allied to the fay of romance\nappears to have formed a part. Such were the damoiselles who bestowed\ntheir favours upon Lanval and Graelent. This subject shall, however,\nbe more fully considered under the head of Brittany.\n\nRomances of chivalry, it is well known, may be divided into three\nprincipal classes; those of Arthur and his Round Table, of Charlemagne\nand his Paladins, and those of Amadis and Palmerin, and their\ndescendants and kindred. In the first, with the exception of Isaie le\nTriste, which appears to be a work of the fifteenth century, the\nfairies appear but seldom; the second exhibits them in all their\nbrilliancy and power; in the third, which all belong to the literature\nof Spain, the name at least does not occur, but the enchantress\nUrganda la Desconecida seems equal in power to La Dame du Lac, in the\nromance of Lancelot du Lac.[52]\n\nAmong the incidents of the fine old romance just alluded to,[53] is\nnarrated the death of King Ban, occasioned by grief at the sight of\nhis castle taken and in flames through the treachery of his seneschal.\nHis afflicted queen had left her new-born infant on the margin of a\nlake, while she went to soothe the last moments of the expiring\nmonarch. On her return, she finds her babe in the arms of a beautiful\nlady. She entreats her pathetically to restore the orphan babe; but,\nwithout heeding her entreaties, or even uttering a single word, she\nmoves to the edge of the lake, into which she plunges and disappears\nwith the child. The lady was the celebrated Dame du Lac: the child was\nLancelot, afterwards styled Du Lac. The name of the lady was Vivienne,\nand she had dwelt \"en la marche de la petite Bretaigne.\" Merlin the\ndemon-born, the renowned enchanter, became enamoured of her, and\ntaught her a portion of his art; and the ill-return she made is well\nknown in the annals of female treachery.[54] In consequence of the\nknowledge thus acquired she became a fairy; for the author informs us\nthat \"the damsel who carried Lancelot to the lake was a fay, and in\nthose times all those women were called fays who had to do with\nenchantments and charms--and there were many of them then, principally\nin Great Britain--and knew the power and virtues of words, of stones,\nand of herbs, by which they were kept in youth and in beauty, and in\ngreat riches, as they devised.\"[55]\n\nThe lake was a _feerie_, an illusion raised by the art which the devil\nhad taught Merlin, and Merlin the lady. The romance says: \"The lady\nwho reared him conversed only in the forest, and dwelt on the summit\nof a hill, which was much lower than that on which King Ban had died.\nIn this place, where it seemed that the wood was large and deep, the\nlady had many fair houses, and very rich; and in the plain beneath\nthere was a gentle little river well-stored with fish; and this place\nwas so secret and so concealed, that right difficult was it for any\none to find, for the semblance of the said lake covered it so that it\ncould not be perceived.\"[56]\n\nWhen her young _prot\u00e9g\u00e9_ had gone through his course of knightly\neducation, she took him to King Arthur's court, and presented him\nthere; and his subsequent history is well known.\n\nIn the romance of Maugis d'Aygremont et de Vivian son Fr\u00e8re, when\nTapinel and the female slave had stolen the two children of Duke Bevis\nof Aygremont, the former sold to the wife of Sorgalant the child which\nhe had taken, whose name was Esclarmonde, and who was about fifteen\nyears of age, and was \"plus belle et plus blanche qu'une f\u00e9e.\" The\nslave having laid herself to rest under a white-thorn (_aube-spine_),\nwas devoured by a lion and a leopard, who killed one another in their\ndispute for the infant. \"And the babe lay under the thorn, and cried\nloudly, during which it came to pass that Oriande la F\u00e9e, who abode at\nRosefleur with four other fays, came straight to this thorn; for every\ntime she passed by there she used to repose under that white-thorn.\nShe got down, and hearing the child cry, she came that way and looked\nat him, and said, 'By the god in whom we believe, this child here is\nlying badly (_mal gist_), and this shall be his name;' and from that\ntime he was always called Maugis.\"\n\nOriande la F\u00e9e brought the child home with her and her damsels; and\nhaving examined him, and found, by a precious ring that was in his ear,\nthat he was of noble lineage, \"she prayed our Lord that he would be\npleased of his grace to make known his origin (_nation_).\" When she had\nfinished her prayer, she sent for her nephew Espiet, \"who was a dwarf,\nand was not more than three feet high, and had his hair yellow as fine\ngold, and looked like a child of seven years, but he was more than a\nhundred; and he was one of the falsest knaves in the world, and knew\nevery kind of enchantment.\" Espiet informed her whose child he was; and\nOriande, having prayed to our Lord to preserve the child, took him with\nher to her castle of Rosefleur, where she had him baptised and named\nMaugis. She and her damsels reared him with great tenderness; and when\nhe was old enough she put him under the care of her brother Baudris,\n\"who knew all the arts of magic and necromancy, and was of the age of a\nhundred years;\" and he taught what he knew to Maugis.\n\nWhen Maugis was grown a man, the Fay Oriande clad him in arms, and he\nbecame her _ami_; and she loved him \"de si grand amour qu'elle doute\nfort qu'il ne se departe d'avecques elle.\"\n\nMaugis shortly afterwards achieved the adventure of gaining the\nenchanted horse Bayard, in the isle of Boucaut. Of Bayard it is said,\nwhen Maugis spoke to him, \"Bayard estoit _fey\u00e9_, si entendoit aussi\nbien Maugis comme s'il (_Bayard_) eust parl\u00e9.\" On his return from the\nisland, Maugis conquers and slays the Saracen admiral Anthenor, who\nhad come to win the lands and castle of Oriande, and gains the sword\nFlamberge (Floberge), which, together with Bayard, he afterwards gave\nto his cousin Renaud.\n\nIn Perceforest, Sebille la Dame du Lac, whose castle was surrounded by\na river on which lay so dense a fog that no one could see across the\nwater, though not called so, was evidently a fay. The fortnight that\nAlexander the Great and Floridas abode with her, to be cured of their\nwounds, seemed to them but as one night. During that night, \"la dame\ndemoura enceinte du roy dung filz, dont de ce lignage yssit le roi\nArtus.\"[57]\n\nIn the same romance[58] we are told that \"en lysle de Zellande jadis fut\ndemourante une _faee_ qui estoit appellee Morgane.\" This Morgane was\nvery intimate with \"ung esperit (named Zephir) qui repairoit es lieux\nacquatiques, mais jamais nestoit veu que de nuyt.\" Zephir had been in\nthe habit of repairing to Morgane la Faee from her youth up, \"car elle\nestoit malicieuse et subtille et tousjours avoit moult desire a\naucunement s\u00e7avoir des enchantemens et des conjurations.\" He had\ncommitted to her charge the young Passelyon and his cousin Bennucq, to\nbe brought up, and Passelyon was detected in an intrigue with the young\nMorgane, daughter of the fay. The various adventures of this amorous\nyouth form one of the most interesting portions of the romance.\n\nIn Tristan de Leonois,[59] king Meliadus, the father of Tristan, is\ndrawn to a chase _par mal engin et negromance_ of a fairy who was in\nlove with him, and carries him off, and from whose thraldom he was\nonly released by the power of the great enchanter Merlin.\n\nIn Parthenopex of Blois,[60] the beautiful fairy Melior, whose magic\nbark carries the knight to her secret island, is daughter to the\nemperor of Greece.\n\nIn no romance whatever is the fairy machinery more pleasingly\ndisplayed than in Sir Launfal, a metrical romance, composed[61] by\nThomas Chestre, in the reign of Henry VI.\n\nBefore, however, we give the analysis of this poem, which will be\nfollowed by that of another, and by our own imitations of this kind of\nverse, we will take leave to offer some observations on a subject that\nseems to us to be in general but little understood, namely, the\nstructure of our old English verse, and the proper mode of reading it.\n\nOur forefathers, like their Gotho-German kindred, regulated their verse\nby the number of accents, not of syllables. The foot, therefore, as we\nterm it, might consist of one, two, three, or even four syllables,\nprovided it had only one strongly marked accent. Further, the accent of\na word might be varied, chiefly by throwing it on the last syllable, as\n_nat\u00fare_ for _n\u00e1ture_, _hono\u00far_ for _h\u00f3nour_, etc. (the Italians, by the\nway, throw it back when two accents come into collision, as, _Il P\u00e1stor\nFido_[62]); they also sounded what the French call the feminine e of\ntheir words, as, _In old\u00e8 day\u00e8s of the King Arto\u00far_; and so well known\nseems this practice to have been, that the copyists did not always write\nthis _e_, relying on the skill of the reader to supply it.[63] There was\nonly one restriction, namely, that it was never to come before a vowel,\nunless where there was a pause. In this way the poetry of the middle\nages was just as regular as that of the present day; and Chaucer, when\nproperly read, is fully as harmonious as Pope. But the editors of our\nancient poems, with the exception of Tyrwhitt, seem to have been\nignorant or regardless of this principle; and in the Canterbury Tales\nalone is the verse properly arranged.\n\nWe will now proceed to the analysis of the romance of Sir Launfal.\n\nSir Launfal was one of the knights of Arthur, who loved him well, and\nmade him his steward. But when Arthur married the beautiful but frail\nGwennere, daughter of Ryon, king of Ireland, Launfal and other\nvirtuous knights manifested their dissatisfaction when she came to\ncourt. The queen was aware of this, and, at the first entertainment\ngiven by the king,\n\n The queen yaf (_gave_) gift\u00e8s for the nones,\n Gold and silver, precious stones,\n Her courtesy to kythe (_show_):\n Everiche knight she yaf broche other (_or_) ring,\n But Sir Launfal she yaf no thing,\n That grieved him many a sythe (_time_).\n\nLaunfal, under the feigned pretext of the illness of his father, takes\nleave of the king, and retires to Karlyoun, where he lives in great\npoverty. Having obtained the loan of a horse, one holyday, he rode into\na fair forest, where, overcome by the heat, he lay down under the shade\nof a tree, and meditated on his wretched state. In this situation he is\nattracted by the approach of two fair damsels splendidly arrayed.\n\n Their faces were white as snow on down,\n Their rode[64] was red, their eyne were brown;\n I saw never none swiche.\n That one bare of gold a bas\u00edn,\n That other a towel white and fine,\n Of silk that was good and riche;\n Their kerchev\u00e8s were wel\u00e8 skire (_clear_)\n Araid (_striped_) with rich\u00e8 gold\u00e8 wire--\n Launfal began to siche--\n They com\u00e8 to him over the hoth (_heath_),\n He was curte\u00eds, and against them goeth,\n And greet them mildeliche.\n\nThey greet him courteously in return, and invite him to visit their\nmistress, whose pavilion is at hand. Sir Launfal complies with the\ninvitation, and they proceed to where the pavilion lies. Nothing could\nexceed this pavilion in magnificence. It was surmounted by an _erne_\nor eagle, adorned with precious stones so rich, that the poet\ndeclares, and we believe, that neither Alexander nor Arthur possessed\n\"none swiche jewel.\"\n\n He found\u00e8 in the paviloun\n The king\u00e8s daughter of Oliroun,\n Dame Tryamour that hight;\n Her father was king of Fa\u00ebrie,\n Of occient\u00e8[65] fer and nigh,\n A man of mickle might.\n\nThe beauty of dame Tryamour was beyond conception.\n\n For heat her cloath\u00e8s down she dede\n Almost\u00e8 to her girdle stede (_place_),\n Than lay she uncover't;\n She was as white as lily in May,\n Or snow that snoweth in winter's day:\n He seigh (_saw_) never none so pert (_lively_).\n\n The red\u00e8 rose, when she is new,\n Against her rode was naught of hew\n I dare well say in cert;\n Her hair\u00e8 shone as gold\u00e8 wire:\n May no man red\u00e8 her attire,\n Ne naught well think in hert (_heart_).\n\nThis lovely dame bestows her heart on Sir Launfal, on condition of his\nfidelity. As marks of her affection, she gives him a never-failing\npurse and many other valuable presents, and dismisses him next morning\nwith the assurance, that whenever he wished to see her, his wish would\nbe gratified on withdrawing into a private room, where she would\ninstantly be with him. This information is accompanied with a charge\nof profound secrecy on the subject of their loves.\n\nThe knight returns to court, and astonishes every one by his riches\nand his munificence. He continues happy in the love of the fair\nTryamour, until an untoward adventure interrupts his bliss. One day\nthe queen beholds him dancing, with other knights, before her tower,\nand, inspired with a sudden affection, makes amorous advances to the\nknight. These passages of love are received on his part with an\nindignant repulse, accompanied by a declaration more enthusiastic than\npolitic or courteous, that his heart was given to a dame, the foulest\nof whose maidens surpassed the queen in beauty. The offence thus given\nnaturally effected an entire conversion in the queen's sentiments;\nand, when Arthur returned from hunting, like Potiphar's wife, she\ncharges Launfal with attempting her honour. The charge is credited,\nand the unhappy knight condemned to be burned alive, unless he shall,\nagainst a certain day, produce that peerless beauty. The fatal day\narrives; the queen is urgent for the execution of the sentence, when\nten fair damsels, splendidly arrayed, and mounted on white palfreys,\nare descried advancing toward the palace. They announce the approach\nof their mistress, who soon appears, and by her beauty justifies the\nassertion of her knight. Sir Launfal is instantly set at liberty, and,\nvaulting on the courser his mistress had bestowed on him, and which\nwas held at hand by his squire, he follows her out of the town.\n\n The lady rode down Cardevile,\n Fer into a jolif ile,\n Oliroun that hight;[66]\n Every year upon a certain day,\n Men may heare Launfales steed\u00e8 neighe,\n And him see with sight.\n He that will there axsy (_ask_) justes\n To keep his arm\u00e8s fro the rustes,\n In turnement other (_or_) fight,\n Dar (_need_) he never further gon;\n There he may find just\u00e8s anon,\n With Sir Launfal the knight.\n Thus Launful, withouten fable,\n That noble knight of the round\u00e8 table,\n Was taken into the fa\u00ebrie;\n Since saw him in this land no man,\n Ne no more of him tell I ne can,\n For sooth\u00e8, without lie.[67]\n\nNo romance is of more importance to the present subject than the\ncharming Huon de Bordeaux.[68] Generally known, as the story should\nbe, through Wieland's poem and Mr. Sotheby's translation, we trust\nthat we shall be excused for giving some passages from the original\nFrench romance, as Le petit roy Oberon appears to form a kind of\nconnecting link between the fairies of romance and the Elves or Dwarfs\nof the Teutonic nations. When we come to Germany it will be our\nendeavour to show how the older part of Huon de Bordeaux has been\ntaken from the story of Otnit in the Heldenbuch, where the dwarf king\nElberich performs nearly the same services to Otnit that Oberon does\nto Huon, and that, in fact, the name Oberon is only Elberich slightly\naltered.[69]\n\nHuon, our readers must know, encounters in Syria an old follower of his\nfamily named Gerasmes; and when consulting with him on the way to\nBabylon he is informed by him that there are two roads to that city, the\none long and safe, the other short and dangerous, leading through a\nwood, \"which is sixteen leagues long, but is so full of Fairie and\nstrange things that few people pass there without being lost or stopt,\nbecause therewithin dwelleth a king, Oberon the Fay. He is but three\nfeet in height; he is all humpy; but he hath an angelic face; there is\nno mortal man who should see him who would not take pleasure in looking\nat him, he hath so fair a face. Now you will hardly have entered the\nwood, if you are minded to pass that way, when he will find how to speak\nto you, but of a surety if you speak to him, you are lost for evermore,\nwithout ever returning; nor will it lie in you, for if you pass through\nthe wood, whether straightforwards or across it, you will always find\nhim before you, and it will be impossible for you to escape at all\nwithout speaking to him, for his words are so pleasant to hear, that\nthere is no living man who can escape him. And if so be that he should\nsee that you are nowise inclined to speak to him, he will be passing\nwroth with you. For before you have left the wood he will cause it so to\nrain on you, to blow, to hail, and to make such right marvellous storms,\nthunder and lightning, that you will think the world is going to end.\nThen you will think that you see a great flowing river before you,\nwondrously black and deep; but know, sire, that right easily will you be\nable to go through it without wetting the feet of your horse, for it is\nnothing but a phantom and enchantments that the dwarf will make for you,\nbecause he wishes to have you with him, and if it so be that you keep\nfirm to your resolve, not to speak to him, you will be surely able to\nescape,\" etc.[70]\n\nHuon for some time followed the sage advice of Gerasmes, and avoided\nOberon le fay\u00e9. The storms of rain and thunder came on as predicted,\nthe magic horn set them all dancing, and at last the knight determined\nto await and accost the dwarf.\n\n\"The Dwarf Fay came riding through the wood, and was clad in a robe so\nexceeding fine and rich, that it would be a marvel to relate it for\nthe great and marvellous riches that were upon it; for so much was\nthere of precious stones, that the great lustre that they cast was\nlike unto the sun when he shineth full clear. And therewithal he bare\na right fair bow in his fist, so rich that no one could value it, so\nfine it was; and the arrow that he bare was of such sort and manner,\nthat there was no beast in the world that he wished to have, that it\ndid not stop at that arrow. He had at his neck a rich horn, which was\nhung by two rich strings of fine gold.\"[71]\n\nThis horn was wrought by four Fairies, who had endowed it with its\nmarvellous properties.\n\nOberon, on bringing Huon to speech, informed him that he was the son of\nJulius C\u00e6sar, and the lady of the Hidden Island, afterwards called\nCephalonia. This lady's first love had been Florimont of Albania, a\ncharming young prince, but being obliged to part from him, she married,\nand had a son named Neptanebus, afterwards King of Egypt, who begot\nAlexander the Great, who afterwards put him to death. Seven hundred\nyears later, C\u00e6sar, on his way to Thessaly, was entertained in\nCephalonia by the lady of the isle, and he loved her, for she told him\nhe would defeat Pompey, and he became the father of Oberon. Many a noble\nprince and noble fairy were at the birth, but one Fairy was unhappily\nnot invited, and the gift she gave was that he should not grow after his\nthird year, but repenting, she gave him to be the most beautiful of\nnature's works. Other Fairies gave him the gift of penetrating the\nthoughts of men, and of transporting himself and others from place to\nplace by a wish; and the faculty, by like easy means, of raising and\nremoving castles, palaces, gardens, banquets, and such like. He further\ninformed the knight, that he was king and lord of Mommur; and that when\nhe should leave this world his seat was prepared in Paradise--for\nOberon, like his prototype Elberich, was a veritable Christian.\n\nWhen after a variety of adventures Oberon comes to Bordeaux to the aid\nof Huon, and effects a reconciliation between him and Charlemagne, he\ntells Huon that the time is at hand that he should leave this world\nand take the seat prepared for him in Paradise, \"en faerie ne veux\nplus demeurer.\" He directs him to appear before him within four years\nin his city of Mommur, where he will crown him as his successor.\n\nHere the story properly ends, but an addition of considerable magnitude\nhas been made by a later hand, in which the story is carried on.\n\nMany are the perils which Huon encounters before the period appointed\nby Oberon arrives. At length, however, he and the fair Esclairmonde\n(the Rezia of Wieland) come to Mommur. Here, in despite of Arthur\n(who, with his sister Morgue la fa\u00e9e and a large train, arrives at\ncourt, and sets himself in opposition to the will of the monarch, but\nis reduced to order by Oberon's threat of turning him into a _Luyton\nde Mer_[72]), Huon is crowned king of all Faerie \"tant du pais des\nLuytons comme des autres choses secretes reserv\u00e9es dire aux hommes.\"\nArthur gets the kingdom of Bouquant, and that which Sybilla held of\nOberon, and all the Faeries that were in the plains of Tartary. The\ngood king Oberon then gave Huon his last instructions, recommending\nhis officers and servants to him, and charging him to build an abbey\nbefore the city, in the mead which the dwarf had loved, and there to\nbury him. Then, falling asleep in death, a glorious troop of angels,\nscattering odours as they flew, conveyed his soul to Paradise.\n\nIsaie le Triste is probably one of the latest romances, certainly\nposterior to Huon de Bordeaux, for the witty but deformed dwarf Tronc,\nwho is so important a personage in it, is, we are told, Oberon, whom\nDestiny compelled to spend a certain period in that form. And we\nshall, as we have promised, prove Oberon to be the handsome dwarf-king\nElberich. In Isaie the Faery ladies approach to the F\u00e9es of Perrault,\nand Madame D'Aulnoy. Here, as at the birth of Oberon and of Ogier le\nDanois, they interest themselves for the new-born child, and bestow\ntheir gifts upon it. The description in this romance of the manner in\nwhich the old hermit sees them occupied about the infant Isaie is very\npleasing. It was most probably Fairies of this kind, and not the\ndiminutive Elves, that Milton had in view when writing these lines:\n\n Good luck betide thee, son, for, at thy birth,\n The Faery ladies danced upon the hearth.\n Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy\n Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie,\n And, sweetly singing round about thy bed,\n Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head.\n\n\nThe description of the Vergier des F\u00e9es in Isaie le Triste, and of the\nbeautiful valley in which it was situated, may rival in richness and\nluxuriancy similar descriptions in Spenser and the Italian poets.[73]\n\nWe have now, we trust, abundantly proved our position of the Fairies\nof romance being, at least at the commencement, only 'human mortals,'\nendowed with superhuman powers, though we may perceive that, as the\nknowledge of Oriental fiction increased, the Fairies began more and\nmore to assume the character of a distinct species. Our position will\nacquire additional strength when in the course of our inquiry we\narrive at France and Italy.\n\nClosely connected with the Fairies is the place of their abode, the\nregion to which they convey the mortals whom they love, 'the happy\nlond of Faery.'\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[51] On the subjects mentioned in this paragraph, see Tales and\nPopular Fictions, chap. ii. and iii.\n\n[52] In the Amadigi of B. Tasso, she is La Fata Urganda.\n\n[53] Lancelot is regarded as probably the earliest prose romance of\nchivalry. It was first printed in 1494. The metrical romance called La\nCharrette, of which Lancelot is the hero, was begun by Chrestien de\nTroyes, who died in 1191, and finished by Geoffrey de Ligny. We may\nhere observe that almost all the French romances of chivalry were\nwritten originally in verse in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,\nprincipally by Chrestien de Troyes and Huon de Villeneuve. The prose\nromances in general were made from them in the fifteenth century.\n\n[54]\n\n For while it was in hand, by loving of an elf,\n For all his wondrous skill was cozened of himself:\n For walking with his Fay, her to the rock he brought,\n In which he oft before his nigromancies wrought.\n And going in thereat, his magics to have shown,\n She stopt the cavern's mouth with an enchanted stone,\n Whose cunning strongly crossed, amazed while he did stand,\n She captive him conveyed unto the Fairy-land.\n Drayton, _Poly-Olb._ Song IV.--See above, p. 2.\n\n\n[55] La damoiselle qui Lancelot porta au lac estoit une _f\u00e9e_, et en\ncellui temps estoient appell\u00e9es _fees_ toutes celles qui\nsentremcloient denchantements et de charmes, et moult en estoit pour\nlors principallement en la Grand Bretaigne, et savoient la force et la\nvertu des parolles, des pierres, et des herbes, parquoi elles estoient\nen jeunesse, et en beaulte, et en grandes richesses, comment elles\ndivisoient.\n\n[56] La dame qui le nourissoit ne conversoit que en forest, et estoit au\nplain de ung tertre plus bas assez que celui ou le roy Ban estoit mort:\nen ce lieu ou il sembloit que le bois fust grant et parfont (_profond_)\navoit la dame moult de belles maisons et moult riches; et au plain\ndessoubs y avoit une gente petite riviere moult plantureuse de poissons;\net estoit ce lieu si cele et secret que bien difficille estoit a homme\nde le trouver, car la semblance du dit lac le couvroit si que il ne\npouvoit estre apperceu. And farther, La damoiselle nestoit mie seulle,\nmais y avoit grande compaignie de chevaliers et de dames et damoiselles.\n\n[57] Vol. i. ch. 42.\n\n[58] Vol. iii. ch. 31.\n\n[59] Tristan was written in verse by Chrestien de Troyes. The prose\nromance was first printed in 1489.\n\n[60] Parthenopex was written in French in the twelfth century,\naccording to Le Grand; in the thirteenth, according to Roquefort.\n\n[61] _Composed_--for to call it, with Ellis, Ritson, and others, a\ntranslation, would be absurd. How Ellis, who had at least read Le\nGrand's and Way's Fabliaux, could say of Chestre, that he \"seems to\nhave given a _faithful_ as well as spirited version of this old Breton\nstory,\" is surprising. It is in fact no translation, but a poem on the\nadventures of Sir Launfal, founded chiefly on the Lais de Lanval and\nde Graelent, in Marie de France, with considerable additions of\nChestre's own invention, or derived from other sources. These Lais\nwill be considered under Brittany.\n\n[62] Thus we ourselves say _the Pr\u00edncess Royal, \u00e9xtreme need_, etc.\nThis, by the way, is the cause why the Greeks put a grave and not an\nacute accent on words accented on the last syllable, to show that it\nis easily moveable.\n\n[63] As this seems to be one of the lost arts, we will here and\nelsewhere mark the feminine _e_ and the change of accent.\n\n[64] Rode--complexion; from _red_.\n\n[65] Occient--_occident_ or _oc\u00e9an_? The Gascon peasantry call the Bay\nof Biscay _La Mer d'Occient_. The Spaniards say _Mar Oceano_.\n\n[66] It is strange to find the English poet changing the Avalon of the\nLai de Lanval into the well-known island of Ol\u00e9ron. It is rather\nstrange too, that Mr. Ritson, who has a note on \"Oliroun,\" did not\nnotice this.\n\n[67] The Lai ends thus:\n\n Od (_avec_) li sen vait en Avalun,\n Ceo nus recuntent le Bretun;\n En une isle que mut est beaus,\n La fut ravi li dameiseaus,\n Nul humme nen ot plus parler,\n Ne jeo nen sai avant cunter.\n\nIn Graelent it is said that the horse of the knight used to return\nannually to the river where he lost his master. The rest is Thomas\nChestre's own, taken probably from the well-known story in Gervase of\nTilbury.\n\n[68] Huon, Hue, or Hullin (for he is called by these three names in\nthe poetic romance) is, there can be little doubt, the same person\nwith Yon king of Bordeaux in the Quatre Filz Aymon, another\ncomposition of Huon de Villeneuve, and with Lo Re Ivone, prince or\nduke of Guienne in Bojardo and Ariosto. See the Orl. Inn. l. i. c. iv.\nst. 46. I Cinque Canti, c. v. st. 42.\n\n[69] Otnit was supposed to have been written by Wolfram von\nEschembach, in the early part of the thirteenth century. It is\npossibly much older. Huon de Bordeaux was, it is said, written in\nFrench verse by Huon de Villeneuve, some time in the same century. It\ndoes not appear in the list of Huon de Villeneuve's works given by\nMons. de Roquefort. At the end of the prose romance we are told that\nit was written at the desire of Charles seigneur de Rochefort, and\ncompleted on the 29th of January, 1454.\n\n[70] Qui a de long seizes lieues, mais tant est plain de faerie et\nchose estrange que peu de gens y passent qui n'y soient perdus ou\narrestez, pour ce que la dedans demeure un roi, Oberon le fay\u00e9. Il n'a\nque trois pieds de hauteur; il est tout bossu; mais il a un visage\nangelique; il n'est homme mortel que le voye que plaisir ne prengne a\nle regarder tant a beau visage. Ja si tost ne serez entrez au bois se\npar la voulez passer qu'il ne trouve maniere de parler a vous, si\nainsi que a luy parliez perdu estus a tousjours sans jamais plus\nrevenir; ne il ne sera en vous, car se par le bois passez, soit de\nlong ou de travers, vous le trouverez tousjours au devant de vous, et\nvous sera impossible que eschappiez nullement que ne parliez a luy,\ncar ses parolles sont tant plaisantes a ouyr qu'il n'est homme mortel\nqui de luy se puisse eschapper. Et se chose est qu'il voye que\nnullement ne vueillez parler a luy, il sera moult troubl\u00e9 envers vous.\nCar avant que du bois soyez parti vous fera pleuvoir, ventrer,\ngresiller, et faire si tres-mervueilleux orages, tonnerres, et\nesclairs, que advis vous sera que le monde doive finir. Puis vous sera\nadvis que par devant vous verrez une grande riviere courante, noire et\nparfonde a grand merveilles; mais sachez, sire, que bien y pourrez\naller sans mouiller les pieds de vostre cheval, car ce n'est que\nfantosme et enchantemens que le nain vous fera pour vous cuider avoir\navec lui, et se chose est que bien tenez propos en vous de non parler\na luy, bien pourrez eschapper, etc.\n\n[71] Le Nain Fee s'en vint chevauchant par le bois, et estoit vestu\nd'une robbe si tres-belle et riche, que merveilles sera ce racompter\npour la grand et merveilleuse richesse que dessus estoit, car tant y\navoit de pierres precieuses, que la grand clart\u00e9 qu'elles jettoient\nestoit pareille au soleil quant il luit bien clair. Et avec ce portoit\nun moult bel arc en son poing, tant riche que on ne le sauroit estimer\ntant estoit beau. Et la fleche qu'il portoit est it de telle sorte et\nmaniere, qu'il n'estoit beste au monde qu'il vousist souhaiter qu'a\nieelle fleche elle ne s'arrestast. Il avoit a son cou un riche cor,\nlequel estoit pendu a deux riches attaches de fin or.\n\n[72] This sort of transformation appears to have been a usual mode of\npunishing in a Fairy land. It may have come from Circe, but the\nThousand and One Nights is full of such transformations. For _luyton_\nor _lutin_, see below, _France_.\n\n[73] We are only acquainted with this romance through Mr. Dunlop's\nanalysis.\n\n\n\n\n FAIRY LAND.\n\n There, renewed the vital spring,\n Again he reigns a mighty king\n And many a fair and fragrant clime,\n Blooming in immortal prime,\n By gales of Eden ever fanned,\n Owns the monarch's high command.\n T. WARTON.\n\n\nAmong all nations the mixture of joy and pain, of exquisite delight\nand intense misery in the present state, has led the imagination to\nthe conception of regions of unmixed bliss destined for the repose of\nthe good after the toils of this life, and of climes where happiness\nprevails, the abode of beings superior to man. The imagination of the\nHindoo paints his Swergas as 'profuse of bliss,' and all the joys of\nsense are collected into the Paradise of the Mussulman. The Persian\nlavished the riches of his fancy in raising the Cities of Jewels and\nof Amber that adorn the realms of Jinnest\u00e2n; the romancer erected\ncastles and palaces filled with knights and ladies in Avalon and in\nthe land of Faerie; while the Hellenic bards, unused to pomp and\nglare, filled the Elysian Fields and the Island of the Blest with\ntepid gales and brilliant flowers. We shall quote without apology two\nbeautiful passages from Homer and Pindar, that our readers may at one\nview satisfy themselves of the essential difference between classic\nand romantic imagination.\n\nIn Homer, Proteus tells Menelaus that, because he had had the honour\nof being the son-in-law of Zeus, he should not die in \"horse-feeding\nArgos.\"\n\n But thee the ever-living gods will send\n Unto the Elysian plain and distant bounds\n Of Earth, where dwelleth fair-hair'd Rhadamanthus.\n There life is easiest unto men; no snow,\n Or wintry storm, or rain, at any time,\n Is there; but evermore the Ocean sends\n Soft-breathing airs of Zephyr to refresh\n The habitants.--_Od._ iv. 563.\n\nThis passage is finely imitated by Pindar, and connected with that\nnoble tone of pensive morality, so akin to the Oriental spirit, and by\nwhich the 'Dirc\u00e6an Swan' is distinguished from all his fellows.\n\n They speed their way\n To Kronos' palace, where around\n The Island of the Blest, the airs\n Of Ocean breathe, and golden flowers\n Blaze; some on land\n From shining trees, and other kinds\n The water feeds. Of these\n Garlands and bracelets round their arms they bind,\n\n Beneath the righteous sway\n Of Rhadamanthus.--_Ol._ ii. 126.\n\nLucretius has transferred these fortunate fields to the superior\nregions, to form the abode of his _fain\u00e9ans_, gods; and Virgil has\nplaced them, with additional poetic splendour, in the bosom of the\nearth.\n\nWidely different from these calm and peaceful abodes of parted warriors\nare the Faeries of the minstrels and romancers. In their eyes, and in\nthose of their auditors, nothing was beautiful or good divested of the\npomp and pride of chivalry; and chivalry has, accordingly, entered\ndeeply into the composition of their pictures of these ideal realms.\n\nThe Feeries of romance may be divided into three kinds: Avalon, placed\nin the ocean, like the Island of the Blest; those that, like the palace\nof Pari Banou, are within the earth; and, lastly, those that, like\nOberon's domains, are situate 'in wilderness among the holtis hairy.'\n\nOf the castle and isle of Avalon,[74] the abode of Arthur and Oberon,\nand Morgue la faye, the fullest description is to be seen in the\nromance of Ogier le Danois, from which, as we know no sure quarter but\nthe work itself to refer to for the part connected with the present\nsubject, we will make some extracts.[75]\n\nAt the birth of Ogier several Fairies attended, who bestowed on him\nvarious gifts. Among them was Morgue la Faye, who gave him that he\nshould be her lover and friend. Accordingly, when Ogier had long\ndistinguished himself in love and war, and had attained his hundredth\nyear, the affectionate Morgue thought it was time to withdraw him from\nthe toils and dangers of mortal life, and transport him to the joys\nand the repose of the castle of Avalon. In pursuance of this design,\nOgier and king Caraheu are attacked by a storm on their return from\nJerusalem, and their vessels separated. The bark on which Ogier was\n\"floated along the sea till it came near the castle of loadstone,\nwhich is called the castle of Avalon, which is not far on this side of\nthe terrestrial paradise, whither were rapt in a flame of fire Enock\nand Helias; and where was Morgue la Faye, who at his birth had endowed\nhim with great gifts, noble and virtuous.\"[76]\n\nThe vessel is wrecked against the rock; the provisions are divided\namong the crew, and it is agreed that every man, as his stock failed,\nshould be thrown into the sea. Ogier's stock holds out longest, and he\nremains alone. He is nearly reduced to despair, when a voice from\nheaven cries to him: \"God commandeth thee that, as soon as it is\nnight, thou go unto a castle that thou wilt see shining, and pass from\nbark to bark till thou be in an isle which thou wilt find. And when\nthou wilt be in that isle thou wilt find a little path, and of what\nthou mayest see within be not dismayed at anything. And then Ogier\nlooked, but he saw nothing.\"[77]\n\nWhen night came, Ogier recommended himself to God, and seeing the\ncastle of loadstone all resplendent with light, he went from one to\nthe other of the vessels that were wrecked there, and so got into the\nisland where it was. On arriving at the gate he found it guarded by\ntwo fierce lions. He slew them and entered; and making his way into a\nhall, found a horse sitting at a table richly supplied. The courteous\nanimal treats him with the utmost respect, and the starving hero makes\na hearty supper. The horse then prevails on him to get on his back,\nand carries him into a splendid chamber, where Ogier sleeps that\nnight. The name of this horse is Papillon, \"who was a Luiton, and had\nbeen a great prince, but king Arthur conquered him, so he was\ncondemned to be three hundred years a horse without speaking one\nsingle word, but after the three hundred years he was to have the\ncrown of joy which they wore in Faerie.\"[78]\n\nNext morning he cannot find Papillon, but on opening a door he meets a\nhuge serpent, whom he also slays, and follows a little path which\nleads him into an orchard \"tant bel et tant plaisant, que cestoit ung\npetit paradis a veoir.\" He plucks an apple from one of the trees and\neats it, but is immediately afflicted by such violent sickness as to\nbe put in fear of speedy death. He prepares himself for his fate,\nregretting \"le bon pays de France, le roi Charlemaigne ... et\nprincipallement la bonne royne dangleterre, sa bonne espouse et vraie\namie, ma dame Clarice, qui tant estoit belle et noble.\" While in this\ndolorous state, happening to turn to the east, he perceived \"une moult\nbelle dame, toute vestue de blanc, si bien et si richement aornee que\ncestoit ung grant triumphe que de la veoir.\"\n\nOgier, thinking it is the Virgin Mary, commences an Ave; but the lady\ntells him she is Morgue la Faye, who at his birth had kissed him, and\nretained him for her loyal amoureux, though forgotten by him. She\nplaces then on his finger a ring, which removes all infirmity, and\nOgier, a hundred years old, returns to the vigour and beauty of\nthirty. She now leads him to the castle of Avalon, where were her\nbrother king Arthur, and Auberon, and Mallonbron, \"ung luiton de mer.\"\n\n\"And when Morgue drew near to the said castle of Avalon, the Fays came\nto meet Ogier, singing the most melodiously that ever could be heard, so\nhe entered into the hall to solace himself completely. There he saw\nseveral Fay ladies adorned and all crowned with crowns most sumptuously\nmade, and very rich, and evermore they sung, danced, and led a right\njoyous life, without thinking of any evil thing whatever, but of taking\ntheir mundane pleasures.\"[79] Morgue here introduces the knight to\nArthur, and she places on his head a crown rich and splendid beyond\nestimation, but which has the Lethean quality, that whoso wears it,\n\n Forthwith his former state and being forgets,\n Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain;\n\nfor Ogier instantly forgot country and friends. He had no thought\nwhatever \"ni de la dame Clarice, qui tant estoit belle et noble,\" nor\nof Guyon his brother, nor of his nephew Gauthier, \"ne de creature\nvivante.\" His days now rolled on in never-ceasing pleasure. \"Such\njoyous pastime did the Fay ladies make for him, that there is no\ncreature in this world who could imagine or think it, for to hear them\nsing so sweetly it seemed to him actually that he was in Paradise; so\nthe time passed from day to day, from week to week, in such sort that\na year did not last a month to him.\"[80]\n\nBut Avalon was still on earth, and therefore its bliss was not\nunmixed. One day Arthur took Ogier aside, and informed him that\nCapalus, king of the Luitons, incessantly attacked the castle of\nFaerie with design to eject king Arthur from its dominion, and was\naccustomed to penetrate to the basse court, calling on Arthur to come\nout and engage him. Ogier asked permission to encounter this\nformidable personage, which Arthur willingly granted. No sooner,\nhowever, did Capalus see Ogier than he surrendered to him; and the\nknight had the satisfaction of leading him into the castle, and\nreconciling him to its inhabitants.\n\nTwo hundred years passed away in these delights, and seemed to Ogier\nbut twenty: Charlemagne and all his lineage had failed, and even the\nrace of Ogier was extinct, when the Paynims invaded France and Italy\nin vast numbers; and Morgue no longer thought herself justified in\nwithholding Ogier from the defence of the faith. Accordingly, she one\nday took the Lethean crown from off his head: immediately all his old\nideas rushed on his mind, and inflamed him with an ardent desire to\nrevisit his country. The Fairy gave him a brand which was to be\npreserved from burning, for so long as it was unconsumed, so long\nshould his life extend. She adds to her gift the horse Papillon and\nhis comrade Benoist. \"And when they were both mounted, all the ladies\nof the castle came to take leave of Ogier, by the command of king\nArthur and of Morgue la Faye, and they sounded an aubade of\ninstruments, the most melodious thing to hear that ever was listened\nto; then, when the aubade was finished, they sung with the voice so\nmelodiously, that it was a thing so melodious that it seemed actually\nto Ogier that he was in Paradise. Again, when that was over, they sung\nwith the instruments in such sweet concordance that it seemed rather\nto be a thing divine than mortal.\"[81] The knight then took leave of\nall, and a cloud, enveloping him and his companion, raised them, and\nset them down by a fair fountain near Montpellier. Ogier displays his\nancient prowess, routs the infidels, and on the death of the king is\non the point of espousing the queen, when Morgue appears and takes him\nback to Avalon. Since then Ogier has never reappeared in this world.\n\nNowhere is a Faerie of the second kind so fully and circumstantially\ndescribed as in the beautiful romance of Orfeo and Heurodis. There are,\nindeed, copious extracts from this poem in Sir Walter Scott's Essay on\nthe Fairies of Popular Superstition; and we have no excuse to offer for\nrepeating what is to be found in a work so universally diffused as the\nMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, but that it is of absolute necessity\nfor our purpose, and that romantic poetry is rarely unwelcome.\n\nOrfeo and Heurodis were king and queen of Winchester. The queen\nhappening one day to sleep under an ymp[82] tree in the palace\norchard, surrounded by her attendants, had a dream, which she thus\nrelates to the king:\n\n As I lay this undertide (_afternoon_)\n To sleep under the orchard-side,\n There came to me two faire knightes\n Well arrayed all\u00e8 rightes,\n And bade me come without lett\u00edng\n To speak\u00e8 with their lord the king;\n And I answ\u00e9r'd with word\u00e8s bolde\n That I ne durst\u00e8 ne I nolde:\n Fast again they can (_did_) drive,\n Then came their king\u00e8 all so blive (_quick_)\n With a thousand knights and mo,\n And with ladies fifty also,\n And riden all on snow-white steedes,\n And also whit\u00e8 were their weedes.\n I sey (_saw_) never sith I was borne\n So fair\u00e8 knight\u00e8s me by forne.\n The king\u00e8 had a crown on his head,\n It was not silver ne gold red;\n All it was of precious stone,\n As bright as sun forsooth it shone.\n All so soon he to me came,\n Wold I, nold I he me name (_took_),\n And mad\u00e8 me with him ride\n On a white palfrey by his side,\n And brought me in to his pal\u00eds,\n Right well ydight over all ywis.\n He shewed me castels and toures,\n Meadows, rivers, fields and flowres,\n And his forests everiche one,\n And sith he brought me again home.\n\nThe fairy-king orders her, under a dreadful penalty, to await him next\nmorning under the ymp tree. Her husband and ten hundred knights stand\nin arms round the tree to protect her,\n\n And yet amidd\u00e8s them full right\n The queen\u00e8 was away y-twight (_snatched_);\n With Fa\u00ebry forth y-nome (_taken_);\n Men wist never where she was become.\n\nOrfeo in despair abandons his throne, and retires to the wilderness,\nwhere he solaces himself with his harp, charming with his melody the\nwild beasts, the inhabitants of the spot. Often while here,\n\n He might\u00e8 see him besides\n Oft in hot undertides\n The king of Fa\u00ebry with his rout\n Come to hunt him all about,\n With dim cry and blow\u00edng,\n And houndes also with him bark\u00edng.\n Ac (_yet_) no beast\u00e8 they no nome,\n Ne never he nist whither they be come;\n And other while he might them see\n As a great host\u00e8 by him te.[83]\n Well atourned ten hundred knightes\n Each well y-armed to his rightes,\n Of countenanc\u00e8 stout and fierce,\n With many display\u00e9d bann\u00e9rs,\n And each his sword y-draw\u00e8 hold;\n Ac never he nist\u00e8 whither they wold.\n And otherwhile he seigh (_saw_) other thing,\n Knight\u00e8s and levedis (_ladies_) come daunc\u00edng\n In quaint attir\u00e8 guis\u00ebly,\n Quiet pace and soft\u00ebly.\n Tabours and trump\u00e8s gede (_went_) him by,\n And all\u00e8 manere minstracy.\n And on a day he seigh him beside\n Sixty levedis on horse ride,\n Gentil and jolif as brid on ris (_bird on branch_),\n Nought o (_one_) man amonges hem ther nis,\n And each a faucoun on hond bare,\n And riden on hauken by o riv\u00e9r.\n Of game they found well good haunt,\n Mallardes, heron, and cormeraunt.\n The fowl\u00e8s of the water ariseth,\n Each faucoun them well deviseth,\n Each faucoun his prey\u00e8 slough[84] (_slew_).\n\nAmong the ladies he recognises his lost queen, and he determines to\nfollow them, and attempt her rescue.\n\n In at a roche (_rock_) the levedis rideth,\n And he after and nought abideth.\n When he was in the roche y-go\n Well three mil\u00e8s other (_or_) mo,\n He came into a fair countr\u00e1y\n As bright soonne summers day,\n Smooth and plain and all\u00e8 grene,\n Hill ne dale nas none y-seen.\n Amiddle the lond a castel he seigh,\n Rich and real and wonder high.\n All\u00e8 the utmost\u00e8 wall\n Was clear and shin\u00e8 of cristal.\n An hundred towers there were about,\n Deguiselich and batailed stout.\n The buttras come out of the ditch,\n Of red\u00e8 gold y-arched rich.\n The bousour was anowed all\n Of each manere diverse animal.\n Within there wer\u00e8 wid\u00e8 wones\n All of precious stones.\n The worst\u00e8 pillar to behold\n Was all of burnished gold.\n All that lond was ever light,\n For when it should be therk (_dark_) and night,\n The rich\u00e8 ston\u00e8s light\u00e8 gonne (_yield_[85])\n Bright as doth at nonne the sonne,\n No man may tell ne think in thought\n The rich\u00e8 work that there was wrought.\n\nOrfeo makes his way into this palace, and so charms the king with his\nminstrelsy, that he gives him back his wife. They return to\nWinchester, and there reign, in peace and happiness.\n\nAnother instance of this kind of Feerie may be seen in Thomas the\nRymer, but, restricted by our limits, we must omit it, and pass to the\nlast kind.\n\nSir Thopas was written to ridicule the romancers; its incidents must\ntherefore accord with theirs, and the Feerie in it in fact resembles\nthose in Huon de Bordeaux. It has the farther merit of having\nsuggested incidents to Spenser, and perhaps of having given the idea\nof a queen regnante of Fairy Land. Sir Thopas is chaste as Graelent.\n\n Full many a maid\u00e8 bright in bour\n They mourned for him _par amour_;\n When hem were bete to slepe;\n But he was chaste and no lechour,\n And sweet as is the bramble flour\n That bereth the red hepe.\n\nHe was therefore a suitable object for the love of a gentle elf-queen.\nSo Sir Thopas one day \"pricketh through a faire forest\" till he is\nweary, and he then lies down to sleep on the grass, where he dreams of\nan elf-queen, and awakes, declaring\n\n An elf-queen wol I love, ywis.\n All other women I forsake,\n And to an elf-queen I me take\n By dale and eke by down.\n\nHe determines to set out in quest of her.\n\n Into his sadel he clombe anon,\n And pricked over style and stone,\n An elf-quene for to espie;\n Till he so long had ridden and gone,\n That he found in a privee wone\n The countree of Faerie,[86]\n\n Wherein he sought\u00e8 north and south,\n And oft he spied with his mouth\n In many a forest wilde;\n For in that countree n'as there none\n That to him dorst ride or gon,\n Neither wif ne childe.\n\nThe \"gret giaunt\" Sire Oliphaunt, however, informs him that\n\n Here is the quene of Fa\u00ebrie,\n With harpe and pipe and simphonie,\n Dwelling in this place.\n\nOwing to the fastidiousness of \"mine hoste,\" we are unable to learn\nhow Sir Thopas fared with the elf-queen, and we have probably lost a\ncopious description of Fairy Land.\n\nFrom the glimmering of the morning star of English poetry, the\ntransition is natural to its meridian splendour, the reign of\nElizabeth, and we will now make a few remarks on the poem of Spenser.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[74] Avalon was perhaps the Island of the Blest, of Celtic mythology,\nand then the abode of the Fees, through the Breton Korrigan. Writers,\nhowever, seem to be unanimous in regarding it and Glastonbury as the\nsame place, called an isle, it is stated, as being made nearly such by\nthe \"river's embracement.\" It was named Avalon, we are told, from the\nBritish word _Aval_, an apple, as it abounded with orchards; and _Ynys\ngwydrin_; Saxon [Old English: Glastn-ey], glassy isle; Latin,\nGlastonia, from the green hue of the water surrounding it.\n\n[75] See Tales and Popular Fictions, ch. ix., for a further account of\nOgier.\n\n[76] Tant nagea en mer qu'il arriva pres du chastel daymant quon nomme\nle chasteau davallon, qui nest gueres deca paradis terrestre la ou\nfurent ravis en une raye de feu Enoc et Helye, et la ou estoit Morgue\nla faye, qui a sa naissance lui avoit donne de grands dons, nobles et\nvertueux.\n\n[77] Dieu te mande que si tost que sera nuit que tu ailles en ung\nchasteau que tu verras luire, et passe de bateau en bateau tant que tu\nsoies en une isle que tu trouveras. Et quand tu seras en lisle tu\ntrouveras une petite sente, et de chose que tu voies leans ne tesbahis\nde rien. Et adone Ogier regarda mais il ne vit rien.\n\n[78] Lequel estoit luiton, et avoit este ung grant prince; mais le roi\nArtus le conquist, si fust condampne a estre trois cens ans cheval\nsans parler ung tou seul mot; mais apres les trois cens ans, il devoit\navoir la couronue de joye de laquelle ils usuient en faerie.\n\n[79] Et quand Morgue approcha du dit chasteau, les Faes vindrent au\ndevant dogier, chantant le plus melodieusement quon scauroit jamais\nouir, si entra dedans la salle pour se deduire totallement. Adonc vist\nplusieurs dames Faees aournees et toutes courronnees de couronnes\ntressomptueusement faictes, et moult riches, et tout jour chantoient,\ndansoient, et menoient vie tresjoyeuse, sans penser a nulle quelconque\nmeschante chose, fors prandre leurs mondains plaisirs.\n\n[80] Tant de joyeulx passetemps lui faisoient les dames Faees, quil\nnest creature en ce monde quil le sceust imaginer ne penser, car les\nouir si doulcement chanter il lui sembloit proprement quil fut en\nParadis, si passoit temps de jour en jour, de sepmaine en sepmaine,\ntellement que ung an ne lui duroit pas ung mois.\n\n[81] Et quand ils furent tous deux montes, toutes les dames du chasteau\nvindrent a la departie dogier, par le commandement du roi Artus et de\nMorgue la fae, et sonnerent une aubade dinstrumens, la plus melodieuse\nchose a ouir que on entendit jamais; puis, l'aubade achevee, chanterent\nde gorge si melodieusement que cestoit une chose si melodieuse que il\nsembloit proprement a Ogier quil estoit en Paradis. De rechief, cela\nfini, ils chanterent avecques les instrumens par si doulce concordance\nquil sembloit mieulx chose divine que humaine.\n\n[82] Imp tree is a grafted tree. Sir W. Scott queries if it be not a\ntree consecrated to the imps or fiends. Had imp that sense so early? A\ngrafted tree had perhaps the same relation to the Fairies that the\nlinden in Germany and the North had to the dwarfs.\n\n[83] _Te_ or _tew_ (Drayton, Poly-Olb. xxv.) is to draw, to march;\nfrom A.S. [Old English: te\u00f3gan, tugan, te\u00f3n] (Germ. _ziehen_), whence\n_tug_, _team_.\n\n[84] Beattie probably knew nothing of Orfeo and Heurodis, and the\nFairy Vision in the Minstrel (a dream that would never have occurred\nto any minstrel) was derived from the Flower and the Leaf, Dryden's,\nnot Chaucer's, for the personages in the latter are not called\nFairies. In neither are they Elves.\n\n[85] _G\u00f6nnen_, Germ.\n\n[86] The \"countrie of Faerie,\" situated in a \"privee wone,\" plainly\naccords rather with the Feeries of Huon de Bordeaux than with Avalon,\nor the region into which Dame Heurodis was taken.\n\n\n\n\n SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEENE.\n\n A braver lady never tript on land,\n Except the ever-living Faerie Queene,\n Whose virtues by her swain so written been\n That time shall call her high enhanced story,\n In his rare song, the Muse's chiefest glory.\n BROWN.\n\n\nDuring the sixteenth century the study of classical literature, which\nopened a new field to imagination, and gave it a new impulse, was\neagerly and vigorously pursued. A classic ardour was widely and\nextensively diffused. The compositions of that age incessantly imitate\nand allude to the beauties and incidents of the writings of ancient\nGreece and Rome.\n\nYet amid this diffusion of classic taste and knowledge, romance had by\nno means lost its influence. The black-letter pages of Lancelot du\nLac, Perceforest, Mort d'Arthur, and the other romances of chivalry,\nwere still listened to with solemn attention, when on winter-evenings\nthe family of the good old knight or baron 'crowded round the ample\nfire,' to hear them made vocal, and probably no small degree of\ncredence was given to the wonders they recorded. The passion for\nallegory, too, remained unabated. Fine moral webs were woven from the\nfragile threads of the Innamorato and the Furioso; and even Tasso was\nobliged, in compliance with the reigning taste, to extract an allegory\nfrom his divine poem; which Fairfax, when translating the Jerusalem,\nwas careful to preserve. Spenser, therefore, when desirous of\nconsecrating his genius to the celebration of the glories of the\nmaiden reign, and the valiant warriors and grave statesmen who adorned\nit, had his materials ready prepared. Fairy-land, as described by the\nromancers, gave him a scene; the knights and dames with whom it was\npeopled, actors; and its court, its manners, and usages, a facility of\ntransferring thither whatever real events might suit his design.\n\nIt is not easy to say positively to what romance the poet was chiefly\nindebted for his Faery-land. We might, perhaps, venture to conjecture\nthat his principal authority was Huon de Bordeaux, which had been\ntranslated some time before by Lord Berners, and from which it is most\nlikely that Shakespeare took his Oberon, who was thus removed from the\nrealms of romance, and brought back among his real kindred, the dwarfs\nor elves. Spenser, it is evident, was acquainted with this romance,\nfor he says of Sir Guyon,\n\n He was an elfin born of noble state\n And mickle worship in his native land;\n Well could he tourney and in lists debate,\n And knighthood took of good _Sir Huon's_ hand,\n When with King Oberon he came to Fairy-land.\n B. ii. c. 1. st. vi.\n\nAnd here, if such a thing were to be heeded, the poet commits an\nanachronism in making Sir Huon, who slew the son of Charlemagne, a\ncontemporary of Arthur.\n\nWhere \"this delightful land of Faery\" lies, it were as idle to seek as\nfor Oberon's realm of Mommur, the island of Calypso, or the kingdom of\nLilliput. Though it shadow forth England, it is distinct from it; for\nCleopolis excels Troynovant in greatness and splendour, and Elfin, the\nfirst Fairy king, ruled over India and America. To the curious the\npoet says,\n\n Of Faery-lond yet if he more inquire,\n By certain signes here sett in sondrie place,\n He may it fynd, ne let him then admyre,\n But yield his sence to be too blunt and bace,\n That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.\n\nThe idea of making a queen sole regnante of Fairy-land was the necessary\nresult of the plan of making \"the fayrest princesse under sky\" view her\n\"owne realmes in lond of faery.\" Yet there may have been sage authority\nfor this settlement of the fairy throne. Some old romancers may have\nspoken only of a queen; and the gallant Sir Thopas does not seem to\napprehend that he is in pursuit of the wedded wife of another. This\ndoughty champion's dream was evidently the original of Arthur's.\n\n Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight\n From loftie steede, and downe to sleepe me layd;\n The verdant grass my couch did goodly dight,\n And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd;\n Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,\n Me seemed by my side a royall mayd\n Her dainty limbes full softly down did lay,\n So faire a creature yet saw never sunny day.\n\n Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment\n She to me made, and badd me love her deare,\n For dearly, sure, her love was to me bent,\n As, when iust time expired, should appeare:\n But whether dreames delude, or true it were,\n Was never hart so ravisht with delight,\n Ne living man such wordes did never heare\n As she to me delivered all that night,\n And at her parting said, she queen of Faries hight.\n\n * * * * *\n\n From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd\n To seek her out with labor and long tyne,\n And never vow to rest till her I fynd--\n Nyne months I seek in vain, yet n'ill that vow unbynd,\n B. i. c. 9. st. xiii., xiv., xv.\n\nThe names given by Spenser to these beings are Fays (_Fe\u00e9s_), Farys or\nFairies, Elfes and Elfins, of which last words the former had been\nalready employed by Chaucer, and in one passage it is difficult to say\nwhat class of beings is intended. Spenser's account of the origin of his\nFairies is evidently mere invention, as nothing in the least resembling\nit is to be found in any preceding writer. It bears, indeed, some slight\nand distant analogy to that of the origin of the inhabitants of\nJinnest\u00e2n, as narrated by the Orientals. According to the usual practice\nof Spenser, it is mixed up with the fables of antiquity.\n\n Prometheus did create\n A man of many parts from beasts deryved;\n\n That man so made he called Elfe, to weet,\n Quick,[87] the first author of all Elfin kynd,\n Who, wandring through the world with wearie feet,\n Did in the gardins of Adonis fynd\n A goodly creature, whom he deemed in mynd\n To be no earthly wight, but either spright\n Or angell, the authour of all woman-kynd;\n Therefore a Fay he her according hight,\n Of whom all Faryes spring, and fetch their lignage right.\n\n Of these a mighty people shortly grew,\n And puissant kings, which all the world warrayd,\n And to themselves all nations did subdue.\n B. ii. c. 9. st. lxx., lxxi., lxxii.\n\nSir Walter Scott remarks with justice (though his memory played him\nsomewhat false on the occasion), that \"the stealing of the Red Cross\nKnight while a child, is the only incident in the poem which\napproaches to the popular character of the Fairy.\" It is not exactly\nthe _only_ incident; but the only other, that of Arthegal, is a\nprecisely parallel one:--\n\n He wonneth in the land of Fay\u00ebree,\n Yet is no Fary born, ne sib at all\n To Elfes, but sprung of seed terrestriall,\n And whyleome by false Faries stolne away,\n Whyles yet in infant cradle he did crall:\n Ne other to himself is knowne this day,\n But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.\n B. iii. c. 3. st. xxvi.\n\nSir Walter has been duly animadverted on for this dangerous error by\nthe erudite Mr. Todd. It would be as little becoming as politic in us,\ntreading, as we do, on ground where error ever hovers around us, to\nmake any remark. Freedom from misconception and mistake,\nunfortunately, forms no privilege of our nature.\n\nWe must here observe, that Spenser was extremely injudicious in his\nselection of the circumstances by which he endeavoured to confound the\ntwo classes of Fairies. It was quite incongruous to style the progeny\nof the subjects of Gloriane a \"base elfin brood,\" or themselves \"false\nFairies,\" especially when we recollect that such a being as Belph\u0153be\nwhose\n\n whole creation did her show\n Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime,\n That is ingenerate in fleshly slime,\n\nwas born of a Fairie.\n\nOur poet seems to have forgotten himself also in the Legend of Sir\nCalidore; for though the knight is a Faerie himself, and though such\nwe are to suppose were all the native inhabitants of Faerie-land, yet\nto the \"gentle flood\" that tumbled down from Mount Acidale,\n\n ne mote the ruder clown\n Thereto approach ne filth mote therein drown;\n But Nymphs and Faeries on the banks did sit\n In the woods shade which did the waters crown.\n B. vi. c. 10. st. vii.\n\nAnd a little farther, when Calidore gazes on the \"hundred naked\nmaidens lily white,\" that danced around the Graces, he wist not\n\n Whether it were the train of beauty's queen,\n Or Nymphs or Faeries, or enchanted show,\n With which his eyes mote have deluded been.--St. xvii.\n\nThe popular Elves, who dance their circlets on the green, were\nevidently here in Spenser's mind.[88]\n\nIt is now, we think, if not certain, at least highly probable, that\nthe Fairy-land and the Fairies of Spenser are those of romance, to\nwhich the term Fairy properly belongs, and that it is without just\nreason that the title of his poem has been styled a _misnomer_.[89]\nAfter the appearance of his Faerie Queene, all distinction between the\ndifferent species was rapidly lost, and Fairies became the established\nname of the popular Elves.\n\nHere, then, we will take our leave of the potent ladies of romance,\nand join the Elves of the popular creed, tracing their descent from\nthe Duergar of northern mythology, till we meet them enlivening the\ncottage fireside with the tales of their pranks and gambols.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[87] That is, _elfe_ is _alive_.\n\n[88] These Fairies thus coupled with Nymphs remind us of the Fairies\nof the old translators. Spenser, in the Shepherd's Calendar, however,\nhad united them before, as\n\n Nor elvish ghosts nor ghastly owls do flee,\n But friendly _Faeries_ met with many Graces,\n And light-foot _Nymphs_.--\u00c6g. 6.\n\n\n[89] \"Spenser's _Fairy Queen_, which is one of the grossest misnomers in\nromance or history, bears no features of the Fairy nation.\"--Gifford,\nnote on B. Jonson, vol. ii. p. 202.\n\n\n\n\n EDDAS AND SAGAS.\n\n En s\u00e5ng om str\u00e5lende Valhalla,\n Om Gudar och Gudinnar alla.\n TEGNER.\n\n A song of Vallhall's bright abodes,\n Of all the goddesses and gods.\n\n\nThe ancient religion of Scandinavia, and probably of the whole\nGotho-German race, consisted, like all other systems devised by man,\nin personifications of the various powers of nature and faculties of\nmind. Of this system in its fulness and perfection we possess no\nrecord. It is only from the poems of the elder or poetic Edda,[90]\nfrom the narratives of the later or prose Edda and the various Sagas\nor histories written in the Icelandic language,[91] that we can obtain\nany knowledge of it.\n\nThe poetic or S\u00e6mund's Edda was, as is generally believed, collected\nabout the end of the eleventh or beginning of the twelfth century by an\nIcelander named S\u00e6mund, and styled Hinns Fr\u00f2da, or The Wise. It consists\nof a number of mythological and historical songs, the production of the\nancient Scalds or poets, all, or the greater part, composed before the\nintroduction of Christianity into the north. The measure of these\nvenerable songs is alliterative rime, and they present not unfrequently\npoetic beauties of a high and striking character.[92]\n\nThe prose Edda is supposed to have been compiled in the thirteenth\ncentury by Snorro Sturleson, the celebrated historian of Norway. It is\na history of the gods and their actions formed from the songs of the\npoetic Edda, and from other ancient poems, several stanzas of which\nare incorporated in it. Beside the preface and conclusion, it consists\nof two principal parts, the first consisting of the Gylfa-ginning\n(_Gylfa's Deception_), or H\u00e1rs Lygi (_H\u00e1r's_ i. e. _Odin's Fiction_),\nand the Braga-r\u00e6dur (_Braga's Narrative_), each of which is divided\ninto several D\u00e6mi-sagas or Illustrative Stories; and the second named\nthe Kenningar or list of poetic names and periphrases.[93]\n\nThe Gylfa-ginning narrates that Gylfa king of Sweden, struck with the\nwisdom and power of the \u00c6ser,[94] as Odin and his followers were\ncalled, journeyed in the likeness of an old man, and under the assumed\nname of Ganglar, to Asgard their chief residence, to inquire into and\nfathom their wisdom. Aware of his design, the \u00c6ser by their magic art\ncaused to arise before him a lofty and splendid palace, roofed with\ngolden shields. At the gate he found a man who was throwing up and\ncatching swords, seven of which were in the air at one time. This man\ninquires the name of the stranger, whom he leads into the palace,\nwhere Ganglar sees a number of persons drinking and playing, and three\nthrones, each set higher than the other. On the thrones sat Har\n(_High_), Jafnhar (_Equal-high_), and Thridi (_Third_). Ganglar asks\nif there is any one there wise and learned. Har replies that he will\nnot depart in safety if he knows more than they.[95] Ganglar then\ncommences his interrogations, which embrace a variety of recondite\nsubjects, and extend from the creation to the end of all things. To\neach he receives a satisfactory reply. At the last reply Ganglar hears\na loud rush and noise: the magic illusion suddenly vanishes, and he\nfinds himself alone on an extensive plain.\n\nThe Braga-r\u00e6dur is the discourse of Braga to \u00c6gir, the god of the sea,\nat the banquet of the Immortals. This part contains many tales of gods\nand heroes old, whose adventures had been sung by Skalds, of high\nrenown and lofty genius.\n\nThough both the Eddas were compiled by Christians, there appears to be\nvery little reason for suspecting the compilers of having falsified or\ninterpolated the mythology of their forefathers. S\u00e6mund's Edda may be\nregarded as an Anthology of ancient Scandinavian poetry; and the\nauthor of the prose Edda (who it is plain did not always understand\nthe true meaning of the tales he related) wrote it as a northern\nPantheon and Gradus ad Parnassum, to supply poets with incidents,\nornaments, and epithets. Fortunately they did so, or impenetrable\ndarkness had involved the ancient religion of the Gothic stock!\n\nBeside the Eddas, much information is to be derived from the various\nSagas or northern histories. These Sagas, at times transmitting true\nhistorical events, at other times containing the wildest fictions of\nromance, preserve much valuable mythic lore, and the Ynglinga,\nVolsunga, Hervarar, and other Sagas, will furnish many important\ntraits of northern mythology.\n\nIt is not intended here to attempt sounding the depths of Eddaic\nmythology, a subject so obscure, and concerning which so many and\nvarious opinions occur in the works of those who have occupied\nthemselves with it. Suffice it to observe that it goes back to the\nmost remote ages, and that two essential parts of it are the Alfar\n(_Alfs_ or _Elves_) and the Duergar (_Dwarfs_), two classes of beings\nwhose names continue to the present day in all the languages of the\nnations descended from the Gotho-German race.\n\n\"Our heathen forefathers,\" says Thorlacius,[96] \"believed, like the\nPythagoreans, and the farther back in antiquity the more firmly, that\nthe whole world was filled with spirits of various kinds, to whom they\nascribed in general the same nature and properties as the Greeks did\nto their D\u00e6mons. These were divided into the Celestial and the\nTerrestrial, from their places of abode. The former were, according\nto the ideas of those times, of a good and elevated nature, and of a\nfriendly disposition toward men, whence they also received the name of\nWhite or Light Alfs or Spirits. The latter, on the contrary, who were\nclassified after their abodes in air, sea, and earth, were not\nregarded in so favourable a light. It was believed that they,\nparticularly the _land ones_, the \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 of the Greeks,\nconstantly and on all occasions sought to torment or injure mankind,\nand that they had their dwelling partly on the earth in great thick\nwoods, whence came the name Skovtrolde[97] (_Wood Trolls_), or in\nother desert and lonely places, partly in and under the ground, or in\nrocks and hills; these last were called Bjerg-Trolde (_Hill Trolls_):\nto the first, on account of their different nature, was given the name\nof Dverge (_Dwarfs_), and Alve, whence the word Ellefolk, which is\nstill in the Danish language. These D\u00e6mons, particularly the\nunderground ones, were called Svart\u00e1lfar, that is Black Spirits, and\ninasmuch as they did mischief, Trolls.\"\n\nThis very nearly coincides with what is to be found in the Edda,\nexcept that there would appear to be some foundation for a distinction\nbetween the Dwarfs and the Dark Alfs.[98]\n\n\n THE ALFAR.\n\n Ther ro meth Alfum.\n BRYNHILDAR QUIDA.\n\n Those are with the Alfs.\n\nIn the prose Edda, Ganglar inquires what other cities beside that in\nwhich the Nornir dwelt were by the Urdar fount, under the Ash\nYggdrasil.[99] H\u00e1r replies,\n\n\"There are many fair cities there. There is the city which is called\nAlf-heim, where dwelleth the people that is called Lios\u00e1lfar (_Light\nAlfs_). But the D\u00f6ck\u00e1lfar (_Dark Alfs_) dwell below under ground, and\nare unlike them in appearance, and still more unlike in actions. The\nLios\u00e1lfar are whiter than the sun in appearance, but the D\u00f6ck\u00e1lfar are\nblacker than pitch.\"[100]\n\nThe Nornir, the Parc\u00e6, or Destinies of Scandinavian mythology, are\nclosely connected with the Alfar.\n\n\"Many fair cities are there in Heaven,\" says H\u00e1r, \"and the divine\nprotection is over all. There standeth a city under the ash near the\nspring, and out of its halls came three maids, who are thus named,\nUdr, Verthandi, Skulld (_Past_, _Present_, _Future_). These maids\nshape the life of man. We call them Nornir. But there are many Nornir;\nthose who come to each child that is born, to shape its life, are of\nthe race of the gods; but others are of the race of the Alfs; and the\nthird of the race of dwarfs. As is here expressed,\n\n Sundry children deem I\n The Nornir to be--the same\n Race they have not.\n Some are of \u00c6ser-kin,\n Some are of Alf-kin,\n Some are the daughters of Dualin.\" (_i.e._ of the Dwarfs.)\n\n\"Then,\" said Ganglar, \"if the Nornir direct the future destiny of men,\nthey shape it very unequally. Some have a good life and rich, but some\nhave little wealth and praise, some long life, some short.\" \"The good\nNornir, and well descended,\" says H\u00e1r, \"shape a good life; but as to\nthose who meet with misfortune, it is caused by the malignant Nornir.\"\n\nThese Nornir bear a remarkable resemblance to the classical Parc\u00e6 and\nto the fairies of romance. They are all alike represented as assisting\nat the birth of eminent personages, as bestowing gifts either good or\nevil, and as foretelling the future fortune of the being that has just\nentered on existence.[101] This attribute of the fairies may have been\nderived from either the north or the south, but certainly these did\nnot borrow from each other.\n\nOf the origin of the word Alf nothing satisfactory is to be found.\nSome think it is akin to the Latin _albus_, white; others, to _alpes_,\nAlps, mountains. There is also supposed to be some mysterious\nconnexion between it and the word Elf, or Elv, signifying water in the\nnorthern languages; an analogy which has been thought to correspond\nwith that between the Latin Nympha and Lympha. Both relations,\nhowever, are perhaps rather fanciful than just. Of the derivation of\nAlf, as just observed, we know nothing certain,[102] and the original\nmeaning of Nympha would appear to be a new-married woman,[103] and\nthence a marriageable young woman; and it was applied to the supposed\ninhabitants of the mountains, seas, and streams, on the same principle\nthat the northern nations gave them the appellation of men and women,\nthat is, from their imagined resemblance to the human form.\n\nWhatever its origin, the word Alf has continued till the present day\nin all the Teutonic languages. The Danes have _Elv_, pl. _Elve_; the\nSwedes, _Elf_ pl. _Elfvar_ m. _Elfvor_ f.; and the words _Elf-dans_\nand _Elf-bl\u00e6st_, together with _Olof_ and other proper names, are\nderived from them. The Germans call the nightmare _Alp_; and in their\nold poems we meet with _Elbe_ and _Elbinne_, and _Elbisch_ occurs in\nthem in the bad sense of _elvish_ of Chaucer and our old romancers;\nand a number of proper names, such as Alprecht, Alphart, Alpinc,\nAlpwin,[104] were formed from it, undoubtedly before it got its\npresent ill sense.[105] In the Anglo-Saxon, [Old English: \u00c6lf], or\n[Old English: \u00c6lfen], with its feminine and plural, frequently occurs.\nThe Oreas, Naias, and Hamodryas of the Greeks and Romans are rendered\nin an Anglo-Saxon glossary by [Old English: Munt-\u00e6lfen], [Old English:\ns\u01fd-\u00e6lfen], and [Old English: feld-\u00e6lfen].[106] [Old English: \u00c6lf] is a\ncomponent part of the proper names \u00c6lfred and \u00c6lfric; and the author\nof the poem of Judith says that his heroine was [Old English:\n\u00c6lf-seine] (_Elf-sheen_), bright or fair as an elf. But of the\ncharacter and acts of the elfs no traditions have been preserved in\nAnglo-Saxon literature. In the English language, Elf, Elves, and their\nderivatives are to be found in every period, from its first formation\ndown to this present time.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[90] _Edda_ signifies grandmother. Some regard it as the feminine of\n_othr_, or _odr_, wisdom.\n\n[91] This language is so called because still spoken in Iceland. Its\nproper name is the Norr\u00e6na Tunga (_northern tongue_). It was the\ncommon language of the whole North.\n\n[92] See Tales and Popular Fictions, chap. ix.\n\n[93] It was first published by Resenius in 1665.\n\n[94] By the \u00c6ser are understood the Asiatics, who with Odin brought\ntheir arts and religion into Scandinavia. This derivation of the word,\nhowever, is rather dubious. Though possibly the population and\nreligion of Scandinavia came originally from Asia there seems to be no\nreason whatever for putting any faith in the legend of Odin. It is not\nunlikely that the name of their gods, \u00c6ser, gave birth to the whole\ntheory. It is remarkable that the ancient Etrurians also should have\ncalled the gods \u00c6sar.\n\n[95] So the l\u00f6tunn or Giant Vafthrudnir to Odin in the\nVafthrudnismal.--Strophe vii.\n\n[96] Thorlacius, Noget om Thor og hans Hammer, in the Skandinavisk\nMuseum for 1803.\n\n[97] Thorlacius, _ut supra_, says the thundering Thor was regarded as\nparticularly inimical to the Skovtrolds, against whom he continually\nemployed his mighty weapon. He thinks that the _Bidental_ of the\nRomans, and the rites connected with it, seem to suppose a similar\nsuperstition, and that in the well-known passage of Horace,\n\n Tu parum castis inimica mittes\n Fulmina lucis,\n\nthe words _parum castis lucis_ may mean groves or parts of woods, the\nhaunt of unclean spirits or Skovtrolds, _satyri lascivi et salaces_.\nThe word _Trold_ will be explained below.\n\n[98] The Dark Alfs were probably different from the Duergar, yet the\nlanguage of the prose Edda is in some places such as to lead to a\nconfusion of them. The following passage, however, seems to be decisive:\n\n N\u00e1ir, Dvergar\n _Ok_ D\u00f6ck-A'lfar.\n Hrafna-Galdr Othins, xxiv. 7.\n\n Ghosts, Dwarfs\n _And_ Dark Alfs.\n\nYet the Scandinavian literati appear unanimous in regarding them as\nthe same. Grimm, however, agrees with us in viewing the D\u00f6ck-Alfar as\ndistinct from the Duergar. As the abode of these last is named\nSvart\u00e1lfaheimr, he thinks that the Svart\u00e1lfar and the Duergar were the\nsame.--Deutsche Mythologie, p. 413, _seq._ See below, _Isle of R\u00fcgen_.\n\n[99] The ash-tree, Yggdrasil, is the symbol of the universe, the\nUrdar-fount is the fount of light and heat, which invigorates and\nsustains it. A good representation of this myth is given in Mr. Bohn's\nedition of Mallet's \"Northern Antiquities,\" which the reader is\nrecommended to consult.\n\n[100] This Grimm (_ut sup._) regards as an error of the writer, who\nconfounded the _D\u00f6ck_ and the _Svart\u00e1lfar_.\n\n[101] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 274.\n\n[102] The analogy of Deev, and other words of like import, might lead\nto the supposition of Spirit being the primary meaning of Alf.\n\n[103] See Mythology of Greece and Italy, p. 248, second edition.\n\n[104] After the introduction of Christianity, _Engel_, angel, was\nemployed for _Alp_ in most proper names, as Engelrich, Engelhart, etc.\n\n[105] See MM. Grimm's learned Introduction to their translation of the\nIrish Fairy Legends, and the Deutsche Mythologie of J. Grimm.\n\n[106] MM. Grimm suppose with a good deal of probability, that these\nare compounds formed to render the Greek ones, and are not expressive\nof a belief in analogous classes of spirits.\n\n\n\n\n THE DUERGAR.\n\n By ek fur j\u00f6rth nethan,\n A ek, undir stein, stath.\n ALVIS-MAL.\n\n I dwell the earth beneath,\n I possess, under the stone, my seat.\n\n\nThese diminutive beings, dwelling in rocks and hills, and\ndistinguished for their skill in metallurgy, seem to be peculiar to\nthe Gotho-German mythology.[107] Perhaps the most probable account of\nthem is, that they are personifications of the subterraneous powers\nof nature; for it may be again observed, that all the parts of every\nancient mythology are but personified powers, attributes, and moral\nqualities. The Edda thus describes their origin:--\n\n\"Then the gods sat on their seats, and held a council, and called to\nmind how the Duergar had become animated in the clay below in the\nearth, like maggots in flesh. The Duergar had been first created, and\nhad taken life in Ymir's[108] flesh, and were maggots in it, and by\nthe will of the gods they became partakers of human knowledge, and had\nthe likeness of men, and yet they abode in the ground and in stones.\nModsogner was the first of them, and then Dyrin.\"\n\nThe Duergar are described as being of low stature, with short legs and\nlong arms, reaching almost down to the ground when they stand\nerect.[109] They are skilful and expert workmen in gold, silver, iron,\nand the other metals. They form many wonderful and extraordinary\nthings for the \u00c6ser, and for mortal heroes, and the arms and armour\nthat come from their forges are not to be paralleled. Yet the gift\nmust be spontaneously bestowed, for misfortune attends those extorted\nfrom them by violence.[110]\n\nIn illustration of their character we bring forward the following\nnarratives from the Edda and Sagas. The homely garb in which they are\nhabited, will not, it is hoped, be displeasing to readers of taste. We\ngive as exact a copy as we are able of the originals in all their\nrudeness. The tales are old, their date unknown, and they therefore\ndemand respect. Yet it is difficult to suppress a smile at finding such\nfamiliar, nay almost vulgar terms[111] applied to the great supernal\npowers of nature, as occur in the following tale from the Edda.\n\n\n\n _Loki and the Dwarf._\n\nLoki, the son of Laufeiar, had out of mischief cut off all the hair of\nSif. When Thor found this out he seized Loki, and would have broken\nevery bone in his body, only that he swore to get the Suartalfar to\nmake for Sif hair of gold, which would grow like any other hair.\n\nLoki then went to the Dwarfs that are called the sons of Ivallda. They\nfirst made the hair, which as soon as it was put on the head grew like\nnatural hair; then the ship Skidbladni,[112] which always had the wind\nwith it, wherever it would sail; and, thirdly, the spear Gugner, which\nalways hit in battle.\n\nThen Loki laid his head against the dwarf Brock, that his brother\nEitri could not forge three such valuable things as these were. They\nwent to the forge; Eitri set the swine-skin (bellows) to the fire, and\nbid his brother Brock to blow, and not to quit the fire till he should\nhave taken out the things he had put into it.\n\nAnd when he was gone out of the forge, and that Brock was blowing,\nthere came a fly and settled upon his hand, and bit him; but he blew\nwithout stopping till the smith took the work out of the fire; and it\nwas a boar, and its bristles were of gold.\n\nHe then put gold into the fire, and bid him not to stop blowing till\nhe came back. He went away, and then the fly came and settled on his\nneck, and bit him more severely than before; but he blew on till the\nsmith came back and took out of the fire the gold-ring which is called\nDrupner.[113]\n\nThen he put iron into the fire, and bid him blow, and said that if he\nstopped blowing all the work would be lost. The fly now settled between\nhis eyes, and bit so hard that the blood ran into his eyes, so that he\ncould not see; so when the bellows were down he caught at the fly in all\nhaste, and tore off its wings; but then came the smith, and said that\nall that was in the fire had nearly been spoiled. He then took out of\nthe fire the hammer Mi\u00f6lner,[114] gave all the things to his brother\nBrock, and bade him go with them to Asgard and settle the wager.\n\nLoki also produced his jewels, and they took Odin, Thor, and Frey, for\njudges. Then Loki gave to Odin the spear Gugner, and to Thor the hair\nthat Sif was to have, and to Frey Skidbladni, and told their virtues\nas they have been already related. Brock took out his jewels, and gave\nto Odin the ring, and said that every ninth night there would drop\nfrom it eight other rings as valuable as itself. To Frey he gave the\nboar, and said that he would run through air and water, by night and\nby day, better than any horse, and that never was there night so dark\nthat the way by which he went would not be light from his hide. He\ngave the hammer to Thor, and said that it would never fail to hit a\nTroll, and that at whatever he threw it it would never miss it; and\nthat he could never fling it so far that it would not of itself return\nto his hand; and when he chose, it would become so small that he might\nput it into his pocket. But the fault of the hammer was that its\nhandle was too short.\n\nTheir judgment was, that the hammer was the best, and that the Dwarf had\nwon the wager. Then Loki prayed hard not to lose his head, but the Dwarf\nsaid that could not be. \"Catch me then,\" said Loki; and when he went to\ncatch him he was far away, for Loki had shoes with which he could run\nthrough air and water. Then the Dwarf prayed Thor to catch him, and Thor\ndid so. The Dwarf now went to cut off his head, but Loki said he was to\nhave the head only, and not the neck. Then the Dwarf took a knife and a\nthong, and went to sew up his mouth; but the knife was bad, so the Dwarf\nwished that his brother's awl were there; and as soon as he wished it it\nwas there, and he sewed his lips together.[115]\n\nNorthern mythologists thus explain this very ancient fable. Sif is\nthe earth, and the wife of Thor, the heaven or atmosphere; her hair is\nthe trees, bushes, and plants, that adorn the surface of the earth.\nLoki is the Fire-God, that delights in mischief, _bene servit_, _male\nimperat_. When by immoderate heat he has burned off the hair of Sif,\nher husband compels him so by temperate heat to warm the moisture of\nthe earth, that its former products may spring up more beautiful than\never. The boar is given to Freyr, to whom and his sister Freya, as the\ngods of animal and vegetable fecundity, the northern people offered\nthat animal, as the Italian people did, to the earth. Loki's bringing\nthe gifts from the under-ground people seems to indicate a belief that\nmetals were prepared by subterranean fire, and perhaps the forging of\nThor's hammer, the mythic emblem of thunder, by a terrestrial demon,\non a subterranean anvil, may suggest that the natural cause of thunder\nis to be sought in the earth.\n\n\n _Thorston and the Dwarf._\n\nWhen spring came, Thorston made ready his ship, and put twenty-four\nmen on board of her. When they came to Vinland, they ran her into a\nharbour, and every day he went on shore to amuse himself.\n\nHe came one day to an open part of the wood, where he saw a great\nrock, and out a little way from it a Dwarf, who was horridly ugly, and\nwas looking up over his head with his mouth wide open; and it appeared\nto Thorston that it ran from ear to ear, and that the lower jaw came\ndown to his knees. Thorston asked him, why he was acting so foolishly.\n\"Do not be surprised, my good lad,\" replied the Dwarf; \"do you not see\nthat great dragon that is flying up there? He has taken off my son,\nand I believe that it is Odin himself that has sent the monster to do\nit. But I shall burst and die if I lose my son.\" Then Thorston shot at\nthe dragon, and hit him under one of the wings, so that he fell dead\nto the earth; but Thorston caught the Dwarf's child in the air, and\nbrought him to his father.\n\nThe Dwarf was exceeding glad, and was more rejoiced than any one could\ntell; and he said, \"A great benefit have I to reward you for, who are\nthe deliverer of my son; and now choose your recompense in gold and\nsilver.\" \"Cure your son,\" said Thorston, \"but I am not used to take\nrewards for my services.\" \"It were not becoming,\" said the Dwarf, \"if\nI did not reward you; and let not my shirt of sheeps'-wool, which I\nwill give you, appear a contemptible gift, for you will never be tired\nwhen swimming, or get a wound, if you wear it next your skin.\"\n\nThorston took the shirt and put it on, and it fitted him well, though it\nhad appeared too short for the Dwarf. The Dwarf now took a gold ring out\nof his purse and gave it to Thorston, and bid him to take good care of\nit, telling him that he never should want for money while he kept that\nring. He next took a black stone and gave it to Thorston, and said, \"If\nyou hide this stone in the palm of your hand no one will see you. I have\nnot many more things to offer you, or that would be of any value to you;\nI will, however, give you a fire-stone for your amusement.\"\n\nHe then took the stone out of his purse, and with a steel point. The\nstone was triangular, white on one side and red on the other, and a\nyellow border ran round it. The Dwarf then said, \"If you prick the\nstone with the point in the white side, there will come on such a\nhail-storm that no one will be able to look at it; but if you want to\nstop this shower, you have only to prick on the yellow part, and there\nwill come so much sunshine that the whole will melt away. But if you\nshould like to prick the red side, then there will come out of it such\nfire, with sparks and crackling, that no one will be able to look at\nit. You may also get whatever you will by means of this point and\nstone, and they will come of themselves back to your hand when you\ncall them. I can now give you no more such gifts.\"\n\nThorston then thanked the Dwarf for his presents, and returned to his\nmen, and it was better for him to have made this voyage than to have\nstayed at home.[116]\n\n\n _The Dwarf-Sword Tirfing._\n\nSuaforlami, the second in descent from Odin, was king over Gardarike\n(Russia). One day he rode a-hunting, and sought long after a hart, but\ncould not find one the whole day. When the sun was setting he found\nhimself immersed so deep in the forest that he knew not where he was.\nThere lay a hill on his right hand, and before it he saw two Dwarfs;\nhe drew his sword against them, and cut off their retreat by getting\nbetween them and the rock. They proffered him ransom for their lives,\nand he asked them then their names, and one of them was called Dyren,\nand the other Dualin. He knew then that they were the most ingenious\nand expert of all the Dwarfs, and he therefore imposed on them that\nthey should forge him a sword, the best that they could form; its hilt\nshould be of gold, and its belt of the same metal. He moreover\nenjoined, that the sword should never miss a blow, and should never\nrust; and should cut through iron and stone, as through a garment; and\nshould be always victorious in war and in single combat for him who\nbare it. These were the conditions on which he gave them their lives.\n\nOn the appointed day he returned, and the Dwarfs came forth and\ndelivered him the sword; and when Dualin stood in the door he said,\n\"This sword shall be the bane of a man every time it is drawn; and\nwith it shall be done three of the greatest atrocities. It shall also\nbe thy bane.\" Then Suaforlami struck at the Dwarf so, that the blade\nof the sword penetrated into the solid rock. Thus Suaforlami became\npossessed of this sword, and he called it Tirfing, and he bare it in\nwar and in single combat, and he slew with it the Giant Thiasse, and\ntook his daughter Fridur.\n\nSuaforlami was shortly after slain by the Berserker[117] Andgrim, who\nthen became master of the sword. When the twelve sons of Andgrim were\nto fight with Hialmar and Oddur for Ingaborg, the beautiful daughter\nof King Inges, Angantyr bore the dangerous Tirfing; but all the\nbrethren were slain in the combat, and were buried with their arms.\n\nAngantyr left an only daughter, Hervor, who, when she grew up, dressed\nherself in man's attire, and took the name of Hervardar, and joined a\nparty of Vikinger, or Pirates. Knowing that Tirfing lay buried with\nher father, she determined to awaken the dead, and obtain the charmed\nblade; and perhaps nothing in northern poetry equals in interest and\nsublimity the description of her landing alone in the evening on the\nisland of Sams, where her father and uncles lay in their sepulchral\nmounds, and at night ascending to the tombs, that were enveloped in\nflame,[118] and by force of entreaty obtaining from the reluctant\nAngantyr the formidable Tirfing.\n\nHervor proceeded to the court of King Gudmund, and there one day, as\nshe was playing at tables with the king, one of the servants chanced\nto take up and draw Tirfing, which shone like a sunbeam. But Tirfing\nwas never to see the light but for the bane of man, and Hervor, by a\nsudden impulse, sprang from her seat, snatched the sword and struck\noff the head of the unfortunate man. Hervor, after this, returned to\nthe house of her grandfather, Jarl Biartmar, where she resumed her\nfemale attire, and was married to Haufud, the son of King Gudmund. She\nbare him two sons, Angantyr and Heidreker; the former of a mild and\ngentle disposition, the latter violent and fierce. Haufud would not\npermit Heidreker to remain at his court; and as he was departing, his\nmother, with other gifts, presented him Tirfing. His brother\naccompanied him out of the castle. Before they parted, Heidreker drew\nout his sword to look at and admire it; but scarcely did the rays of\nlight fall on the magic blade, when the Berserker rage came on its\nowner, and he slew his gentle brother.\n\nAfter this he joined a body of Vikinger, and became so distinguished,\nthat King Harold, for the aid he lent him, gave him his daughter Helga\nin marriage. But it was the destiny of Tirfing to commit crime, and\nHarold fell by the hand of his son-in-law. Heidreker was afterwards in\nRussia, and the son of the king was his foster-son. One day, as they\nwere out hunting, Heidreker and his foster-son happened to be separated\nfrom the rest of the party, when a wild boar appeared before them;\nHeidreker ran at him with his spear, but the beast caught it in his\nmouth and broke it across. He then alighted and drew Tirfing, and killed\nthe boar; but on looking around, he could see no one but his foster-son,\nand Tirfing could only be appeased with warm human blood, and he slew\nthe unfortunate youth. Finally, King Heidreker was murdered in his bed\nby his Scottish slaves, who carried off Tirfing; but his son Angantyr,\nwho succeeded him, discovered and put them to death, and recovered the\nmagic blade. In battle against the Huns he afterwards made great\nslaughter; but among the slain was found his own brother Laudur. And so\nends the history of the Dwarf-sword Tirfing.[119]\n\n * * * * *\n\nLike Alf, the word Duergr has retained its place in the Teutonic\nlanguages. Dverg[120] is the term still used in the north; the Germans\nhave Zwerg, and we Dwarf,[121] which, however, is never synonymous\nwith Fairy, as Elf is. Ihre rejects all the etymons proposed for it,\nsuch, for example, as that of Gudmund Andre\u00e6, \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd; and with\nabundant reason.\n\nSome have thought that by the Dwarfs were to be understood the Finns,\nthe original inhabitants of the country, who were driven to the\nmountains by the Scandinavians, and who probably excelled the\nnew-comers in the art of working their mines and manufacturing their\nproduce. Thorlacius, on the contrary, thinks that it was Odin and his\nfollowers, who came from the country of the Chalybes, that brought the\nmetallurgic arts into Scandinavia.\n\nPerhaps the simplest account of the origin of the Dwarfs is, that\nwhen, in the spirit of all ancient religions, the subterranean powers\nof nature were to be personified, the authors of the system, from\nobserving that people of small stature usually excel in craft and\ningenuity, took occasion to represent the beings who formed crystals\nand purified metals within the bowels of the earth as of diminutive\nsize, which also corresponded better with the power assigned them of\nslipping through the fissures and interstices of rocks and stones.\nSimilar observations led to the representation of the wild and awful\npowers of brute nature under the form of huge giants.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[107] Some think, but with little reason, they were originally a part\nof the Finnish mythology, and were adopted into the Gothic system.\n\n[108] The giant Ymir is a personification of Chaos, the undigested\nprimal matter. The sons of B\u00f6rr (other personifications) slew him. Out\nof him they formed the world; his blood made the sea, his flesh the\nland, his bones the mountains; rocks and cliffs were his teeth, jaws,\nand broken pieces of bones; his skull formed the heavens.\n\n[109] Gudmund Andreas in notis ad V\u00f6lusp\u00e1.\n\n[110] That they are not insensible to kindness one of the succeeding\ntales will show.\n\n[111] The habitual reader of the northern and German writers, or even\nour old English ones, will observe with surprise his gradually\ndiminished contempt for many expressions now become vulgar. He will\nfind himself imperceptibly falling into the habit of regarding them in\nthe light of their pristine dignity.\n\n[112] Skidbladni, like Pari Banou's tent, could expand and contract as\nrequired. It would carry all the \u00c6ser and their arms, and when not in\nuse it could be taken asunder and put in a purse. \"A good ship,\" says\nGanglar, \"is Skidbladni, but great art must have been employed in\nmaking it.\" Mythologists say it is the clouds.\n\n[113] _i. e._ The _Dripper_.\n\n[114] _i. e._ The _Bruiser_ or _Crusher_, from _Myla_, to bruise or\ncrush. Little the Fancy know of the high connexions of their phrase\n_Mill_.\n\n[115] Edda Resenii, D\u00e6misaga 59.\n\n[116] Thorston's Saga, c. 3, in the K\u00e4mpa Dater.\n\n[117] The Berserkers were warriors who used to be inflamed with such\nrage and fury at the thoughts of combats as to bite their shields, run\nthrough fire, swallow burning coals, and perform such like mad feats.\n\"Whether the avidity for fighting or the ferocity of their nature,\"\nsays Saxo, \"brought this madness on them, is uncertain.\"\n\n[118] The northern nations believed that the tombs of their heroes\nemitted a kind of lambent flame, which was always visible in the\nnight, and served to guard the ashes of the dead; they called it\n_Hauga Elldr_, or The Sepulchral Fire. It was supposed more\nparticularly to surround such tombs as contained hidden\ntreasures.--_Bartholin, de Contempt. a Dan. Morte_, p. 275.\n\n[119] Hervarar Saga _passim_. The Tirfing Saga would be its more\nproper appellation. In poetic and romantic interest it exceeds all the\nnorthern Sagas.\n\n[120] In Swedish Dverg also signifies a spider.\n\n[121] In the old Swedish metrical history of Alexander, the word\n_Duerf_ occurs. The progress in the English word is as follows:\nAnglo-Saxon [Old English: d\u00feeorg]; thence _dwerke_;\n\n A maid that is a messingere\n And a _dwerk\u00e8_ me brought here,\n Her to do soco\u00far.\n _Lybeaus Disconus._\n\nlastly, _dwarf_, as in old Swedish.\n\n\n\n\n SCANDINAVIA.\n\n De vare syv og hundrede Trolde,\n De vare baade grumme og lede,\n De vilde gj\u00f6re Bonden et Gj\u00e6sterie,\n Med hannem baade drikke og \u00e6de.\n ELINE AF VILLENSZOV.\n\n There were seven and a hundred Trolls,\n They were both ugly and grim,\n A visit they would the farmer make,\n Both eat and drink with him.\n\n\nUnder the name of Scandinavia are included the kingdoms of Sweden,\nDenmark, and Norway, which once had a common religion and a common\nlanguage. Their religion is still one, and their languages differ but\nlittle; we therefore feel that we may safely treat of their Fairy\nMythology together.\n\nOur principal authorities are the collection of Danish popular\ntraditions, published by Mr. Thiele,[122] the select Danish ballads of\nNyerup and Rahbek,[123] and the Swedish ballads of Geijer and\nAfzelius.[124] As most of the principal Danish ballads treating of\nElves, etc., have been already translated by Dr. Jamieson, we will not\ninsert them here; but translate, instead, the corresponding Swedish\nones, which are in general of greater simplicity, and often contain\nadditional traits of popular belief. As we prefer fidelity to polish,\nthe reader must not be offended at antique modes of expression and\nimperfect rimes. Our rimes we can, however, safely say shall be at\nleast as perfect as those of our originals.\n\nThese ballads, none of which are later than the fifteenth century,\nare written in a strain of the most artless simplicity; not the\nslightest attempt at ornament is to be discerned in them; the same\nideas and expressions continually recur; and the rimes are the most\ncareless imaginable, often a mere _assonnance_ in vowels or\nconsonants; sometimes not possessing even that slight similarity of\nsound. Every Visa or ballad has its single or double Omqu\u00e6d[125] or\nburden, which, like a running accompaniment in music, frequently falls\nin with the most happy effect; sometimes recalling former joys or\nsorrows; sometimes, by the continual mention of some attribute of one\nof the seasons, especially the summer, keeping up in the mind of the\nreader or hearers the forms of external nature.\n\nIt is singular to observe the strong resemblance between the\nScandinavian ballads and those of England and Scotland, not merely in\nmanner but in subject. The Scottish ballad first mentioned below is an\ninstance; it is to be met with in England, in the Feroes, in Denmark,\nand in Sweden, with very slight differences. Geijer observes, that the\ntwo last stanzas of 'William and Margaret,' in Percy's Reliques, are\nnearly word for word the same as the two last in the Swedish ballad of\n'Rosa Lilla,'[126] and in the corresponding Danish one. This might\nperhaps lead to the supposition of many of these ballads having come\ndown from the time when the connexion was so intimate between this\ncountry and Scandinavia.\n\nWe will divide the Scandinavian objects of popular belief into four\nclasses:--1. The Elves; 2. The Dwarfs, or Trolls, as they are usually\ncalled; 3. The Nisses; and 4. The Necks, Mermen, and Mermaids.[127]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[122] Danske Folkesagn, 4 vols. 12mo. Copenh. 1818-22.\n\n[123] Udvalgde Danske Viser fra Middelaldaren, 5 vols. 12mo. Copenh.\n1812.\n\n[124] Svenska Folk-Visor fr\u00e5n Forntiden, 3 vols. 8vo. Stockholm,\n1814-16. We have not seen the late collection of Arvidsson named\nSvenska Forns\u00e5nger, in 3 vols. 8vo.\n\n[125] The reader will find a beautiful instance of a double Omqu\u00e6d in\nthe Scottish ballad of the Cruel Sister.\n\n There were two sisters sat in a bower,\n _Binn\u014drie o Binn\u014drie_\n There came a knight to be their wooer\n _By the bonny mill-dams of Binn\u014drie._\n\nAnd in the Cruel Brother,\n\n There were three ladies played at the ba',\n _With a heigh ho and a lily gay_;\n There came a knight and played o'er them a',\n _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.\n\nThe second and fourth lines are repeated in every stanza.\n\n[126] These are the Swedish verses:\n\n Det v\u00e4xte upp _Liljor_ p\u00e5 begge deres graf,\n _Med \u00e4ran och med dygd_--\n De v\u00e4xte tilsamman med alla sina blad.\n _J vinnen v\u00e4l, J vinnen v\u00e4l b\u00e5de rosor och liljor._\n Det v\u00e4xte upp _Rosor_ ur b\u00e5da deras mun,\n _Med \u00e4ran och med dygd_--\n De v\u00e4xte tilsammans i fagreste lund.\n _J vinnen v\u00e4l, J vinnen v\u00e4l b\u00e5de rosor och liljor._\n\n\n[127] Some readers may wish to know the proper mode of pronouncing such\nDanish and Swedish words as occur in the following legends. For their\nsatisfaction we give the following information. J is pronounced as our\n_y_; when it comes between a consonant and a vowel, it is very short,\nlike the y that is expressed, but not written, in many English words\nafter _c_ and _g_: thus _kj\u00e6r_ is pronounced very nearly as _care_: _\u00f6_\nsounds like the German _\u00f6_, or French _eu_: _d_ after another consonant\nis rarely sounded, Trold is pronounced Troll: _aa_, which the Swedes\nwrite _\u00e5_, as o in _more_, _tore_. Aarhuus is pronounced _Ore-hoos_.\n\n\n\n\n ELVES.\n\n S\u00e4g, k\u00e4nnar du Elfvornas glada sl\u00e4gt?\n De bygga ved flodernas rand;\n De spinna af m\u00e5nsken sin h\u00f6gtidsdr\u00e4gt,\n Med liljehvit spelande hand.\n STAGNELIUS.\n\n Say, knowest thou the Elves' gay and joyous race?\n The banks of streams are their home;\n They spin of the moonshine their holiday-dress,\n With their lily-white hands frolicsome.\n\n\nThe Alfar still live in the memory and traditions of the peasantry of\nScandinavia. They also, to a certain extent, retain their distinction\ninto White and Black. The former, or the Good Elves, dwell in the air,\ndance on the grass, or sit in the leaves of trees; the latter, or Evil\nElves, are regarded as an underground people, who frequently inflict\nsickness or injury on mankind; for which there is a particular kind of\ndoctors called _Kloka m\u00e4n_,[128] to be met with in all parts of the\ncountry.\n\nThe Elves are believed to have their kings, and to celebrate their\nweddings and banquets, just the same as the dwellers above ground. There\nis an interesting intermediate class of them in popular tradition called\nthe Hill-people (_H\u00f6gfolk_), who are believed to dwell in caves and\nsmall hills: when they show themselves they have a handsome human form.\nThe common people seem to connect with them a deep feeling of\nmelancholy, as if bewailing a half-quenched hope of redemption.[129]\n\nThere are only a few old persons now who can tell any thing more about\nthem than of the sweet singing that may occasionally on summer nights\nbe heard out of their hills, when one stands still and listens, or, as\nit is expressed in the ballads, \"lays his ear to the Elve-hill\"\n(_l\u00e4gger sitt \u00f6ra till Elfveh\u00f6gg_): but no one must be so cruel as, by\nthe slightest word, to destroy their hopes of salvation, for then the\nspritely music will be turned into weeping and lamentation.[130]\n\nThe Norwegians call the Elves Huldrafolk, and their music Huldraslaat:\nit is in the minor key, and of a dull and mournful sound. The\nmountaineers sometimes play it, and pretend they have learned it by\nlistening to the underground people among the hills and rocks. There\nis also a tune called the Elf-king's tune, which several of the good\nfiddlers know right well, but never venture to play, for as soon as it\nbegins both old and young, and even inanimate objects, are impelled to\ndance, and the player cannot stop unless he can play the air\nbackwards, or that some one comes behind him and cuts the strings of\nhis fiddle.[131]\n\nThe little underground Elves, who are believed to dwell under the\nhouses of mankind, are described as sportive and mischievous, and as\nimitating all the actions of men. They are said to love cleanliness\nabout the house and place, and to reward such servants as are neat and\ncleanly.\n\nThere was one time, it is said, a servant girl, who was for her cleanly,\ntidy habits, greatly beloved by the Elves, particularly as she was\ncareful to carry away all dirt and foul water to a distance from the\nhouse, and they once invited her to a wedding. Every thing was conducted\nin the greatest order, and they made her a present of some chips, which\nshe took good-humouredly and put into her pocket. But when the\nbride-pair was coming there was a straw unluckily lying in the way, the\nbridegroom got cleverly over it, but the poor bride fell on her face. At\nthe sight of this the girl could not restrain herself, but burst out\na-laughing, and that instant the whole vanished from her sight. Next\nday, to her utter amazement, she found that what she had taken to be\nnothing but chips, were so many pieces of pure gold.[132]\n\nA dairy-maid at a place called Skibshuset (_the Ship-house_), in Odense,\nwas not so fortunate. A colony of Elves had taken up their abode under\nthe floor of the cowhouse, or it is more likely, were there before it\nwas made a cowhouse. However, the dirt and filth that the cattle made\nannoyed them beyond measure, and they gave the dairy-maid to understand\nthat if she did not remove the cows, she would have reason to repent it.\nShe gave little heed to their representations; and it was not very long\ntill they set her up on top of the hay-rick, and killed all the cows. It\nis said that they were seen on the same night removing in a great hurry\nfrom the cowhouse down to the meadow, and that they went in little\ncoaches; and their king was in the first coach, which was far more\nstately and magnificent than the rest. They have ever since lived in the\nmeadow.[133]\n\nThe Elves are extremely fond of dancing in the meadows, where they form\nthose circles of a livelier green which from them are called Elf-dance\n(_Elfdans_). When the country people see in the morning stripes along\nthe dewy grass in the woods and meadows, they say the Elves have been\ndancing there. If any one should at midnight get within their circle,\nthey become visible to him, and they may then illude him. It is not\nevery one that can see the Elves; and one person may see them dancing\nwhile another perceives nothing. Sunday children, as they are called,\n_i. e._ those born on Sunday, are remarkable for possessing this\nproperty of seeing Elves and similar beings. The Elves, however, have\nthe power to bestow this gift on whomsoever they please. People also\nused to speak of Elf-books which they gave to those whom they loved, and\nwhich enabled them to foretell future events.\n\nThe Elves often sit in little stones that are of a circular form, and\nare called Elf-mills (_Elf-qu\u00e4rnor_); the sound of their voice is said\nto be sweet and soft like the air.[134]\n\nThe Danish peasantry give the following account of their Ellefolk or\nElve-people.\n\nThe Elle-people live in the Elle-moors. The appearance of the man is\nthat of an old man with a low-crowned hat on his head; the Elle-woman\nis young and of a fair and attractive countenance, but behind she is\nhollow like a dough-trough. Young men should be especially on their\nguard against her, for it is very difficult to resist her; and she\nhas, moreover, a stringed instrument, which, when she plays on it,\nquite ravishes their hearts. The man may be often seen near the\nElle-moors, bathing himself in the sunbeams, but if any one comes too\nnear him, he opens his mouth wide and breathes upon them, and his\nbreath produces sickness and pestilence. But the women are most\nfrequently to be seen by moonshine; then they dance their rounds in\nthe high grass so lightly and so gracefully, that they seldom meet a\ndenial when they offer their hand to a rash young man. It is also\nnecessary to watch cattle, that they may not graze in any place where\nthe Elle-people have been; for if any animal come to a place where\nthe Elle-people have spit, or done what is worse, it is attacked by\nsome grievous disease which can only be cured by giving it to eat a\nhandful of St. John's wort, which had been pulled at twelve o'clock on\nSt. John's night. It might also happen that they might sustain some\ninjury by mixing with the Elle-people's cattle, which are very large,\nand of a blue colour, and which may sometimes be seen in the fields\nlicking up the dew, on which they live. But the farmer has an easy\nremedy against this evil; for he has only to go to the Elle-hill when\nhe is turning out his cattle and to say, \"Thou little Troll! may I\ngraze my cows on thy hill?\" And if he is not prohibited, he may set\nhis mind at rest.[135]\n\nThe following ballads and tales will fully justify what has been said\nrespecting the tone of melancholy connected with the subject of the\nElves.[136]\n\n\n _Sir Olof in the Elve-Dance._\n\n Sir Olof he rode out at early day,\n And so came he unto an Elve-dance gay.\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n The Elve-father reached out his white hand free,\n \"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n \"O nought I will, and nought I may,\n To-morrow will be my wedding-day.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n And the Elve-mother reached out her white hand free,\n \"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n \"O nought I will, and nought I may,\n To-morrow will be my wedding-day.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n And the Elve-sister reached out her white hand free,\n \"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n \"O nought I will, and nought I may,\n To-morrow will be my wedding-day.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n And the bride she spake with her bride-maids so,\n \"What may it mean that the bells thus go?\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n \"'Tis the custom of this our isle,\" they replied;\n \"Each young swain ringeth home his bride.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n \"And the truth from you to conceal I fear,\n Sir Olof is dead, and lies on his bier.\"\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n And on the morrow, ere light was the day,\n In Sir Olof's house three corpses lay.\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.\n\n It was Sir Olof, his bonny bride,\n And eke his mother, of sorrow she died.\n The dance it goes well,\n So well in the grove.[137]\n\n\n\n _The Elf-woman and Sir Olof._\n\n Sir Olof rideth out ere dawn,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n Bright day him came on.\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n Sir Olof rides by Borgya,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n Meets a dance of Elves so gay.\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n There danceth Elf and Elve-maid,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n Elve-king's daughter, with her flying hair.\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n Elve-king's daughter reacheth her hand free,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"Come here, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"Nought I tread the dance with thee,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"My bride hath that forbidden me.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"Nought I will and nought I may,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"To-morrow is my wedding-day.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"Wilt thou not tread the dance with me?\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"An evil shall I fix on thee.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n Sir Olof turned his horse therefrom,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n Sickness and plague follow him home.\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n Sir Olof to his mother's rode,\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n Out before him his mother stood.\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"Welcome, welcome, my dear son,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"Why is thy rosy cheek so wan?\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"My colt was swift and I tardy,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"I knocked against a green oak-tree.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"My dear sister, prepare my bed,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"My dear brother, take my horse to the mead.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"My dear mother, brush my hair,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"My dear father, make me a bier.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"My dear son, that do not say,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n To-morrow is thy wedding-day.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.\n\n \"Be it when it will betide,\"\n Breaketh day, falleth rime;\n \"I ne'er shall come unto my bride.\"\n Sir Olof cometh home,\n When the wood it is leaf-green.[138]\n\n\n _The Young Swain and the Elves._\n\n I was a handsome young swain,\n And to the court should ride.\n I rode out in the evening-hour;\n In the rosy grove I to sleep me laid.\n Since I her first saw.\n\n I laid me under a lind so green,\n My eyes they sunk in sleep;\n There came two maidens going along,\n They fain would with me speak.\n Since I her first saw.\n\n The one she tapped me on my cheek,\n The other whispered in my ear:\n \"Stand up, handsome young swain,\n If thou list of love to hear.\"\n Since I her first saw.\n\n They led then forth a maiden,\n Whose hair like gold did shine:\n \"Stand up, handsome young swain,\n If thou to joy incline.\"\n Since I her first saw.\n\n The third began a song to sing,\n With good will she did so;\n Thereat stood the rapid stream,\n Which before was wont to flow.\n Since I her first saw.\n\n Thereat stood the rapid stream,\n Which before was wont to flow;\n And the hind all with her hair so brown,\n Forgot whither she should go.\n Since I her first saw.\n\n I got me up from off the ground,\n And leaned my sword upon;\n The Elve-women danced in and out,\n All had they the Elve fashi\u00f3n.\n Since I her first saw.\n\n Had not fortune been to me so good,\n That the cock his wings clapped then,\n I had slept within the hill that night,\n All with the Elve-wom\u00e9n.\n Since I her first saw.[139]\n\n\n\n _Svend Faelling and the Elle-Maid._\n\nSvend F\u00e6lling was, while a little boy, at service in\nSjeller-wood-house in Framley; and it one time happened that he had to\nride of a message to Ristrup. It was evening before he got near home,\nand as he came by the hill of Borum Es, he saw the Elle-maids, who\nwere dancing without ceasing round and round his horse. Then one of\nthe Elle-maids stept up to him, and reached him a drinking cup,\nbidding him at the same time to drink. Svend took the cup, but as he\nwas dubious of the nature of the contents, he flung it out over his\nshoulder, where it fell on the horse's back, and singed off all the\nhair. While he had the horn fast in his hand, he gave his horse the\nspurs and rode off full speed. The Elle-maid pursued him till he came\nto Trigebrand's mill, and rode through the running water, over which\nshe could not follow him. She then earnestly conjured Svend to give\nher back the horn, promising him in exchange twelve men's strength. On\nthis condition he gave back the horn, and got what she had promised\nhim; but it very frequently put him to great inconvenience, for he\nfound that along with it he had gotten an appetite for twelve.[140]\n\n\n _The Elle-Maids._\n\nThere lived a man in Aasum, near Odense, who, as he was coming home\none night from Seden, passed by a hill that was standing on red\npillars, and underneath there was dancing and great festivity. He\nhurried on past the hill as fast as he could, never venturing to cast\nhis eyes that way. But as he went along, two fair maidens came to meet\nhim, with beautiful hair floating over their shoulders, and one of\nthem held a cup in her hand, which she reached out to him that he\nmight drink of it. The other then asked him if he would come again, at\nwhich he laughed, and answered, Yes. But when he got home he became\nstrangely affected in his mind, was never at ease in himself, and was\ncontinually saying that he had promised to go back. And when they\nwatched him closely to prevent his doing so, he at last lost his\nsenses, and died shortly after.[141]\n\n\n _Maid Vae._\n\nThere was once a wedding and a great entertainment at \u0152sterh\u00e6singe.\nThe party did not break up till morning, and the guests took their\ndeparture with a great deal of noise and bustle. While they were\nputting their horses to their carriages, previous to setting out home,\nthey stood talking about their respective bridal-presents. And while\nthey were talking loudly, and with the utmost earnestness, there came\nfrom a neighbouring moor a maiden clad in green, with plaited rushes\non her head; she went up to the man who was loudest, and bragging most\nof his present, and said to him: \"What wilt thou give to maid V\u00e6?\"\nThe man, who was elevated with all the ale and brandy he had been\ndrinking, snatched up a whip, and replied: \"Ten cuts of my whip;\" and\nthat very moment he dropt down dead on the ground.[142]\n\n\n _The Elle-Maid near Ebeltoft._\n\nA farmer's boy was keeping cows not far from Ebeltoft. There came to him\na very fair and pretty girl, and she asked him if he was hungry or\nthirsty. But when he perceived that she guarded with the greatest\nsolicitude against his getting a sight of her back, he immediately\nsuspected that she must be an Elle-maid, for the Elle-people are hollow\nbehind. He accordingly would give no heed to her, and endeavoured to get\naway from her; but when she perceived this, she offered him her breast\nthat he should suck her. And so great was the enchantment that\naccompanied this action, that he was unable to resist it. But when he\nhad done as she desired him, he had no longer any command of himself, so\nthat she had now no difficulty in enticing him with her.\n\nHe was three days away, during which time his father and mother went\nhome, and were in great affliction, for they were well assured that he\nmust have been enticed away. But on the fourth day his father saw him\na long way off coming home, and he desired his wife to set a pan of\nmeat on the fire as quick as possible. The son then came in at the\ndoor, and sat down at the table without saying a word. The father,\ntoo, remained quite silent, as if every thing was as it ought to be.\nHis mother then set the meat before him, and his father bid him eat,\nbut he let the food lie untouched, and said that he knew now where he\ncould get much better food. The father then became highly enraged,\ntook a good large switch, and once more ordered him to take his food.\nThe boy was then obliged to eat, and as soon as he had tasted the\nflesh he ate it up greedily, and instantly fell into a deep sleep. He\nslept for as many days as the enchantment had lasted, but he never\nafter recovered the use of his reason.[143]\n\n\n _Hans Puntleder._\n\nThere are three hills on the lands of Bubbelgaard in Funen, which are\nto this day called the Dance-hills, from the following occurrence. A\nlad named Hans was at service in Bubbelgaard, and as he was coming one\nevening past the hills, he saw one of them raised on red pillars, and\ngreat dancing and much merriment underneath. He was so enchanted with\nthe beauty and magnificence of what he saw, that he could not restrain\nhis curiosity, but was in a strange and wonderful manner attracted\nnearer and nearer, till at last the fairest of all the fair maidens\nthat were there came up to him and gave him a kiss. From that moment\nhe lost all command of himself, and became so violent, that he used to\ntear to pieces all the clothes that were put on him, so that at last\nthey were obliged to make him a dress of sole-leather, which he could\nnot pull off him; and ever after he went by the name of Hans\nPuntleder, i. e. Sole-leather.[144]\n\n * * * * *\n\nAccording to Danish tradition, the Elle-kings, under the denomination\nof Promontory-kings, (_Klintekonger_), keep watch and ward over the\ncountry. Whenever war, or any other misfortune, threatens to come on\nthe land, there may be seen, on the promontory, complete armies, drawn\nup in array to defend the country.\n\nOne of these kings resides at M\u00f6en, on the spot which still bears the\nname of King's-hill (_Kongsbjerg_). His queen is the most beautiful\nof beings, and she dwells at the Queen's Chair (_Dronningstolen_).\nThis king is a great friend of the king of Stevns, and they are both\nat enmity with Grap, the promontory-king of R\u00fcgen, who must keep at a\ndistance, and look out over the sea to watch their approach.\n\nAnother tradition, however, says, that there is but one king, who\nrules over the headlands of M\u00f6en, Stevns, and R\u00fcgen. He has a\nmagnificent chariot, which is drawn by four black horses. In this he\ndrives over the sea, from one promontory to another. At such times the\nsea grows black, and is in great commotion, and the loud snorting and\nneighing of his horses may be distinctly heard.[145]\n\nIt was once believed that no mortal monarch dare come to Stevns; for\nthe Elle-king would not permit him to cross the stream that bounds it.\nBut Christian IV. passed it without opposition, and since his time\nseveral Danish monarchs have been there.\n\nAt Skjelsk\u00f6r, in Zealand, reigns another of these jealous promontorial\nsovereigns, named king Tolv (_Twelve_). He will not suffer a mortal\nprince to pass the bridge of Kjelsk\u00f6r. Wo, too, betide the watchman who\nshould venture to cry twelve o'clock in the village, he might chance to\nfind himself transported to the village of Borre or to the Windmills.\n\nOld people that have eyes for such things, declare they frequently see\nKong Tolv rolling himself on the grass in the sunshine. On New-year's\nnight he takes from one smith's forge or another nine new shoes for\nhis horses; they must be always left ready for him, and with them the\nnecessary complement of nails.\n\nThe Elle-king of Bornholm[146] lets himself be occasionally heard with\nfife and drum, especially when war is at hand; he may then be seen in\nthe fields with his soldiers. This king will not suffer an earthly\nmonarch to pass more than three nights on his isle.\n\nIn the popular creed there is some strange connexion between the Elves\nand the trees. They not only frequent them, but they make an\ninterchange of form with them. In the church-yard of Store\nHeddinge,[147] in Zealand, there are the remains of an oak wood.\nThese, say the common people, are the Elle-king's soldiers; by day\nthey are trees, by night valiant warriors. In the wood of Rugaard, in\nthe same island, is a tree which by night becomes a whole Elle-people,\nand goes about all alive. It has no leaves upon it, yet it would be\nvery unsafe to go to break or fell it, for the underground-people\nfrequently hold their meetings under its branches. There is, in\nanother place, an elder-tree growing in a farm-yard, which frequently\ntakes a walk in the twilight about the yard, and peeps in through the\nwindow at the children when they are alone.\n\nIt was, perhaps, these elder-trees that gave origin to the notion. In\nDanish _Hyld_ or _Hyl_--a word not far removed from Elle--is Elder,\nand the peasantry believe that in or under the elder-tree dwells a\nbeing called Hyldemoer (_Elder-mother_), or Hyldequinde\n(_Elder-woman_), with her ministrant spirits.[148] A Danish peasant,\nif he wanted to take any part of an elder-tree, used previously to\nsay, three times--\"O, Hyldemoer, Hyldemoer! let me take some of thy\nelder, and I will let thee take something of mine in return.\" If this\nwas omitted he would be severely punished. They tell of a man who cut\ndown an elder-tree, but he soon after died suddenly. It is, moreover,\nnot prudent to have any furniture made of elder-wood. A child was once\nput to lie in a cradle made of this wood, but Hyldemoer came and\npulled it by the legs, and gave it no rest till it was put to sleep\nelsewhere. Old David Monrad relates, that a shepherd, one night, heard\nhis three children crying, and when he inquired the cause, they said\nsome one had been sucking them. Their breasts were found to be\nswelled, and they were removed to another room, where they were quiet.\nThe reason is said to have been that that room was floored with elder.\n\nThe linden or lime tree is the favourite haunt of the Elves and\ncognate beings; and it is not safe to be near it after sunset.[149]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[128] That is, Wise People or Conjurors. They answer to the\nFairy-women of Ireland.\n\n[129] Afzelius is of opinion that this notion respecting the\nHill-people is derived from the time of the introduction of\nChristianity into the north, and expresses the sympathy of the first\nconverts with their forefathers, who had died without a knowledge of\nthe Redeemer, and lay buried in heathen earth, and whose unhappy\nspirits were doomed to wander about these lower regions, or sigh\nwithin their mounds till the great day of redemption.\n\n[130] \"About fifteen years ago,\" says \u00d6dman (Bahusl\u00e4n, p. 80), \"people\nused to hear, out of the hill under G\u00e4run, in the parish of Tanum, the\nplaying, as it were, of the very best musicians. Any one there who had\na fiddle, and wished to play, was taught in an instant, provided they\npromised them salvation; but whoever did not do so, might hear them\nwithin, in the hill, breaking their violins to pieces, and weeping\nbitterly.\" See Grimm. Deut. Myth. 461.\n\n[131] Arndt, Reise nach Schweden, iv. 241.\n\n[132] Svenska Folk-Visor, vol. iii. p. 159. There is a similar legend\nin Germany. A servant, one time, seeing one of the little ones very\nhard-set to carry a single grain of wheat, burst out laughing at him.\nIn a rage, he threw it on the ground, and it proved to be the purest\ngold. But he and his comrades quitted the house, and it speedily went\nto decay.--Strack. Beschr. v. Eilsen, p. 124, _ap._ Grimm, Introd.,\netc., p. 90.\n\n[133] Thiele, vol. iv. p. 22. They are called Trolls in the original.\nAs they had a king, we think they must have been Elves. The Dwarfs\nhave long since abolished monarchy.\n\n[134] The greater part of what precedes has been taken from Afzelius\nin the Svenska Visor, vol. iii.\n\n[135] Thiele, iv. 26.\n\n[136] In the distinction which we have made between the Elves and\nDwarfs we find that we are justified by the popular creed of the\nNorwegians.--Faye, p. 49, _ap._ Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 412.\n\n[137] Svenska Visor, iii. 158, as sung in Upland and East Gothland.\n\n[138] Svenska Visor, iii. 165, from a MS. in the Royal Library. This and\nthe preceding one are variations of the Danish Ballad of Elveskud, which\nhas been translated by Dr. Jamieson (Popular Ballads, i. 219), and by\nLewis in the Tales of Wonder. The Swedish editors give a third variation\nfrom East Gothland. A comparison of the two ballads with each other, and\nwith the Danish one, will enable the reader to judge of the\nmodifications a subject undergoes in different parts of a country.\n\n[139] Svenska Visor, iii. p. 170. This is the Elvesh\u00f6j of the Danish\nballads, translated by Jamieson (i. 225), and by Lewis. In the different\nSwedish variations, they are Hafsfruen, i. e. Mermaids, who attempt to\nseduce young men to their love by the offer of costly presents.\n\nA Danish legend (Thiele, i. 22) relates that a poor man, who was working\nnear Gillesbjerg, a haunted hill, lay down on it to rest himself in the\nmiddle of the day. Suddenly there appeared before him a beautiful\nmaiden, with a gold cup in her hand. She made signs to him to come near,\nbut when the man in his fright made the sign of the cross, she was\nobliged to turn round and then he saw her back that it was hollow.\n\n[140] Thiele, ii. 67. Framley is in Jutland. Svend (i. e. _Swain_)\nF\u00e6lling is a celebrated character in Danish tradition; he is regarded as\na second Holger Danske, and he is the hero of two of the Kjempe Viser.\nIn Sweden he is named Sven F\u00e4rling or Fotling. Grimm has shown that he\nand Sigurd are the same person. Deutsche Mythologie, p. 345. In the\nNibelungen Lied (st. 345) Sifret (Sigurd) gets the strength of twelve\nmen by wearing the _tarnkappe_ of the dwarf Albrich. Another tradition,\npresently to be mentioned, says it was from a Dwarf he got his strength,\nfor aiding him in battle against another Dwarf. It is added, that when\nSvend came home in the evening, after his adventure with the Elle-maids,\nthe people were drinking their Yule-beer, and they sent him down for a\nfresh supply. Svend went without saying anything, and returned with a\nbarrel in each hand and one under each arm.\n\n[141] Thiele, iii. 43. Odense is in Funen.\n\n[142] Thiele, i. 109. (_communicated_). Such legends, as Mr. Thiele\nlearned directly from the mouths of the peasantry, he terms _oral_;\nthose he procured from his friends, _communicated_. \u0152sterh\u00e6singe, the\nscene of this legend, is in the island of Funen.\n\n[143] Thiele, i. 118. (_communicated_). Ebeltoft is a village in North\nJutland.\n\n[144] Thiele, iv. 32. From the circumstances, it would appear that\nthese were Elves and not Dwarfs; but one cannot be positive in these\nmatters.\n\n[145] M\u00f6en and Stevns are in Zealand. As R\u00fcgen does not belong to the\nDanish monarchy, the former tradition is probably the more correct\none. Yet the latter may be the original one.\n\n[146] Bornholm is a _holm_, or small island, adjacent to Zealand.\n\n[147] The Elle-king of Stevns has his bedchamber in the wall of this\nchurch.\n\n[148] This is evidently the Frau Holle of the Germans.\n\n[149] The preceding particulars are all derived from M. Thiele's work.\n\n\n\n\n DWARFS OR TROLLS\n\n Ther bygde folk i the b\u00e4rg,\n Quinnor och m\u00e4n, f\u00f6r mycken duerf.\n HIST. ALEX. MAC. _Suedice._\n\n Within the hills folk did won,\n Women and men, dwarfs many a one.\n\n\nThe more usual appellation of the Dwarfs is Troll or Trold,[150] a\nword originally significant of any evil spirit,[151] giant monster,\nmagician,[152] or evil person; but now in a good measure divested of\nits ill senses, for the Trolls are not in general regarded as noxious\nor malignant beings.\n\nThe Trolls are represented as dwelling inside of hills, mounds, and\nhillocks--whence they are also called Hill-people\n(_Bjergfolk_)--sometimes in single families, sometimes in societies. In\nthe ballads they are described as having kings over them, but never so\nin the popular legend. Their character seems gradually to have sunk down\nto the level of the peasantry, in proportion as the belief in them was\nconsigned to the same class. They are regarded as extremely rich for\nwhen, on great occasions of festivity, they have their hills raised up\non red pillars, people that have chanced to be passing by have seen them\nshoving large chests full of money to and fro, and opening and clapping\ndown the lids of them. Their hill-dwellings are very magnificent inside.\n\"They live,\" said one of Mr. Arndt's guides, \"in fine houses of gold and\ncrystal. My father saw them once in the night, when the hill was open on\nSt. John's night. They were dancing and drinking, and it seemed to him\nas if they were making signs to him to go to them, but his horse\nsnorted, and carried him away, whether he would or no. There is a great\nnumber of them in the Guldberg (_Goldhill_), and they have brought into\nit all the gold and silver that people buried in the great Russian\nwar.\"[153]\n\nThey are obliging and neighbourly; freely lending and borrowing, and\nelsewise keeping up a friendly intercourse with mankind. But they have\na sad propensity to thieving, not only stealing provisions, but even\nwomen and children.\n\nThey marry, have children, bake and brew, just as the peasant himself\ndoes. A farmer one day met a hill-man and his wife, and a whole squad\nof stumpy little children, in his fields;[154] and people used often\nto see the children of the man who lived in the hill of Kund, in\nJutland, climbing up the hill, and rolling down after one another,\nwith shouts of laughter.\n\nThe Trolls have a great dislike to noise, probably from a recollection\nof the time when Thor used to be flinging his hammer after them; so\nthat the hanging of bells in the churches has driven them almost all\nout of the country. The people of Ebeltoft were once sadly plagued by\nthem, as they plundered their pantries in a most unconscionable\nmanner; so they consulted a very wise and pious man; and his advice\nwas, that they should hang a bell in the steeple of the church. They\ndid so, and they were soon eased of the Trolls.[155]\n\nThese beings have some very extraordinary and useful properties; they\ncan, for instance, go about invisibly,[156] or turn themselves into\nany shape; they can foresee future events; they can confer prosperity,\nor the contrary, on a family; they can bestow bodily strength on any\none; and, in short, perform numerous feats beyond the power of man.\n\nOf personal beauty they have not much to boast: the Ebeltoft Dwarfs,\nmentioned above, were often seen, and they had immoderate humps on\ntheir backs, and long crooked noses. They were dressed in gray\njackets,[157] and they wore pointed red caps. Old people in Zealand\nsay, that when the Trolls were in the country, they used to go from\ntheir hill to the village of Gudmandstrup through the Stone-meadow,\nand that people, when passing that way, used to meet great tall men in\nlong black clothes. Some have foolishly spoken to them, and wished\nthem good evening, but they never got any other answer than that the\nTrolls hurried past them, saying, Mi! mi! mi! mi!\n\nThanks to the industry of Mr. Thiele, who has been indefatigable in\ncollecting the traditions of his native country, we are furnished with\nample accounts of the Trolls; and the following legends will fully\nillustrate what we have written concerning them.[158]\n\nWe commence with the Swedish ballads of the Hill-kings, as in dignity\nand antiquity they take precedence of the legends.\n\n\n\n _Sir Thynne._\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n He was a knight so grave;\n Whether he were on foot or on horse,\n He was a knight so brave.[159]\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8\n Went the hart and the hind to shoot,\n So he saw Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,\n At the green linden's foot.\n\n And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,\n Unto her handmaid she cried,\n \"Go fetch my gold harp hither to me,\n Sir Thynn\u00e8 I'll draw to my side.\"\n\n The first stroke on her gold harp she struck,\n So sweetly she made it ring,\n The wild beasts in the wood and field\n They forgot whither they would spring.\n\n The next stroke on her gold harp she struck,\n So sweetly she made it ring,\n The little gray hawk that sat on the bough,\n He spread out both his wings.\n\n The third stroke on her gold harp she struck,\n So sweetly she made it ring,\n The little fish that went in the stream,\n He forgot whither he would swim.\n\n Then flowered the mead, then leafed all,\n 'Twas caused by the runic lay;[160]\n Sir Thynn\u00e8 he struck his spurs in his horse,\n He no longer could hold him away.\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n From his horse he springs hastily,\n So goeth he to Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,\n All under the green linden tree.\n\n \"Here you sit, my maiden fair,\n A rose all lilies above;\n See you can never a mortal man\n Who will not seek your love.\"\n\n \"Be silent, be silent, now Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n With your proffers of love, I pray;\n For I am betrothed unto a hill-king,\n A king all the Dwarfs obey.\n\n \"My true love he sitteth the hill within,\n And at gold tables plays merrily;\n My father he setteth his champions in ring,\n And in iron arrayeth them he.\n\n \"My mother she sitteth the hill within,\n And gold in the chest doth lay;\n And I stole out for a little while,\n Upon my gold harp to play.\"\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n He patted her cheek rosie:\n \"Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply,\n Thou dearest of maidens, to me?\"\n\n \"I can give you no kinder reply:\n I may not myself that allow;\n I am betrothed to a hill-king,\n And to him I must keep my vow.\"\n\n And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,\n She at the hill-door looked out,\n And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n Lay at the green linden's foot.\n\n And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,\n She was vext and angry, God wot:\n \"What hast thou here in the grove to do?\n Little business, I trow, thou hast got.\n\n \"'Twere better for thee in the hill to be,\n And gold in the chest to lay,\n Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]\n And on thy gold harp to play.\n\n \"And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be,\n And thy bride-dress finish sew\u00edng,\n Than sit under the lind, and with runic lay\n A Christian man's heart to thee win.\"\n\n And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,\n She goeth in at the hill-door:\n And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n Clothed in scarlet and fur.\n\n And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,\n Forth a red-gold chair she drew:\n Then she cast Sir Thynn\u00e8 into a sleep\n Until that the cock he crew.\n\n And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,\n The five rune-books she took out;\n So she loosed him fully out of the runes,\n Her daughter had bound him about.\n\n \"And hear thou me, Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n From the runes thou now art free;\n This to thee I will soothly say,\n My daughter shall never win thee.\n\n \"And I was born of Christian kind,\n And to the hill stolen in;\n My sister dwelleth in Iseland,[162]\n And wears a gold crown so fine.\n\n \"And there she wears her crown of gold,\n And beareth of queen the name;\n Her daughter was stolen away from her,\n Thereof there goeth great fame.\n\n \"Her daughter was stolen away from her,\n And to Berner-land brought in;\n And there now dwelleth the maiden free,\n She is called Lady Hermolin.\n\n \"And never can she into the dance go,\n But seven women follow her;\n And never can she on the gold-harp play,\n If the queen herself is not there.\n\n \"The king he hath a sister's son,\n He hopeth the crown to possess,\n For him they intend the maiden free,\n For her little happiness.\n\n \"And this for my honour will I do,\n And out of good-will moreover,\n To thee will I give the maiden free,\n And part her from that lover.\"\n\n Then she gave unto him a dress so new,\n With gold and pearls bedight;\n Every seam on the dress it was\n With precious stones all bright.\n\n Then she gave unto him a horse so good,\n And therewith a new sell;\n \"And never shalt thou the way inquire,\n Thy horse will find it well.\"\n\n And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,\n She would show her good-will to the knight;\n So she gave unto him a spear so new,\n And therewith a good sword so bright.\n\n \"And never shalt thou fight a fight,\n Where thou shalt not the victory gain;\n And never shalt thou sail on a sea\n Where thou shalt not the land attain.\"\n\n And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,\n She wine in a glass for him poured:\n \"Ride away, ride away, now Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n Before the return of my lord.\"\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n He rideth under the green hill side,\n There then met him the hill-kings two.\n As slow to the hill they ride.\n\n \"Well met! Good day, now Sir Thynn\u00e8!\n Thy horse can well with thee pace;\n Whither directed is thy course?\n Since thou'rt bound to a distant place.\"\n\n \"Travel shall I and woo;\n Plight me shall I a flower;\n Try shall I my sword so good,\n To my weal or my woe in the stour.\"\n\n \"Ride in peace, ride in peace, away, Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n From us thou hast nought to fear;\n They are coming, the champions from Iseland,\n Who with thee long to break a spear.\"\n\n And it was the knight Sir Thynn\u00e8,\n He rideth under the green hill side;\n There met him seven Bernisk champions,\n They bid him to halt and abide.\n\n \"And whether shall we fight to-day,\n For the red gold and the silv\u00e9r;\n Or shall we fight together to-day,\n For both our true loves fair?\"\n\n And it was the king's sister's son,\n He was of mood so hast\u00fd;\n \"Of silver and gold I have enow,\n If thou wilt credit me.\"\n\n \"But hast thou not a fair true love,\n Who is called Lady Hermolin?\n For her it is we shall fight to-day,\n If she shall be mine or thine.\"\n\n The first charge they together rode,\n They were two champions so tall;\n He cut at the king's sister's son,\n That his head to the ground did fall.\n\n Back then rode the champions six,\n And dressed themselves in fur;\n Then went into the lofty hall,\n The aged king before.\n\n And it was then the aged king,\n He tore his gray hairs in woe.\n \"Ye must avenge my sister's son's death;\n I will sables and martins bestow.\"[163]\n\n Back then rode the champions six,\n They thought the reward to gain,\n But they remained halt and limbless;\n By loss one doth wit obtain.\n\n And he slew wolves and bears,\n All before the high chamb\u00e9r;\n Then taketh he out the maiden free\n Who so long had languished there.\n\n And now hath Lady Hermolin\n Escaped from all harm;\n Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep,\n On brave Sir Thynn\u00e8's arm.\n\n And now has brave Sir Thynn\u00e8\n Escaped all sorrow and tine;\n Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep,\n Beside Lady Hermolin.\n\n Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter\n Who him with the runes had bound,\n For were he not come inside of the hill,\n The lady he never had found.[164]\n\n\n _Proud Margaret._\n\n Proud Margaret's[165] father of wealth had store,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And he was a king seven kingdoms o'er,\n But that grief is heavy I know.[166]\n\n To her came wooing good earls two,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n But neither of them would she hearken unto,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n To her came wooing princes five,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n Yet not one of them would the maiden have,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n To her came wooing kings then seven,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n But unto none her hand has she given,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And the hill-king asked his mother to read,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n How to win proud Margaret he might speed,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And say how much thou wilt give unto me,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"That herself may into the hill come to thee?\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n One Sunday morning it fell out so,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n Proud Margaret unto the church should go,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And all as she goes, and all as she stays,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n So she goeth around the hill compassing,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyf\u00fal,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n So he took the maiden upon his knee,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n So he took the maiden his arms between,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n So she was in the hill for eight round years,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n When she had been full eight years there,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n She wished to go home to her mother so dear,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Put ye the gray paeers now unto the wain,\"[167]\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And Margaret out at the hill-door stept,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And her little children they thereat wept,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en.\n Time with me goes slow.--\n So he lifteth her into the gilded wain,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Thou now shalt drive her to her mother's straightway,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n Proud Margaret stept in o'er the door-sill,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyf\u00fal,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And where hast thou so long stayed?\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"I have been in the flowery meads,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair?\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Such as women and mothers use to wear,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"Well may I wear a veil on my head,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"In the hill have I been these eight round years,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And the hill-king stept now in at the door,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And stayest thou now here complaining of me,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"And pack to the hill without any dispute,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And lifted her into the gilded wain,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n Proud Margaret stept in at the hill door,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n And her little children rejoiced theref\u00f2re,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n \"It is not worth while rejoicing for me,\"\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The one brought out a gilded chair,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n \"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,\"\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The one brought out a filled up horn,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n The other put therein a gilded corn,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The first drink she drank out of the horn,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The second drink she drank out of the horn,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n She forgot straightway both God and his word,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n The third drink she drank out of the horn,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n She forgot straightway both sister and brother,\n But that grief is heavy I know.\n\n She forgot straightway both sister and brother,\n Time with me goes slow.--\n But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,\n But that grief is heavy I know.[168]\n\n\n _The Troll Wife._\n\nThe grandfather of Reor, who dwelt at Fuglek\u00e4rr (i.e. _Bird-marsh_), in\nthe parish of Svartsborg (_Black-castle_), lived close to a hill, and\none time, in the broad daylight, he saw sitting there on a stone a\ncomely maiden. He wished to intercept her, and for this purpose _he\nthrew steel_ between her and the hill; whereupon her father laughed\nwithin the hill, and opening the hill-door asked him if he would have\nhis daughter. He replied in the affirmative and as she was _stark naked_\nhe took some of his own clothes and covered her with them, and he\nafterwards had her christened. As he was going away, her father said to\nhim, \"When you are going to have your wedding (_br\u00f6llup_) you must\nprovide twelve barrels of beer and bake a heap of bread and the flesh of\nfour oxen, and drive to the barrow or hill where I keep, and when the\nbridal gifts are to be bestowed, depend on it I will give mine.\" This\nalso came to pass; for when others were giving he raised the cover of\nthe cart and cast into it so large a bag of money that the body of it\nnearly broke, saying at the same time:--\"This is _my_ gift!\" He said,\nmoreover, \"When you want to have your wife's portion\n(_hemmagifta_),[169] you must drive to the hill with four horses, and\nget your share. When he came there afterwards at his desire he got\ncopper-pots, the one larger than the other till the largest pot of all\nwas filled with the smaller ones. He also gave him other things,[170]\nwhich were helmets, of that colour and fashion which are large and\nthick, and which are still remaining in the country, being preserved at\nthe parsonage of Tanum. This man Reor's father surnamed I Foglek\u00e4rsten,\nhad a number of children by this wife of his, whom he fetched out of the\nhill, among whom was the aforesaid Reor. Olaf Stenson also in Stora\nRijk, who died last year, was Reor's sister's son.[171]\n\n\n _The Altar-Cup in Aagerup._\n\nBetween the villages of Marup and Aagerup in Zealand, there is said to\nhave lain a great castle, the ruins of which are still to be seen near\nthe strand. Tradition relates that a great treasure is concealed among\nthem, and that a dragon there watches over three kings' ransoms.[172]\nHere, too, people frequently happen to get a sight of the underground\nfolk, especially about festival-times, for then they have dancing and\ngreat jollity going on down on the strand.\n\nOne Christmas-eve, a farmer's servant in the village of Aagerup went\nto his master and asked him if he might take a horse and ride down to\nlook at the Troll-meeting. The farmer not only gave him leave but\ndesired him to take the best horse in the stable; so he mounted and\nrode away down to the strand. When he was come to the place he stopped\nhis horse, and stood for some time looking at the company who were\nassembled in great numbers. And while he was wondering to see how well\nand how gaily the little dwarfs danced, up came a Troll to him, and\ninvited him to dismount, and take a share in their dancing and\nmerriment. Another Troll came jumping up, took his horse by the\nbridle, and held him while the man got off, and went down and danced\naway merrily with them the whole night long.\n\nWhen it was drawing near day he returned them his very best thanks for\nhis entertainment, and mounted his horse to return home to Aagerup.\nThey now gave him an invitation to come again on New-year's night, as\nthey were then to have great festivity; and a maiden who held a gold\ncup in her hand invited him to drink the stirrup-cup. He took the cup;\nbut, as he had some suspicion of them, he, while he made as if he was\nraising the cup to his mouth, threw the drink out over his shoulder,\nso that it fell on the horse's back, and it immediately singed off all\nthe hair. He then clapped spurs to his horse's sides, and rode away\nwith the cup in his hand over a ploughed field.\n\nThe Trolls instantly gave chase all in a body; but being hard set to\nget over the deep furrows, they shouted out, without ceasing,\n\n \"Ride on the lay,\n And not on the clay.\"[173]\n\nHe, however, never minded them, but kept to the ploughed field.\nHowever, when he drew near the village he was forced to ride out on\nthe level road, and the Trolls now gained on him every minute. In his\ndistress he prayed unto God, and he made a vow that if he should be\ndelivered he would bestow the cup on the church.\n\nHe was now riding along just by the wall of the church-yard, and he\nhastily flung the cup over it, that it at least might be secure. He\nthen pushed on at full speed, and at last got into the village; and\njust as they were on the point of catching hold of the horse, he\nsprung in through the farmer's gate, and the man clapt to the wicket\nafter him. He was now safe; but the Trolls were so enraged, that,\ntaking up a huge great stone, they flung it with such force against\nthe gate, that it knocked four planks out of it.\n\nThere are no traces now remaining of that house, but the stone is\nstill lying in the middle of the village of Aagerup. The cup was\npresented to the church, and the man got in return the best farm-house\non the lands of Eriksholm.[174]\n\n\n _Origin of Tiis Lake._\n\nA Troll had once taken up his abode near the village of Kund, in the\nhigh bank on which the church now stands; but when the people about\nthere had become pious, and went constantly to church, the Troll was\ndreadfully annoyed by their almost incessant ringing of bells in the\nsteeple of the church. He was at last obliged, in consequence of it,\nto take his departure; for nothing has more contributed to the\nemigration of the Troll-folk out of the country than the increasing\npiety of the people, and their taking to bell-ringing. The Troll of\nKund accordingly quitted the country, and went over to Funen, where he\nlived for some time in peace and quiet.\n\nNow it chanced that a man who had lately settled in the town of Kund,\ncoming to Funen on business, met on the road with this same Troll:\n\"Where do you live?\" said the Troll to him. Now there was nothing\nwhatever about the Troll unlike a man, so he answered him, as was the\ntruth, \"I am from the town of Kund.\" \"So?\" said the Troll. \"I don't know\nyou, then! And yet I think I know every man in Kund. Will you, however,\"\ncontinued he, \"just be so kind to take a letter from me back with you to\nKund?\" The man said, of course, he had no objection. The Troll then\nthrust the letter into his pocket, and charged him strictly not to take\nit out till he came to Kund church, and then to throw it over the\nchurchyard wall, and the person for whom it was intended would get it.\n\nThe Troll then went away in great haste, and with him the letter went\nentirely out of the man's mind. But when he was come back to Zealand\nhe sat down by the meadow where Tiis Lake now is, and suddenly\nrecollected the Troll's letter. He felt a great desire to look at it\nat least. So he took it out of his pocket, and sat a while with it in\nhis hands, when suddenly there began to dribble a little water out of\nthe seal. The letter now unfolded itself, and the water came out\nfaster and faster, and it was with the utmost difficulty that the poor\nman was enabled to save his life; for the malicious Troll had enclosed\nan entire lake in the letter. The Troll, it is plain, had thought to\navenge himself on Kund church by destroying it in this manner; but God\nordered it so that the lake chanced to run out in the great meadow\nwhere it now flows.[175]\n\n\n _A Farmer tricks a Troll._\n\nA farmer, on whose ground there was a little hill, resolved not to let\nit lie idle, so he began at one end to plough it up. The hill-man, who\nlived in it, came to him and asked him how he dared to plough on the\nroof of his house. The farmer assured him that he did not know that it\nwas the roof of his house, but at the same time represented to him\nthat it was at present equally unprofitable to them both to let such a\npiece of land lie idle. He therefore took the opportunity of proposing\nto him that he should plough, sow, and reap it every year on these\nterms: that they should take it year and year about, and the hill-man\nto have one year what grew over the ground, and the farmer what grew\nin the ground; and the next year the farmer to have what was over, and\nthe hill-man what was under.\n\nThe agreement was made accordingly; but the crafty farmer took care to\nsow carrots and corn year and year about, and he gave the hill-man the\ntops of the carrots and the roots of the corn for his share, with\nwhich he was well content. They thus lived for a long time on\nextremely good terms with each other.[176]\n\n\n _Skotte in the Fire._\n\nNear Gudmanstrup, in the district of Odd, is a hill called Hjuleh\u00f6i\n(_Hollow-hill_). The hill-folk that dwell in this mount are well known\nin all the villages round, and no one ever omits making a cross on his\nbeer-barrels, for the Trolls are in the habit of slipping down from\nHjuleh\u00f6i to steal beer.\n\nOne evening late a farmer was passing by the hill, and he saw that it\nwas raised up on red pillars, and that underneath there was music and\ndancing and a splendid Troll banquet. The man stood a long time gazing\non their festivity; but while he was standing there, deeply absorbed\nin admiration of what he saw, all of a sudden the dancing stopped, and\nthe music ceased, and he heard a Troll cry out, in a tone of the\nutmost anguish, \"Skotte is fallen into the fire! Come and help him\nup!\" The hill then sank, and all the merriment was at an end.\n\nMeanwhile the farmer's wife was at home all alone, and while she was\nsitting and spinning her tow, she never noticed a Troll who had crept\nthrough the window into the next room, and was at the beer-barrel\ndrawing off the liquor into his copper kettle. The room-door was\nstanding open, and the Troll kept a steady eye on the woman. The husband\nnow came into the house full of wonder at what he had seen and heard.\n\"Hark ye, dame,\" he began, \"listen now till I tell you what has happened\nto me!\" The Troll redoubled his attention. \"As I came just now by\nHjuleh\u00f6i,\" continued he, \"I saw a great Troll-banquet there, but while\nthey were in the very middle of their glee they shouted out within in\nthe hill, 'Skotte is fallen into the fire; come and help him up!'\"\n\nAt hearing this, the Troll, who was standing beside the beer-barrel,\nwas so frightened, that he let the tap run and the kettle of beer fall\non the ground, and tumbled himself out of the window as quickly as\nmight be. The people of the house hearing all this noise instantly\nguessed what had been going on inside; and when they went in they saw\nthe beer all running about, and found the copper kettle lying on the\nfloor. This they seized, and kept in lieu of the beer that had been\nspilled; and the same kettle is said to have been a long time to be\nseen in the villages round about there.[177]\n\n\n _The Legend of Bodedys._\n\nThere is a hill called Bodedys close to the road in the neighbourhood\nof Lynge, that is near Sor\u00f6e. Not far from it lived an old farmer,\nwhose only son was used to take long journeys on business. His father\nhad for a long time heard no tidings of him, and the old man became\nconvinced that his son was dead. This caused him much affliction, as\nwas natural for an old man like him, and thus some time passed over.\n\nOne evening as he was coming with a loaded cart by Bodedys, the hill\nopened, and the Troll came out and desired him to drive his cart into\nit. The poor man was, to be sure, greatly amazed at this, but well\nknowing how little it would avail him to refuse to comply with the\nTroll's request, he turned about his horses, and drove his cart\nstraight into the hill. The Troll now began to deal with him for his\ngoods, and finally bought and paid him honestly for his entire cargo.\nWhen he had finished the unloading of his vehicle, and was about to\ndrive again out of the hill, the Troll said to him, \"If you will now\nonly keep a silent tongue in your head about all that has happened to\nyou, I shall from this time out have an eye to your interest; and if\nyou come here again to-morrow morning, it may be you shall get your\nson.\" The farmer did not well know at first what to say to all this;\nbut as he was, however, of opinion that the Troll was able to perform\nwhat he had promised, he was greatly rejoiced, and failed not to come\nat the appointed time to Bodedys.\n\nHe sat there waiting a long time, and at last he fell asleep, and when\nhe awoke from his slumber, behold! there was his son lying by his side.\nBoth father and son found it difficult to explain how this had come to\npass. The son related how he had been thrown into prison, and had there\nsuffered great hardship and distress; but that one night, while he was\nlying asleep in his cell, there came a man to him, who said, \"Do you\nstill love your father?\" And when he had answered that he surely did,\nhis chains fell off and the wall burst open. While he was telling this\nhe chanced to put his hand up to his neck, and he found that he had\nbrought a piece of the iron chain away with him. They both were for some\ntime mute through excess of wonder; and they then arose and went\nstraightway to Lynge, where they hung up the piece of the chain in the\nchurch, as a memorial of the wonderful event that had occurred.[178]\n\n\n _Kallundborg Church._\n\nWhen Esbern Snare was about building a church in Kallundborg, he saw\nclearly that his means were not fully adequate to the task. But a\nTroll came to him and offered his services; and Esbern Snare made an\nagreement with him on these conditions, that he should be able to tell\nthe Troll's name when the church was finished; or in case he could\nnot, that he should give him his heart and his eyes.\n\nThe work now went on rapidly, and the Troll set the church on stone\npillars; but when all was nearly done, and there was only half a\npillar wanting in the church, Esbern began to get frightened, for the\nname of the Troll was yet unknown to him.\n\nOne day he was going about the fields all alone, and in great anxiety\non account of the perilous state he was in; when, tired, and\ndepressed, by reason of his exceeding grief and affliction, he laid\nhim down on Ulsh\u00f6i bank to rest himself a while. While he was lying\nthere, he heard a Troll-woman within the hill saying these words:--\n\n \"Lie still, baby mine!\n To-morrow cometh Fin,\n Father thine,\n And giveth thee Esbern Snare's eyes and heart to play with.\"[179]\n\nWhen Esbern heard this, he recovered his spirits, and went back to\nthe church. The Troll was just then coming with the half-pillar that\nwas wanting for the church; but when Esbern saw him, he hailed him by\nhis name, and called him \"Fin.\" The Troll was so enraged at this, that\nhe went off with the half-pillar through the air, and this is the\nreason that the church has but three pillars and a half.[180]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe same is told of a far greater than Esbern Snare. As St. Olaf, the\nroyal apostle of the North, was one day going over hill and dale,\nthinking how he could contrive to build a splendid church without\ndistressing his people by taxation, he was met by a man of a strange\nappearance, who asking him what he was thinking about, Olaf told him,\nand the Troll, or rather Giant (_J\u00e4tte_), for such he was, undertook\nto do it within a certain time, stipulating, for his reward, the sun\nand moon, or else St. Olaf himself. Olaf agreed, but gave such a plan\nfor the church as it seemed to be impossible ever could be executed.\nIt was to be so large that seven priests could preach in it at the\nsame time without disturbing each other; the columns and other\nornaments both within and without should be of hard flintstone, and so\nforth. It soon, however, was finished, all but the roof and pinnacle.\nOlaf, now grown uneasy, rambled once more over hill and dale, when he\nchanced to hear a child crying within a hill, and a giantess, its\nmother, saying to it, \"Hush, hush! Thy father, Wind-and-Weather, will\ncome home in the morning, and bring with him the sun and moon, or else\nSt. Olaf himself.\" Olaf was overjoyed, for the power of evil beings\nceases when their name is known. He returned home, where he saw every\nthing completed--pinnacle and all. He immediately cried out,\n\"Wind-and-Weather, you've set the pinnacle crooked!\"[181] Instantly\nthe Giant fell with a great crash from the ridge of the roof, and\nbroke into a thousand pieces, which were all flintstone.[182]\n\n\n _The Hill-Man invited to the Christening._\n\nThe hill-people are excessively frightened during thunder. When,\ntherefore, they see bad weather coming on, they lose no time in getting\nto the shelter of their hills. This terror is also the cause of their\nnot being able to endure the beating of a drum, as they take it to be\nthe rolling of thunder. It is therefore a good receipt for banishing\nthem to beat a drum every day in the neighbourhood of their hills; for\nthey immediately pack up and depart to some more quiet residence.\n\nA farmer lived once in great friendship and unanimity with a hill-man,\nwhose hill was on his lands. One time when his wife was lying-in, it\ngave him some degree of perplexity to think that he could not well\navoid inviting the hill-man to the christening, which might not\nimprobably bring him into bad repute with the priest and the other\npeople of the village. He was going about pondering deeply, but in\nvain, how he might get out of this dilemma, when it came into his head\nto ask the advice of the boy that kept his pigs, who was a great\nhead-piece, and had often helped him before. The pig-boy instantly\nundertook to arrange the matter with the hill-man in such a manner\nthat he should not only stay away without being offended, but moreover\ngive a good christening-present.\n\nAccordingly, when it was night he took a sack on his shoulder, went\nto the hill-man's hill, knocked, and was admitted. He delivered his\nmessage, giving his master's compliments, and requesting the honour of\nhis company at the christening. The hill-man thanked him, and said, \"I\nthink it is but right that I should give you a christening-gift.\" With\nthese words he opened his money-chests, bidding the boy to hold up his\nsack while he poured money into it. \"Is there enough now?\" said he,\nwhen he had put a good quantity into it. \"Many give more, few give\nless,\" replied the boy.\n\nThe hill-man then fell again to filling the sack, and again asked, \"Is\nthere enough now?\" The boy lifted up the sack a little off the ground to\ntry if he was able to carry any more, and then answered, \"It is about\nwhat most people give.\" Upon this the hill-man emptied the whole chest\ninto the bag, and once more asked, \"Is there enough now?\" The guardian\nof the pigs saw that there was as much in it now as ever he was able to\ncarry, so he made answer, \"No one gives more, most people give less.\"\n\n\"Come, now,\" said the hill-man, \"let us hear who else is to be at the\nchristening?\" \"Ah,\" said the boy, \"we are to have a great parcel of\nstrangers and great people. First and foremost, we are to have three\npriests and a bishop!\" \"Hem!\" muttered the hill-man; \"however, these\ngentlemen usually look only after the eating and drinking: they will\nnever take any notice of me. Well, who else?\" \"Then we have asked St.\nPeter and St. Paul.\" \"Hem! hem! however, there will be a by-place for me\nbehind the stove. Well, and then?\" \"Then our Lady herself is coming!\"\n\"Hem! hem! hem! however, guests of such high rank come late and go away\nearly. But tell me, my lad, what sort of music is it you are to have?\"\n\"Music!\" said the boy, \"why, we are to have drums.\" \"Drums!\" repeated\nhe, quite terrified; \"no, no, thank you, I shall stay at home in that\ncase. Give my best respects to your master, and I thank him for the\ninvitation, but I cannot come. I did but once go out to take a little\nwalk, and some people beginning to beat a drum, I hurried home, and was\njust got to my door when they flung the drum-stick after me and broke\none of my shins. I have been lame of that leg ever since, and I shall\ntake good care in future to avoid that sort of music.\" So saying, he\nhelped the boy to put the sack on his back, once more charging him to\ngive his best respects to the farmer.[183]\n\n\n _The Troll turned Cat._\n\nAbout a quarter of a mile from Sor\u00f6e lies Pedersborg, and a little\nfarther on is the town of Lyng. Just between these towns is a hill\ncalled Br\u00f6ndh\u00f6i (_Spring-hill_), said to be inhabited by the\nTroll-people.\n\nThere goes a story that there was once among these Troll-people of\nBr\u00f6ndh\u00f6i an old crossgrained curmudgeon of a Troll, whom the rest\nnick-named Knurremurre (_Rumble-grumble_), because he was evermore the\ncause of noise and uproar within the hill. This Knurremurre having\ndiscovered what he thought to be too great a degree of intimacy\nbetween his young wife and a young Troll of the society, took this in\nsuch ill part, that he vowed vengeance, swearing he would have the\nlife of the young one. The latter, accordingly, thought it would be\nhis best course to be off out of the hill till better times; so,\nturning himself into a noble tortoiseshell tom-cat, he one fine\nmorning quitted his old residence, and journeyed down to the\nneighbouring town of Lyng, where he established himself in the house\nof an honest poor man named Plat.\n\nHere he lived for a long time comfortable and easy, with nothing to\nannoy him, and was as happy as any tom-cat or Troll crossed in love\nwell could be. He got every day plenty of milk and good groute[184] to\neat, and lay the whole day long at his ease in a warm arm-chair behind\nthe stove.\n\nPlat happened one evening to come home rather late, and as he entered\nthe room the cat was sitting in his usual place, scraping meal-groute\nout of a pot, and licking the pot itself carefully. \"Harkye, dame,\"\nsaid Plat, as he came in at the door, \"till I tell you what happened\nto me on the road. Just as I was coming past Br\u00f6ndh\u00f6i, there came out\na Troll, and he called out to me, and said,\n\n \"Harkye Plat,\n Tell your cat,\n That Knurremurre is dead.\"[185]\n\nThe moment the cat heard these words, he tumbled the pot down on the\nfloor, sprang out of the chair, and stood up on his hind-legs. Then, as\nhe hurried out of the door, he cried out with exultation, \"What! is\nKnurremurre dead? Then I may go home as fast as I please.\" And so saying\nhe scampered off to the hill, to the amazement of honest Plat; and it is\nlikely lost no time in making his advances to the young widow.[186]\n\n\n _Kirsten's-Hill._\n\nThere is a hill on the lands of Skjelverod, near Ringsted, called\nKirsten's-hill (_Kirstens Bjerg_). In it there lived a Hill-troll\nwhose name was Skynd, who had from time to time stolen no less than\nthree wives from a man in the village of Englerup.\n\nIt was late one evening when this man was riding home from Ringsted, and\nhis way lay by the hill. When he came there he saw a great crowd of\nHill-folk who were dancing round it, and had great merriment among them.\nBut on looking a little closer, what should he recognise but all his\nthree wives among them! Now as Kirsten, the second of them, had been\nhis favourite, and dearer to him than either of the others, he called\nout to her, and named her name. Troll Skynd then came up to the man, and\nasked him why he presumed to call Kirsten. The man told him briefly how\nshe had been his favourite and best beloved wife, and entreated of him,\nwith many tears and much lamentation, to let him have her home with him\nagain. The Troll consented at last to grant the husband's request, with,\nhowever, the condition, that he should never hurry (_skynde_) her.\n\nFor a long time the husband strictly kept the condition; but one day,\nwhen the woman was above in the loft, getting something, and it\nhappened that she delayed a long time, he called out, Make haste,\nKirsten, make haste, (_Skynde dig Kirsten_); and scarcely had he\nspoken the words, when the woman was gone, compelled to return to the\nhill, which has ever since been called Kirsten's Bjerg.[187]\n\n\n _The Troll-Labour._\n\n\"In the year 1660, when I and my wife had gone to my farm\n(_f\u00e4boderne_), which is three quarters of a mile from Ragunda\nparsonage, and we were sitting there and talking a while, late in the\nevening, there came a little man in at the door, who begged of my wife\nto go and aid his wife, who was just then in the pains of labour. The\nfellow was of small size, of a dark complexion, and dressed in old\ngrey clothes. My wife and I sat a while, and wondered at the man; for\nwe were aware that he was a Troll, and we had heard tell that such\nlike, called by the peasantry Vettar (_spirits_), always used to keep\nin the farmhouses, when people left them in harvest-time. But when he\nhad urged his request four or five times, and we thought on what evil\nthe country folk say that they have at times suffered from the Vettar,\nwhen they have chanced to swear at them, or with uncivil words bid\nthem go to hell, I took the resolution to read some prayers over my\nwife, and to bless her, and bid her in God's name go with him. She\ntook in haste some old linen with her, and went along with him, and I\nremained sitting there. When she returned, she told me, that when she\nwent with the man out at the gate, it seemed to her as if she was\ncarried for a time along in the wind, and so she came to a room, on\none side of which was a little dark chamber, in which his wife lay in\nbed in great agony. My wife went up to her, and, after a little while,\naided her till she brought forth the child after the same manner as\nother human beings. The man then offered her food, and when she\nrefused it, he thanked her, and accompanied her out, and then she was\ncarried along, in the same way in the wind, and after a while came\nagain to the gate, just at ten o'clock. Meanwhile, a quantity of old\npieces and clippings of silver were laid on a shelf, in the\nsitting-room, and my wife found them next day, when she was putting\nthe room in order. It is to be supposed that they were laid there by\nthe _Vettr_. That it in truth so happened, I witness, by inscribing my\nname. Ragunda, the 12th of April, 1671.\n\n \"PET. RAHM.\"[188]\n\n\n _The Hill-Smith._\n\nBi\u00f6rn Martinsson went out shooting, one day, with a gamekeeper, on the\nwooded hill of Ormkulla. They there found a hill-smith (_bergsmed_)\nlying fast asleep. Bi\u00f6rn directed the gamekeeper to secure him, but he\nrefused, saying \"Pray to God to protect you! The hill-smith will fling\nyou down to the bottom of the hill.\" He was, however, bold and\ndetermined, and he went up and seized the sleeping hill-smith, who\ngave a cry, and implored him to let him go, as he had a wife and seven\nlittle children. He said he would also do any iron work that should be\nrequired; it would only be necessary to leave iron and steel on the\nside of the hill, and the work would be found lying finished in the\nsame place. Bi\u00f6rn asked him for whom he worked; he replied, \"For my\ncompanions.\" When Bi\u00f6rn would not let him go, he said, \"If I had my\nmist-cap (_uddehat_) you should not carry me away. But if you do not\nlet me go, not one of your posterity will attain to the importance\nwhich you possess, but continually decline;\" which certainly came to\npass. Bi\u00f6rn would not, however, let him go, but brought him captive to\nBahus. On the third day, however, he effected his escape out of the\nplace in which he was confined.[189]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following legend is related in Denmark:--\n\nOn the lands of Nyegaard lie three large hills, one of which is the\nabode of a Troll, who is by trade a blacksmith. If any one is passing\nthat hill by night, he will see the fire issuing from the top, and\ngoing in again at the side. Should you wish to have any piece of\niron-work executed in a masterly manner, you have only to go to the\nhill, and saying aloud what you want to have made, leave there the\niron and a silver shilling. On revisiting the hill next morning, you\nwill find the shilling gone, and the required piece of work lying\nthere finished, and ready for use.[190]\n\n\n _The Girl at the Troll-Dance._\n\nA girl, belonging to a village in the isle of Funen, went out, one\nevening, into the fields, and as she was passing by a small hill, she\nsaw that it was raised upon red pillars, and a Troll-banquet going on\nbeneath it. She was invited in, and such was the gaiety and festivity\nthat prevailed, that she never perceived the flight of time. At\nlength, however, she took her departure, after having spent, as she\nthought, a few hours among the joyous hill-people. But when she came\nto the village she no longer found it the place she had left. All was\nchanged; and when she entered the house in which she had lived with\nher family, she learned that her father and mother had long been dead,\nand the house had come into the hands of strangers. She now perceived\nthat for every hour that she had been among the Trolls, a year had\nelapsed in the external world. The effect on her mind was such that\nshe lost her reason, which she never after recovered.[191]\n\n\n _The Changeling._\n\nThere lived once, near Tiis lake, two lonely people, who were sadly\nplagued with a changeling, given them by the underground-people\ninstead of their own child, which had not been baptised in time. This\nchangeling behaved in a very strange and uncommon manner, for when\nthere was no one in the place, he was in great spirits, ran up the\nwalls like a cat, sat under the roof, and shouted and bawled away\nlustily; but sat dozing at the end of the table when any one was in\nthe room with him. He was able to eat as much as any four, and never\ncared what it was that was set before him; but though he regarded not\nthe quality of his food, in quantity he was never satisfied, and gave\nexcessive annoyance to every one in the house.\n\nWhen they had tried for a long time in vain how they could best get\nrid of him, since there was no living in the house with him, a smart\ngirl pledged herself that she would banish him from the house. She\naccordingly, while he was out in the fields, took a pig and killed it,\nand put it, hide, hair, and all, into a black pudding, and set it\nbefore him when he came home. He began, as was his custom, to gobble\nit up, but when he had eaten for some time, he began to relax a little\nin his efforts, and at last he sat quite still, with his knife in his\nhand, looking at the pudding.\n\nAt length, after sitting for some time in this manner, he began--\"A\npudding with hide!--and a pudding with hair! a pudding with eyes!--and\na pudding with legs in it! Well, three times have I seen a young wood\nby Tiis lake, but never yet did I see such a pudding! The devil\nhimself may stay here now for me!\" So saying, he ran off with himself,\nand never more came back again.[192]\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother changeling was got rid of in the following manner. The mother,\nsuspecting it to be such from its refusing food, and being so\nill-thriven, heated the oven as hot as possible. The maid, as\ninstructed, asked her why she did it. \"To burn my child in it to death,\"\nwas the reply. When the question had been put and answered three times,\nshe placed the child on the peel, and was shoving it into the oven, when\nthe Troll-woman came in a great fright with the real child, and took\naway her own, saying. \"There's your child for you. I have treated it\nbetter than you treated mine,\" and in truth it was fat and hearty.\n\n\n _The Tile-Stove jumping over the Brook._\n\nNear Hellested, in Zealand, lived a man, who from time to time\nremarked that he was continually plundered. All his suspicions fell on\nthe Troll-folk, who lived in the neighbouring hill of Ildsh\u00f6i\n(_Fire-hill_), and once hid himself to try and get a sight of the\nthief. He had waited there but a very short time when he saw, as he\nthought, his tile-stove jumping across the brook. The good farmer was\nall astonishment at this strange sight, and he shouted out \"Hurra!\nthere's a jump for a tile-stove!\" At this exclamation the Troll, who\nwas wading through the water with the stove on his head, was so\nfrightened that he threw it down, and ran off as hard as he could to\nIldsh\u00f6i. But in the place where the stove fell, the ground got the\nshape of it, and the place is called Krogbek (_Hook-brook_), and it\nwas this that gave rise to the common saying, \"That was a jump for a\ntile-stove!\" \"_Det var et Spring af en Leerovn!_\"[193]\n\n\n _Departure of the Trolls from Vendsyssel._\n\nOne evening, after sunset, there came a strange man to the ferry of\nSund. He engaged all the ferry-boats there to go backwards and\nforwards the whole night long between that place and Vendsyssel,\nwithout the people's knowing what lading they had. He told them that\nthey should take their freight on board half a mile to the east of\nSund, near the alehouse at the bridge of Lange.\n\nAt the appointed time the man was at that place, and the ferrymen,\nthough unable to see anything, perceived very clearly that the boats\nsunk deeper and deeper, so that they easily concluded that they had\ngotten a very heavy freight on board. The ferry-boats passed in this\nmanner to and fro the whole night long; and though they got every\ntrip a fresh cargo, the strange man never left them, but staid to have\neverything regulated by his directions.\n\nWhen morning was breaking they received the payment they had agreed\nfor, and they then ventured to inquire what it was they had been\nbringing over, but on that head their employer would give them no\nsatisfaction.\n\nBut there happened to be among the ferrymen a smart fellow who knew\nmore about these matters than the others. He jumped on shore, took the\nclay from under his right foot, and put it into his cap, and when he\nhad set it on his head he perceived that all the sand-hills east of\nAalborg were completely covered with little Troll-people, who had all\npointed red caps on their heads. Ever since that time there have been\nno Dwarfs seen in Vendsyssel.[194]\n\n\n _Svend Faelling._\n\nSvend F\u00e6lling was a valiant champion. He was born in F\u00e6lling, and was\na long time at service in Aakj\u00e6r house, Aarhuus, and as the roads were\nat that time greatly infested by Trolls and underground-people, who\nbore great enmity to all Christians, Svend undertook the office of\nletter-carrier.\n\nAs he was one time going along the road, he saw approaching him the\nTroll of Jels-hill, on the lands of Holm. The Troll came up to him,\nbegging him to stand his friend in a combat with the Troll of\nBorum-es-hill. When Svend F\u00e6lling had promised to do so, saying that\nhe thought himself strong and active enough for the encounter, the\nTroll reached him a heavy iron bar, and bade him show his strength on\nthat. But not all Svend's efforts availed to lift it: whereupon the\nTroll handed him a horn, telling him to drink out of it. No sooner had\nhe drunk a little out of it than his strength increased. He was now\nable to lift the bar, which, when he had drunk again, became still\nlighter; but when again renewing his draught he emptied the horn, he\nwas able to swing the bar with ease, and he then learned from the\nTroll that he had now gotten the strength of twelve men. He then\npromised to prepare himself for combat with the Troll of Bergmond. As\na token he was told that he should meet on the road a black ox and a\nred ox, and that he should fall with all his might on the black ox,\nand drive him from the red one.\n\nThis all came to pass just as he was told, and he found, after his work\nwas done, that the black ox was the Troll from Borum-es-hill, and the\nred ox was the Troll himself of Jels-hill, who, as a reward for the\nassistance he had given him, allowed him to retain for his own use the\ntwelve men's strength with which he had endowed him. This grant was,\nhowever, on this condition--that if ever he should reveal the secret of\nhis strength, he should be punished by getting the appetite of twelve.\n\nThe fame of the prodigious strength of Svend soon spread through the\ncountry, as he distinguished himself by various exploits, such, for\ninstance, as throwing a dairy-maid, who had offended him, up on the\ngable of the house, and similar feats. So when this report came to the\nears of his master, he had Svend called before him, and inquired of him\nwhence his great strength came. Svend recollected the words of his\nfriend the Troll, so he told him if he would promise him as much food as\nwould satisfy twelve men, he would tell him. The master promised, and\nSvend told his story; but the word of the Troll was accomplished, for\nfrom that day forth Svend ate and drank as much as any twelve.[195]\n\n\n _The Dwarfs' Banquet._\n\n A NORWEGIAN TALE.[196]\n\nThere lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a powerful\nman, who was blessed with all the goods of fortune. A part of the\nsurrounding country was his property; numerous herds fed on his\npastures, and a great retinue and a crowd of servants adorned his\nmansion. He had an only daughter, called Aslog,[197] the fame of whose\nbeauty spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country sought\nher, but all were alike unsuccessful in their suit, and he who had\ncome full of confidence and joy, rode away home silent and melancholy.\nHer father, who thought his daughter delayed her choice only to\nselect, forbore to interfere, and exulted in her prudence. But when,\nat length, the richest and noblest had tried their fortune with as\nlittle success as the rest, he grew angry, and called his daughter,\nand said to her, \"Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but\nsince I see that you reject all without any distinction, and the very\nbest of your suitors seem not good enough for you, I will keep\nmeasures no longer with you. What! shall my family be extinct, and my\ninheritance pass away into the hands of strangers? I will break your\nstubborn spirit. I give you now till the festival of the great\nWinter-night; make your choice by that time, or prepare to accept him\nwhom I shall fix on.\"\n\nAslog loved a youth called Orm, handsome as he was brave and noble. She\nloved him with her whole soul, and she would sooner die than bestow her\nhand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to serve in\nthe mansion of her father. Aslog's partiality for him was kept a secret;\nfor her father's pride of power and wealth was such that he would never\nhave given his consent to an union with so humble a man.\n\nWhen Aslog saw the darkness of his countenance, and heard his angry\nwords, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and doubted\nnot but that he would put his threats into execution. Without uttering a\nword in reply, she retired to her silent chamber, and thought deeply but\nin vain how to avert the dark storm that hung over her. The great\nfestival approached nearer and nearer, and her anguish increased every\nday.\n\nAt last the lovers resolved on flight. \"I know,\" says Orm, \"a secure\nplace where we may remain undiscovered until we find an opportunity of\nquitting the country.\" At night, when all were asleep, Orm led the\ntrembling Aslog over the snow and ice-fields away to the mountains.\nThe moon and the stars sparkling still brighter in the cold winter's\nnight lighted them on their way. They had under their arms a few\narticles of dress and some skins of animals, which were all they could\ncarry. They ascended the mountains the whole night long till they\nreached a lonely spot inclosed with lofty rocks. Here Orm conducted\nthe weary Aslog into a cave, the low and narrow entrance to which was\nhardly perceptible, but it soon enlarged to a great hall, reaching\ndeep into the mountain. He kindled a fire, and they now, reposing on\ntheir skins, sat in the deepest solitude far away from all the world.\n\nOrm was the first who had discovered this cave, which is shown to this\nvery day, and as no one knew any thing of it, they were safe from the\npursuit of Aslog's father. They passed the whole winter in this\nretirement. Orm used to go a hunting, and Aslog stayed at home in the\ncave, minded the fire, and prepared the necessary food. Frequently did\nshe mount the points of the rocks, but her eyes wandered as far as\nthey could reach only over glittering snow-fields.\n\nThe spring now came on--the woods were green--the meads put on their\nvarious colours, and Aslog could but rarely and with circumspection\nventure to leave the cave. One evening Orm came in with the\nintelligence that he had recognised her father's servants in the\ndistance, and that he could hardly have been unobserved by them, whose\neyes were as good as his own. \"They will surround this place,\"\ncontinued he, \"and never rest till they have found us; we must quit\nour retreat, then, without a moment's delay.\"\n\nThey accordingly descended on the other side of the mountain, and\nreached the strand, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm shoved\noff, and the boat drove into the open sea. They had escaped their\npursuers, but they were now exposed to dangers of another kind:\nwhither should they turn themselves? They could not venture to land,\nfor Aslog's father was lord of the whole coast, and they would\ninfallibly fall into his hands. Nothing then remained for them but to\ncommit their bark to the wind and waves. They drove along the entire\nnight. At break of day the coast had disappeared, and they saw nothing\nbut the sky above, the sea beneath, and the waves that rose and fell.\nThey had not brought one morsel of food with them, and thirst and\nhunger began now to torment them. Three days did they toss about in\nthis state of misery, and Aslog, faint and exhausted, saw nothing but\ncertain death before her.\n\nAt length, on the evening of the third day, they discovered an island\nof tolerable magnitude, and surrounded by a number of smaller ones.\nOrm immediately steered for it, but just as he came near it there\nsuddenly rose a violent wind, and the sea rolled every moment higher\nand higher against him. He turned about with a view of approaching it\non another side, but with no better success; his vessel, as oft as it\napproached the island, was driven back as if by an invisible power.\n\"Lord God!\" cried he, and blessed himself and looked on poor Aslog,\nwho seemed to be dying of weakness before his eyes. But scarcely had\nthe exclamation passed his lips when the storm ceased, the waves\nsubsided, and the vessel came to the shore, without encountering any\nhindrance. Orm jumped out on the beach; some mussels that he found on\nthe strand strengthened and revived the exhausted Aslog, so that she\nwas soon able to leave the boat.\n\nThe island was overgrown with low dwarf shrubs, and seemed to be\nuninhabited; but when they had gotten about to the middle of it, they\ndiscovered a house reaching but a little above the ground, and\nappearing to be half under the surface of the earth. In the hope of\nmeeting human beings and assistance, the wanderers approached it. They\nlistened if they could hear any noise, but the most perfect silence\nreigned there. Orm at length opened the door, and with his companion\nwalked in; but what was their surprise, to find everything regulated\nand arranged as if for inhabitants, yet not a single living creature\nvisible. The fire was burning on the hearth, in the middle of the\nroom, and a pot with fish hung on it apparently only waiting for some\none to take it up and eat it. The beds were made and ready to receive\ntheir wearied tenants. Orm and Aslog stood for some time dubious, and\nlooked on with a certain degree of awe, but at last, overcome by\nhunger, they took up the food and ate. When they had satisfied their\nappetites, and still in the last beams of the setting sun, which now\nstreamed over the island far and wide, discovered no human being, they\ngave way to weariness, and laid themselves in the beds to which they\nhad been so long strangers.\n\nThey had expected to be awakened in the night by the owners of the\nhouse on their return home, but their expectation was not fulfilled;\nthey slept undisturbed till the morning sun shone in upon them. No one\nappeared on any of the following days, and it seemed as if some\ninvisible power had made ready the house for their reception. They\nspent the whole summer in perfect happiness--they were, to be sure,\nsolitary, yet they did not miss mankind. The wild birds' eggs, and the\nfish they caught, yielded them provisions in abundance.\n\nWhen autumn came, Aslog brought forth a son. In the midst of their joy\nat his appearance, they were surprised by a wonderful apparition. The\ndoor opened on a sudden, and an old woman stepped in. She had on her a\nhandsome blue dress: there was something proud, but at the same time\nsomething strange and surprising in her appearance.\n\n\"Do not be afraid,\" said she, \"at my unexpected appearance--I am the\nowner of this house, and I thank you for the clean and neat state in\nwhich you have kept it, and for the good order in which I find\neverything with you. I would willingly have come sooner, but I had no\npower to do so till this little heathen (pointing to the new\nborn-babe) was come to the light. Now I have free access. Only fetch\nno priest from the main-land to christen it, or I must depart again.\nIf you will in this matter comply with my wishes, you may not only\ncontinue to live here, but all the good that ever you can wish for I\nwill do you. Whatever you take in hand shall prosper; good luck shall\nfollow you wherever you go. But break this condition, and depend upon\nit that misfortune after misfortune will come on you, and even on this\nchild will I avenge myself. If you want anything, or are in danger,\nyou have only to pronounce my name three times and I will appear and\nlend you assistance. I am of the race of the old Giants, and my name\nis Guru. But beware of uttering in my presence the name of him whom no\nGiant may hear of, and never venture to make the sign of the cross, or\nto cut it on beam or board in the house. You may dwell in this house\nthe whole year long, only be so good as to give it up to me on Yule\nevening, when the sun is at the lowest, as then we celebrate our great\nfestival, and then only are we permitted to be merry. At least, if you\nshould not be willing to go out of the house, keep yourselves up in\nthe loft as quiet as possible the whole day long, and as you value\nyour lives do not look down into the room until midnight is past.\nAfter that you may take possession of everything again.\"\n\nWhen the old woman had thus spoken she vanished, and Aslog and Orm,\nnow at ease respecting their situation, lived without any disturbance\ncontented and happy. Orm never made a cast of his net without getting\na plentiful draught; he never shot an arrow from his bow that it was\nnot sure to hit; in short, whatever they took in hand, were it ever so\ntrifling, evidently prospered.\n\nWhen Christmas came, they cleaned up the house in the best manner, set\neverything in order, kindled a fire on the hearth, and as the twilight\napproached, they went up to the loft, where they remained quite still\nand quiet. At length it grew dark; they thought they heard a sound of\nwhizzing and snorting in the air, such as the swans use to make in the\nwinter time. There was a hole in the roof over the fireplace which\nmight be opened and shut either to let in the light from above, or to\nafford a free passage for the smoke. Orm lifted up the lid, which was\ncovered with a skin, and put out his head. But what a wonderful sight\nthen presented itself to his eyes! The little islands around were all\nlit up with countless blue lights, which moved about without ceasing,\njumped up and down, then skipped down to the shore, assembled\ntogether, and came nearer and nearer to the large island where Orm and\nAslog lived. At last they reached it and arranged themselves in a\ncircle around a large stone not far from the shore, and which Orm well\nknew. But what was his surprise, when he saw that the stone had now\ncompletely assumed the form of a man, though of a monstrous and\ngigantic one! He could clearly perceive that the little blue lights\nwere borne by Dwarfs, whose pale clay-coloured faces, with their huge\nnoses and red eyes, disfigured too by birds' bills and owls' eyes,\nwere supported by misshapen bodies; and they tottered and wabbled\nabout here and there, so that they seemed to be at the same time merry\nand in pain. Suddenly, the circle opened; the little ones retired on\neach side, and Guru, who was now much enlarged and of as immense a\nsize as the stone, advanced with gigantic steps. She threw both her\narms round the stone image, which immediately began to receive life\nand motion. As soon as the first symptom of motion showed itself, the\nlittle ones began, with wonderful capers and grimaces, a song, or to\nspeak more properly, a howl, with which the whole island resounded and\nseemed to tremble at the noise. Orm, quite terrified, drew in his\nhead, and he and Aslog remained in the dark, so still, that they\nhardly ventured to draw their breath.\n\nThe procession moved on toward the house, as might be clearly\nperceived by the nearer approach of the shouting and crying. They were\nnow all come in, and, light and active, the Dwarfs jumped about on the\nbenches; and heavy and loud sounded at intervals the steps of the\ngiants. Orm and his wife heard them covering the table, and the\nclattering of the plates, and the shouts of joy with which they\ncelebrated their banquet. When it was over and it drew near to\nmidnight, they began to dance to that ravishing fairy-air which charms\nthe mind into such sweet confusion, and which some have heard in the\nrocky glens, and learned by listening to the underground musicians. As\nsoon as Aslog caught the sound of this air, she felt an irresistible\nlonging to see the dance. Nor was Orm able to keep her back. \"Let me\nlook,\" said she, \"or my heart will burst.\" She took her child and\nplaced herself at the extreme end of the loft, whence, without being\nobserved, she could see all that passed. Long did she gaze, without\ntaking off her eyes for an instant, on the dance, on the bold and\nwonderful springs of the little creatures who seemed to float in the\nair, and not so much as to touch the ground, while the ravishing\nmelody of the elves filled her whole soul. The child meanwhile, which\nlay in her arms, grew sleepy and drew its breath heavily, and without\never thinking on the promise she had given the old woman, she made, as\nis usual, the sign of the cross over the mouth of the child, and said,\n\"Christ bless you, my babe!\"\n\nThe instant she had spoken the word there was raised a horrible\npiercing cry. The spirits tumbled heads over heels out at the door\nwith terrible crushing and crowding, their lights went out, and in a\nfew minutes the whole house was clear of them, and left desolate. Orm\nand Aslog frightened to death, hid themselves in the most retired nook\nin the house. They did not venture to stir till daybreak, and not till\nthe sun shone through the hole in the roof down on the fire-place did\nthey feel courage enough to descend from the loft.\n\nThe table remained still covered as the underground-people had left\nit; all their vessels, which were of silver, and manufactured in the\nmost beautiful manner, were upon it. In the middle of the room, there\nstood upon the ground a huge copper vessel half full of sweet mead,\nand by the side of it, a drinking-horn of pure gold. In the corner lay\nagainst the wall a stringed instrument, not unlike a dulcimer, which,\nas people believe, the Giantesses used to play on. They gazed on what\nwas before them, full of admiration, but without venturing to lay\ntheir hands on anything: but great and fearful was their amazement,\nwhen, on turning about, they saw sitting at the table an immense\nfigure, which Orm instantly recognised as the Giant whom Guru had\nanimated by her embrace. He was now a cold and hard stone. While they\nwere standing gazing on it, Guru herself entered the room in her\ngiant-form. She wept so bitterly, that her tears trickled down on the\nground. It was long ere her sobbing permitted her to utter a single\nword: at last she spoke:--\n\n\"Great affliction have you brought on me, and henceforth I must weep\nwhile I live; yet as I know that you have not done this with evil\nintentions, I forgive you, though it were a trifle for me to crush the\nwhole house like an egg-shell over your heads.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried she, \"my husband, whom I love more than myself, there he\nsits, petrified for ever; never again will he open his eyes! Three\nhundred years lived I with my father on the island of Kunnan, happy in\nthe innocence of youth, as the fairest among the Giant-maidens. Mighty\nheroes sued for my hand; the sea around that island is still filled\nwith the rocky fragments which they hurled against each other in their\ncombats. Andfind won the victory, and I plighted myself to him. But\nere I was married came the detestable Odin into the country, who\novercame my father, and drove us all from the island. My father and\nsisters fled to the mountains, and since that time my eyes have beheld\nthem no more. Andfind and I saved ourselves on this island, where we\nfor a long time lived in peace and quiet, and thought it would never\nbe interrupted. But destiny, which no one escapes, had determined it\notherwise. Oluf[198] came from Britain. They called him the Holy, and\nAndfind instantly found that his voyage would be inauspicious to the\ngiants. When he heard how Oluf's ship rushed through the waves, he\nwent down to the strand and blew the sea against him with all his\nstrength. The waves swelled up like mountains. But Oluf was still more\nmighty than he; his ship flew unchecked through the billows like an\narrow from a bow: He steered direct for our island. When the ship was\nso near that Andfind thought he could reach it with his hands, he\ngrasped at the forepart with his right hand, and was about to drag it\ndown to the bottom, as he had often done with other ships. But Oluf,\nthe terrible Oluf, stepped forward, and crossing his hands over each\nother, he cried with a loud voice, 'Stand there as a stone, till the\nlast day,' and in the same instant my unhappy husband became a mass of\nrock. The ship sailed on unimpeded, and ran direct against the\nmountain, which it cut through, and separated from it the little\nisland which lies out yonder.[199]\n\n\"Ever since my happiness has been annihilated, and lonely and melancholy\nhave I passed my life. On Yule-eve alone can petrified Giants receive\nback their life for the space of seven hours, if one of their race\nembraces them, and is, at the same time, willing to sacrifice a hundred\nyears of their own life. But seldom does a Giant do that. I loved my\nhusband too well not to bring him back cheerfully to life every time\nthat I could do it, even at the highest price, and never would I reckon\nhow often I had done it, that I might not know when the time came when I\nmyself should share his fate, and at the moment that I threw my arms\naround him become one with him. But alas! even this comfort is taken\nfrom me; I can never more by any embrace awake him, since he has heard\nthe name which I dare not utter; and never again will he see the light\nuntil the dawn of the last day shall bring it.\n\n\"I now go hence! You will never again behold me! All that is here in\nthe house I give you! My dulcimer alone will I keep! But let no one\nventure to fix his habitation on the little islands that lie around\nhere! There dwell the little underground ones whom you saw at the\nfestival, and I will protect them as long as I live!\"\n\nWith these words Guru vanished. The next spring Orm took the golden\nhorn and the silver ware to Drontheim, where no one knew him. The\nvalue of these precious metals was so great, that he was able to\npurchase everything requisite for a wealthy man. He laded his ship\nwith his purchases, and returned back to the island, where he spent\nmany years in unalloyed happiness, and Aslog's father was soon\nreconciled to his wealthy son-in-law.\n\nThe stone image remained sitting in the house; no human power was able\nto move it. So hard was the stone, that hammer and axe flew in pieces\nwithout making the slightest impression upon it. The Giant sat there\ntill a holy man same to the island, who with one single word removed\nhim back to his former station, where he stands to this hour. The\ncopper vessel, which the underground people left behind them, was\npreserved as a memorial upon the island, which bears the name of House\nIsland to the present day.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[150] There is no etymon of this word. It is to be found in both the\nIcelandic and the Finnish languages; whether the latter borrowed or\ncommunicated it is uncertain. Ihre derives the name of the celebrated\nwaterfall of Trollh\u00e6ta, near G\u00f6ttenburg, from Troll, and Haute\n_Lapponice_, an abyss. It therefore answers to the Irish\n_Poul-a-Phooka_. See _Ireland_.\n\n[151] In the following lines quoted in the Heimskringla, it would seem\nto signify the Dii Manes.\n\n Tha gaf hann Trescegg Tr\u00f6llum,\n Torf-Einarr drap Scurfo.\n\n Then gave he Trescegg to the Trolls,\n Turf-Einarr slew Scurfo.\n\n\n[152] The ancient Gothic nation was called Troll by their Vandal\nneighbours (Junii Batavia, c. 27); according to Sir J. Malcolm, the\nTartars call the Chinese Deevs. It was formerly believed, says Ihre,\nthat the noble family of Troll, in Sweden, derived their name from\nhaving killed a Troll, that is, probably, a Dwarf.\n\n[153] Arndt, Reise nach Schweden, vol. iii. p. 8.\n\n[154] Like our Fairies the Trolls are sometimes of marvellously small\ndimensions: in the Danish ballad of Eline af Villenskov we read--\n\n _Del da meldte den mindste Trold,\n Han var ikke st\u00f6rre end en myre,\n Her er kommet en Christen mand,\n Den maa jag visseligen styre._\n\n Out then spake the tinyest Troll,\n No bigger than an emmet was he,\n Hither is come a Christian man,\n And manage him will I surelie.\n\n\n[155] Thiele, i. 36.\n\n[156] For this they seem to be indebted to their hat or cap. Eske Brok\nbeing one day in the fields, knocked off, without knowing it, the hat\nof a Dwarf who instantly became visible, and had, in order to recover\nit, to grant him every thing he asked. Thiele iii. 49. This hat\nanswers to the Tarnkappe or Hel-kaplein of the German Dwarfs; who also\nbecome visible when their caps are struck off.\n\n[157] In the Danish ballad of Eline af Villenskov the hero is called\n_Trolden graae_, the Gray Trold, probably from the colour of his\nhabiliments.\n\n[158] We deem it needless in future to refer to volume and page of Mr.\nThiele's work. Those acquainted with the original will easily find the\nlegends.\n\n[159] We have ventured to omit the Omqu\u00e6d. _I styren v\u00e4ll de Runor!_\n(Manage well the runes!) The final _e_ in Thynn\u00e8 is marked merely to\nindicate that it is to be sounded.\n\n[160] _Runeslag_, literally Rune-stroke. Runes originally signified\nletters, and then songs. They were of two kinds, Maalrunor\n(_Speech-runes_), and Troll-runor (_Magic-runes_). These last were\nagain divided into Skaderunor (_Mischief-runes_) and Hjelprunor\n(_Help-runes_), of each of which there were five kinds. See Verelius'\nnotes to the Hervarar Saga, cap. 7.\n\nThe power of music over all nature is a subject of frequent recurrence\nin northern poetry. Here all the wild animals are entranced by the\nmagic tones of the harp; the meads flower, the trees put forth leaves;\nthe knight, though grave and silent, is attracted, and even if\ninclined to stay away, he cannot restrain his horse.\n\n[161] _Rosendelund._ The word _Lund_ signifies any kind of grove,\nthicket, &c.\n\n[162] Not the island of Iceland, but a district in Norway of that\nname. By Berner-land, Geijer thinks is meant the land of Bern\n(_Verona_), the country of Dietrich, so celebrated in German romance.\n\n[163] _Sabel och M\u00e5rd._ These furs are always mentioned in the\nnorthern ballads, as the royal rewards of distinguished actions.\n\n[164] This fine ancient Visa was taken down from recitation in West\nGothland. The corresponding Danish one of Herr T\u00f6nne is much later.\n\n[165] Niebuhr, speaking of the Celsi Ramnes, says, \"With us the\nsalutation of blood relations was _Willkommen stolze Vetter_ (Welcome,\nproud cousins) and in the Danish ballads, proud (_stolt_) is a noble\nappellation of a maiden.\"--R\u00f6mische Geschichte, 2d edit. vol. i. p. 316.\n\nIt may be added, that in English, _proud_ and the synonymous term\n_stout_ (_stolz_, _stolt_) had also the sense of noble, high-born.\n\n Do now your devoir, yonge knightes _proud_.\n _Knight's Tale._\n\n Up stood the queen and ladies _stout_.\n _Launfal._\n\n\n[166] _Men jag vet at sorge \u00e4r tung._\n\n[167] Wain, our readers hardly need be informed, originally signified\nany kind of carriage: see Faerie Queene, _passim_. It is the Ang. Sax.\n\u00fe\u01fdn, and not a contraction of _waggon_.\n\n[168] From Vermland and Upland.\n\n[169] This we suppose to be the meaning of _hemmagifta_, as it is that\nof _hemgift_, the only word approaching to it that we have met in our\ndictionary.\n\n[170] _Brandcreatur_, a word of which we cannot ascertain the exact\nmeaning. We doubt greatly if the following _hielmeta_ be helmets.\n\n[171] Grimm (Deut. Mythol. p. 435) has extracted this legend from the\nBahusl\u00e4n of \u00d6dman, who, as he observes, and as we may see, relates it\nquite seriously, and with the real names of persons. It is we believe\nthe only legend of the union of a _man_ with one of the hill-folk.\n\n[172] \"Three kings' ransoms\" is a common maximum with a Danish peasant\nwhen speaking of treasure.\n\n[173]\n\n \"Rid paa det Bolde,\n Og ikke paa det Knolde.\"\n\n\n[174] _Oral._ This is an adventure common to many countries. The\nchurch of Vigersted in Zealand has a cup obtained in the same way. The\nman, in this case, took refuge in the church, and was there besieged\nby the Trolls till morning. The bridge of Hagbro in Jutland got its\nname from a similar event. When the man rode off with the silver jug\nfrom the beautiful maiden who presented it to him, an old crone set\noff in pursuit of him with such velocity, that she would surely have\ncaught him, but that providentially he came to a running water. The\npursuer, however, like Nannie with Tam o' Shanter, caught the horse's\nhind leg, but was only able to keep one of the cocks of his shoe:\nhence the bridge was called Hagbro, _i. e._ Cock Bridge.\n\n[175] _Oral._ Tiis Lake is in Zealand. It is the general belief of the\npeasantry that there are now very few Trolls in the country, for the\nringing of bells has driven them all away, they, like the Stille-folk\nof the Germans, delighting in quiet and silence. It is said that a\nfarmer having found a Troll sitting very disconsolate on a stone near\nTiis Lake, and taking him at first for a decent Christian man,\naccosted him with--\"Well! where are you going, friend?\" \"Ah!\" said he,\nin a melancholy tone, \"I am going off out of the country. I cannot\nlive here any longer, they keep such eternal ringing and dinging!\"\n\n\"There is a high hill,\" says Kalm (Resa, &c. p. 136), \"near Botna in\nSweden, in which formerly dwelt a Troll. When they got up bells in Botna\nchurch, and he heard the ringing of them, he is related to have said:\n\n \"_Det \u00e4r s\u00e5 godt i det Botnaberg at bo,\n Vore ikke den leda Bj\u00e4lleko._\"\n\n \"Pleasant it were in Botnahill to dwell,\n Were it not for the sound of that plaguey bell.\"\n\n\n[176] This story is told by Rabelais with his characteristic humour\nand extravagance. As there are no Trolls in France, it is the devil\nwho is deceived in the French version. A legend similar to this is\ntold of the district of Lujhm\u00e2n in Afghanist\u00e2n (Masson, Narrative,\netc., iii. 297); but there it was the Sh\u00e2itan (_Satan_) that cheated\nthe farmers. The legends are surely independent fictions.\n\n[177] _Oral._ Gudmanstrup is in Zealand. In Our\u00f6e, a little island\nclose to Zealand, there is a hill whence the Trolls used to come down\nand supply themselves with provisions out of the farmers' pantries.\nNiel Jensen, who lived close to the hill, finding that they were\nmaking, as he thought, over free with his provisions, took the liberty\nof putting a lock on the door through which they had access. But he\nhad better have left it alone, for his daughter grew stone blind, and\nnever recovered her sight till the lock was removed.--_Resenii Atlas_,\ni. 10. There is a similar story in Grimm's Deutsche Sagen, i. p. 55.\n\n[178] This legend is oral.\n\n[179]\n\n _Tie stille, barn min!\n Imorgen kommer Fin,\n Fa'er din,\n Og gi'er dig Esbern Snares \u00f6ine og hjerte at lege med._\n\n\n[180] _Oral._ Kallundborg is in Zealand. Mr. Thiele says he saw four\npillars at the church. The same story is told of the cathedral of Lund\nin Funen, which was built by the Troll Finn at the desire of St.\nLaurentius.\n\nOf Esbern Snare, Holberg says, \"The common people tell wonderful\nstories of him, and how the devil carried him off; which, with other\nthings, will serve to prove that he was an able man.\"\n\nThe German story of Rumpelstilzchen (Kinder and Haus-M\u00e4rchen, No. 55)\nis similar to this legend. MM. Grimm, in their note on this story,\nnotice the unexpected manner in which, in the Thousand and One Days,\nor Persian Tales, the princess Turandot learns the name of Calaf.\n\n[181]\n\n _Wind och Veder!\n Du har satt spiran spedar!_\n\nOthers say it was\n\n _Blaster! s\u00e4tt spiran v\u00e4ster!_\n Blester! set the pinnacle westwards!\n\nOr,\n\n _Sl\u00e4t! s\u00e4tt spiran r\u00e4tt!_\n Sl\u00e4tt! set the pinnacle straight!\n\n\n[182] Afzelius Sago-h\u00e4fder, iii. 83. Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 515.\n\n[183] This event happened in Jutland. The Troll's dread of thunder\nseems to be founded in the mythologic narratives of Thor's enmity to\nthe Trolls.\n\n[184] Groute, Danish _Gr\u00f6d_, is a species of food like furmety, made\nof shelled oats or barley. It is boiled and eaten with milk or butter.\n\n[185]\n\n _H\u00f6r du Plat,\n Siig til din Kat,\n At Knurremurre er d\u00f6d._\n\n\n[186] The scene of this story is in Zealand. The same is related of a\nhill called Orneh\u00f6i in the same island. The writer has heard it in\nIreland, but they were cats who addressed the man as he passed by the\nchurchyard where they were assembled.\n\n[187] This legend was orally related to Mr. Thiele.\n\n[188] H\u00fclpher, Samlingen om J\u00e4mtland. Westeras, 1775. p. 210 _ap._\nGrimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 425.\n\n[189] \u00d6dmans Bahusl\u00e4n, _ap._ Grimm. Deut. Mythol. p. 426. \u00d6dman also\ntells of a man who, as he was going along one day with his dog, came\non a hill-smith at his work, using a stone as an anvil. He had on him\na light grey coat and a black woollen hat. The dog began to bark at\nhim, but he put on so menacing an attitude that they both deemed it\nadvisable to go away.\n\n[190] Thiele, iv. 120. In both these legends we find the tradition of\nthe artistic skill of the Duergar and of V\u00f6lundr still retained by the\npeasantry: see Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 270.\n\n[191] Thiele, iv. 21. In Otmar's Volksagen, there is a German legend\nof Peter Klaus, who slept a sleep of twenty years in the bowling green\nof the Kyffh\u00e4user, from which Washington Irving made his Ripp van\nWinkle. We shall also find it in the Highlands of Scotland. It is the\nIrish legend of Clough na Cuddy, so extremely well told by Mr. C.\nCroker (to which, by the way, we contributed a Latin song), in the\nnotes to which further information will be found. The Seven Sleepers\nseems to be the original.\n\n[192] _Oral._ See the Young Piper and the Brewery of Egg-shells in the\nIrish Fairy Legends, with the notes. The same story is also to be\nfound in Germany where the object is to make the changeling laugh. The\nmother breaks an egg in two and sets water down to boil in each half\nshell. The imp then cries out: \"Well! I'm as old as the Westerwald,\nbut never before saw I any one cooking in egg-shells,\" and burst out\nlaughing at it. Instantly the true child was returned.--Kinder and\nHaus-M\u00e4rchen, iii. 39. Grose also tells the story in his Provincial\nGlossary. The mother there breaks a dozen of eggs and sets the shells\nbefore the child, who says, \"I was seven years old when I came to\nnurse, and I have lived four since, and yet I never saw so many\nmilkpans.\" See also Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and below,\n_Wales_, _Brittany_, _France_.\n\n[193] This legend is taken from Resenn Atlas, i. 36.\n\n[194] Vendsyssel and Aalborg are both in North Jutland.--The story is\ntold by the ferrymen to travellers: see Mythology of Greece and Italy,\np. 68.\n\n[195] See above p. 89. According to what Mr. Thiele was told in\nZealand, Svend F\u00e6lling must have been of prodigious size, for there is\na hill near Steenstrup on which he used to sit while he washed his\nfeet and hands in the sea, about half a quarter of a mile distant. The\npeople of Holmstrup dressed a dinner for him, and brought it to him in\nlarge brewing vessels, much as the good people of Lilliput did with\nGulliver. This reminds us of Holger Danske, who once wanted a new suit\nof clothes. Twelve tailors were employed: they set ladders to his back\nand shoulders, as was done to Gulliver, and they measured away; but\nthe man that was highest on the right side ladder chanced, as he was\ncutting a mark in the measure, to clip Holger's ear. Holger,\nforgetting what it was, hastily put up his hand to his head, caught\nthe poor tailor, and crushed him to death between his fingers.\n\n[196] This tale was taken from oral recitation by Dr. Grimm, and\ninserted in Hauff's M\u00e4rchenalmanach for 1827. Dr. Grimm's fidelity to\ntradition is too well known to leave any doubt of its genuineness.\n\n[197] Asl\u00f6g (_Light of the Aser_) is the name of the lovely daughter\nof Sigurd and Brynhilda, who became the wife of Ragnar Lodbrok. How\nbeautiful and romantic is the account in the Volsunga Saga of old\nHeimer taking her, when an infant, and carrying her about with him in\nhis harp, to save her from those who sought her life as the last of\nSigurd's race; his retiring to remote streams and waterfalls to wash\nher, and his stilling her cries by the music of his harp!\n\n[198] This is Saint Oluf or Olave, the warlike apostle of the North.\n\n[199] A legend similar to this is told of Saint Oluf in various parts\nof Scandinavia. The following is an example:--As he was sailing by the\nhigh strand-hills in Hornsherred, in which a giantess abode, she cried\nout to him,\n\n Saint Oluf with the red beard hear!\n My cellar-wall thou'rt sailing too near!\n\nOluf was incensed, and instead of guiding the ship through the rocks,\nhe turned it toward the hill, replying:\n\n Hearken thou witch with thy spindle and rock!\n There shalt thou sit and be a stone-block!\n\nand scarcely had he spoken when the hill burst and the giantess was\nturned into stone. She is still seen sitting on the east side with her\nrock and spindle; out of the opposite mass sprang a holy well. Grimm.\nDeutsche Mythologie, p. 516.\n\n\n\n\n NISSES.[200]\n\n Og Trolde, Hexer, Nisser i hver Vraae.\n FINN MAGNUSEN\n\n And Witches, Trolls, and Nisses in each nook.\n\n\nThe Nis is the same being that is called Kobold in Germany, Brownie in\nScotland, and whom we shall meet in various other places under\ndifferent appellations. He is in Denmark and Norway also called Nisse\ngod-dreng (_Niss\u00e8 good lad_), and in Sweden Tomtgubbe (_Old Man of the\nHouse_), or briefly Tomte.\n\nHe is evidently of the Dwarf family, as he resembles them in appearance,\nand, like them, has the command of money, and the same dislike to noise\nand tumult. He is of the size of a year-old child, but has the face of\nan old man. His usual dress is grey, with a pointed red cap; but on\nMichaelmas-day he wears a round hat like those of the peasants.\n\nNo farm-house goes on well unless there is a Nis in it, and well is it\nfor the maids and the men when they are in favour with him. They may\ngo to their beds and give themselves no trouble about their work, and\nyet in the morning the maids will find the kitchen swept up, and water\nbrought in, and the men will find the horses in the stable well\ncleaned and curried, and perhaps a supply of corn cribbed for them\nfrom the neighbours' barns. But he punishes them for any irregularity\nthat takes place.\n\nThe Nisses of Norway, we are told, are fond of the moon-light, and in\nthe winter time they may be seen jumping over the yard, or driving in\nsledges. They are also skilled in music and dancing, and will, it is\nsaid, give instructions on the fiddle for a _grey sheep_, like the\nSwedish Str\u00f6mkarl.[201]\n\nEvery church, too, has its Nis, who looks to order, and chastises\nthose who misbehave themselves. He is called the Kirkegrim.\n\n\n _The Nis Removing._[202]\n\nIt is very difficult, they say, to get rid of a Nis when one wishes\nit. A man who lived in a house in which a Nis carried his pranks to\ngreat lengths resolved to quit the tenement, and leave him there\nalone. Several cart-loads of furniture and other articles were already\ngone, and the man was come to take away the last, which consisted\nchiefly of empty tubs, barrels, and things of that sort. The load was\nnow all ready, and the man had just bidden farewell to his house and\nto the Nis, hoping for comfort in his new habitation, when happening,\nfrom some cause or other, to go to the back of the cart, there he saw\nthe Nis sitting in one of the tubs in the cart, plainly with the\nintention of going along with him wherever he went. The good man was\nsurprised and disconcerted beyond measure at seeing that all his\nlabour was to no purpose; but the Nis began to laugh heartily, popped\nhis head up out of the tub, and cried to the bewildered farmer, \"Ha!\nwe're moving to-day, you see.\"[203]\n\n\n _The Penitent Nis._\n\nIt is related of a Nis, who had established himself in a house in\nJutland, that he used every evening, after the maid was gone to bed,\nto go into the kitchen to take his groute, which they used to leave\nfor him in a wooden bowl.\n\nOne evening he sat down as usual to eat his supper with a good\nappetite, drew over the bowl to him, and was just beginning, as he\nthought, to make a comfortable meal, when he found that the maid had\nforgotten to put any butter into it for him. At this he fell into a\nfurious rage, got up in the height of his passion, and went out into\nthe cow-house, and twisted the neck of the best cow that was in it.\nBut as he felt himself still very hungry, he stole back again to the\nkitchen to take some of the groute, such as it was, and when he had\neaten a little of it he perceived that there was butter in it, but\nthat it had sunk to the bottom under the groute. He was now so vexed\nat his injustice toward the maid, that, to make good the damage he had\ndone, he went back to the cow-house and set a chest full of money by\nthe side of the dead cow, where the family found it nest morning, and\nby means of it got into flourishing circumstances.\n\n\n _The Nis and the Boy._\n\nThere was a Nis in a house in Jutland; he every evening got his groute\nat the regular time, and he, in return, used to help both the men and\nthe maids, and looked to the interest of the master of the house in\nevery respect.\n\nThere came one time an arch mischievous boy to live at service in this\nhouse, and his great delight was, whenever he got an opportunity, to\ngive the Nis all the annoyance in his power. One evening, late, when\neverything was quiet in the place, the Nis took his little wooden dish,\nand was just going to eat his supper, when he perceived that the boy had\nput the butter at the bottom, and concealed it, in hopes that he might\neat the groute first, and then find the butter when all the groute was\ngone. He accordingly set about thinking how he might repay the boy in\nkind; so, after pondering a little, he went up to the loft, where the\nman and the boy were lying asleep in the same bed. When he had taken the\nbed-clothes off them, and saw the little boy by the side of the tall\nman, he said, \"Short and long don't match;\" and with this word he took\nthe boy by the legs and dragged him down to the man's legs. He then went\nup to the head of the bed, and \"Short and long don't match,\" said he\nagain, and then he dragged the boy up once more. When, do what he would,\nhe could not succeed in making the boy as long as the man, he still\npersisted in dragging him up and down in the bed, and continued at this\nwork the whole night long, till it was broad daylight.\n\nBy this time he was well tired, so he crept up on the window-stool,\nand sat with his legs hanging down into the yard. But the\nhouse-dog--for all dogs have a great enmity to the Nis--as soon as he\nsaw him, began to bark at him, which afforded such amusement to Nis,\nas the dog could not get up to him, that he put down first one leg and\nthen the other to him, and teazed him, and kept saying, \"Look at my\nlittle leg! look at my little leg!\" In the meantime the boy had\nwakened, and had stolen up close behind him, and while Nis was least\nthinking of it, and was going on with his \"Look at my little leg!\" the\nboy tumbled him down into the yard to the dog, crying out at the same\ntime, \"Look at the whole of him now!\"\n\n\n _The Nis Stealing Corn._\n\nThere lived a man at Thyrsting, in Jutland, who had a Nis in his barn.\nThis Nis used to attend to the cattle, and at night he would steal\nfodder for them from the neighbours, so that this farmer had the best\nfed and most thriving cattle in the country.\n\nOne time the boy went along with the Nis to Fugleriis to steal corn.\nThe Nis took as much as he thought he could well carry, but the boy\nwas more covetous, and said, \"Oh, take more; sure we can rest now and\nthen?\" \"Rest!\" said the Nis; \"rest! and what is rest?\" \"Do what I tell\nyou,\" replied the boy; \"take more, and we shall find rest when we get\nout of this.\"--The Nis then took more, and they went away with it. But\nwhen they were come to the lands of Thyrsting, the Nis grew tired, and\nthen the boy said to him, \"Here now is rest;\" and they both sat down\non the side of a little hill. \"If I had known,\" said the Nis, as they\nwere sitting there, \"if I had known that rest was so good, I'd have\ncarried off all that was in the barn.\"\n\nIt happened some time after that the boy and the Nis were no longer\nfriends, and as the Nis was sitting one day in the granary-window,\nwith his legs hanging out into the yard, the boy ran at him and\ntumbled him back into the granary. But the Nis took his satisfaction\nof him that very same night; for when the boy was gone to bed, he\nstole down to where he was lying, and carried him naked as he was out\ninto the yard, and then laid two pieces of wood across the well, and\nput him lying on them, expecting that, when he awoke, he would fall\nfrom the fright down into the well and be drowned. But he was\ndisappointed, for the boy came off without injury.\n\n\n _The Nis and the Mare._\n\nThere was a man who lived in the town of Tirup, who had a very\nhandsome white mare. This mare had for many years gone, like an\nheirloom, from father to son, because there was a Nis attached to her,\nwhich brought luck to the place.\n\nThis Nis was so fond of the mare, that he could hardly endure to let\nthem put her to any kind of work, and he used to come himself every\nnight and feed her of the best; and as for this purpose he usually\nbrought a superfluity of corn, both threshed and in the straw, from\nthe neighbours' barns, all the rest of the cattle enjoyed the\nadvantage of it, and they were all kept in exceeding good case.\n\nIt happened at last that the farm-house passed into the hands of a new\nowner, who refused to put any faith in what they told him about the\nmare, so the luck speedily left the place, and went after the mare to\nhis poor neighbour who had bought her; and within five days after his\npurchase, the poor farmer who had bought the mare began to find his\ncircumstances gradually improving, while the income of the other, day\nafter day, fell away and diminished at such a rate, that he was hard\nset to make both ends meet.\n\nIf now the man who had gotten the mare had only known how to be quiet,\nand enjoy the good times that were come upon him, he and his children,\nand his children's children after him, would have been in flourishing\ncircumstances till this very day. But when he saw the quantity of corn\nthat came every night to his barn, he could not resist his desire to\nget a sight of the Nis. So he concealed himself one evening, at\nnightfall, in the stable; and as soon as it was midnight, he saw how\nthe Nis came from his neighbour's barn and brought a sackful of corn\nwith him. It was now unavoidable that the Nis should get a sight of\nthe man who was watching; so he, with evident marks of grief, gave the\nmare her food for the last time, cleaned, and dressed her to the best\nof his abilities, and when he had done, turned round to where the man\nwas lying and bid him farewell.\n\nFrom that day forward the circumstances of both the neighbours were on\nan equality, for each now kept his own.\n\n\n _The Nis Riding._\n\nThere was a Nis in a farm-house, who was for ever tormenting the\nmaids, and playing all manner of roguish tricks on them, and they in\nreturn were continually planning how to be even with him. There came\none time to the farm-house a Juttish drover and put up there for the\nnight. Among his cattle, there was one very large Juttish ox; and when\nNis saw him in the stable he took a prodigious fancy to get up and\nride on his back. He accordingly mounted the ox, and immediately began\nto torment the beast in such a manner that he broke loose from his\nhalter and ran out into the yard with the Nis on his back. Poor Nis\nwas now terrified in earnest, and began to shout and bawl most\nlustily. His cries awakened the maids, but instead of coming to his\nassistance they laughed at him till they were ready to break their\nhearts. And when the ox ran against a piece of timber, so that the\nunfortunate Nis had his hood all torn by it, the maids shouted out and\ncalled him \"Lame leg, Lame leg,\" and he made off with himself in most\nmiserable plight. But the Nis did not forget it to the maids; for the\nfollowing Sunday when they were going to the dance, he contrived,\nunknown to them, to smut their faces all over, so that when they got\nup to dance, every one that was there burst out a laughing at them.\n\n\n _The Nisses in Vosborg._\n\nThere was once an exceeding great number of Nisses in Jutland. Those in\nVosborg in particular were treated with so much liberality, that they\nwere careful and solicitous beyond measure for their master's interest.\nThey got every evening in their sweet-groute a large lump of butter, and\nin return for this, they once showed great zeal and gratitude.\n\nOne very severe winter, a lonely house in which there were six calves\nwas so completely covered by the snow, that for the space of fourteen\ndays no one could get into it. When the snow was gone, the people\nnaturally thought that the calves were all dead of hunger; but far\nfrom it, they found them all in excellent condition; the place cleaned\nup, and the cribs full of beautiful corn, so that it was quite evident\nthe Nisses had attended to them.\n\nBut the Nis, though thus grateful when well treated, is sure to avenge\nhimself when any one does anything to annoy and vex him. As a Nis was\none day amusing himself by running on the loft over the cow-house, one\nof the boards gave way and his leg went through. The boy happened to be\nin the cow-house when this happened, and when he saw the Nis's leg\nhanging down, he took up a dung fork, and gave him with it a smart rap\non the leg. At noon, when the people were sitting round the table in the\nhall, the boy sat continually laughing to himself. The bailiff asked him\nwhat he was laughing at; and the boy replied, \"Oh! a got such a blow at\nNis to-day, and a gave him such a hell of a rap with my fork, when he\nput his leg down through the loft.\" \"No,\" cried Nis, outside of the\nwindow, \"it was not one, but three blows you gave me, for there were\nthree prongs on the fork; but I shall pay you for it, my lad.\"\n\nNext night, while the boy was lying fast asleep, Nis came and took him\nup and brought him out into the yard, then flung him over the house,\nand was so expeditious in getting to the other side of the house, that\nhe caught him before he came to the ground, and instantly pitched him\nover again, and kept going on with this sport till the boy had been\neight times backwards and forwards over the roof, and the ninth time\nhe let him fall into a great pool of water, and then set up such a\nshout of laughter at him, that it wakened up all the people that were\nin the place.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn Sweden the Tomte is sometimes seen at noon, in summer, slowly and\nstealthily dragging a straw or an ear of corn. A farmer, seeing him\nthus engaged, laughed, and said, \"What difference does it make if you\nbring away that or nothing?\" The Tomte in displeasure left his farm,\nand went to that of his neighbour; and with him went all prosperity\nfrom him who had made light of him, and passed over to the other\nfarmer. Any one who treated the industrious Tomte with respect, and\nset store by the smallest straw, became rich, and neatness and\nregularity prevailed in his household.[204]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[200] Nisse, Grimm thinks (Deut. Mythol. p. 472) is Niels, Nielsen,\n_i. e._ Nicolaus, Niclas, a common name in Germany and the North,\nwhich is also contracted to Klas, Claas.\n\n[201] Wilse _ap_ Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 479, who thinks he may have\nconfounded the Nis with the N\u00f6ck.\n\n[202] The places mentioned in the following stories are all in\nJutland. It is remarkable that we seem to have scarcely any Nis\nstories from Sweden.\n\n[203] This story is current in Germany, England, and Ireland. In the\nGerman story the farmer set fire to his barn to burn the Kobold in it.\nAs he was driving off, he turned round to look at the blaze, and, to his\nno small mortification, saw the Kobold behind him in the cart, crying\n\"It was time for us to come out--it was time for us to come out!\"\n\n[204] Afzelius, Sago H\u00e4fdar., ii. 169. On Christmas-morning, he says,\nthe peasantry gives the Tomte, his wages, _i. e._ a piece of grey\ncloth, tobacco, and a _shovelful of clay_.\n\n\n\n\n NECKS, MERMEN, AND MERMAIDS.\n\n Ei Necken mer i flodens v\u00e5gor qu\u00e4der,\n Och ingen Hafsfru bleker sina kl\u00e4der\n Paa b\u00f6ljans rygg i milda solars glans.\n STAGNELIUS.\n\n The Neck no more upon the river sings,\n And no Mermaid to bleach her linen flings\n Upon the waves in the mild solar ray.\n\nIt is a prevalent opinion in the North that all the various beings of\nthe popular creed were once worsted in a conflict with superior powers,\nand condemned to remain till doomsday in certain assigned abodes. The\nDwarfs, or Hill (_Berg_) trolls, were appointed the hills; the Elves the\ngroves and leafy trees; the Hill-people (_H\u00f6gfolk_[205]) the caves and\ncaverns; the Mermen, Mermaids, and Necks, the sea, lakes, and rivers;\nthe River-man (_Str\u00f6mkarl_) the small waterfalls. Both the Catholic and\nProtestant clergy have endeavoured to excite an aversion to these\nbeings, but in vain. They are regarded as possessing considerable power\nover man and nature, and it is believed that though now unhappy, they\nwill be eventually saved, or _faa f\u00f6rlossning_ (get salvation), as it is\nexpressed.\n\nThe NECK (in Danish N\u00f6kke[206]) is the river-spirit. The ideas\nrespecting him are various. Sometimes he is represented as sitting, of\nsummer nights, on the surface of the water, like a pretty little boy,\nwith golden hair hanging in ringlets, and a red cap on his head;\nsometimes as above the water, like a handsome young man, but beneath\nlike a horse;[207] at other times, as an old man with a long beard,\nout of which he wrings the water as he sits on the cliffs. In this\nlast form, Odin, according to the Icelandic sagas, has sometimes\nrevealed himself.\n\nThe Neck is very severe against any haughty maiden who makes an ill\nreturn to the love of her wooer; but should he himself fall in love\nwith a maid of human kind, he is the most polite and attentive suitor\nin the world.\n\nThough he is thus severe only against those who deserve it, yet country\npeople when they are upon the water use certain precautions against his\npower. Metals, particularly steel, are believed \"_to bind the Neck_,\"\n(_binda Necken_); and when going on the open sea, they usually put a\nknife in the bottom of the boat, or set a nail in a reed. In Norway the\nfollowing charm is considered effectual against the Neck:--\n\n Nyk, nyk, naal i vatn!\n Jomfru Maria kastet staal i vatn!\n Du s\u00f6k, \u00e4k flyt!\n\n Neck, neck, nail in water!\n The virgin Mary casteth steel in water!\n Do you sink, I flit!\n\nThe Neck is a great musician. He sits on the water and plays on his\ngold harp, the harmony of which operates on all nature. To learn music\nof him, a person must present him with a black lamb, and also promise\nhim resurrection and redemption.\n\nThe following story is told in all parts of Sweden:--\n\n\"Two boys were one time playing near a river that ran by their father's\nhouse. The Neck rose and sat on the surface of the water, and played on\nhis harp; but one of the children said to him, 'What is the use, Neck,\nof your sitting there and playing? you will never be saved.' The Neck\nthen began to weep bitterly, flung away his harp, and sank down to the\nbottom. The children went home, and told the whole story to their\nfather, who was the parish priest. He said they were wrong to say so to\nthe Neck, and desired them to go immediately back to the river, and\nconsole him with the promise of salvation. They did so: and when they\ncame down to the river the Neck was sitting on the water, weeping and\nlamenting. They then said to him, 'Neck, do not grieve so; our father\nsays that your Redeemer liveth also.' The Neck then took his harp and\nplayed most sweetly, until long after the sun was gone down.\"\n\nThis legend is also found in Denmark, but in a less agreeable form. A\nclergyman, it is said, was journeying one night to Roeskilde in\nZealand. His way led by a hill in which there was music and dancing\nand great merriment going forward. Some dwarfs jumped suddenly out of\nit, stopped the carriage, and asked him whither he was going. He\nreplied to the synod of the church. They asked him if he thought they\ncould be saved. To that, he replied, he could not give an immediate\nanswer. They then begged that he would give them a reply by next\nyear. When he next passed, and they made the same demand, he replied,\n\"No, you are all damned.\" Scarcely had he spoken the word, when the\nwhole hill appeared in flames.\n\nIn another form of this legend, a priest says to the Neck, \"Sooner will\nthis cane which I hold in my hand grow green flowers than thou shalt\nattain salvation.\" The Neck in grief flung away his harp and wept, and\nthe priest rode on. But soon his cane began to put forth leaves and\nblossoms, and he then went back to communicate the glad tidings to the\nNeck who now joyously played on all the entire night.[208]\n\n\n _The Power of the Harp._\n\n Little Kerstin she weeps in her bower all the day;\n Sir Peter in his courtyard is playing so gay.\n My heart's own dear!\n Tell me wherefore you grieve?\n\n \"Grieve you for saddle, or grieve you for steed?\n Or grieve you for that I have you wed?\"\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"And grieve do I not for saddle or for steed:\n And grieve do I not for that I have you wed.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"Much more do I grieve for my fair gold hair,\n Which in the blue waves shall be stained to-day.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"Much more do I grieve for Ringfalla flood,\n In which have been drowned my two sisters proud.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"It was laid out for me in my infancy,\n That my wedding-day should prove heavy to me.\"\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"And I shall make them the horse round shoe,\n He shall not stumble on his four gold shoes.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n \"Twelve of my courtiers shall before thee ride,\n Twelve of my courtiers upon each side.\"\n My heart's, &c.\n\n But when they were come to Ringfalla wood,\n There sported a hart with gilded horns proud.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n And all the courtiers after the hart are gone;\n Little Kerstin, she must proceed alone.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n And when on Ringfalla bridge she goes,\n Her steed he stumbled on his four gold shoes.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n Four gold shoes, and thirty gold nails,\n And the maiden into the swift stream falls.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n Sir Peter he spake to his footpage so--\n \"Thou must for my gold harp instantly go.\"\n My heart's, &c.\n\n The first stroke on his gold harp he gave\n The foul ugly Neck sat and laughed on the wave.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n The second time the gold harp he swept,\n The foul ugly Neck on the wave sat and wept.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n The third stroke on the gold harp rang,\n Little Kerstin reached up her snow-white arm.\n My heart's, &c.[209]\n\n He played the bark from off the high trees;\n He played Little Kerstin back on his knees.\n My heart's, &c.\n\n And the Neck he out of the waves came there,\n And a proud maiden on each arm he bare.\n My heart's own dear!\n Tell me wherefore you grieve?[210]\n\nThe STR\u00d6MKARL, called in Norway Grim or Fosse-Grim[211]\n(_Waterfall-Grim_) is a musical genius like the Neck. Like him too,\nwhen properly propitiated, he communicates his art. The sacrifice also\nis a black lamb,[212] which the offerer must present with averted\nhead, and on Thursday evening. If it is poor the pupil gets no further\nthan to the tuning of the instruments; if it is fat the Str\u00f6mkarl\nseizes the votary by the right hand, and swings it backwards and\nforwards till the blood runs out at the finger-ends. The aspirant is\nthen enabled to play in such a masterly manner that the trees dance\nand waterfalls stop at his music.[213]\n\nThe Havmand, or Merman, is described as of a handsome form, with green\nor black hair and beard. He dwells either in the bottom of the sea, or\nin the cliffs and hills near the sea shore, and is regarded as rather\na good and beneficent kind of being.[214]\n\nThe Havfrue, or Mermaid, is represented in the popular tradition\nsometimes as a good, at other times as an evil and treacherous being.\nShe is beautiful in her appearance. Fishermen sometimes see her in the\nbright summer's sun, when a thin mist hangs over the sea, sitting on the\nsurface of the water, and combing her long golden hair with a golden\ncomb, or driving up her snow-white cattle to feed on the strands and\nsmall islands. At other times she comes as a beautiful maiden, chilled\nand shivering with the cold of the night, to the fires the fishers have\nkindled, hoping by this means to entice them to her love.[215] Her\nappearance prognosticates both storm and ill success in their fishing.\nPeople that are drowned, and whose bodies are not found, are believed to\nbe taken into the dwellings of the Mermaids. These beings are also\nsupposed to have the power of foretelling future events. A Mermaid, we\nare told, prophesied the birth of Christian IV. of Denmark, and\n\n En Havfrue op af Vandet steg,\n Og spaade Herr Sinklar ilde.\n SINCLAR'S VISA.\n\n A mermaid from the water rose,\n And spaed Sir Sinclar ill.\n\nFortune-telling has been in all countries a gift of the sea-people. We\nneed hardly mention the prophecies of Nereus and Proteus.\n\nA girl one time fell into the power of a Havfrue and passed fifteen\nyears in her submarine abode without ever seeing the sun. At length\nher brother went down in quest of her, and succeeded in bringing her\nback to the upper world. The Havfrue waited for seven years expecting\nher return, but when she did not come back, she struck the water with\nher staff and made it boil up and cried--\n\n Hade jag trott att du varit s\u00e5 falsk,\n S\u00e5 skulle jag kreckt dig din tiufvehals!\n\n Had I but known thee so false to be,\n Thy thieving neck I'd have cracked for thee.[216]\n\n\n\n _Duke Magnus and the Mermaid._\n\n Duke Magnus looked out through the castle wind\u00f3w,\n How the stream ran so rapidly;\n And there he saw how upon the stream sat\n A woman most fair and lovelie,\n Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, plight thee to me,\n I pray you still so freely;\n Say me not nay, but yes, yes!\n\n \"O, to you I will give a travelling ship,\n The best that a knight would guide;\n It goeth as well on water as on firm land,\n And through the fields all so wide.\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"O, to you will I give a courser gray,\n The best that a knight would ride;\n He goeth as well on water as on firm land,\n And through the groves all so wide.\"\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"O, how should I plight me to you?\n I never any quiet get;\n I serve the king and my native land,\n But with woman I match me not yet.\"\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"To you will I give as much of gold\n As for more than your life will endure;\n And of pearls and precious stones handf\u00f9ls;\n And all shall be so pure.\"\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"O gladly would I plight me to thee,\n If thou wert of Christian kind;\n But now thou art a vile sea-troll,\n My love thou canst never win.\"\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, bethink thee well,\n And answer not so haughtily;\n For if thou wilt not plight thee to me,\n Thou shalt ever crazy be.\"\n Duke Magnus, &c.\n\n \"I am a king's son so good,\n How can I let you gain me?\n You dwell not on land, but in the flood,\n Which would not with me agree.\"\n Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, plight thee to me,\n I offer you still so freely;\n Say me not nay, but yes, yes![217]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[205] _Berg_ signifies a larger eminence, mountain, hill; _H\u00f6g_, a\nheight, hillock. The _H\u00f6g-folk_ are Elves and musicians.\n\n[206] The Danish peasantry in Wormius' time described the N\u00f6kke\n(Nikke) as a monster with a human head, that dwells both in fresh and\nsalt water. When any one was drowned, they said, _N\u00f6kken tog ham bort_\n(the N\u00f6kke took him away); and when any drowned person was found with\nthe nose red, they said the Nikke has sucked him: _Nikken har suet\nham._--Magnusen, Eddal\u00e6re. Denmark being a country without any streams\nof magnitude, we meet in the Danske Folkesagn no legends of the N\u00f6kke;\nand in ballads, such as \"The Power of the Harp,\" what in Sweden is\nascribed to the Neck, is in Denmark imputed to the Havmand or Merman.\n\n[207] The Neck is also believed to appear in the form of a complete\nhorse, and can be made to work at the plough, if a bridle of a\nparticular description be employed.--_Kalm's Vestg\u00f6tha Resa_.\n\n[208] Afzelius, Sago-h\u00e4fdar, ii. 156.\n\n[209]\n\n _Det tredje slag p\u00e5 gullharpan klang,\n Liten Kerstin r\u00e4ckta upp sin sn\u00f6hvita arm.\n Min hjerteliga k\u00e4r!\n J s\u00e4gen mig hvarfor J s\u00f6rjen!_\n\n\n[210] As sung in West Gothland and Vermland.\n\n[211] _Fosse_ is the North of England _force_.\n\n[212] Or a white kid, Faye _ap._ Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 461.\n\n[213] The Str\u00f6mkarl has eleven different measures, to ten of which\nalone people may dance; the eleventh belongs to the night spirit his\nhost. If any one plays it, tables and benches, cans and cups, old men\nand women, blind and lame, even the children in the cradle, begin to\ndance.--Arndt. _ut sup._, see above p. 80.\n\n[214] In the Danske Viser and Folkesagn there are a few stories of\nMermen, such as Rosmer Havmand and Marstig's Daughter, both translated\nby Dr. Jamieson, and Agnete and the Merman, which resembles Proud\nMargaret. It was natural, says Afzelius, that what in Sweden was\nrelated of a Hill King, should, in Denmark, be ascribed to a Merman.\n\n[215] The appearance of the Wood-woman (_Skogsfru_) or Elve-woman, is\nequally unlucky for hunters. She also approaches the fires, and seeks\nto seduce young men.\n\n[216] Arvidsson, ii. 320, _ap._ Grimm, p. 463.\n\n[217] This is a ballad from Sm\u00e5land. Magnus was the youngest son of\nGustavus Vasa. He died out of his mind. It is well known that insanity\npervaded the Vasa family for centuries.\n\n\n\n\n NORTHERN ISLANDS.\n\n H\u00e4r Necken sin Harpa i Glasborgen sl\u00e5r,\n Och Hafsfruar kamma sitt gr\u00f6nskande h\u00e5r,\n Och bleka den skinande dr\u00e4gten.\n STAGNELIUS.\n\n The Neck here his harp in the glass-castle plays,\n And Mermaidens comb out their green hair always,\n And bleach here their shining white clothes.\n\n\nUnder the title of Northern Islands we include all those lying in the\nocean to the north of Scotland, to wit Iceland, the Feroes, Shetland,\nand the Orkneys.\n\nThese islands were all peopled from Norway and Denmark during the\nninth century. Till that time many of them, particularly Iceland and\nthe Feroes, though, perhaps, occasionally visited by stray Vikings, or\nby ships driven out of their course by tempests, had lain waste and\ndesert from the creation, the abode alone of wild beasts and birds.\n\nBut at that period the proud nobles of Norway and Denmark, who scorned\nto be the vassals of Harold Fairhair and Gorm the Old, the founders of\nthe Norwegian and Danish monarchies, set forth in quest of new\nsettlements, where, at a distance from these haughty potentates, they\nmight live in the full enjoyment of their beloved independence. Followed\nby numerous vassals, they embarked on the wide Atlantic. A portion fixed\nthemselves on the distant shores of Iceland; others took possession of\nthe vacant Feroes; and more dispossessed the Peti and Pap\u00e6, the ancient\ninhabitants of Shetland and the Orkneys, and seized on their country.\n\nAs the Scandinavians were at that time still worshipers of Thor and\nOdin, the belief in Alfs and Dwarfs accompanied them to their new\nabodes, and there, as elsewhere, survived the introduction of\nChristianity. We now proceed to examine the vestiges of the old\nreligion still to be traced.\n\n\n\n\n ICELAND.\n\n Hvad mon da ei\n Og her lyksalig leves kan? Jeg troer\n Det mueligt, som f\u00f6r i Heden-Old\n For raske Skander mueligt det var,\n Paa denne kolde \u00d6e.\n ISLANDSKE LANDLEVNET.\n\n What! cannot one\n Here, too, live happy? I believe it now\n As possible, as in the heathen age,\n For the bold Scandinavians it was,\n On this cold isle.\n\nIt is in vain that we look into the works of travellers for information\non the subject of popular belief in Iceland. Their attention was too\nmuch occupied by Geysers, volcanoes, agriculture, and religion, to allow\nthem to devote any part of it to this, in their eyes, unimportant\nsubject. So that, were it not for some short but curious notices given\nby natives of the island, we should be quite ignorant of the fate of the\nsubordinate classes of the old religion in Iceland.\n\nTorf\u00e6us, who wrote in the latter end of the seventeenth century, gives,\nin his preface to his edition of Hrolf Krakas Saga, the opinion of a\nvenerable Icelandic pastor, named Einar Gudmund, respecting the Dwarfs.\nThis opinion Torf\u00e6us heard when a boy from the lips of the old man.\n\n\"I believe, and am fully persuaded,\" said he, \"that this people are the\ncreatures of God, consisting of a body and a rational spirit; that they\nare of both sexes; marry, and have children; and that all human acts\ntake place among them as with us: that they are possessed of cattle, and\nof many other kinds of property; have poverty and riches, weeping and\nlaughter, sleep and wake, and have all other affections belonging to\nhuman nature; and that they enjoy a longer or a shorter term of life\naccording to the will and pleasure of God. Their power of having\nchildren,\" he adds, \"appears from this, that some of their women have\nhad children by men, and were very anxious to have their offspring\ndipped in the sacred font, and initiated into Christianity; but they, in\ngeneral, sought in vain. Thorkatla Mari, the wife of Kari, was pregnant\nby a Hill-man, but she did not bring the child Aresus into the world, as\nappears from the poems made on this fatal occasion.\n\n\"There was formerly on the lands of Haga a nobleman named Sigvard\nFostre, who had to do with a Hill-woman. He promised her faithfully\nthat he would take care to have the child received into the bosom of\nthe church. In due time the woman came with her child and laid it on\nthe churchyard wall, and along with it a gilded cup and a holy robe\n(presents she intended making to the church for the baptism of her\nchild), and then retired a little way. The pastor inquired who\nacknowledged himself the father of the child. Sigvard, perhaps, out of\nshame, did not venture to acknowledge himself. The clerk now asked him\nif it should be baptised or not. Sigvard said 'No,' lest by assenting\nhe should be proved to be the father. The infant then was left where\nit was, untouched and unbaptised. The mother, filled with rage,\nsnatched up her babe and the cup, but left the vestment, the remains\nof which may still be seen in Haga. That woman foretold and inflicted\na singular disease on Sigvard and his posterity till the ninth\ngeneration, and several of his descendants are to this day afflicted\nwith it. Andrew Gudmund (from which I am the seventh in descent) had\nan affair of the same kind. He also refused to have the child\nbaptised, and he and his posterity have suffered a remarkable disease,\nof which very many of them have died; but some, by the interposition\nof good men, have escaped the deserved punishment.\"\n\nThe fullest account we have of the Icelandic Elves or Dwarfs is\ncontained in the following passage of the Ecclesiastical History of\nIceland of the learned Finnus Johann\u00e6us.\n\n\"As we have not as yet,\" says he, \"spoken a single word about the very\nancient, and I know not whether more ridiculous or perverse,\npersuasion of our forefathers about semigods, this seems the proper\nplace for saying a few words about this so celebrated figment, as it\nwas chiefly in this period it attained its acm\u00e8, and it was believed\nas a true and necessary article of faith, that there are genii or\nsemigods, called in our language Alfa and Alfa-folk.\n\n\"Authors vary respecting their essence and origin. Some hold that they\nhave been created by God immediately and without the intervention of\nparents, like some kinds of spirits: others maintain that they are\nsprung from Adam, but before the creation of Eve:[218] lastly, some\nrefer them to another race of men, or to a stock of pr\u00e6-Adamites. Some\nbestow on them not merely a human body, but an immortal soul: others\nassign them merely mortal breath (_spiritum_) instead of a soul,\nwhence a certain blockhead,[219] in an essay written by him respecting\nthem, calls them our half-kin (_half-kyn_).\n\n\"According to the old wives' tales that are related about this race of\ngenii who inhabit Iceland and its vicinity, they have a political form\nof government modelled after the same pattern as that which the\ninhabitants themselves are under. Two viceroys rule over them, who in\nturn every second year, attended by some of the subjects, sail to\nNorway, to present themselves before the monarch of the whole race,\nwho resides there, and to give him a true report concerning the\nfidelity, good conduct, and obedience of the subjects; and those who\naccompany them are to accuse the government or viceroys if they have\ntransgressed the bounds of justice or of good morals. If these are\nconvicted of crime or injustice, they are forthwith stript of their\noffice, and others are appointed in their place.\n\n\"This nation is reported to cultivate justice and equity above all\nother virtues, and hence, though they are very potent, especially with\nwords and imprecations, they very rarely, unless provoked or injured,\ndo any mischief to man; but when irritated they avenge themselves on\ntheir enemies with dreadful curses and punishments.\n\n\"The new-born infants of Christians are, before baptism, believed to\nbe exposed to great peril of being stolen by them, and their own,\nwhich they foresee likely to be feeble in mind, in body, in beauty, or\nother gifts, being substituted for them. These supposititious children\nof the semigods are called Umskiptingar; whence nurses and midwives\nwere strictly enjoined to watch constantly, and to hold the infant\nfirmly in their arms, till it had had the benefit of baptism, lest\nthey should furnish any opportunity for such a change. Hence it comes,\nthat the vulgar use to call fools, deformed people, and those who act\nrudely and uncivilly, _Umskiptinga eins og hann sie ko minnaf Alfum_,\n_i.e._ changelings, and come of the Alfs.\n\n\"They use rocks, hills, and even the seas, for their habitations,\nwhich withinside are neat, and all their domestic utensils extremely\nclean and orderly. They sometimes invite men home, and take especial\ndelight in the converse of Christians, some of whom have had\nintercourse with their daughters or sisters, who are no less wanton\nthan beautiful, and have had children by them, who must by all means\nbe washed in holy water, that they may receive an immortal soul, and\none that can be saved. Nay, they have not been ashamed to feign that\ncertain women of them have been joined in lawful marriage with men,\nand continued for a long time with them, happily at first, but, for\nthe most part, with an ill or tragical conclusion.\n\n\"Their cattle, if not very numerous, are at least very profitable.\nThey are invisible as their owners are, unless when it pleases them\nto appear, which usually takes place when the weather is serene and\nthe sun shining very bright; for as they do not see the sun within\ntheir dwellings, they frequently walk out in the sunshine that they\nmay be cheered by his radiance.[220] Hence, even the coffins of dead\nkings and nobles, such as are the oblong stones which are to be seen\nhere and there, in wildernesses and rough places, always lie in the\nopen air and exposed to the sun.\n\n\"They change their abodes and habitations occasionally like mankind;\nthis they do on new-year's night; whence certain dreamers and\nmountebanks used on that night to watch in the roads, that, by the means\nof various forms of conjurations appointed for that purpose, they might\nextort from them as they passed along the knowledge of future\nevents.[221] But people in general, who were not acquainted with such\nthings, especially the heads of families, used on this evening strictly\nto charge their children and servants to be sure to be serious and\nmodest in their actions and language, lest their invisible guests, and\nmayhap future neighbours, should be aggrieved or any way offended.\nHence, when going to bed they did not shut the outer doors of their\nhouses, nor even the door of the sitting-room, but having kindled a\nlight, and laid out a table, they desired the invisible personages who\nhad arrived, or were to arrive, to partake, if it was their pleasure, of\nthe food that was laid out for them; and hoped that if it pleased them\nto dwell within the limits of their lands, they would live safe and\nsound, and be propitious to them. As this superstitious belief is\nextremely ancient, so it long continued in full vigour, and was held by\nsome even within the memory of our fathers.\"[222]\n\nThe Icelandic Neck, Kelpie, or Water-Spirit, is called Nickur,\nNinnir, and Hnikur, one of the Eddaic names of Odin. He appears always\nin the form of a fine _apple-grey_ horse on the sea-shore; but he may\nbe distinguished from ordinary horses by the circumstance of his hoofs\nbeing reversed. If any one is so foolish as to mount him, he gallops\noff, and plunges into the sea with his burden. He can, however, be\ncaught in a particular manner, tamed, and made to work.[223]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Icelanders have the same notions respecting the seals which we\nshall find in the Feroes and Shetland. It is a common opinion with\nthem that King Pharaoh and his army were changed into these animals.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[218] This was plainly a theory of the monks. It greatly resembles the\nRabbinical account of the origin of the Mazckeen, which the reader\nwill meet in the sequel.\n\nSome Icelanders of the present day say, that one day, when Eve was\nwashing her children at the running water, God suddenly called her.\nShe was frightened, and thrust aside such of them as were not clean.\nGod asked her if all her children were there, and she said, Yes; but\ngot for answer, that what she tried to hide from God should be hidden\nfrom man. These children became instantly invisible and distinct from\nthe rest. Before the flood came on, God put them into a cave and\nclosed up the entrance. From them are descended all the\nunderground-people.--Magnussen, _Eddal\u00e6re_.\n\n[219] This was one Janus Gudmund, who wrote several treatises on this\nand similar subjects, particularly one \"De Alfis et Alfheimum,\" which\nthe learned bishop characterises as a work \"nullins pretii, et meras\nnugas continens.\" We might, if we were to see it, be of a different\nopinion. Of Janus Gudmund Brynj Svenonius thus expresses himself to\nWormius: _Janus Gudmundius, \u00e6re dirutus verius quam rude donatus, sibi\net aliis inutilis in angulo consenuit_. Worm., Epist., 970.\n\n[220] The Icelandic dwarfs, it would appear, wore red clothes. In\nNial's Saga (p. 70), a person gaily dressed (_i litkl\u00e6dum_) is\njocularly called Red-elf (_raud-\u00e1lfr_).\n\n[221] There was a book of prophecies called the _Krucksp\u00e1_, or\nProphecy of Kruck, a man who was said to have lived in the 15th\ncentury. It treated of the change of religion and other matters said\nto have been revealed to him by the Dwarfs. Johann\u00e6us says it was\nforged by Brynjalf Svenonius in or about the year 1660.\n\n[222] Finni Johann\u00e6i Historia Ecclesiastica Islandi\u00e6, tom. ii. p. 368.\nHavni\u00e6, 1774. We believe we might safely add, is held at the present\nday, for the superstition is no more extinct in Iceland than elsewhere.\n\n[223] Svenska Visor, iii. 128. Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 458. At Bahus,\nin Sweden, a clever man contrived to throw on him an ingeniously made\nbridle so that he could not get away, and he ploughed all his land\nwith him. One time the bridle fell off and the Neck, like a flash of\nfire, sprang into the lake and dragged the harrow down with him.\nGrimm, _ut sup._, see p. 148.\n\n\n\n\n FEROES.\n\n Sj\u00fbrur touk te\u00e2 besta sv\u00f6r\n Sum Dv\u00f6rgurin heji smuja.\n QV\u00d6RFINS THAATTUR.\n\n Sigurd took the very best sword\n That the Dwarfs had ever smithed.\n\n\nThe people of the Feroes believe in the same classes of beings as the\ninhabitants of the countries whence their ancestors came.\n\nThey call the Trolls Underground-people, Hollow-men, Foddenskkm\u00e6nd,\nand Huldefolk. These Trolls used frequently to carry people into their\nhills, and detain them there. Among several other instances,\nDebes[224] gives the following one of this practice:\n\n\"Whilst Mr. Taale was priest in Oster\u00f6e, it happened that one of his\nhearers was carried away and returned again. At last the said young man\nbeing to be married, and every thing prepared, and the priest being\narrived the Saturday before at the parish, the bridegroom was carried\naway; wherefore they sent folks to look after him, but he could not be\nfound. The priest desired his friends to have good courage, and that he\nwould come again; which he did at last, and related that the spirit that\nled him away was in the shape of a most beautiful woman, and very richly\ndressed, who desired him to forsake her whom he was now to marry, and\nconsider how ugly his mistress was in comparison of her, and what fine\napparel she had. He said also that he saw the men that sought after him,\nand that they went close by him but could not see him, and that he heard\ntheir calling, and yet could not answer them; but that when he would not\nbe persuaded he was again left at liberty.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe people of the Feroes call the Nisses or Brownies Ni\u00e4gruisar, and\ndescribe them as little creatures with red caps on their heads, that\nbring luck to any place where they take up their abode.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt is the belief of the people of these islands that every ninth-night\nthe seals put off their skins and assume the human form, and dance and\nsport about on the land. After some time, they resume their skins and\nreturn to the water. The following adventure, it is said, once\noccurred:[225]\n\n\"A man happening to pass by where a female seal was disporting herself\nin the form of a woman, found her skin, and took and hid it. When she\ncould not find her skin to creep into, she was forced to remain in the\nhuman form; and as she was fair to look upon, that same man took her\nto wife, had children by her, and lived right happily with her. After\na long time, the wife found the skin that had been stolen, and could\nnot resist the temptation to creep into it, and so she became a seal\nagain, and returned to the sea.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Neck called Nikar is also an object of popular faith in the\nFeroes. He inhabits the streams and lakes, and takes a delight in\ndrowning people.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[224] F\u00e6ro\u00e6 et F\u00e6roa reserata. Lond. 1676.\n\n[225] Thiele, iii. 51, from the MS. Travels of Svaboe in the Feroes.\n\n\n\n\n SHETLAND.\n\n Well, since we are welcome to Yule,\n Up wi't Lightfoot, link it awa', boys!\n Send for a fiddler, play up Foula reel,\n The Shaalds will pay for a', boys.\n SHETLAND SONG.\n\n\nDr. Hibbert's valuable work on the Shetland Islands[226] fortunately\nenables us to give a tolerably complete account of the fairy system of\nthese islands.\n\nThe Shetlanders, he informs us, believe in two kinds of Trows, as they\ncall the Scandinavian Trolls, those of the land and those of the sea.\n\nThe former, whom, like the Scots, they also term the _guid folk_ and\n_guid neighbours_, they conceive to inhabit the interior of green\nhills. Persons who have been brought into their habitations have been\ndazzled with the splendour of what they saw there. All the interior\nwalls are adorned with gold and silver, and the domestic utensils\nresemble the strange things that are found sometimes lying on the\nhills. These persons have always entered the hill on one side and gone\nout at the other.\n\nThey marry and have children, like their northern kindred. A woman of\nthe island of Yell, who died not long since, at the advanced age of\nmore than a hundred years, said, that she once met some fairy\nchildren, accompanied by a little dog, playing like other boys and\ngirls, on the top of a hill. Another time she happened one night to\nraise herself up in the bed, when she saw a little boy with a white\nnightcap on his head, sitting at the fire. She asked him who he was.\n\"I am Trippa's son,\" said he. When she heard this, she instantly\n_sained_, i. e. blessed herself, and Trippa's son vanished.\n\n_Saining_ is the grand protection against them; a Shetlander always\nsains himself when passing by their hills.\n\nThe Trows are of a diminutive stature, and they are usually dressed in\ngay green garments. When travelling from one place to another they may\nbe seen mounted on bulrushes, and riding through the air. If a person\nshould happen to meet them when on these journeys, he should, if he has\nnot a bible in his pocket, draw a circle round him on the ground, and in\nGod's name forbid their approach. They then generally disappear.[227]\n\nThey are fond of music and dancing, and it is their dancing that forms\nthe fairy rings. A Shetlander lying awake in bed before day one\nmorning, heard the noise of a party of Trows passing by his door. They\nwere preceded by a piper, who was playing away lustily. The man\nhappened to have a good ear for music, so he picked up the tune he\nheard played, and used often after to repeat it for his friends under\nthe name of the Fairy-tune.\n\nThe Trows are not free from disease, but they are possessed of\ninfallible remedies, which they sometimes bestow on their favourites.\nA man in the island of Unst had an earthen pot that contained an\nointment of marvellous power. This he said he got from the hills, and,\nlike the widow's cruise, its contents never failed.\n\nThey have all the picking and stealing propensities of the\nScandinavian Trolls. The dairy-maid sometimes detects a Trow-woman\nsecretly milking the cows in the byre. She sains herself, and the\nthief takes to flight so precipitately as to leave behind her a copper\npan of a form never seen before.\n\nWhen they want beef or mutton on any festal occasion, they betake\nthemselves to the Shetlanders' _scatholds_ or town-mails, and with\nelf-arrows bring down their game. On these occasions they delude the\neyes of the owner with the appearance of something exactly resembling\nthe animal whom they have carried off, and by its apparent violent death\nby some accident. It is on this account that the flesh of such animals\nas have met a sudden or violent death is regarded as improper food.\n\nA Shetlander, who is probably still alive, affirmed that he was once\ntaken into a hill by the Trows. Here one of the first objects that met\nhis view was one of his own cows, that was brought in to furnish\nmaterials for a banquet. He regarded himself as being in rather a\nticklish situation if it were not for the protection of the\nTrow-women, by whose favour he had been admitted within the hill. On\nreturning home, he learned, to his great surprise, that at the very\nmoment he saw the cow brought into the hill, others had seen her\nfalling over the rocks.\n\nLying-in-women and \"unchristened bairns\" they regard as lawful prize.\nThe former they employ as wet-nurses, the latter they of course rear\nup as their own. Nothing will induce parents to show any attention to\na child that they suspect of being a changeling. But there are persons\nwho undertake to enter the hills and regain the lost child.\n\nA tailor, not long since, related the following story. He was employed\nto work at a farm-house where there was a child that was an idiot, and\nwho was supposed to have been left there by the Trows instead of some\nproper child, whom they had taken into the hills. One night, after he\nhad retired to his bed, leaving the idiot asleep by the fire, he was\nsuddenly waked out of his sleep by the sound of music, and on looking\nabout him he saw the whole room full of fairies, who were dancing away\ntheir rounds most joyously. Suddenly the idiot jumped up and joined in\nthe dance, and showed such a degree of acquaintance with the various\nsteps and movements as plainly testified that it must have been a long\ntime since he first went under the hands of the dancing-master. The\ntailor looked on for some time with admiration, but at last he grew\nalarmed and _sained_ himself. On hearing this, the Trows all fled in\nthe utmost disorder, but one of them, a woman, was so incensed at this\ninterruption of their revels, that as she went out she touched the big\ntoe of the tailor, and he lost the power of ever after moving it.[228]\n\nIn these cases of paralysis they believe that the Trows have taken\naway the sound member and left a log behind. They even sometimes sear\nthe part, and from the want of sensation in it boast of the\ncorrectness of this opinion.[229]\n\nWith respect to the Sea-Trows, it is the belief of the Shetlanders\nthat they inhabit a region of their own at the bottom of the sea.[230]\nThey here respire a peculiar atmosphere, and live in habitations\nconstructed of the choicest submarine productions. When they visit the\nupper world on occasions of business or curiosity, they are obliged to\nenter the skin of some animal capable of respiring in the water. One\nof the shapes they assume is that of what is commonly called a merman\nor mermaid, human from the waist upwards, terminating below in the\ntail of a fish. But their most favourite vehicle is the skin of the\nlarger seal or Haaf fish, for as this animal is amphibious they can\nland on some rock, and there cast off their sea-dress and assume their\nown shape, and amuse themselves as they will in the upper world. They\nmust, however, take especial care of their skins, as each has but one,\nand if that should be lost, the owner can never re-descend, but must\nbecome an inhabitant of the supramarine world.\n\nThe following Shetland tales will illustrate this:--\n\n\n _Gioga's Son._\n\nA boat's-crew landed one time upon one of the stacks[231] with the\nintention of attacking the seals. They had considerable success;\nstunned several of them, and while they lay stupefied, stripped them\nof their skins, with the fat attached to them. They left the naked\ncarcases lying on the rocks, and were about to get into their boat\nwith their spoils and return to Papa Stour, whence they had come. But\njust as they were embarking, there rose such a tremendous swell that\nthey saw there was not a moment to be lost, and every one flew as\nquickly as he could to get on board the boat. They were all successful\nbut one man, who had imprudently loitered behind. His companions were\nvery unwilling to leave him on the skerries, perhaps to perish, but\nthe surge increased so fast, that after many unsuccessful attempts to\nbring the boat in close to the stacks, they were obliged to depart,\nand leave the unfortunate man to his fate.\n\nA dark stormy night came on, the sea dashed most furiously against the\nrocks, and the poor deserted Shetlander saw no prospect before him but\nthat of dying of the cold and hunger, or of being washed into the sea by\nthe breakers, which now threatened every moment to run over the stack.\n\nAt length he perceived several of the seals, who had escaped from the\nboatmen, approaching the skerry. When they landed they stripped off\ntheir seal-skin dresses and appeared in their proper forms of Sea-Trows.\nTheir first object was to endeavour to recover their friends, who lay\nstunned and skinless. When they had succeeded in bringing them to\nthemselves, they also resumed their proper form, and appeared in the\nshape of the sub-marine people. But in mournful tones, wildly\naccompanied by the raging storm, they lamented the loss of their\nsea-vestures, the want of which would for ever prevent them from\nreturning to their native abodes beneath the deep waters of the\nAtlantic. Most of all did they lament for Ollavitinus, the son of Gioga,\nwho, stripped of his seal-skin, must abide for ever in the upper world.\n\nTheir song was at length broken off by their perceiving the\nunfortunate boatman, who, with shivering limbs and despairing looks,\nwas gazing on the furious waves that now dashed over the stack. Gioga,\nwhen she saw him, instantly conceived the design of rendering the\nperilous situation of the man of advantage to her son. She went up to\nhim, and mildly addressed him, proposing to carry him on her back\nthrough the sea to Papa Stour, on condition of his getting her the\nseal-skin of her son.\n\nThe bargain was soon made, and Gioga equipped herself in her phocine\ngarb; but when the Shetlander gazed on the stormy sea he was to ride\nthrough, his courage nearly failed him, and he begged of the old lady\nto have the kindness to allow him to cut a few holes in her shoulders\nand flanks, that he might obtain a better fastening for his hands\nbetween the skin and the flesh.\n\nThis, too, her maternal tenderness induced Gioga to consent to. The man,\nhaving prepared everything, now mounted, and she plunged into the waves\nwith him, gallantly ploughed the deep, and landed him safe and sound at\nAcres Gio, in Papa Stour. He thence set out for Skeo, at Hamna Voe,\nwhere the skin was, and honourably fulfilled his agreement by restoring\nto Gioga the means of bringing back her son to his dear native land.\n\n\n _The Mermaid Wife._\n\nOn a fine summer's evening, an inhabitant of Unst happened to be\nwalking along the sandy margin of a voe.[232] The moon was risen, and\nby her light he discerned at some distance before him a number of the\nsea-people, who were dancing with great vigour on the smooth sand.\nNear them he saw lying on the ground several seal-skins.\n\nAs the man approached the dancers, all gave over their merriment, and\nflew like lightning to secure their garments; then clothing\nthemselves, plunged in the form of seals into the sea. But the\nShetlander, on coming up to the spot where they had been, and casting\nhis eyes down on the ground, saw that they had left one skin behind\nthem, which was lying just at his feet. He snatched it up, carried it\nswiftly away, and placed it in security.\n\nOn returning to the shore, he met the fairest maiden that eye ever\ngazed upon: she was walking backwards and forwards, lamenting in most\npiteous tones the loss of her seal-skin robe, without which she never\ncould hope to rejoin her family and friends below the waters, but must\nremain an unwilling inhabitant of the region enlightened by the sun.\n\nThe man approached and endeavoured to console her, but she would not\nbe comforted. She implored him in the most moving accents to restore\nher dress; but the view of her lovely face, more beautiful in tears,\nhad steeled his heart. He represented to her the impossibility of her\nreturn, and that her friends would soon give her up; and finally,\nmade an offer to her of his heart, hand, and fortune.\n\nThe sea-maiden, finding she had no alternative, at length consented to\nbecome his wife. They were married, and lived together for many years,\nduring which time they had several children, who retained no vestiges of\ntheir marine origin, saving a thin web between their fingers, and a bend\nof their hands, resembling that of the fore paws of a seal; distinctions\nwhich characterise the descendants of the family to the present day.\n\nThe Shetlander's love for his beautiful wife was unbounded, but she\nmade but a cold return to his affection. Often would she steal out\nalone and hasten down to the lonely strand, and there at a given\nsignal, a seal of large size would make his appearance, and they would\nconverse for hours together in an unknown language; and she would\nreturn home from this meeting pensive and melancholy.\n\nThus glided away years, and her hopes of leaving the upper world had\nnearly vanished, when it chanced one day, that one of the children,\nplaying behind a stack of corn, found a seal-skin. Delighted with his\nprize, he ran with breathless eagerness to display it before his mother.\nHer eyes glistened with delight at the view of it; for in it she saw her\nown dress, the loss of which had cost her so many tears. She now\nregarded herself as completely emancipated from thraldom; and in idea\nshe was already with her friends beneath the waves. One thing alone was\na drawback on her raptures. She loved her children, and she was now\nabout to leave them for ever. Yet they weighed not against the pleasures\nshe had in prospect: so after kissing and embracing them several times,\nshe took up the skin, went out, and proceeded down to the beach.\n\nIn a few minutes after the husband came in, and the children told him\nwhat had occurred. The truth instantly flashed across his mind, and he\nhurried down to the shore with all the speed that love and anxiety\ncould give. But he only arrived in time to see his wife take the form\nof a seal, and from the ledge of a rock plunge into the sea.\n\nThe large seal, with whom she used to hold her conversations,\nimmediately joined her, and congratulated her on her escape, and they\nquitted the shore together. But ere she went she turned round to her\nhusband, who stood in mute despair on the rock, and whose misery\nexcited feelings of compassion in her breast. \"Farewell,\" said she to\nhim, \"and may all good fortune attend you. I loved you well while I\nwas with you, but I always loved my first husband better.\"[233]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe water-spirit is in Shetland called Shoopiltee; he appears in the\nform of a pretty little horse, and endeavours to entice persons to\nride on him, and then gallops with them into the sea.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[226] Description of the Shetland Islands. Edinburgh, 1822.\n\n[227] Edmonston's View, &c., of Zetland Islands. Edin. 1809.\n\n[228] We need hardly to remind the reader that in what precedes Dr.\nHibbert is to be regarded as the narrator in 1822.\n\n[229] Edmonston, _ut supra_.\n\n[230] Dr. Hibbert says he could get but little satisfaction from the\nShetlanders respecting this submarine country.\n\n[231] _Stacks_ or _skerries_ are bare rocks out in the sea.\n\n[232] A _voe_ is a small bay.\n\n[233] See below, _Germany_.\n\n\n\n\n ORKNEYS.\n\n Harold was born where restless seas\n Howl round the storm-swept Orcades.\n SCOTT.\n\n\nOf the Orcadian Fairies we have very little information. Brand[234]\nmerely tells us, they were, in his time, frequently seen in several of\nthe isles dancing and making merry; so that we may fairly conclude\nthey differed little from their Scottish and Shetland neighbours. One\nthing he adds, which is of some importance, that they were frequently\nseen in armour.\n\nBrownie seems to have been the principal Orkney Fairy, where he\npossessed a degree of importance rather beyond what was allotted to\nhim in the neighbouring realm of Scotland.\n\n\"Not above forty or fifty years ago,\" says Brand, \"almost every family\nhad a Brownie, or evil spirit, so called, which served them, to whom\nthey gave a sacrifice for its service; as, when they churned their milk,\nthey took a part thereof and sprinkled every corner of the house with it\nfor Brownie's use; likewise, when they brewed, they had a stone which\nthey called Brownie's stone, wherein there was a little hole, into which\nthey poured some wort for a sacrifice to Brownie. My informer, a\nminister of the country, told me that he had conversed with an old man,\nwho, when young, used to brew and sometimes read upon his bible; to whom\nan old woman in the house said that Brownie was displeased with that\nbook he read upon, which, if he continued to do, they would get no more\nservice of Brownie. But he being better instructed from that book which\nwas Brownie's eyesore, and the object of his wrath, when he brewed, he\nwould not suffer any sacrifice to be given to Brownie; whereupon, the\nfirst and second brewings were spilt and for no use, though the wort\nwrought well, yet in a little time it left off working and grew cold;\nbut of the third browst or brewing, he had ale very good, though he\nwould not give any sacrifice to Brownie, with whom afterwards they were\nno more troubled. I had also from the same informer, that a lady in\nUnst, now deceased, told him that when she first took up house, she\nrefused to give a sacrifice to Brownie, upon which, the first and second\nbrewings misgave, but the third was good; and Brownie, not being\nregarded and rewarded as formerly he had been, abandoned his wonted\nservice: which cleareth the Scripture, 'Resist the devil and he will\nflee from you.' They also had stacks of corn which they called Brownie's\nstacks, which, though they were not bound with straw ropes, or any way\nfenced as other stacks use to be, yet the greatest storm of wind was not\nable to blow anything off them.\"\n\nA very important personage once, we are told, inhabited the Orkneys in\nthe character of Brownie.\n\n\"Luridan,\" says Reginald Scot, \"a familiar of this kind, did for many\nyears inhabit the island of Pomonia, the largest of the Orkades in\nScotland, supplying the place of manservant and maid-servant with\nwonderful diligence to those families whom he did haunt, sweeping\ntheir rooms and washing their dishes, and making their fires before\nany were up in the morning. This Luridan affirmed, that he was the\n_genius Astral_ of that island; that his place or residence in the\ndays of Solomon and David was at Jerusalem; that then he was called by\nthe Jews Belelah; after that, he remained long in the dominion of\nWales, instructing their bards in British poesy and prophecies, being\ncalled Wrthin, Wadd, Elgin; 'and now,' said he, 'I have removed\nhither, and, alas! my continuance is but short, for in seventy years I\nmust resign my place to Balkin, lord of the Northern Mountains.'\n\n\"Many wonderful and incredible things did he also relate of this Balkin,\naffirming that he was shaped like a satyr, and fed upon the air, having\nwife and children to the number of twelve thousand, which were the brood\nof the Northern Fairies, inhabiting Southerland and Catenes, with the\nadjacent islands. And that these were the companies of spirits that hold\ncontinual wars with the fiery spirits in the mountain Heckla, that\nvomits fire in Islandia. That their speech was ancient Irish, and their\ndwelling the caverns of the rocks and mountains, which relation is\nrecorded in the antiquities of Pomonia.\"[235]\n\nConcerning Luridan, we are farther informed from the Book of\nVanagastus, the Norwegian, that it is his nature to be always at\nenmity with fire; that he wages war with the fiery spirits of Hecla;\nand that in this contest they do often anticipate and destroy one\nanother, killing and crushing when they meet in mighty and violent\ntroops in the air upon the sea. And at such times, many of the fiery\nspirits are destroyed when the enemy hath brought them off the\nmountains to fight upon the water. On the contrary, when the battle is\nupon the mountain itself, the spirits of the air are often worsted,\nand then great moanings and doleful noises are heard in Iceland, and\nRussia, and Norway, for many days after.[236]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Water-spirit called Tangie, from Tang, the sea-weed with which he\nis covered, appears sometimes as a little horse, other times as a man.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[234] Description of Orkney, Zetland, &c. Edin. 1703.\n\n[235] Reg. Scot. Discoverie of Witchcraft, b. 2. c. 4. Lond. 1665.\n\n[236] Quarterly Review, vol. xxii. p. 367.\n\n\n\n\n ISLE OF R\u00dcGEN.\n\n Des Tagscheins Blendung dr\u00fcckt,\n Nur Finsterniss begl\u00fcckt;\n Drum hausen wir so gern\n Tief in des Erdballs Kern.\n MATTHISSON.\n\n Day's dazzling light annoys\n Us, darkness only joys;\n We therefore love to dwell\n Deep underneath earth's shell.\n\n\nWe now return to the Baltic, to the Isle of R\u00fcgen, once a chief seat\nof the Vendish religion; but its priests were massacred by the\nScandinavians, and all traces of their system effaced. Its fairy\nmythology now agrees with that of its Gothic neighbours, and Mr.\nArndt,[237] a native of the island, has enabled us to give the\nfollowing tolerably full account of it:--\n\nThe inhabitants of R\u00fcgen believe in three kinds of Dwarfs, or\nunderground people, the White, the Brown, and the Black; so named from\nthe colour of their several habiliments.[238]\n\nThe White are the most delicate and beautiful of all, and are of an\ninnocent and gentle disposition. During the winter, when the face of\nnature is cold, raw, and cheerless, they remain still and quiet in\ntheir hills, solely engaged in the fashioning of the finest works in\nsilver and gold, of too delicate a texture for mortal eyes to discern.\nThus they pass the winter; but no sooner does the spring return than\nthey abandon their recesses, and live through all the summer above\nground, in sunshine and starlight, in uninterrupted revelry and\nenjoyment. The moment the trees and flowers begin to sprout and bud in\nthe early days of spring, they emerge from their hills, and get among\nthe stalks and branches, and thence to the blossoms and flowers, where\nthey sit and gaze around them. In the night, when mortals sleep, the\nWhite Dwarfs come forth, and dance their joyous roundels in the green\ngrass, about the hills, and brooks, and springs, making the sweetest\nand most delicate music, bewildering travellers, who hear and wonder\nat the strains of the invisible musicians. They may, if they will, go\nout by day, but never in company; these daylight rambles being allowed\nthem only when alone and under some assumed form. They therefore\nfrequently fly about in the shape of party-coloured little birds, or\nbutterflies, or snow-white doves, showing kindness and benevolence to\nthe good who merit their favour.\n\nThe Brown Dwarfs, the next in order, are less than eighteen inches high.\nThey wear little brown coats and jackets, and a brown cap on their head,\nwith a little silver bell in it. Some of them wear black shoes with red\nstrings in them; in general, however, they wear fine glass ones; at\ntheir dances none of them wear any other. They are very handsome in\ntheir persons, with clear light-coloured eyes, and small and most\nbeautiful hands and feet. They are on the whole of a cheerful,\ngood-natured disposition, mingled with some roguish traits. Like the\nWhite Dwarfs, they are great artists in gold and silver, working so\ncuriously as to astonish those who happen to see their performances. At\nnight they come out of their hills and dance by the light of the moon\nand stars. They also glide invisibly into people's houses, their caps\nrendering them imperceptible by all who have not similar caps. They are\nsaid to play all kinds of tricks, to change the children in the cradles,\nand take them away. This charge is perhaps unfounded, but certainly,\nchildren who fall into their hands must serve them for fifty years. They\npossess an unlimited power of transformation, and can pass through the\nsmallest keyholes. Frequently they bring with them presents for\nchildren, or lay gold rings and ducats, and the like, in their way, and\noften are invisibly present, and save them from the perils of fire and\nwater. They plague and annoy lazy men-servants and untidy maids with\nfrightful dreams; oppress them as the nightmare; bite them as fleas; and\nscratch and tear them like cats and dogs; and often in the night\nfrighten, in the shape of owls, thieves and lovers, or, like\nWill-'o-the-wisps, lead them astray into bogs and marshes, and perhaps\nup to those who are in pursuit of them.\n\nThe Black Dwarfs wear black jackets and caps, are not handsome like the\nothers, but on the contrary are horridly ugly, with weeping eyes, like\nblacksmiths and colliers. They are most expert workmen, especially in\nsteel, to which they can give a degree at once of hardness and\nflexibility which no human smith can imitate; for the swords they make\nwill bend like rushes, and are as hard as diamonds. In old times arms\nand armour made by them were in great request: shirts of mail\nmanufactured by them were as fine as cobwebs, and yet no bullet would\npenetrate them, and no helm or corslet could resist the swords they\nfashioned; but all these things are now gone out of use.\n\nThese Dwarfs are of a malicious, ill disposition, and delight in doing\nmischief to mankind; they are unsocial, and there are seldom more than\ntwo or three of them seen together; they keep mostly in their hills,\nand seldom come out in the daytime, nor do they ever go far from home.\nPeople say that in the summer they are fond of sitting under the elder\ntrees, the smell of which is very grateful to them, and that any one\nthat wants anything of them must go there and call them. Some say they\nhave no music and dancing, only howling and whimpering; and that when\na screaming is heard in the woods and marshes, like that of crying\nchildren, and a mewing and screeching like that of a multitude of cats\nor owls, the sounds proceed from their midnight assemblies, and are\nmade by the vociferous Dwarfs.\n\nThe principal residence of the two first classes of the\nunderground-people in R\u00fcgen is what are called the Nine-hills, near\nRambin. These hills lie on the west point of the island, about a\nquarter of a mile from the village of Rambin in the open country. They\nare small mounds, or Giants' graves (_H\u00fcnengr\u00e4ber_), as such are\ncalled, and are the subject of many a tale and legend among the\npeople. The account of their origin is as follows:--\n\n\"A long, long time ago there lived in R\u00fcgen a mighty Giant named\nBalderich. He was vexed that the country was an island, and that he had\nalways to wade through the sea when he wanted to go to Pomerania and the\nmain land. He accordingly got an immense apron made, and he tied it\nround his waist and filled it with earth, for he wanted to make a dam of\nearth for himself from the island to the main-land. As he was going with\nhis load over Rodenkirchen, a hole tore in the apron, and the clay that\nfell out formed the Nine-hills. He stopped the hole and went on; but\nwhen he he had gotten to Gustau, another hole tore in the apron, and\nthirteen little hills fell out. He proceeded to the sea with what he had\nnow remaining, and pouring the earth into the waters, formed the hook of\nProsnitz, and the pretty little peninsula of Drigge. But there still\nremained a small space between R\u00fcgen and Pomerania, which so incensed\nthe Giant that he fell down in a fit and died, from which unfortunate\naccident his dam was never finished.\"[239]\n\nA Giant-maiden commenced a similar operation on the Pomeranian side\n\"in order,\" said she, \"that I may be able to go over the bit of water\nwithout wetting my little slippers.\" So she filled her apron with sand\nand hurried down to the sea-side. But there was a hole in the apron\nand just behind Sagard a part of the sand ran out and formed a little\nhill named Dubbleworth. \"Ah!\" said she, \"now my mother will scold me.\"\nShe stopped the hole with her hand and ran on as fast as she could.\nBut her mother looked over the wood and cried, \"You nasty child, what\nare you about? Come here and you shall get a good whipping.\" The\ndaughter in a fright let go the apron, and all the sand ran out and\nformed the barren hills near Litzow.[240]\n\nThe Dwarfs took up their abode in the Nine-hills. The White ones own\ntwo of them, and the Brown ones seven, for there are no Black ones\nthere. These dwell chiefly on the coast-hills, along the shore between\nthe Ahlbeck and M\u00f6nchgut, where they hold their assemblies, and\nplunder the ships that are wrecked on the coast.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Neck is called in R\u00fcgen Nickel. Some fishers once launched their\nboat on a lonely lake. Next day when they came they saw it in a high\nbeech-tree. \"Who the devil has put the boat in the tree?\" cried one. A\nvoice replied, but they saw no one, \"'Twas no devil at all, but I and\nmy brother Nickel.\"[241]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following stories Mr. Arndt, who, as we have observed, is a native\nof R\u00fcgen, says he heard in his boyhood from Hinrich Vieck, the\nStatthalter or Bailiff of Grabitz, who abounded in these legends; \"so\nthat it is, properly speaking,\" says he, \"Hinrich Vieck, and not I,\nthat relates.\" we therefore see no reason to doubt of their\ngenuineness, though they may be a little embellished.[242]\n\n\n _Adventures of John Dietrich._\n\nThere once lived in Rambin an honest, industrious man, named James\nDietrich. He had several children, all of a good disposition,\nespecially the youngest, whose name was John. John Dietrich was a\nhandsome, smart boy, diligent at school, and obedient at home. His\ngreat passion was for hearing stories, and whenever he met any one who\nwas well stored, he never let them go till he had heard them all.\n\nWhen John was about eight years old he was sent to spend a summer with\nhis uncle, a farmer in Rodenkirchen. Here John had to keep cows with\nother boys, and they used to drive them to graze about the Nine-hills.\nThere was an old cowherd, one Klas (_i. e._ Nick) Starkwolt, who used\nfrequently to join the boys, and then they would sit down together and\ntell stories. Klas abounded in these, and he became John Dietrich's\ndearest friend. In particular, he knew a number of stories of the\nNine-hills and the undergroundpeople in the old times, when the Giants\ndisappeared from the country, and the little ones came into the hills.\nThese tales John swallowed so eagerly that he thought of nothing else,\nand was for ever talking of golden cups, and crowns, and glass shoes,\nand pockets full of ducats, and gold rings, and diamond coronets, and\nsnow-white brides, and such like. Old Klas used often to shake his\nhead at him and say, \"John! John! what are you about? The spade and\nsithe will be your sceptre and crown, and your bride will wear a\ngarland of rosemary and a gown of striped drill.\" Still John almost\nlonged to get into the Nine-hills; for Klas had told him that any one\nwho by luck or cunning should get the cap of one of the little ones\nmight go down with safety, and, instead of their making a servant of\nhim, he would be their master. The person whose cap he got would be\nhis servant, and obey all his commands.[243]\n\nSt. John's day, when the days are longest and the nights shortest, was\nnow come. Old and young kept the holiday, had all sorts of plays, and\ntold all kinds of stories. John could now no longer contain himself,\nbut the day after the festival he slipt away to the Nine-hills, and\nwhen it grew dark laid himself down on the top of the highest of them,\nwhere Klas had told him the undergroundpeople had their principal\ndance-place. John lay quite still from ten till twelve at night. At\nlast it struck twelve. Immediately there was a ringing and a singing\nin the hills, and then a whispering and a lisping and a whiz and a\nbuzz all about him; for the little people were now some whirling round\nand round in the dance, and others sporting and tumbling about in the\nmoonshine, and playing a thousand merry pranks and tricks. He felt a\nsecret dread come over him at this whispering and buzzing, for he\ncould see nothing of them, as the caps they wore made them invisible;\nbut he lay quite still, with his face in the grass and his eyes fast\nshut, snoring a little, just as if he was asleep. Yet now and then he\nventured to open his eyes a little and peep out, but not the slightest\ntrace of them could he see, though it was bright moonlight.\n\nIt was not long before three of the underground-people came jumping up\nto where he was lying; but they took no heed of him, and flung their\nbrown caps up into the air, and caught them from one another. At\nlength one snatched the cap out of the hand of another and flung it\naway. It flew direct, and fell upon John's head. The moment he felt it\nhe caught hold of it, and, standing up, bid farewell to sleep. He\nswung his cap about for joy, and made the little silver bell of it\ntingle, and then set it upon his head, and--O wonderful!--that instant\nhe saw the countless and merry swarm of the little people.\n\nThe three little men came slily up to him, and thought by their\nnimbleness to get back the cap; but he held his prize fast, and they\nsaw clearly that nothing was to be done in this way with him; for in\nsize and strength John was a giant in comparison of these little\nfellows, who hardly came up to his knee. The owner of the cap now came\nup very humbly to the finder, and begged, in as supplicating a tone as\nif his life depended upon it, that he would give him back his cap. But\n\"No,\" said John, \"you sly little rogue, you'll get the cap no more.\nThat's not the sort of thing that one gives away for buttered cake: I\nshould be in a nice way with you if I had not something of yours; but\nnow you have no power over me, but must do what I please. And I will\ngo down with you, and see how you live below, and you shall be my\nservant.--Nay, no grumbling, you know you must. I know that just as\nwell as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me often and often.\"\n\nThe little man looked as if he had not heard or understood one word of\nall this; he began all his crying and whining over again, and wept,\nand screamed, and howled most piteously for his little cap. But John\ncut the matter short by saying to him, \"Have done; you are my\nservant, and I intend to take a trip with you.\" So he gave up,\nespecially as the others told him that there was no remedy.\n\nJohn now flung away his old hat, and put on the cap, and set it firm on\nhis head, lest it should slip off or fly away, for all his power lay in\nthe cap. He lost no time in trying its virtues, and commanded his new\nservant to fetch him food and drink. And the servant ran away like the\nwind, and in a second was there again with bottles of wine, and bread,\nand rich fruits. So John ate and drank, and looked on at the sports and\nthe dancing of the little ones, and it pleased him right well, and he\nbehaved himself stoutly and wisely, as if he was a born master.\n\nWhen the cock had now crowed for the third time, and the little larks\nhad made their first twirl in the sky, and the infant light appeared\nin solitary white streaks in the east, then it went hush, hush, hush,\nthrough the bushes, and flowers, and stalks; and the hills rang again,\nand opened up, and the little men went down. John gave close attention\nto everything, and found that it was exactly as he had been told. And\nbehold! on the top of the hill, where they had just been dancing, and\nwhere all was full of grass and flowers, as people see it by day,\nthere rose of a sudden, when the retreat was sounded, a bright glass\npoint. Whoever wanted to go in stepped upon this; it opened, and he\nglided gently in, the glass closing again after him; and when they had\nall entered it vanished, and there was no farther trace of it to be\nseen. Those who descended through the glass point sank quite gently\ninto a wide silver tun, which held them all, and could have easily\nharboured a thousand such little people. John and his man went down\ninto such a one along with several others, all of whom screamed out\nand prayed him not to tread on them, for if his weight came on them\nthey were dead men. He was, however, careful, and acted in a very\nfriendly way toward them. Several tuns of this kind went up and down\nafter each other, until all were in. They hung by long silver chains,\nwhich were drawn and held below.\n\nIn his descent John was amazed at the wonderful brilliancy of the\nwalls between which the tun glided down. They were all, as it were,\nbeset with pearls and diamonds, glittering and sparkling brightly, and\nbelow him he heard the most beautiful music tinkling at a distance,\nso that he did not know what was become of him, and from excess of\npleasure he fell fast asleep.\n\nHe slept a long time, and when he awoke he found himself in the most\nbeautiful bed that could be, such as he had never seen the like of in\nhis father's house, and it was in the prettiest little chamber in the\nworld, and his servant was beside him with a fan to keep away the\nflies and gnats. He had hardly opened his eyes when his little servant\nbrought him a basin and towel, and held him the nicest new clothes of\nbrown silk to put on, most beautifully made; with these was a pair of\nnew black shoes with red ribbons, such as John had never beheld in\nRambin or in Rodenkirchen either. There were also there several pairs\nof beautiful shining glass shoes, such as are only used on great\noccasions. John was, we may well suppose, delighted to have such\nclothes to wear, and he put them upon him joyfully. His servant then\nflew like lightning and returned with a fine breakfast of wine and\nmilk, and beautiful white bread and fruits, and such other things as\nlittle boys are fond of. He now perceived, every moment, more and\nmore, that Klas Starkwolt, the old cowherd, knew what he was talking\nabout, for the splendour and magnificence he saw here surpassed\nanything he had ever dreamt of. His servant, too, was the most\nobedient one possible: a nod or a sign was enough for him, for he was\nas wise as a bee, as all these little people are by nature.\n\nJohn's bed-chamber was all covered with emeralds and other precious\nstones, and in the ceiling was a diamond as big as a nine-pin bowl,\nthat gave light to the whole chamber. In this place they have neither\nsun, nor moon, nor stars to give them light; neither do they use lamps\nor candles of any kind; but they live in the midst of precious stones,\nand have the purest of gold and silver in abundance, and the skill to\nmake it light both by day and by night, though, indeed, properly\nspeaking, as there is no sun here, there is no distinction of day and\nnight, and they reckon only by weeks. They set the brightest and\nclearest precious stones in their dwellings, and in the ways and\npassages leading under the ground, and in the places where they have\ntheir large halls, and their dances and feasts, where they sparkle so\nas to make it eternal day.\n\nWhen John had finished his breakfast, his servant opened a little door\nin the wall, where was a closet with the most beautiful silver and\ngold cups and dishes and other vessels, and baskets filled with\nducats, and boxes of jewels and precious stones. There were also\ncharming pictures, and the most delightful story-books he had seen in\nthe whole course of his life.\n\nJohn spent the morning looking at these things; and, when it was\nmid-day, a bell rang, and his servant said, \"Will you dine alone, sir,\nor with the large company?\"--\"With the large company, to be sure,\"\nreplied John. So his servant led him out. John, however, saw nothing\nbut solitary halls, lighted up with precious stones, and here and\nthere little men and women, who appeared to him to glide out of the\nclefts and fissures of the rocks. Wondering what it was the bells rang\nfor, he said to his servant, \"But where is the company?\" And scarcely\nhad he spoken when the hall they were in opened out to a great extent,\nand a canopy set with diamonds and precious stones was drawn over it.\nAt the same moment he saw an immense throng of nicely-dressed little\nmen and women pouring in through several open doors: the floor opened\nin several places, and tables, covered with the most beautiful ware,\nand the most luscious meats, and fruits, and wines, placed themselves\nbeside each other, and the chairs arranged themselves along the\ntables, and then the men and women took their seats.\n\nThe principal persons now came forward, bowed to John, and led him to\ntheir table, where they placed him among their most beautiful\nmaidens,--a distinction which pleased John well. The party, too, was\nvery merry, for the underground people are extremely lively and\ncheerful, and can never stay long quiet. Then the most charming music\nsounded over their heads; and beautiful birds, flying about, sung most\nsweetly; and these were not real birds but artificial ones, which the\nlittle men make so ingeniously that they can fly about and sing like\nnatural ones.\n\nThe servants, of both sexes, who waited at table, and handed about the\ngold cups, and the silver and crystal baskets with fruit, were\nchildren belonging to this world, whom some casualty or other had\nthrown among the undergroundpeople, and who, having come down without\nsecuring any pledge, were fallen into the power of the little ones.\nThese were differently clad from them. The boys and girls were dressed\nin snow-white coats and jackets, and wore glass shoes, so fine that\ntheir steps could never be heard, with blue caps on their heads, and\nsilver belts round their waists.\n\nJohn at first pitied them, seeing how they were forced to run about\nand wait on the little people; but as they looked cheerful and happy,\nand were handsomely dressed, and had such rosy cheeks, he said to\nhimself, \"After all, they are not so badly off, and I was myself much\nworse when I had to be running after the cows and bullocks. To be\nsure, I am now a master here, and they are servants; but there is no\nhelp for it: why were they so foolish as to let themselves be taken\nand not get some pledge beforehand? At any rate, the time must come\nwhen they shall be set at liberty, and they will certainly not be\nlonger than fifty years here.\" With these thoughts he consoled\nhimself, and sported and played away with his little play-fellows, and\nate, and drank, and made his servant and the others tell him stories,\nfor he would know every thing exactly.\n\nThey sat at table about two hours; the principal person then rang a\nlittle bell, and the tables and chairs all vanished in a whiff,\nleaving the company all on their feet. The birds now struck up a most\nlively air, and the little people danced their rounds most merrily.\nWhen they were done, the joyous sets jumped, and leaped, and whirled\nthemselves round and round, as if the world was grown dizzy. And the\npretty little girls that sat next John caught hold of him and whirled\nhim about; and, without making any resistance, he danced round and\nround with them for two good hours. Every afternoon while he remained\nthere, he used to dance thus merrily with them; and, to the last hour\nof his life, he used to speak of it with the greatest glee. His\nlanguage was--that the joys of heaven, and the songs and music of the\nangels, which the righteous hoped to enjoy there, might be excessively\nbeautiful, but that he could conceive nothing to equal the music and\nthe dancing under the earth, the beautiful and lively little men, the\nwonderful birds in the branches, and the tinkling silver bells on\ntheir caps. \"No one,\" said he, \"who has not seen and heard it, can\nform any idea whatever of it.\"\n\nWhen the music and dancing were over, it might be about four o'clock.\nThe little people then disappeared, and went each about their work or\ntheir pleasure. After supper they sported and danced in the same way;\nand at midnight, especially on starlight nights, they slipped out of\ntheir hills to dance in the open air. John used then, like a good boy,\nto say his prayers and go to sleep, a duty he never neglected either\nin the evening or in the morning.\n\nFor the first week that John was in the glass-hill, he only went from\nhis chamber to the great hall and back again. After the first week,\nhowever, he began to walk about, making his servant show and explain\neverything to him. He found that there were in that place the most\nbeautiful walks, in which he might ramble along for miles, in all\ndirections, without ever finding an end of them, so immensely large\nwas the hill that the little people lived in, and yet outwardly it\nseemed but a little hill, with a few bushes and trees growing on it.\n\nIt was extraordinary that, between the meads and fields, which were\nthick sown with hills, and lakes, and islands, and ornamented with\ntrees and flowers in the greatest variety, there ran, as it were,\nsmall lanes, through which, as through crystal rocks, one was obliged\nto pass to come to any new place; and the single meads and fields were\noften a mile long, and the flowers were so brilliant and so fragrant,\nand the song of the numerous birds so sweet, that John had never seen\nanything on earth at all like it. There was a breeze, and yet one did\nnot feel the wind; it was quite clear and bright, and yet there was no\nheat; the waves were dashing, still there was no danger; and the most\nbeautiful little barks and canoes came, like white swans, when one\nwanted to cross the water, and went backwards and forwards of\nthemselves. Whence all this came no one knew, nor could his servant\ntell anything about it; but one thing John saw plainly, which was,\nthat the large carbuncles and diamonds that were set in the roof and\nwalls gave light instead of the sun, moon, and stars.\n\nThese lovely meads and plains were, for the most part, quite lonesome.\nFew of the undergroundpeople were to be seen upon them, and those that\nwere, just glided across them, as if in the greatest hurry. It very\nrarely happened that any of them danced out here in the open air;\nsometimes about three of them did so; at the most half a dozen: John\nnever saw a greater number together. The meads were never cheerful,\nexcept when the corps of servants, of whom there might be some\nhundreds, were let out to wait. This, however, happened but twice\na-week, for they were mostly kept employed in the great hall and\nadjoining apartments, or at school.\n\nFor John soon found they had schools there also; he had been there about\nten months, when one day he saw something snow-white gliding into a\nrock, and disappearing. \"What!\" said he to his servant, \"are there some\nof you too that wear white, like the servants?\" He was informed that\nthere were; but they were few in number, and never appeared at the large\ntables or the dances, except once a year, on the birthday of the great\nHill-king, who dwelt many thousand miles below in the great deep. These\nwere the oldest men among them, some of them many thousand years old,\nwho knew all things, and could tell of the beginning of the world, and\nwere called the Wise. They lived all alone, and only left their chambers\nto instruct the underground children and the attendants of both sexes,\nfor whom there was a great school.\n\nJohn was greatly pleased with this intelligence, and he determined to\ntake advantage of it: so next morning he made his servant conduct him\nto the school, and was so well pleased with it that he never missed a\nday going there. They were taught there reading, writing, and\naccounts, to compose and relate histories and stories, and many\nelegant kinds of work; so that many came out of the hills, both men\nand women, very prudent and knowing people, in consequence of what\nthey were taught there. The biggest, and those of best capacity,\nreceived instruction in natural science and astronomy, and in poetry\nand riddle-making, arts highly esteemed by the little people. John was\nvery diligent, and soon became extremely clever at painting and\ndrawing; he wrought, too, most ingeniously in gold, and silver, and\nstones, and in verse and riddle-making he had no fellow.\n\nJohn had spent many a happy year here without ever thinking of the\nupper world, or of those he had left behind, so pleasantly passed the\ntime--so many an agreeable play-fellow he had among the children.\n\nOf all his playfellows there was none of whom he was so fond as of a\nlittle fair-haired girl, named Elizabeth Krabbin. She was from his own\nvillage, and was the daughter of Frederick Krabbe, the minister of\nRambin. She was but four years old when she was taken away, and John\nhad often heard tell of her. She was not, however, stolen by the\nlittle people, but came into their power in this manner. One day in\nsummer, she, with other children, ran out into the fields: in their\nrambles they went to the Nine-hills, where little Elizabeth fell\nasleep, and was forgotten by the rest. At night, when she awoke, she\nfound herself under the ground among the little people. It was not\nmerely because she was from his own village that John was so fond of\nElizabeth, but she was a most beautiful child, with clear blue eyes\nand ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile.\n\nTime flew away unperceived: John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth\nsixteen. Their childish fondness had become love, and the little\npeople were pleased to see it, thinking that by means of her they\nmight get John to renounce his power, and become their servant; for\nthey were fond of him, and would willingly have had him to wait upon\nthem; for the love of dominion is their vice. But they were mistaken.\nJohn had learned too much from his servant to be caught in that way.\n\nJohn's chief delight was in walking about alone with Elizabeth; for he\nnow knew every place so well that he could dispense with the attendance\nof his servant. In these rambles he was always gay and lively, but his\ncompanion was frequently sad and melancholy, thinking on the land above,\nwhere men lived, and where the sun, moon, and stars, shine. Now it\nhappened in one of their walks, that as they talked of their love, and\nit was after midnight, they passed under the place where the tops of the\nglass-hills used to open and let the undergroundpeople in and out. As\nthey went along they heard of a sudden the crowing of several cocks\nabove. At this sound, which she had not heard for twelve years, little\nElizabeth felt her heart so affected that she could contain herself no\nlonger, but throwing her arms about John's neck, she bathed his cheeks\nwith her tears. At length she spake--\n\n\"Dearest John,\" said she, \"everything down here is very beautiful, and\nthe little people are kind, and do nothing to injure me, but still I\nhave always been uneasy, nor ever felt any pleasure till I began to love\nyou; and yet that is not pure pleasure, for this is not a right way of\nliving, such as it should be for human beings. Every night I dream of my\ndear father and mother, and of our church-yard, where the people stand\nso piously at the church-door waiting for my father, and I could weep\ntears of blood that I cannot go into the church with them, and worship\nGod as a human being should; for this is no Christian life we lead down\nhere, but a delusive half heathen one. And only think, dear John, that\nwe can never marry, as there is no priest to join us. Do, then, plan\nsome way for us to leave this place; for I cannot tell you how I long to\nget once more to my father, and among pious Christians.\"\n\nJohn, too, had not been unaffected by the crowing of the cocks, and he\nfelt what he had never felt here before, a longing after the land\nwhere the sun shines, and he replied,\n\n\"Dear Elizabeth, all you say is true, and I now feel that it is a sin\nfor Christians to stay here; and it seems to me as if our Lord said to\nus in that cry of the cocks, 'Come up, ye Christian children, out of\nthose abodes of illusion and magic; come to the light of the stars,\nand act as children of light.' I now feel that it was a great sin for\nme to come down here, but I trust I shall be forgiven on account of my\nyouth; for I was a child and knew not what I did. But now I will not\nstay a day longer. They cannot keep _me_ here.\"\n\nAt these last words, Elizabeth turned pale, for she recollected that\nshe was a servant, and must serve her fifty years. \"And what will it\navail me,\" cried she, \"that I shall continue young and be but as of\ntwenty years when I go out, for my father and mother will be dead, and\nall my companions will be old and gray; and you, dearest John, will be\nold and gray also,\" cried she, throwing herself on his bosom.\n\nJohn was thunderstruck at this, for it had never before occurred to him;\nhe, however, comforted her as well as he could, and declared he would\nnever leave the place without her. He spent the whole night in forming\nvarious plans; at last he fixed on one, and in the morning he\ndespatched his servant to summon to his apartment six of the principal\nof the little people. When they came, John thus mildly addressed them:\n\n\"My friends, you know how I came here, not as a prisoner or servant,\nbut as a lord and master over one of you, and consequently, over all.\nYou have now for the ten years I have been with you treated me with\nrespect and attention, and for that I am your debtor. But you are\nstill more my debtors, for I might have given you every sort of\nannoyance and vexation, and you must have submitted to it. I have,\nhowever, not done so, but have behaved as your equal, and have sported\nand played with you rather than ruled over you. I now have one request\nto make. There is a girl among your servants whom I love, Elizabeth\nKrabbin, of Rambin, where I was born. Give her to me, and let us\ndepart. For I will return to where the sun shines and the plough goes\nthrough the land. I ask to take nothing with me but her, and the\nornaments and furniture of my chamber.\"\n\nHe spoke in a determined tone, and they hesitated and cast their eyes\nto the ground; at last the oldest of them replied:\n\n\"Sir, you ask what we cannot grant. It is a fixed law, that no servant\nshall leave this place before the appointed time. Were we to break\nthrough this law, our whole subterranean empire would fall. Anything\nelse you desire, for we love and respect you, but we cannot give up\nElizabeth.\"\n\n\"You can and you shall give her up,\" cried John in a rage; \"go think of\nit till to-morrow. Return here at this hour. I will show you whether or\nnot I can triumph over your hypocritical and cunning stratagems.\"\n\nThe six retired. Next morning, on their return, John addressed them in\nthe kindest manner, but to no purpose; they persisted in their\nrefusal. He gave them till the next day, threatening them severely in\ncase of their still proving refractory.\n\nNext day, when the six little people appeared before him, John looked at\nthem sternly, and made no return to their salutations, but said to them\nshortly, \"Yes, or No?\" And they answered with one voice, \"No.\" He then\nordered his servant to summon twenty-four more of the principal persons\nwith their wives and children. When they came, they were in all five\nhundred, men, women, and children. John ordered them forthwith to go and\nfetch pickaxes, spades, and bars, which they did in a second.\n\nHe now led them out to a rock in one of the fields, and ordered them\nto fall to work at blasting, hewing, and dragging stones. They toiled\npatiently, and made as if it were only sport to them. From morning\ntill night their task-master made them labour without ceasing,\nstanding over them constantly, to prevent their resting. Still their\nobstinacy was inflexible; and at the end of some weeks his pity for\nthem was so great, that he was obliged to give over.\n\nHe now thought of a new species of punishment for them. He ordered\nthem to appear before him next morning, each provided with a new whip.\nThey obeyed, and John commanded them to strip and lash one another\ntill the blood should run down on the ground, and he stood looking on\nas grim and cruel as an eastern tyrant. Still the little people cut\nand slashed themselves, and mocked at John, and refused to comply with\nhis wishes. This he did for three or four days.\n\nSeveral other courses did he try, but all in vain; his temper was too\ngentle to struggle with their obstinacy, and he began now to despair\nof ever accomplishing his dearest wish. He began even to hate the\nlittle people whom he was before so fond of; he kept away from their\nbanquets and dances, and associated alone with Elizabeth, and ate and\ndrank quite solitary in his chamber. In short, he became almost a\nperfect hermit, and sank into moodiness and melancholy.\n\nWhile in this temper, as he was taking a solitary walk in the evening,\nand, to divert his melancholy, was flinging the stones that lay in his\npath against each other, he happened to break a tolerably large one,\nand out of it jumped a toad. The moment John saw the ugly animal, he\ncaught him up in ecstasy, and put him into his pocket and ran home,\ncrying, \"Now I have her! I have my Elizabeth! Now you shall get it,\nyou little mischievous rascals!\" And on getting home he put the toad\ninto a costly silver casket, as if it was the greatest treasure.\n\nTo account for John's joy you must know that Klas Starkwolt had often\ntold him that the underground people could not endure any ill smell, and\nthat the sight or even the smell of a toad made them faint and suffer\nthe most dreadful tortures, and that by means of stench and these odious\nugly animals, one could compel them to anything. Hence there are no bad\nsmells to be found in the whole glass empire, and a toad is a thing\nunheard of there; this toad must therefore have been inclosed in the\nstone from the creation, as it were for the sake of John and Elizabeth.\n\nResolved to try the effect of his toad, John took the casket under his\narm and went out, and on the way he met two of the little people in a\nlonesome place. The moment he approached them they fell to the ground,\nand whimpered and howled most lamentably, as long as he was near them.\n\nSatisfied now of his power, he next morning summoned the fifty\nprincipal persons, with their wives and children, to his apartment.\nWhen they came, he addressed them, reminding them once again of his\nkindness and gentleness toward them, and of the good terms on which\nthey had hitherto lived. He reproached them with their ingratitude in\nrefusing him the only favour he had ever asked of them, but firmly\ndeclared he would not give way to their obstinacy. \"Wherefore,\" said\nhe, \"for the last time, think for a minute, and if you then say No,\nyou shall feel that pain which is to you and your children the most\nterrible of all pains.\"\n\nThey did not take long to deliberate, but unanimously replied \"No;\"\nand they thought to themselves what new scheme has the youth hit on,\nwith which he thinks to frighten wise ones like us, and they smiled as\nthey said No. Their smiling enraged John above all, and he ran back a\nfew hundred paces, to where he had laid the casket with the toad,\nunder a bush.\n\nHe was hardly come within a hundred paces of them when they all fell to\nthe ground as if struck with a thunderbolt, and began to howl and\nwhimper, and to writhe, as if suffering the most excruciating pain. They\nstretched out their hands, and cried, \"Have mercy! have mercy! we feel\nyou have a toad, and there is no escape for us. Take the odious beast\naway, and we will do all you require.\" He let them kick a few seconds\nlonger, and then took the toad away. They then stood up and felt no more\npain. John let all depart but the six chief persons, to whom he said:--\n\n\"This night between twelve and one Elizabeth and I will depart. Load\nthen for me three waggons, with gold, and silver, and precious stones.\nI might, you know, take all that is in the hill, and you deserve it,\nbut I will be merciful. Farther, you must put all the furniture of my\nchamber in two waggons, and get ready for me the handsomest\ntravelling-carriage that is in the hill, with six black horses.\nMoreover, you must set at liberty all the servants who have been so\nlong here that on earth they would be twenty years old and upwards,\nand you must give them as much silver and gold as will make them rich\nfor life, and make a law that no one shall be detained here longer\nthan his twentieth year.\"\n\nThe six took the oath, and went away quite melancholy, and John buried\nhis toad deep in the ground. The little people laboured hard and\nprepared everything. At midnight everything was out of the hill, and\nJohn and Elizabeth got into the silver tun, and were drawn up.\n\nIt was then one o'clock, and it was midsummer, the very time that\ntwelve years before John had gone down into the hill. Music sounded\naround them, and they saw the glass hill open, and the rays of the\nlight of heaven shine on them after so many years; and when they got\nout they saw the first streaks of dawn already in the east. Crowds of\nthe undergroundpeople were around them busied about the waggons. John\nbid them a last farewell, waved his brown cap three times in the air,\nand then flung it among them. And at the same moment he ceased to see\nthem; he beheld nothing but a green hill, and the well-known bushes\nand fields, and heard the church clock of Rambin strike two. When all\nwas still, save a few larks, who were tuning their morning songs, they\nall fell on their knees and worshiped God, resolving henceforth to\nlead a pious and a Christian life.\n\nWhen the sun rose, John arranged the procession, and they set out for\nRambin. Every well-known object that they saw awaked pleasing\nrecollections in the bosom of John and his bride; and as they passed\nby Rodenkirchen, John recognised, among the people that gazed at and\nfollowed them, his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd, and his dog\nSpeed. It was about four in the morning when they entered Rambin, and\nthey halted in the middle of the village, about twenty paces from the\nhouse where John was born. The whole village poured out to gaze on\nthese Asiatic princes, for such the old sexton, who had in his youth\nbeen at Moscow and Constantinople, said they were. There John saw his\nfather and mother, and his brother Andrew, and his sister Trine. The\nold minister, Krabbe, stood there too, in his black slippers and white\nnight cap, gaping and staring with the rest.\n\nJohn discovered himself to his parents, and Elizabeth to hers, and the\nwedding-day was soon fixed, and such a wedding was never seen before\nor since in the island of R\u00fcgen; for John sent to Stralsund and\nGreifswald for whole boatloads of wine, and sugar, and coffee, and\nwhole herds of oxen, sheep, and pigs were driven to the wedding. The\nquantity of harts, and roes, and hares that were shot on the occasion,\nit were vain to attempt to tell, or to count the fish that was caught.\nThere was not a musician in R\u00fcgen and Pomerania that was not engaged,\nfor John was immensely rich, and he wished to display his wealth.\n\nJohn did not neglect his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd. He gave\nhim enough to make him comfortable the rest of his days, and insisted on\nhis coming and staying with him as often and as long as he wished.\n\nAfter his marriage, John made a progress through the country with his\nbeautiful Elizabeth, and they purchased towns, and villages, and\nlands, until he became master of nearly half R\u00fcgen, and a very\nconsiderable count in the country. His father, old James Dietrich, was\nmade a nobleman, and his brothers and sisters gentlemen and\nladies--for what cannot money do?\n\nJohn and his wife spent their days in doing acts of piety and charity.\nThey built several churches, and they had the blessing of every one that\nknew them, and died universally lamented. It was Count John Dietrich\nthat built and richly endowed the present church of Rambin. He built it\non the site of his father's house, and presented to it several of the\ncups and plates made by the underground people, and his own and\nElizabeth's glass shoes, in memory of what had befallen them in their\nyouth. But they were all taken away in the time of the great Charles the\nTwelfth of Sweden, when the Russians came on the island, and the\nCossacks plundered even the churches, and took away everything.\n\n\n _The Little Glass Shoe._\n\nA peasant, named John Wilde, who lived in Rodenkirchen, found one time\na glass shoe on one of the hills where the little people used to\ndance. He clapped it instantly into his pocket and ran away with it,\nkeeping his hand as close on his pocket as if he had a dove in it; for\nhe knew that he had found a treasure which the underground people must\nredeem at any price.\n\nOthers say that John Wilde lay in ambush one night for the underground\npeople, and gained an opportunity of pulling off one of their shoes,\nby stretching himself there with a brandy-bottle beside him, and\nacting like one that was dead drunk; for he was a very cunning man,\nnot over scrupulous in his morals, and had taken in many a one by his\ncraftiness, and, on this account, his name was in no good repute among\nhis neighbours, who, to say the truth, were willing to have as little\nto do with him as possible. Many hold, too, that he was acquainted\nwith forbidden arts, and used to carry on an intercourse with the\nfiends and old women that raised storms, and such like.\n\nHowever, be this as it may, when John had gotten the shoe, he lost no\ntime in letting the folk that dwell under the ground know that he had\nit. So at midnight he went to the Nine-hills, and cried with all his\nmight, \"John Wilde, of Rodenkirchen, has got a beautiful glass shoe.\nWho will buy it? Who will buy it?\" For he knew that the little one who\nhad lost the shoe must go barefoot till he got it again, and that is\nno trifle, for the little people have generally to walk upon very hard\nand stony ground.\n\nJohn's advertisement was speedily attended to. The little fellow who\nhad lost the shoe made no delay in setting about redeeming it. The\nfirst free day he got, that he might come out into the daylight, he\ncame as a respectable merchant, and knocked at John Wilde's door, and\nasked if John had not a glass shoe to sell? \"For,\" says he, \"they are\nan article now in great demand, and are sought for in every market.\"\nJohn replied that it was true he had a very little little, nice,\npretty little glass shoe, but it was so small that even a Dwarf's foot\nwould be squeezed in it; and that God Almighty must make people on\npurpose for it before it could be of any use; but that, for all that,\nit was an extraordinary shoe, and a valuable shoe, and a dear shoe,\nand it was not every merchant that could afford to pay for it.\n\nThe merchant asked to see it, and when he had examined it, \"Glass\nshoes,\" said he, \"are not by any means such rare articles, my good\nfriend, as you think here in Rodenkirchen, because you do not happen to\ngo much into the world. However,\" said he, after hemming a little, \"I\nwill give you a good price for it, because I happen to have the very\nfellow of it.\" And he bid the countryman a thousand dollars for it.\n\n\"A thousand dollars are money, my father used to say when he drove fat\noxen to market,\" replied John Wilde, in a mocking tone; \"but it will not\nleave my hands for that shabby price; and, for my own part, it may\nornament the foot of my daughter's doll. Harkye, friend: I have heard a\nsort of little song sung about the glass shoe, and it is not for a\nparcel of dirt that it will go out of my hands. Tell me now, my good\nfellow, should you happen to know the knack of it, that in every furrow\nI make when I am ploughing I should find a ducat? If not, the shoe is\nstill mine, and you may inquire for glass shoes at those other markets.\"\n\nThe merchant made still a great many attempts, and twisted and turned\nin every direction to get the shoe; but when he found the farmer\ninflexible, he agreed to what John desired, and swore to the\nperformance of it. Cunning John believed him, and gave him up the\nglass shoe, for he knew right well with whom he had to do. So the\nbusiness being ended, away went the merchant with his glass shoe.\n\nWithout a moment's delay, John repaired to his stable, got ready his\nhorses and his plough, and drove out to the field. He selected a piece\nof ground where he would have the shortest turns possible, and began\nto plough. Hardly had the plough turned up the first sod, when up\nsprang a ducat out of the ground, and it was the same with every fresh\nfurrow he made. There was now no end of his ploughing, and John Wilde\nsoon bought eight new horses, and put them into the stable to the\neight he already had--and their mangers were never without plenty of\noats in them--that he might be able every two hours to yoke two fresh\nhorses, and so be enabled to drive them the faster.\n\nJohn was now insatiable in ploughing; every morning he was out before\nsunrise, and many a time he ploughed on till after midnight. Summer\nand winter it was plough, plough with him evermore, except when the\nground was frozen as hard as a stone. But he always ploughed by\nhimself, and never suffered any one to go out with him, or to come to\nhim when he was at work, for John understood too well the nature of\nhis crop to let people see what it was he ploughed so constantly for.\n\nBut it fared far worse with himself than with his horses, who ate good\noats and were regularly changed and relieved, while he grew pale and\nmeagre by reason of his continual working and toiling. His wife and\nchildren had no longer any comfort of him; he never went to the\nalehouse or the club; he withdrew himself from every one, and scarcely\never spoke a single word, but went about silent and wrapped up in his\nown thoughts. All the day long he toiled for his ducats, and at night\nhe had to count them and to plan and meditate how he might find out a\nstill swifter kind of plough.\n\nHis wife and the neighbours lamented over his strange conduct, his\ndullness and melancholy, and began to think that he was grown foolish.\nEverybody pitied his wife and children, for they imagined that the\nnumerous horses that he kept in his stable, and the preposterous mode\nof agriculture that he pursued, with his unnecessary and superfluous\nploughing, must soon leave him without house or land.\n\nBut their anticipations were not fulfilled. True it is, the poor man\nnever enjoyed a happy or contented hour since he began to plough the\nducats up out of the ground. The old saying held good in his case,\nthat he who gives himself up to the pursuit of gold is half way in\nthe claws of the evil one. Flesh and blood cannot bear perpetual\nlabour, and John Wilde did not long hold out against this running\nthrough the furrows day and night. He got through the first spring,\nbut one day in the second, he dropped down at the tail of the plough\nlike an exhausted November fly. Out of the pure thirst after gold he\nwas wasted away and dried up to nothing; whereas he had been a very\nstrong and hearty man the day the shoe of the little underground man\nfell into his hands.\n\nHis wife, however, found after him a considerable treasure, two great\nnailed up chests full of good new ducats, and his sons purchased large\nestates for themselves, and became lords and noblemen. But what good\ndid all that do poor John Wilde?\n\n\n _The Wonderful Plough._\n\nThere was once a farmer who was master of one of the little black\nones, that are the blacksmiths and armourers; and he got him in a very\ncurious way. On the road leading to this farmer's ground there stood a\nstone cross, and every morning as he went to his work he used to stop\nand kneel down before this cross, and pray for some minutes.\n\nOn one of these occasions he noticed on the cross a pretty bright\ninsect, of such a brilliant hue that he could not recollect having\never before seen the like with an insect. He wondered greatly at this,\nyet still he did not disturb it; but the insect did not remain long\nquiet, but ran without ceasing backwards and forwards on the cross, as\nif it was in pain, and wanted to get away. Next morning the farmer\nagain saw the very same insect, and again it was running to and fro,\nin the same state of uneasiness. The farmer began now to have some\nsuspicions about it, and thought to himself, \"Would this now be one of\nthe little black enchanters? For certain, all is not right with that\ninsect; it runs about just like one that had an evil conscience, as\none that would, yet cannot, go away:\" and a variety of thoughts and\nconjectures passed through his mind; and he called to mind what he had\noften heard from his father, and other old people, that when the under\ngroundpeople chance to touch anything holy, they are held fast and\ncannot quit the spot, and are therefore extremely careful to avoid all\nsuch things. But he also thought it may as well be something else; and\nyou would perhaps be committing a sin in disturbing and taking away\nthe little animal; so he let it stay as it was.\n\nBut when he had found it twice more in the same place, and still\nrunning about with the same marks of uneasiness, he said, \"No, it is\nnot all right with it. So now, in the name of God!\" and he made a\ngrasp at the insect, that resisted and clung fast to the stone; but he\nheld it tight, and tore it away by main force, and lo! then he found\nhe had, by the top of the head, a little ugly black chap, about six\ninches long, screeching and kicking at a most furious rate.\n\nThe farmer was greatly astounded at this sudden transformation; still\nhe held his prize fast and kept calling to him, while he administered\nto him a few smart slaps on the buttocks: \"Be quiet, be quiet, my\nlittle man! if crying was to do the business, we might look for heroes\nin swaddling clothes. We'll just take you with us a bit, and see what\nyou are good for.\"\n\nThe little fellow trembled and shook in every limb, and then began to\nwhimper most piteously, and to beg hard of the farmer to let him go. But\n\"No, my lad,\" replied the farmer, \"I will not let you go till you tell\nme who you are, and how you came here, and what trade you know, that\nenables you to earn your bread in the world.\" At this the little man\ngrinned and shook his head, but said not a word in reply, only begged\nand prayed the more to get loose; and the farmer found that he must now\nbegin to entreat him if he would coax any information out of him. But it\nwas all to no purpose. He then adopted the contrary method, and whipped\nand slashed him till the blood run down, but just to as little purpose;\nthe little black thing remained as dumb as the grave, for this species\nis the most malicious and obstinate of all the underground race.\n\nThe farmer now got angry, and he said, \"Do but be quiet, my child; I\nshould be a fool to put myself into a passion with such a little\nbrat. Never fear, I shall soon make you tame enough.\"\n\nSo saying, he ran home with him, and clapped him into a black, sooty,\niron pot, and put the iron lid upon it, and laid on the top of the lid\na great heavy stone, and set the pot in a dark cold room, and as he\nwas going out he said to him, \"Stay there, now, and freeze till you\nare black! I'll engage that at last you will answer me civilly.\"\n\nTwice a-week the farmer went regularly into the room and asked his\nlittle black captive if he would answer him now; but the little one\nstill obstinately persisted in his silence. The farmer had now,\nwithout success, pursued this course for six weeks, at the end of\nwhich time his prisoner at last gave up. One day as the farmer was\nopening the room door, he, of his own accord, called out to him to\ncome and take him out of his dirty stinking dungeon, promising that he\nwould now cheerfully do all that was wanted of him.\n\nThe farmer first ordered him to give him his history. The black one\nreplied, \"My dear friend you know it just as well as I, or else you\nnever had had me here. You see I happened by chance to come too near\nthe cross, a thing we little people may not do, and there I was held\nfast and obliged instantly to let my body become visible; so, then,\nthat people might not recognise me, I turned myself into an insect.\nBut you found me out. For when we get fastened to holy or consecrated\nthings, we never can get away from them unless a man takes us off.\nThat, however, does not happen without plague and annoyance to us,\nthough, indeed, to say the truth, the staying fastened there is not\nover pleasant. And so I struggled against you, too, for we have a\nnatural aversion to let ourselves be taken into a man's hand.\" \"Ho,\nho! is that the tune with you?\" cried the farmer: \"you have a natural\naversion, have you? Believe me, my sooty friend, I have just the same\nfor you; and so you shall be away without a moment's delay, and we\nwill lose no time in making our bargain with each other. But you must\nfirst make me some present.\" \"What you will, you have only to ask,\"\nsaid the little one: \"silver and gold, and precious stones, and costly\nfurniture--all shall be thine in less than an instant.\"--\"Silver and\ngold, and precious stones, and all such glittering fine things will I\nnone,\" said the farmer; \"they have turned the heart and broken the\nneck of many a one before now, and few are they whose lives they make\nhappy. I know that you are handy smiths, and have many a strange thing\nwith you that other smiths know nothing about. So come, now, swear to\nme that you will make me an iron plough, such that the smallest foal\nmay be able to draw it without being tired, and then run off with you\nas fast as your legs can carry you.\" So the black swore, and the\nfarmer then cried out, \"Now, in the name of God; there, you are at\nliberty,\" and the little one vanished like lightning.\n\nNext morning, before the sun was up, there stood in the farmer's yard\na new iron plough, and he yoked his dog Water to it, and though it was\nof the size of an ordinary plough, Water drew it with ease through the\nheaviest clay-land, and it tore up prodigious furrows. The farmer used\nthis plough for many years, and the smallest foal or the leanest\nlittle horse could draw it through the ground, to the amazement of\nevery one who beheld it, without turning a single hair. And this\nplough made a rich man of the farmer, for it cost him no horse-flesh,\nand he led a cheerful and contented life by means of it. Hereby we may\nsee that moderation holds out the longest, and that it is not good to\ncovet too much.\n\n\n _The Lost Bell_\n\nA shepherd's boy belonging to Patzig, about half a mile from Bergen,\nwhere there are great numbers of the underground people in the hills,\nfound one morning a little silver bell on the green heath, among the\nGiants'-graves, and fastened it on him. It happened to be the bell\nbelonging to the cap of one of the little Brown ones, who had lost it\nwhile he was dancing, and did not immediately miss it, or observe that\nit was no longer tinkling in his cap. He had gone down into the hill\nwithout his bell, and having discovered his loss, was filled with\nmelancholy. For the worst thing that can befall the underground people\nis to lose their cap, then their shoes; but even to lose the bell\nfrom their caps, or the buckle from their belts, is no trifle to them.\nWhoever loses his bell must pass some sleepless nights, for not a wink\nof sleep can he get till he has recovered it.\n\nThe little fellow was in the greatest trouble, and searched and looked\nabout everywhere; but how could he learn who had the bell? For only on a\nvery few days in the year may they come up to the daylight; nor can they\nthen appear in their true form. He had turned himself into every form of\nbirds, beasts, and men; and he had sung and rung, and groaned and\nmoaned, and lamented and inquired about his bell, but not the slightest\ntidings, or trace of tidings, had he been able to get. For what was\nworst of all, the shepherd's boy had left Patzig the very day he found\nthe little bell, and was now keeping sheep at Unruh, near Gingst: so it\nwas not till many a day after, and then by mere chance, that the little\nunderground fellow recovered his bell, and with it his peace of mind.\n\nHe had thought it not unlikely that a raven, or a crow, or a jackdaw,\nor a magpie, had found his bell, and from his thievish disposition,\nwhich is caught with anything bright and shining, had carried it into\nhis nest; with this thought he had turned himself into a beautiful\nlittle bird, and searched all the nests in the island, and had sung\nbefore all kinds of birds, to see if they had found what he had lost,\nand could restore him his sleep; but nothing had he been able to learn\nfrom the birds. As he now, one evening, was flying over the waters of\nRalov and the fields of Unruh, the shepherd's boy, whose name was\nFritz Schlagenteufel (_Smite-devil_), happened to be keeping his sheep\nthere at the very time. Several of the sheep had bells about their\nnecks, and they tinkled merrily, when the boy's dog set them trotting.\nThe little bird, who was flying over them thought of his bell, and\nsung, in a melancholy tone,\n\n Little bell, little bell,\n Little ram as well,\n You, too, little sheep,\n If you've my Tingletoo,\n No sheep's so rich as you\n My rest you keep.\n\nThe boy looked up and listened to this strange song which came out\nof the sky, and saw the pretty bird, which seemed to him still more\nstrange:--\"Odds bodikins!\" said he to himself, \"if one but had that\nbird that's singing up there, so plain that one of us would hardly\nmatch him! What can he mean by that wonderful song? The whole of it\nis, it must be a feathered witch. My rams have only pinchbeck bells,\nhe calls them rich cattle; but I have a silver bell, and he sings\nnothing about me.\" And with these words he began to fumble in his\npocket, took out his bell, and rang it.\n\nThe bird in the air instantly saw what it was, and was rejoiced beyond\nmeasure. He vanished in a second--flew behind the nearest\nbush--alighted and drew off his speckled feather-dress, and turned\nhimself into an old woman dressed in tattered clothes. The old dame,\nwell supplied with sighs and groans, tottered across the field to the\nshepherd's boy, who was still ringing his bell, and wondering what was\nbecome of the beautiful bird. She cleared her throat, and coughing up\nfrom the bottom of her chest, bid him a kind good evening, and asked\nhim which was the way to Bergen. Pretending then that she had just\nseen the little bell, she exclaimed, \"Good Lord! what a charming\npretty little bell! Well! in all my life I never beheld anything more\nbeautiful Harkye, my son, will you sell me that bell? And what may be\nthe price of it? I have a little grandson at home, and such a nice\nplaything as it would make for him!\" \"No,\" replied the boy, quite\nshort, \"the bell is not for sale. It is a bell, that there is not such\nanother bell in the whole world. I have only to give it a little\ntinkle, and my sheep run of themselves wherever I would have them go.\nAnd what a delightful sound it has! Only listen, mother!\" said he,\nringing it: \"is there any weariness in the world that can hold out\nagainst this bell? I can ring with it away the longest time, so that\nit will be gone in a second.\"\n\nThe old woman thought to herself, \"We will see if he can hold out\nagainst bright shining money.\" And she took out no less than three\nsilver dollars, and offered them to him: but he still replied, \"No, I\nwill not sell my bell.\" She then offered him five dollars. \"The bell is\nstill mine,\" said he. She stretched out her hand full of ducats: he\nreplied, this third time, \"Gold is dirt and does not ring.\" The old\ndame then shifted her ground, and turned the discourse another way. She\ngrew mysterious, and began to entice him by talking of secret arts, and\nof charms by which his cattle might be made to thrive prodigiously,\nrelating to him all kinds of wonders of them. It was then the young\nshepherd began to long, and he now lent a willing ear to her tales.\n\nThe end of the matter was, that she said to him, \"Harkye, my child!\ngive me the bell and see! here is a white stick for you,\" said she,\ntaking out a little white stick which had Adam and Eve very\ningeniously cut on it, as they were feeding the herds of Paradise,\nwith the fattest sheep and lambs dancing before them; and there was\nthe shepherd David too, as he stood with his sling against the giant\nGoliath. \"I will give you,\" said the old woman, \"this stick for the\nbell, and as long as you drive the cattle with it they will be sure to\nthrive. With this you will become a rich shepherd: your wethers will\nalways be fat a month sooner than the wethers of other shepherds, and\nevery one of your sheep will have two pounds of wool more than others,\nand yet no one will be ever able to see it on them.\"\n\nThe old woman handed him the stick. So mysterious was her gesture, and\nso strange and bewitching her smile, that the lad was at once in her\npower. He grasped eagerly at the stick, gave her his hand, and cried,\n\"Done! Strike hands! The bell for the stick!\" And cheerfully the old\nwoman struck hands, and took the bell, and went like a light breeze\nover the field and the heath. He saw her vanish, and she seemed to\nfloat away before his eyes like a mist, and to go off with a slight\nwhiz and whistle that made the shepherd's hair stand on end.\n\nThe underground one, however, who, in the shape of an old woman, had\nwheedled him out of his bell, had not deceived him. For the under\ngroundpeople dare not lie, but must ever keep their word; a breach of\nit being followed by their sudden change into the shape of toads,\nsnakes, dunghill-beetles, wolves and apes; forms in which they wander\nabout, objects of fear and aversion for a long course of years before\nthey are freed. They, therefore, have naturally a great dread of\nlying. Fritz Schlagenteufel gave close attention and made trial of his\nnew shepherd's-staff, and he soon found that the old woman had told\nhim the truth, for his flocks, and his work, and all the labour of his\nhands prospered with him and had wonderful luck, so that there was not\na sheep-owner or head shepherd but was desirous of having Fritz\nSchlagenteufel in his employment.\n\nIt was not long, however, that he remained an underling. Before he was\neighteen years of age, he had gotten his own flocks, and in the course\nof a few years was the richest sheep-master in the whole island of\nR\u00fcgen; until at last, he was able to purchase a knight's estate for\nhimself, and that estate was Grabitz, close by Rambin, which now\nbelongs to the lords of Sunde. My father[244] knew him there, and how\nfrom a shepherd's boy he was become a nobleman, and he always\nconducted himself like a prudent, honest and pious man, who had a good\nword from every one. He brought up his sons like gentlemen, and his\ndaughters like ladies, some of whom are still alive and accounted\npeople of great consequence. And well may people who hear such stories\nwish that they had met with such an adventure, and had found a little\nsilver bell which the underground people had lost.\n\n\n _The Black Dwarfs of Granitz._\n\nNot far from the Ahlbeck lies a little mansion called Granitz, just\nunder the great wood on the sea-coast called the wood of Granitz. In\nthis little seat lived, not many years ago, a nobleman named Von\nScheele. Toward the close of his life he sank into a state of\nmelancholy, though hitherto a very cheerful and social man, and a\ngreat sportsman. People said that the old man took to his lonesome way\nof living from the loss of his three beautiful daughters, who were\ncalled the three fair-haired maidens, and who grew up here in the\nsolitude of the woods, among the herds and the birds, and who had all\nthree gone off in the same night and never returned. The old man took\nthis greatly to heart, and withdrew himself from the world, and all\ncheerful society. He had great intercourse with the little black\npeople, and he was many a night out of the house, and no one knew\nwhere he had been; but when he came home in the gray of the morning,\nhe would whisper his housekeeper, and say to her, \"Ha, ha! I was at a\ngrand table last night.\"\n\nThis old gentleman used to relate to his friends, and confirm it with\nmany a stout trooper's and sportsman's oath, that the underground\npeople swarmed among the fir-trees of Granitz, about the Ahlbeck, and\nalong the whole shore. He used often, also, to show to those whom he\ntook to walk there, a great number of little foot-prints, like those\nof very small children, in the sand, and he has suddenly called out to\nhis companions, \"Hush! Listen how they are, buzzing and whispering!\"\n\nGoing once with some friends along the sea-shore, he all of a sudden\nstood still, as if in amazement, pointed to the sea, and cried out, \"My\nsoul! there they are again at full work, and there are several thousands\nof them employed about a few sunken casks of wine that they are rolling\nto the shore; oh! what a jovial carouse there will be to-night!\" He then\ntold his companions that he could see them both by day and by night, and\nthat they did nothing to him; nay, they were his most particular\nfriends, and one of them had once saved his house from being burnt by\nwaking him in the night out of a profound sleep, when a firebrand, that\nhad fallen out on the floor, was just on the point of setting fire to\nsome wood and straw that lay there. He said that almost every day some\nof them were to be seen on the sea-shore, but that during high storms,\nwhen the sea was uncommonly rough, almost all of them were there looking\nafter amber and shipwrecks, and for certain no ship ever went to pieces\nbut they got the best part of the cargo, and hid it safe under the\nground. And how grand a thing, he added, it is to live under the\nsand-hills with them, and how beautiful their crystal palaces are, no\none can have any conception who has not been there.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[237] Arndt, M\u00e4rchen und Jugenderinnerungen. Berlin, 1818.\n\n[238] See above p. 96.\n\n[239] A Danish legend (Thiele, i. 79) tells the same of the sand-hills\nof Nestved in Zealand. A Troll who dwelt near it wished to destroy it,\nand for that purpose he went down to the sea-shore and filled his\nwallet with sand and threw it on his back. Fortunately there was a\nhole in the wallet, and so many sand-hills fell out of it, that when\nhe came to Nestved there only remained enough to form one hill more.\nAnother Troll, to punish a farmer filled one of his gloves with sand,\nwhich sufficed to cover his victim's house completely. With what\nremained in the fingers he formed a row of hillocks near it.\n\n[240] Grimm, Deut. Myth., p. 502.\n\n[241] Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, i. p. 70.\n\n[242] Grimm also appears to regard them as genuine.\n\n[243] The population of Lusatia (_Lausatz_) is like that of Pomerania\nand R\u00fcgen, Vendish. Hence, perhaps, it is that in the Lusatian tale of\nthe Fairy-sabbath, we meet with caps with bells, and a descent into\nthe interior of a mountain in a kind of boat as in this tale: Wilcomm,\nSagen und M\u00e4rchen aus der Oberlausitz. Hanov. 1843. Blackwood's\nMagazine for June, 1844.\n\n[244] Hinrich Vick's of course, for he is the narrator.\n\n\n\n\n GERMANY.\n\n Von wilden getwergen han ich geh\u00f6ret sagen\n Si sin in holren bergen; unt daz si ze scherme tragen\n Einez heizet tarnkappen, von wunderlicher art--\n Swerz hat an sime libe, der sol vil wohl sin bewart\n Vor slegen unt vor stichen. NIBELUNGEN, LIED st. 342.\n\n Of wild dwarfs I oft have heard men declare\n They dwell in hollow mountains; and for defence they wear\n A thing called a Tarn-cloke, of wonderful nature--\n Who has it on his body will ever be secure\n 'Gainst cutting and 'gainst thrusting.\n\n\nThe religion of the ancient Germans, probably the same with that of\nthe Scandinavians, contained, like it, Alfs, Dwarfs, and Giants. The\nAlfs have fallen from the popular creed,[245] but the Dwarfs still\nretain their former dominion. Unlike those of the North, they have put\noff their heathen character, and, with their human neighbours, have\nembraced a purer faith. With the creed they seem to have adopted the\nspirit of their new religion also. In most of the traditions\nrespecting them we recognise benevolence as one of the principal\ntraits of their character.\n\nThe oldest monuments of German popular belief are the poems of the\nHeldenbuch (_Hero-book_) and the spirit-stirring Nibelungen Lied.[246]\nIn these poems the Dwarfs are actors of importance.\n\nIn this last-named celebrated poem the Dwarf Albrich appears as the\nguardian of the celebrated Hoard which Sifrit (Siegfried) won from the\nNibelungen. The Dwarf is twice vanquished by the hero who gains his\nTarn-kappe, or Mantle of Invisibility.[247]\n\nIn the Heldenbuch we meet with the Dwarf-king Laurin, whose garden\nDietrich of Bern and his warriors broke into and laid waste. To repel\nthe invader the Dwarf appears in magnificent array: twenty-three\nstanzas are occupied with the description of his banner, helmet,\nshield, and other accoutrements. A furious combat ensues, in which the\nDwarf has long the advantage, as his magic ring and girdle endow him\nwith the strength of twenty-four men, and his Hel Keplein[248]\n(Tarnkappe) renders him invisible at pleasure. At length, by the\nadvice of Hildebrand, Dietrich strikes off the Dwarf's finger, breaks\nhis girdle, and pulls off his Hel Keplein, and thus succeeds in\nvanquishing his enemy. Laurin is afterwards reconciled to the heroes,\nand prevails on them to enter the mountain in which he dwelt, and\npartake of a banquet. Having them now in his power, he treacherously\nmakes them all his prisoners. His queen, however, Ditlaub's sister,\nwhom he had stolen away from under a linden, releases them: their\nliberation is followed by a terrific engagement between them and\nLaurin, backed by a numerous host of Dwarfs. Laurin is again overcome;\nhe loses his queen; his hill is plundered of its treasures, and\nhimself led to Bern, and there reduced to the extremity of earning his\nbread by becoming a buffoon.\n\nIn the poem named H\u00fcrnen Sifrit[249] the Dwarf Eugel[250] renders the\nhero good service in his combat with the enchanted Dragon who had\ncarried off the fair Chrimhild from Worms, and enclosed her in the\nDrachenstein. When Sifrit is treacherously attacked by the Giant\nKuperan, the ally of the Dragon, the Dwarf flings his Nebelkappe over\nhim to protect him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut the most celebrated of Dwarfs is Elberich,[251] who aided the\nemperor Otnit or Ortnit to gain the daughter of the Paynim Soldan of\nSyria.\n\nOtnit ruled over Lombardy, and had subdued all the neighbouring nations.\nHis subjects wishing him to marry, he held a council to consider the\naffair. No maiden mentioned was deemed noble enough to share his bed. At\nlast his uncle Elias, king of the \"wild Russians,\" says:--\n\n \"I know of a maiden, noble and high-born,\n Her no man yet hath wooed, his life who hath not lorn.\n\n \"She shineth like the roses, and the gold rudd\u00fd,\n She fair is in her person, thou must credit me;\n She shines o'er other women, as bright roses do,\n So fair a child was never; they say she good is too.\"\n\nThe monarch's imagination is inflamed, and, regardless of the\nremonstrances of his council, he determines to brave all dangers, to\nsail with a powerful army to Syria, where the maiden dwelt, and to win\nher or to die. He regulates his kingdom, and says to his uncle:--\n\n As soon as May appeareth, with her days so clear,\n Then pray thou of thy friends all, their warriors to cheer,\n To hold themselves all ready; go things as they may,\n We will, with the birds' singing, sail o'er the sea away.\n\n\nThe queen now endeavours to dissuade her son, but finding her efforts\nvain, resolves to aid him as far as she can. She gives him a ring, and\ndesires him to ride toward Rome till he comes to where a linden stands\nbefore a hill, from which runs a brook, and there he will meet with an\nadventure. She farther tells him to keep the ring uncovered, and the\nstone of it will direct him.\n\nObeying his directions, Otnit rides alone from his palace at Garda,\ncontinually looking at his ring:\n\n Unto a heath he came then, close by the Garda lake,\n Where everywhere the flowers and clover out did break;\n The birds were gaily singing, their notes did loudly ring,\n He all the night had waked, he was weary with riding.\n\n The sun over the mountains and through the welkin shone,\n Then looked he full oft on the gold and on the stone;\n Then saw he o'er the meadow, down trodden the green grass,\n And a pathway narrow, where small feet used to pass.\n\n Then followed he downwards, the rocky wall boldl\u00fd,\n Till he had found the fountain, and the green linden-tree,\n And saw the heath wide spreading, and the linden branching high.\n It had upon its boughs full many a guest worthy.\n\n The birds were loudly singing, each other rivalling,\n \"I have the right way ridden,\" spake Otnit the king;\n Then much his heart rejoiced, when he saw the linden spread;\n He sprang down from his courser, he held him by the head.\n\n And when the Lombarder had looked on the linden\n He began to laugh loud; now list what he said then:\n \"There never yet from tree came so sweet breathing a wind.\"\n Then saw he how an infant was laid beneath the lind,\n\n Who had himself full firmly rolled in the grass;\n Then little the Lombarder knew who he was:\n He bore upon his body so rich and noble a dress,\n No king's child upon earth e'er did the like possess.\n\n His dress was rich adorned with gold and precious stone;\n When he beneath the linden the child found all alone:\n \"Where now is thy mother?\" king Otnit he cries;\n \"Thy body unprotected beneath this tree here lies.\"\n\nThis child was Elberich, whom the ring rendered visible. After a hard\nstruggle, Otnit overcomes him. As a ransom, Elberich promises him a\nmagnificent suit of armour--\n\n \"I'll give thee for my ransom the very best harn\u00e9ss\n That either young or old in the world doth possess.\n\n \"Full eighty thousand marks the harness is worth well,\n A sword too I will give thee, with the shirt of mail,\n That every corselet cuts through as if steel it were not;\n There ne'er was helm so strong yet could injure it a jot.\n\n \"I ween in the whole world no better sword there be,\n I brought it from a mountain is called Almari;\n It is with gold adorned, and clearer is than glass;\n I wrought it in a mountain is called G\u00f6ickelsass.\n\n \"The sword I will name to thee, it is bright of hue,\n Whate'er thou with it strikest no gap will ensue,\n It is Ross\u00e8 called, I tell to thee its name;\n Wherever swords are drawing it never will thee shame.\n\n \"With all the other harness I give thee leg armo\u00far,\n In which there no ring is, my own hand wrought it sure;\n And when thou hast the harness thou must it precious hold,\n There's nothing false within it, it all is of pure gold.\n\n \"With all the armour rich I give thee a helm\u00e9t,\n Upon an emperor's head none a better e'er saw yet;\n Full happy is the man who doth this helmet bear,\n His head is recognised, a mile off though he were.\n\n \"And with the helmet bright I will give to thee a shield,\n So strong and so good too, if to me thanks thou'lt yield;\n It never yet was cut through by any sword so keen,\n No sort of weapon ever may that buckler win.\"\n\nElberich persuades the king to lend him his ring; when he gets it he\nbecomes invisible, and amuses himself by telling him of the whipping\nhe will get from his mother for having lost it. At last when Otnit is\non the point of going away, Elberich returns the ring, and, to his no\nsmall surprise, informs him that he is his father, promising him, at\nthe same time, if he is kind to his mother, to stand his friend, and\nassist him to gain the heathen maid.\n\nWhen May arrives Otnit sails from Messina with his troops. As they\napproach Sunders,[252] they are a little in dread of the quantity of\nshipping they see in the port, and the king regrets and bewails having\nproceeded without his dwarf-sire. But Elberich has, unseen, been\nsitting on the mast. He appears, and gives his advice, accompanied by\na stone, which, by being put into the mouth, endows its possessor with\nthe gift of all languages. On the heathens coming alongside the\nvessel, Otnit assumes the character of a merchant, and is admitted to\nenter the port. He forthwith proposes to murder the inhabitants in the\nnight, an act of treachery which is prevented by the strong and\nindignant rebukes of the Dwarf.\n\nElberich sets off to Muntabur,[253] the royal residence, to demand the\nprincess. The Soldan, enraged at the insolence of the invisible envoy,\nin vain orders his men to put him to death; the \"little man\" returns\nunscathed to Otnit, and bids him prepare for war. By the aid of\nElberich, Otnit wins, after great slaughter on both sides, the city of\nSunders. He then, under the Dwarf's advice, follows up his conquest by\nmarching for Muntabur, the capital. Elberich, still invisible, except\nto the possessor of the ring, offers to act as guide.\n\n \"Give me now the horse here they lead by the hand,\n And I will guide thine army unto the heathens' land;\n If any one should ask thee, who on the horse doth ride?\n Thou shalt say nothing else, but--an angel is thy guide.\"\n\nThe army, on seeing the horse and banner advancing as it were of\nthemselves, blessed themselves, and asked Otnit why he did not likewise.\n\n \"It is God's messenger!\" Otnit then cried:\n \"Who unto Muntabur will be our trusty guide;\n Him ye should believe in, who like Christians debate,\n Who in the fight them spare not, he leads to heaven straight.\"\n\nThus encouraged, the troops cheerfully follow the invisible\nstandard-bearer, and soon appear before Muntabur, where Elberich\ndelivers the banner to king Elias, and directs them to encamp. He\nmeanwhile enters the city, flings down the artillery from the walls,\nand when the Soldan again refuses to give his daughter, plucks out\nsome of his majesty's beard[254] and hair, in the midst of his\ncourtiers and guards, who in vain cut and thrust at the viewless\ntormentor. A furious battle ensues. The queen and princess resort to\nprayers to their gods Apollo and Mahomet for the safety of the Soldan\nThe princess is thus described:\n\n Her mouth flamed like a rose, and like the ruby stone,\n And equal to the full moon her lovely eyes they shone.\n\n With roses she bedecked had well her head,\n And with pearls precious,--no one comforted the maid:\n She was of exact stature, slender in the waist,\n And turned like a taper was her body chaste.\n\n Her hands and her arms, you nought in them could blame,\n Her nails they so clear were, people saw themselves in them;\n And her hair ribbons were of silk costly,\n Which she left down hanging, the maiden fair and free.\n\n She set upon her head high a crown of gold red,--\n Elberich the little, he grieved for the maid;--\n In front of the crown lay a carbuncle stone,\n That in the royal palace like a taper shone.\n\nElberich endeavours to persuade her to become a Christian, and espouse\nOtnit; and to convince her of the incapacity of her gods, he tumbles\ntheir images into the fosse. Overcome by his representations and her\nfather's danger, the princess, with her mother's consent, agrees to wed\nthe monarch whom Elberich points out to her in the battle, and she gives\nher ring to be conveyed to him. The Dwarf, unperceived, leads her out of\nthe city, and delivers her to her future husband, strictly forbidding\nall intercourse between them, previous to the maiden's baptism.[255]\nWhen the old heathen misses his daughter he orders out his troops to\nrecover her. Elberich hastens to king Elias, and brings up the\nChristians. A battle ensues: the latter are victorious, and the princess\nis brought to Sunders;--ere they embark Elberich and Elias baptise her,\nand ere they reached Messina \"the noble maiden was a wife.\"\n\nAs yet not intimately acquainted with Christianity, the young empress\nasks Otnit about his god, giving him to understand that she knew his\ndeity, who had come to her father's to demand her for him. Otnit\ncorrects her mistake, telling her that the envoy was Elberich, whom\nshe then desires to see. At the request of Otnit the Dwarf reveals\nhimself to the queen and court.\n\n Long time he refused,--he showed him then a stone,\n That like unto the sun, with the gold shone;\n Ruby and carbuncle was the crown so rich,\n Which upon his head bare the little Elberich.\n\n The Dwarf let the people all see him then,\n They began to look upon him, both women and men;\n Many a fair woman with rosy mouth then said,\n \"I ween a fairer person no eye hath e'er survey'd.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\n Then Elberich the little a harp laid hold upon;\n Full rapidly he touched the strings every one\n In so sweet a measure that the hall did resound;\n All that him beheld then, they felt a joy profound.\n\nAfter giving Otnit abundance of riches, and counselling him to\nremunerate those who had lost their relatives in his expedition,\nElberich takes leave of the king. He then vanishes, and appears no more.\n\nOtnit is the most pleasing poem in the Heldenbuch. Nothing can be more\namiable than the character of the Dwarf, who is evidently the model of\nOberon. We say this, because the probability is much greater that a\nFrench writer should have taken a Dwarf from a German poet, than that\nthe reverse should have occurred. The connexion between the two works\nappears indubitable.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAn attempt has already been made to trace the origin of Dwarfs, and\nthe historical theory respecting those of the North rejected. A\nsimilar theory has been given of those of Germany, as being a people\nsubdued between the fifth and tenth centuries by a nation of greater\npower and size. The vanquished fled to the mountains, and concealed\nthemselves in caverns, only occasionally venturing to appear; and\nhence, according to this theory, the origin of Dwarf stories. As we\nregard them as an integrant part of Gotho-German religion, we must\nreject this hypothesis in the case of Germany also.\n\nBeside the Dwarfs, we meet in the Nibelungen Lied with beings\nanswering to the Nixes or Water-spirits. When[256] the Burgundians on\ntheir fatal journey to the court of Ezel (Attila) reached the banks of\nthe Danube, they found that it could not be crossed without the aid of\nboats. Hagene then proceeded along the bank in search of a ferry.\nSuddenly he heard a plashing in the water, and on looking more closely\nhe saw some females who were bathing. He tried to steal on them, but\nthey escaped him and went hovering over the river. He succeeded,\nhowever, in securing their clothes, and in exchange for them the\nfemales, who were Watermaids (_Merewiper_) promised to tell him the\nresult of the visit to the court of the Hunnish monarch. One of them\nthen named Hadeburch assured him of a prosperous issue, on which he\nrestored the garments. But then another, named Sigelint told him that\nHadeburch had lied for the sake of the clothes; for that in reality\nthe event of the visit would be most disastrous, as only one of the\nparty would return alive. She also informed him where the ferry was,\nand told him how they might outwit the ferryman and get over.\n\nWe cannot refrain from suspecting that in the original legend these were\nValkyrias and not Water-nymphs, for these last would hardly strip to go\ninto the water, their native element. In the prose introduction to the\nEddaic poem of V\u00f6lundr we are told that he and his two elder brothers\nwent to Wolfdale and built themselves a house by the water named Wolfsea\nor lake, and one morning early they found on the shore of the lake three\nwomen who were spinning flax: beside them were lying their\n_swan-dresses_. They were \"Valkyrias, and king's daughters.\" The three\nbrothers took them home and made them their wives, but after seven years\nthey flew away and returned no more. It is remarkable, that in the poem\nthere is not the slightest allusion to the swan-dresses, though it\nrelates the coming and the departure of the maidens. We are then to\nsuppose either that there were other poems on the subject, or that these\ndresses were so well known a vehicle that it was deemed needless to\nmention them. We are to suppose also that it was by securing these\ndresses that the brothers prevented the departure of the maidens, and\nthat it was by recovering them that they were enabled to effect their\nescape. In effect in the German legend of Wielant (V\u00f6lundr), the hero\nsees three _doves_ flying to a spring, and as soon as they touch the\nground they become maidens. He then secures their clothes, and will not\nreturn them till one of them consents to become his wife.[257]\n\nThis legend resembles the tale of the Stolen Veil in Mus\u00e6us, and those\nof the Peri-wife and the Mermaid-wife related above.[258] In the Breton\ntale of Bisclavaret, or the Warwolf, we learn that no one who became a\nwolf could resume his human form, unless he could recover the clothes\nwhich he had put off previous to undergoing the transformation.[259]\n\nOur readers may like to see how the preface to the old editions of the\nHeldenbuch accounts for the origin of the Dwarfs.\n\n\"God,\" says it, \"gave the Dwarfs being, because the land and the\nmountains were altogether waste and uncultivated, and there was much\nstore of silver and gold, and precious stones and pearls still in the\nmountains. Wherefore God made the Dwarfs very artful and wise, that\nthey might know good and evil right well, and for what everything was\ngood. They knew also for what stones were good. Some stones give great\nstrength; some make those who carry them about them invisible, that is\ncalled a mist-cloke (_nebelkap_); and therefore did God give the\nDwarfs skill and wisdom. Therefore they built handsome hollow hills,\nand God gave them riches, etc.\n\n\"God created the Giants, that they might kill the wild beasts, and the\ngreat dragons (_w\u00fcrm_), that the Dwarfs might thereby be more secure.\nBut in a few years the Giants would too much oppress the Dwarfs, and\nthe Giants became altogether wicked and faithless.\n\n\"God then created the Heroes; 'and be it known that the Heroes were for\nmany years right true and worthy, and they then came to the aid of the\nDwarfs against the faithless Giants;'--God made them strong, and their\nthoughts were of manhood, according to honour, and of combats and war.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe will divide the objects of German popular belief at the present day,\ninto four classes:--1. Dwarfs; 2. Wild-women; 3. Kobolds; 4. Nixes.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[245] The only remnant is _Alp_, the nightmare; the _elfen_ of modern\nwriters is merely an adoption of the English _elves_.\n\n[246] The edition of this poem which we have used, is that by\nSch\u00f6nhuth, Leipzig, 1841.\n\n[247] Tarn from _taren_, to dare, says Dobenek, because it gave\ncourage along with invisibility. It comes more probably we think from\nthe old German _ternen_, to hide. Kappe is properly a cloak, though\nthe Tarnkappe or Nebelkappe is generally represented as a cap, or hat.\n\n[248] From _hehlen_, to conceal.\n\n[249] _Horny Siegfred_; for when he slew the dragon, he bathed himself\nin his blood, and became horny and invulnerable everywhere except in\none spot between his shoulders, where a linden leaf stuck. In the\nNibelungen Lied, (_st. 100_), Hagene says,\n\n Yet still more know I of him--this to me is certa\u00edn,\n A terrible Lind-dragon the hero's hand hath slain;\n He in the blood him bathed, and horny grew his skin;\n Hence woundeth him no weapon, full oft it hath been seen.\n\n\n[250] MM. Grimm thought at one time that this name was properly Engel,\nand that it was connected with the chances of Alp, Alf, to Engel (see\nabove, p. 67). They query at what time the dim _Engelein_ first came\ninto use, and when the angels were first represented under the form of\nchildren--a practice evidently derived from the idea of the Elves. In\nOtfried and other writers of the ninth and tenth centuries, they say,\nthe angels are depicted as young men; but in the latter half of the\nthirteenth, a popular preacher named Berthold, says: _Ir schet wol daz\nsi allesamt sint juncliche gem\u00e4let; als ein kint daz d\u00e1 v\u00fcnf j\u00e2r all\nist sw\u00e2 man sie m\u00e2let._\n\n[251] Elberich, (the Albrich of the Nibelungen Lied,) as we have said\n(above p. 40), is Oberon. From the usual change of _l_ into _u_ (as\n_al_, _au_, _col_, _cou_, etc.), in the French language, Elberich or\nAlbrich (derived from Alp, Alf) becomes Auberich; and _ich_ not being\na French termination, the diminutive _on_ was substituted, and so it\nbecame Auberon, or Oberon; a much more likely origin than the usual\none from _L'aube du jour_. For this derivation of Oberon we are\nindebted to Dr. Grimm.\n\n[252] Probably Saida, _i.e._ Sidon.\n\n[253] _i. e._ Mount Tabor.\n\n[254] This may have suggested the well-known circumstance in Huon de\nBordeaux.\n\n[255] So Oberon in Huon de Bordeaux.\n\n[256] Str. 1564, _seq._\n\n[257] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 398, _seq._\n\n[258] See above, pp. 19, 169; below, _Ireland_; and Grimm, _ut sup._\np. 1216. The swan-dresses also occur in the Arabian tales of Jah\u00e2nsh\u00e2h\nand Hassan of Bassora in Trebutien's Arabian Nights.\n\n[259] Po\u00e9sies de Marie de France, i. 177, _seq._\n\n\n\n\n DWARFS.\n\n Fort, fort! Mich schau' die Sonne nicht,\n Ich darf nicht langer harren;\n Mich Elfenkind vor ihren Licht\n S\u00e4hst du sum Fels erstarren.\n LA MOTTE FOUQU\u00c9.\n\n Away! let not the sun view me,\n I dare no longer stay;\n An Elfin-child thou wouldst me see,\n To stone turn at his ray.\n\n\nThese beings are called Zwerge (_Dwarfs_), Berg- and Erd-m\u00e4nlein (_Hill_\nand _Ground-mannikins_), the Stille Volk (_Still-people_), and the\nKleine Volk (_Little-people_).[260] The following account of the\nStill-people at Plesse will give the popular idea respecting them.[261]\n\nAt Plesse, a castle in the mountains in Hesse, are various springs,\nwells, clefts and holes in the rocks, in which, according to popular\ntradition, the Dwarfs, called the Still-people, dwell. They are silent\nand beneficent, and willingly serve those who have the good fortune to\nplease them. If injured they vent their anger, not on mankind, but on\nthe cattle, which they plague and torment. This subterranean race has\nno proper communication with mankind, but pass their lives within the\nearth, where their apartments and chambers are filled with gold and\nprecious stones. Should occasion require their visit to the surface of\nthe earth, they accomplish the business in the night, and not by day.\nThis Hill-people are of flesh and bone, like mankind, they bear\nchildren and die, but in addition to the ordinary faculties of\nhumanity, they have the power of making themselves invisible, and of\npassing through rocks and walls, with the same facility as through the\nair. They sometimes appear to men, lead them with them into clifts,\nand if the strangers prove agreeable to them, present them with\nvaluable gifts.[262]\n\n\n _The Hill-Man at the Dance._\n\nOld people have positively asserted that some years ago, at the\ncelebration of a wedding in the village of Glass, a couple of miles from\nthe Wunderberg, and the same distance from the city of Saltzburg, there\ncame toward evening a little Hill-man out of the Wunderberg. He desired\nall the guests to be merry and cheerful, and begged to be permitted to\njoin in their dance, which request was not refused. He accordingly\ndanced three dances with some of the maidens of good repute, and with a\ngracefulness that inspired all present with admiration and delight.\nAfter the dance he returned them his thanks, accompanied by a present to\neach of the bridal party of three pieces of money of an unknown coin,\neach of which they estimated to be worth four creutzers. Moreover, he\nrecommended them to dwell in peace and concord, to live like Christians,\nand, by a pious education, to bring up their children in goodness. He\ntold them to lay up these coins with their money, and constantly to\nthink of him, and so they would rarely come to distress; but warned them\nagainst becoming proud, and advised them, on the contrary, to relieve\ntheir neighbours with their superfluities.\n\nThe Hill-man remained with them till night, and took some meat and\ndrink from each as they offered it to him, but only very little. He\nthen renewed his thanks, and concluded by begging of one of the\ncompany to put him over the river Satzach, opposite the mountain.\nThere was at the wedding a boatman, named John St\u00e4ndl, who got ready\nto comply with the dwarf's request, and they went together to the\nwater's-edge. As they were crossing, the man asked for his payment,\nand the Hill-man humbly presented him threepence. The boatman utterly\nrejected this paltry payment; but the little man gave him for answer,\nthat he should not let that annoy him, but keep the threepence safe,\nand he would never suffer want, provided he put a restraint on\narrogance. He gave him at the same time, a little stone with these\nwords: \"Hang this on your neck, and you will never be drowned in the\nwater.\" And of this he had a proof that very year. Finally, the\nHill-man exhorted him to lead a pious and humble life, and being\nlanded on the opposite bank, departed speedily from the place.[263]\n\n\n _The Dwarf's Feast._\n\nThere appeared in the night to one of the Counts von Hoya, an\nextremely small little man. The count was utterly amazed at him, but\nhe bid him not to be frightened; said he had a request to make of him,\nand entreated that he might not be refused. The count gave a willing\nassent, qualified with the provision, that the thing requested should\nbe a matter which lay in his power, and would not be injurious to him\nor his. The little man then said, \"There will come tomorrow night\nsome people to thy house, and make a feast, if thou will lend them thy\nkitchen, and hall for as long as they want them, and order thy\nservants to go to sleep, and no one to look at what they are doing or\nare about; and also let no one know of it but thyself; only do this\nand we shall be grateful to thee for thy courtesy: thou and thy family\nwill be the better of it; nor will it be in any way hurtful to thee or\nthine.\" The count readily gave his consent, and on the following night\nthere came, as if they were a travelling party, over the bridge into\nthe house a great crowd of little people, exactly such as the\nHill-mannikins are described to be. They cooked, cut up wood, and laid\nout the dishes in the kitchen, and had every appearance of being about\npreparing a great entertainment.\n\nWhen it drew near the morning, and they were about to take their\ndeparture, the little man came again up to the count, and with many\nthanks, presented him a sword, a salamander-cloth, and a golden ring,\nin which there was inserted a red-lion, with directions for himself\nand his descendants to keep these three articles safe; and so long as\nthey kept them together all would be at unity and well in the county,\nbut as soon as they were separated from each other it would be a token\nthat there was evil coming on the county: the red lion too would\nalways become pale when one of the family was to die.\n\nThey were long preserved in the family; but in the time when count Jobst\nand his brothers were in their minority, and Francis von Halle was\ngovernor of the land, two of the articles, the sword and the\nsalamander-cloth, were taken away, but the ring remained with the family\nuntil they became extinct. What has become of it since is unknown.[264]\n\n\n _The Friendly Dwarfs._\n\nClose to the little town of Dardesheim, between Halberstadt and\nBrunswick, is a spring of the finest water called the Smansborn, and\nwhich flows out of a hill in which in old times the dwarfs dwelt. When\nthe former inhabitants of the country were in want of a holiday-dress,\nor, at a family festival, of any rare utensils, they went and stood\nbefore this Dwarf-hill, knocked three times, and pronounced their\npetition in a distinct and audible tone, adding,\n\n Before the sun is up to-morrow.\n At the hill shall be the things we borrow.[265]\n\nThe Dwarfs thought themselves sufficiently compensated if there was\nonly some of the festive victuals set down before the hill.\n\n\n _Wedding Feast of the Little People._\n\nThe little people of the Eilenburg in Saxony had occasion to celebrate\na wedding, and with that intent passed one night through the key-hole\nand the window-slits into the castle-hall, and jumped down on the\nsmooth level floor like peas on a barn floor. The noise awoke the old\ncount, who was sleeping in the hall in his high four-post bed, and on\nopening his eyes, he wondered not a little at the sight of such a\nnumber of the little fellows.\n\nOne of them appareled as a herald came up to him, and addressing him\nwith the utmost courtesy and in very polite terms invited him to share\nin their festivity. \"We, however,\" added he, \"have one request to\nmake, which is, that you alone should be present, and that none of\nyour people should presume to look on with you, or to cast so much as\none glance.\" The old count answered in a friendly tone, \"Since you\nhave disturbed my sleep, I will join your company.\" A little small\nwoman was now introduced to him; little torch-bearers took their\nplaces; and cricket-music struck up. The count found great difficulty\nto keep from losing the little woman in the dance, she jumped away\nfrom him so lightly, and at last whirled him about at such a rate that\nhe could with difficulty recover his breath.\n\nBut in the very middle of their spritely dance, suddenly all became\nstill, the music ceased, and the whole company hurried to the slits of\nthe doors, mouse-holes, and everywhere else where there was a corner to\nslip into. The bride-pair, the heralds, and dancers, looked upwards to a\nhole that was in the ceiling of the hall, and there discovered the face\nof the old countess, who overflowing with curiosity, was looking down on\nthe joyous assembly. They then bowed themselves before the count, and\nthe person who had invited him stept forward again and thanked him for\nthe hospitality he had shown them: \"But,\" said he, \"since our wedding\nand our festivity has been thus disturbed by another eye gazing on it,\nyour race shall henceforward never count more than seven Eilenburgs.\"\nThey then pressed out after one another with great speed, and soon all\nwas silent, and the old count alone in the dark hall. The curse has\nlasted till the present time, and one of six living knights of Eilenburg\nhas always died before the seventh was born.[266]\n\n\n _Smith Riechert._\n\nOn the east side of the Dwarf-hill of Dardesheim there is a piece of\narable land. A smith named Riechert had sown this field with peas; but\nhe observed that when they were just in perfection they were pulled in\ngreat quantities. Riechert built himself a little hut on his ground,\nthere to lie in wait for the thief; and there he watched day and night.\nIn the daytime he could see no alteration, but every morning he found\nthat, notwithstanding all his watchfulness, the field had been plundered\nduring the night. Vexed to the heart at seeing that all his labour was\nin vain, he determined to thresh out on the ground what remained of the\npeas. So with the daybreak Smith Riechert commenced his work. Hardly was\none half of his peas threshed when he heard a piteous wailing, and on\ngoing to look for the cause, he found on the ground under the peas one\nof the dwarfs whose skull he had rapped with his flail, and who was now\nvisible, having lost his mist-cap with the blow. The Dwarf ran back into\nthe hill as fast as his legs could carry him.\n\nHowever, little tiffs like this disturbed but for a very short time\nthe good understanding of the Dwarf-people and the inhabitants. But\nthe Dwarfs emigrated at last, because the tricks and scoffs of several\nof the inhabitants were become no longer bearable, as well as their\ningratitude for several services they had rendered them. Since that\ntime no one has ever heard or seen anything of the Dwarfs in the\nneighbourhood.\n\n\n _Dwarfs Stealing Corn._\n\n'Tis not very long since there were Dwarfs at J\u00fcne near G\u00f6ttingen, who\nused to go into the fields and steal the sheaves of corn. This they\nwere able to do the more easily by means of a cap they wore, which\nmade them invisible. They did much injury to one man in particular who\nhad a great deal of corn. At length he hit on a plan to catch them. At\nnoon one day he put a rope round the field, and when the Dwarfs went\nto creep under it, it knocked off their caps. Being now visible, they\nwere caught. They gave him many fair words, promising if he would take\naway the rope to give him a peck (_mette_) of money if he came to that\nsame place _before sunrise_. He agreed, but a friend whom he consulted\ntold him to go not at sunrise but a little before twelve at night, as\nit was at that hour that the day really began. He did as directed, and\nthere he found the Dwarfs, who did not expect him, with the peck of\nmoney. The name of the family that got it is Mettens.\n\nA farmer in another part of the country being annoyed in a similar\nmanner, was told to get willow-rods and beat the air with them, and he\nthus would knock of some of their caps and discover them. He and his\npeople did so, and they captured one of the Dwarfs, who told the\nfarmer that if he would let him go, he would give him a waggon-load of\nmoney, but he must come for it before sunrise. At the same time he\ninformed him where his abode was. The farmer having enquired when the\nsun really rose, and being told at twelve o'clock, yoked his waggon\nand drove off, but when he came to the Dwarfs' hole, he heard them\nshouting and singing within:\n\n It is good that the bumpkin doth not know\n That up at twelve the sun doth go.[267]\n\nWhen he asked for something, they showed him a dead horse, and bade\nhim take it with him, as they could give him nothing else. He was very\nangry at this, but as he wanted food for his dogs, he cut off a large\npiece and laid it on his waggon. But when he came home, lo! it was all\npure gold. Others then went to the place, but both hole and horse had\nvanished.[268]\n\n\n _Journey of the Dwarfs over the Mountain._\n\nOn the north side of the Hartz there dwelt several thousand Dwarfs in\nthe clefts of the rocks, and in the Dwarf-caves that still remain. It\nwas, however, but rarely that they appeared to the inhabitants in a\nvisible form; they generally went about among them protected by their\nmist-caps, unseen and unnoticed.\n\nMany of these Dwarfs were good-natured, and, on particular occasions,\nvery obliging to the inhabitants, who used, for instance, in case of a\nwedding or a christening, to borrow various articles for the table out\nof the caves of the Dwarfs, It was, however, highly imprudent to\nprovoke their resentment; as when injured or offended, they were\nmalicious and wicked, and did every possible injury to the offender.\n\nA baker, who lived in the valley between Blenkenburg and Quedlinburg,\nused to remark that a part of the loaves he baked was always missing,\nthough he never could find out the thief. This continual secret theft\nwas gradually reducing him to poverty. At last he began to suspect the\nDwarfs of being the cause of his misfortune. He accordingly got a bunch\nof little twigs, and beating the air with them in all directions, at\nlength struck the mist-caps off some Dwarfs, who could now conceal\nthemselves no longer. There was a great noise made about it; several\nother Dwarfs were caught in the act of committing theft, and at last the\nwhole of the Dwarf-people were forced to quit the country. In order, in\nsome degree, to indemnify the inhabitants for what had been stolen, and\nat the same time to be able to estimate the number of those that\ndeparted, a large cask was set up on what is now called Kirchberg, near\nthe village of Thele, into which each Dwarf was to cast a piece of\nmoney. This cask was found, after the departure of the Dwarfs, to be\nquite filled with ancient coins, so great was their number.\n\nThe Dwarf-people went by Warnstadt, a village not far from\nQuedlinburg, still going toward the east. Since that time the Dwarfs\nhave disappeared out of this country; and it is only now and then that\na solitary one may be seen.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Dwarfs on the south side of the Hartz were, in a similar manner,\ndetected plundering the corn-fields. They also agreed to quit the\ncountry, and it was settled that they should pass over a small bridge\nnear Neuhof, and that each, by way of transit-duty, should cast a\ncertain portion of his property into a cask to be set there. The\npeasants, on their part, covenanted not to appear or look at them.\nSome, however, had the curiosity to conceal themselves under the bridge,\nthat they might at least hear them departing. They succeeded in their\ndesign, and heard during several hours, the trampling of the little men,\nsounding exactly as if a large flock of sheep was going over the bridge.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOther accounts of the departure of the Dwarfs relate as follows:--\n\nThe Dosenberg is a mountain in Hesse on the Schwalm, in which, not far\nfrom the bank of the stream, are two holes by which the Dwarfs[269] used\nto go in and out. One of them came frequently in a friendly way to the\ngrandfather of Tobi in Singlis, when he was out in his fields. As he was\none day cutting his corn he asked him if he would the next night, for a\ngood sum of money, take a freight over the river. The farmer agreed, and\nin the evening the Dwarf brought him a sack of wheat as an earnest. Four\nhorses were then put to the waggon, and the farmer drove to the\nDosenberg, out of the holes of which the Dwarf brought heavy, but\ninvisible loads to the waggon, which the farmer then drove through the\nwater over to the other side. He thus kept going backwards and forwards\nfrom ten at night till four in the morning, by which time the horses\nwere quite tired. Then said the Dwarf, \"It is enough, now you shall see\nwhat you have been carrying!\" He bade him look over his right shoulder,\nand then he saw the country far and near filled with the Dwarfs. \"These\nthousand years,\" then said the Dwarf, \"have we dwelt in the Dosenberg;\nour time is now up, and we must go to another land. But the hill is\nstill so full of money that it would suffice for the whole country.\" He\nthen loaded Tobi's waggon with money and departed. The farmer had\ndifficulty in bringing home so heavy a load, but he became a rich man.\nHis posterity are still wealthy people, but the Dwarfs have disappeared\nout of the country for ever.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAt Offensen on the Aller in Lower Saxony, lived a great farmer, whose\nname was H\u00f6vermann. He had a boat on the river; and one day two little\npeople came to him and asked him to put them over the water. They went\ntwice over the Aller to a great tract of land that is called the\nAller\u00f4,[270] which is an uncultivated plain extending so wide and far\nthat one can hardly see over it. When the farmer had crossed the second\ntime one of the Dwarfs said to him, \"Will you have now a sum of money or\nso much a head?\" \"I'd rather have a sum of money,\" said the farmer. One\nof them took off his hat and put it on the farmer's head, and said,\n\"You'd have done better to have taken so much a head.\" The farmer, who\nhad as yet seen nothing and whose boat had gone as if there was nothing\nin it, now beheld the whole Aller\u00f4 swarming (_krimmeln un wimmeln_) with\nlittle men. These were the Dwarfs that he had brought over. From that\ntime forward the H\u00f6vermanns had the greatest plenty of money, but they\nare all now dead and gone, and the place is sold. But when was this? Oh!\nin the old time when the Dwarfs were in the world, but now there's no\nmore of them, thirty or forty years ago.[271]\n\n\n _The Dwarfs' Borrowing Bread._\n\nAlbert Steffel, aged seventy years, who died in the year 1680, and\nHans Kohmann, aged thirty-six, who died in 1679, two honest, veracious\nmen, frequently declared that as one time Kohmann's grandfather was\nworking in his ground which lay in the neighbourhood of the place\ncalled the Dwarfs' hole, and his wife had brought out to the field to\nhim for his breakfast some fresh baked bread, and had laid it, tied up\nin a napkin, at the end of the field, there came up soon after a\nlittle Dwarf-woman, who spoke to him about his bread, saying, that\nher own was in the oven, and that her children were hungry and could\nnot wait for it, but that if he would give her his, she would be\ncertain to replace it by noon. The man consented, and at noon she\nreturned, spread out a very white little cloth, and laid on it a\nsmoking hot loaf, and with many thanks and entreaties told him he\nmight eat the bread without any apprehension, and that she would\nreturn for the cloth. He did as she desired, and when she returned she\ntold him that there had been so many forges erected that she was quite\nannoyed, and would be obliged to depart and abandon her favourite\ndwelling. She also said that the shocking cursing and swearing of the\npeople drove her away, as also the profanation of Sunday, as the\ncountry people, instead of going to church, used to go look at their\nfields, which was altogether sinful.[272]\n\n\n _The Changeling._\n\nIt was the belief, in some parts of Germany, that if a child that was\nnot thriving were taken to a place named Cyriac's Mead, near\nNeuhausen, and left lying there and given to drink out of Cyriac's\nWell, at the end of nine days it would either die or recover.\n\nThe butler and cook of one of the spiritual lords of Germany, without\nbeing married, had a child, which kept crying day and night, and\nevermore craving for food and yet it never grew nor throve. It was\nfinally resolved to try on it the effect of Cyriac's Mead, and the\nmother set out for that place with the child on her back, whose weight\nwas so great that she hardly could endure it. As she was toiling along\nunder her burden, she met a travelling student, who said to her, \"My\ngood woman, what sort of a wild creature is that you are carrying? I\nshould not wonder if it were to crush in your neck.\" She replied that\nit was her dear child which would not grow nor thrive, and that she\nwas taking it to Neuhausen to be rocked. \"But,\" said he, \"that is not\nyour child; it is the devil. Fling it into the stream.\" But she\nrefused, and maintained that it _was_ her child, and kissed it. Then\nsaid he, \"Your child is at home in the inner bedroom in a new cradle\nbehind the ark. Throw, I tell you, this monster into the stream.\" With\nmany tears and groans the poor woman at length did as he required and\nimmediately there was heard under the bridge on which they were\nstanding a howling and a growling as if wolves and bears were in the\nplace. When the woman reached home she found her own child healthy and\nlively and laughing in its new cradle.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA Hessian legend tells that as a woman was reaping corn at the\nDosenberg,[273] with her little child lying near her on the ground, a\nDwarf-woman (_wichtelweib_) came and took it and left her own lying in\nits stead. When the mother came to look after her dear babe a great\nugly jolterhead was there gaping at her. She cried out and roared\nMurder! so lustily that the thief came back with the child. But she\ndid not restore it till the mother had put the changeling to her\nbreast and given it some ennobling human milk.[274]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was, it is said, in Prussian Samland, an inn-keeper whom the\nunderground folk had done many good turns. It grieved him to see what\nbad clothes they had, and he desired his wife to leave new little\ncoats for them. They took the new clothes, but cried out, \"Paid off!\nPaid off!\" and went all away.\n\nAnother time they gave great help to a poor smith, and every night\nthey made bran-new pots, pans, kettles and plates for him. His wife\nused to leave some milk for them, on which they fell like wolves, and\ndrained the vessel to the bottom, and then cleaned it and went to\ntheir work. When the smith had grown rich by means of them, his wife\nmade for each of them a pretty little red coat and cap, and left them\nin their way. \"Paid off! Paid off!\" cried they, slipped on the new\nclothes, and went away without working the iron that was left for\nthem, and never returned.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a being named a Scrat or Schrat, Schretel, Schretlein.[276]\nThis name is used in old German to translate _pilosus_ in the\nnarratives of those who wrote in Latin, and it seems sometimes to\ndenote a House- sometimes a Wood-spirit. Terms similar to it are to be\nfound in the cognate languages, and it is perhaps the origin of Old\nScratch, a popular English name of the devil.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is, chiefly in Southern Germany, a species of beings that\ngreatly resemble the Dwarfs. They are called Wichtlein (_Little\nWights_), and are about three quarters of an ell high. Their\nappearance is that of old men with long beards. They haunt the mines,\nand are dressed like miners, with a white hood to their shirts and\nleather aprons, and are provided with lanterns, mallets, and hammers.\nThey amuse themselves with pelting the workmen with small stones, but\ndo them no injury, except when they are abused and cursed by them.\n\nThey show themselves most especially in places where there is an\nabundance of ore, and the miners are always glad to see them; they\nflit about in the pits and shafts, and appear to work very hard,\nthough they in reality do nothing. Sometimes they seem as if working a\nvein, at other times putting the ore into buckets, at other times\nworking at the windlass, but all is mere show. They frequently call,\nand when one comes there is no one to be seen.\n\nAt Kuttenburg, in Bohemia, the Wichtlein have been seen in great\nnumbers. They announce the death of a miner by knocking three times,\nand when any misfortune is about to happen they are heard digging,\npounding, and imitating all other kinds of work. At times they make a\nnoise, as if they were smiths labouring very hard at the anvil, hence\nthe Bohemians call them Haus-Schmiedlein (_Little House-smiths_).\n\nIn Istria the miners set, every day, in a particular place, a little\npot with food in it for them. They also at certain times in each year\nbuy a little red coat, the size of a small boy's, and make the\nWichtlein a present of it. If they neglect this, the little people\ngrow very angry.[277]\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn Southern Germany they believe in a species of beings somewhat like\nthe Dwarfs, called Wild, Wood, Timber, and Moss-people. These\ngenerally live together in society, but they sometimes appear singly.\nThey are small in stature, yet somewhat larger than the Elf, being the\nsize of children of three years, grey and old-looking, hairy and clad\nin moss. The women are of a more amiable temper than the men, which\nlast live further back in the woods; they wear green clothes faced\nwith red, and cocked-hats. The women come to the wood-cutters and ask\nthem for something to eat; they also take it away of themselves out of\nthe pots; but they always make a return in some way or other, often by\ngiving good advice. Sometimes they help people in their cooking or\nwashing and haymaking, and they feed the cattle. They are fond of\ncoming where people are baking, and beg of them to bake for them also\na piece of dough the size of half a mill-stone, and to leave it in a\ncertain place. They sometimes, in return, bring some of their own\nbaking to the ploughman, which they lay in the furrow or on the\nplough, and they are greatly offended if it is rejected. The\nwood-woman sometimes comes with a broken wheel-barrow, and begs to\nhave the wheel repaired, and she pays by the chips which turn into\ngold, or she gives to knitters a ball of thread which is never ended.\nA woman who good-naturedly gave her breast to a crying Wood-child, was\nrewarded by its mother by a gift of the bark on which it was lying.\nShe broke a splinter off it and threw it into her faggot, and on\nreaching home she found it was pure gold. Their lives are attached,\nlike those of the Hamadryads, to the trees, and if any one causes by\nfriction the inner bark to loosen a Wood-woman dies.\n\nTheir great enemy is the Wild-Huntsman, who driving invisibly through\nthe air pursues and kills them. A peasant one time hearing the usual\nbaying and cheering in a wood, would join in the cry. Next morning he\nfound hanging at his stable-door a quarter of a green Moss-woman as his\nshare of the game. When the woodmen are felling timber they cut three\ncrosses in a spot of the tree that is to be hewn, and the Moss-women sit\nin the middle of these and so are safe from the Wild-Huntsman.[278]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following account of the popular belief in the parts of Germany\nadjacent to Jutland has been given by a late writer.[279]\n\nIn Friesland the Dwarfs are named Oennereeske, in some of the islands\nOennerb\u00e4nske, and in Holstein Unnerorske.[280] The same stories are\ntold of them as of the Dwarfs and Fairies elsewhere. They take away,\nand keep for long periods, girls with whom they have fallen in love;\nthey steal children and leave changelings in their stead, the remedy\nagainst which is to lay a bible under the child's pillow; they lend\nand borrow pots, plates, and such like, sometimes lending money with\nor even without interest; they aid to build houses and churches; help\nthe peasant when his cart has stuck in the mire, and will bring him\nwater and pancakes to refresh him when at work in the fields.\n\n\n\n _The Dwarf Husband._\n\nA poor girl went out one day and as she was passing by a hill she\nheard a Dwarf hammering away inside of it, for they are handy smiths,\nand singing at his work. She was so pleased with the song, that she\ncould not refrain from wishing aloud that she could sing like him, and\nlive like him under the ground. Scarcely had she expressed the wish\nwhen the singing ceased, and a voice came out of the hill, saying,\n\"Should you like to live with us?\" \"To be sure I should,\" replied the\ngirl, who probably had no very happy life of it above ground.\nInstantly the Dwarf came out of the hill and made a declaration of\nlove, and a proffer of his hand and a share in his subterranean\nwealth. She accepted the offer and lived very comfortably with him, as\nhe proved an excellent little husband.\n\n\n _Inge of Rantum._\n\nThe Friesland girls are, however, rather shy of these matches, and if\nthey have unwarily been drawn into an engagement they try to get out\nof it if they possibly can.\n\nA girl named Inge of Rantum had some way or other got into an\nengagement with one of the Underground people. The wedding-day was\nactually fixed, and she could only be released from her bond on one\ncondition--that of being able, before it came, to tell the real name\nof her lover. All her efforts to that effect were in vain, the dreaded\nday was fast approaching and she fell into deep melancholy. On the\nmorning of her wedding-day she went out and strolled in sorrowful mood\nthrough the fields, saying to herself, as she plucked some flowers,\n\"Far happier are these flowers than I.\" As she was stooping to gather\nthem, she thought she heard a noise under the ground. She listened and\nrecognised it as the voice at her lover, who, in the excess of his joy\nat the arrival of his wedding-day, was frolicking and singing, \"To-day\nI must bake and boil and roast and broil and wash and brew; for this\nis my wedding-day. My bride is the fair Inge of Rantum, and my name is\nEkke Nekkepem. Hurrah! Nobody knows _that_ but myself!\" \"Aye, but _I_\nknow it too!\" said Inge softly to herself, and she placed her nosegay\nin her bosom and went home. Toward evening came the Dwarf to claim his\nbride. \"Many thanks, dear Ekke Nekkepem,\" said she, \"but if you please\nI would rather stay where I am.\" The smiling face of the bridegroom\ngrew dark as thunder, but he recollected how he had divulged his\nsecret, and saw that the affair was past remedy.[281]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Nis of Jutland is called Puk[282] in Friesland. Like him he wears\na pointed red cap, with a long grey or green jacket, and slippers on\nhis feet. His usual abode is under the roof, and he goes in and out\neither through a broken window, which is never mended, or through some\nother aperture left on purpose for him. A bowl of groute must be left\non the floor for him every evening, and he is very angry if there\nshould be no butter in it. When well treated he makes himself very\nuseful by cleaning up the house, and tending the cattle. He sometimes\namuses himself by playing tricks on the servants, tickling, for\nexample, their noses when they are asleep, or pulling off the\nbed-clothes. Stories are told of the Puk, similar to some above\nrelated of the Juttish Nis.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[260] Another term is Wicht and its dim. Wichtlein, answering to the\nScandinavian V\u00e6ttr and the Anglo-Saxon _wiht_, English _wight_, all of\nwhich signify a being, a person, and also a thing in general. Thus our\nwords _aught_ and _naught_ were _anwiht_ and _nawiht_.\n\n[261] See Grimm's Deutsche Sagen, vol. i. p. 38. As this work is our\nchief authority for the Fairy Mythology of Germany, our materials are\nto be considered as taken from it, unless when otherwise expressed.\n\n[262] In Lusatia (Lausatz) if not in the rest of Germany, the same idea\nof the Dwarfs being fallen angels, prevails as in other countries: see\nthe tale of the Fairies'-sabbath in the work quoted above, p. 179.\n\n[263] This tale is given by MM. Grimm, from the Brixener Volksbuch.\n1782.\n\n[264] Related by Hammelmann in the Oldenburg Chronicle, by Pr\u00e6torius,\nBr\u00e4uner, and others.\n\n[265]\n\n _Fr\u00fchmorgens eh die Sonn aufgeht\n Schon alles vor dem Berge steht._\n\n\n[266] This tale was orally related to MM. Grimm in Saxony. They do not\nmention the narrator's rank in life.\n\n[267]\n\n _Dat is gaut dat de b\u00fcerkem dat nich weit\n Dat de sunne \u00fcm tw\u00f6lwe up geit._\n\n\n[268] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 434. Both legends are in the Low-Saxon\ndialect.\n\n[269] The terms used in the original are _Wichtelm\u00e4nner_,\n_Wichtelm\u00e4nnerchen_, and _Wichtel_.\n\n[270] The Saxon \u00f3 seems to answer to the Anglo-Saxon [Old English:\nIg], Irish _Inis_: see below, _Ireland_.\n\n[271] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 428. The latter story is in the\nLow-Saxon dialect.\n\n[272] In Scandinavia the Dwarfs used to borrow beer, even a barrel at\na time, which one of them would carry off on his shoulders, Thiele i.\n121. In the Highlands of Scotland, a firlot of meal. In all cases they\npaid honestly. On one occasion, a dwarf came to a lady named Fru\n(_Mrs._) Mett\u00e8 of Overgaard, in Jutland, and asked her to lend her\nsilk gown to Fru Mett\u00e8 of Undergaard, for her wedding. She gave it,\nbut as it was not returned as soon as she expected, she went to the\nhill and demanded it aloud. The hill-man brought it out to her all\nspotted with wax, and told her that if she had not been so impatient,\nevery spot on it would have been a diamond. Thiele iii. 48.\n\nThe Vends of L\u00fcneburg, we are told, called the underground folk\nG\u00f6rzoni (from _gora_, hill), and the hills are still shown in which\nthey dwelt. They used to borrow bread from people; they intimated\ntheir desire invisibly, and people used to lay it for them outside of\nthe door. In the evening they returned it, knocking at the window, and\nleaving an additional cake to express their thankfulness. Grimm, Deut.\nMythol., p. 423.\n\n[273] See above, p. 225.\n\n[274] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 437.\n\n[275] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 453.\n\n[276] See Grimm, _ut sup._, p. 447 _seq._\n\n[277] Deutsche Sagen, from Pr\u00e6torius., Agricola, and others.\n\n[278] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., pp. 451, 881.\n\n[279] Kohl, Die Marschen und Inseln der Herzogth\u00fcmer Schleswig und\nHolstein.\n\n[280] These terms all signify _Underground folk_.\n\n[281] See above, p. 116.\n\n[282] The Puk is also called Niss-Puk, Huis-Puk, Niske, Niske-Puk,\nNise-Bok, Niss-Kuk--all compounds or corruptions of Nisse and Puk. He\nis also named from his racketing and noise Pulter-Claas, _i. e._ Nick\nKnocker, (the German Poltergeist,) Claas being the abbreviation of\nNicolaus, Niclas; see above, p. 139, for this same origin of Nisse.\n\n\n\n\n THE WILD-WOMEN.\n\n Ein M\u00e4gdlein kam im Abendglanz,\n Wie ich's noch nie gefunden.\n SCHREIBER.\n\n A maiden came in Evening's glow,\n Such as I ne'er have met.\n\n\nThe Wilde Frauen or Wild-women of Germany bear a very strong\nresemblance to the Elle-maids of Scandinavia. Like them they are\nbeautiful, have fine flowing hair, live within hills, and only appear\nsingly or in the society of each other. They partake of the piety of\ncharacter we find among the German Dwarfs.\n\nThe celebrated Wunderberg, or Underberg, on the great moor near\nSalzburg, is the chief haunt of the Wild-women. The Wunderberg is said\nto be quite hollow, and supplied with stately palaces, churches,\nmonasteries, gardens, and springs of gold and silver. Its inhabitants,\nbeside the Wild-women, are little men, who have charge of the treasures\nit contains, and who at midnight repair to Salzburg to perform their\ndevotions in the cathedral; giants, who used to come to the church of\nGr\u00f6dich and exhort the people to lead a godly and pious life; and the\ngreat emperor Charles V., with golden crown and sceptre, attended by\nknights and lords. His grey beard has twice encompassed the table at\nwhich he sits, and when it has the third time grown round it, the end of\nthe world and the appearance of the Anti-christ will take place.[283]\n\nThe following is the only account we have of the Wild-women.\n\nThe inhabitants of the village of Gr\u00f6dich and the peasantry of the\nneighbourhood assert that frequently, about the year 1753, the\nWild-women used to come out of the Wunderberg to the boys and girls\nthat were keeping the cattle near the hole within Glanegg, and give\nthem bread to eat.\n\nThe Wild-women used frequently to come to where the people were\nreaping. They came down early in the morning, and in the evening, when\nthe people left off work, they went back into the Wunderberg without\npartaking of the supper.\n\nIt happened once near this hill, that a little boy was sitting on a\nhorse which his father had tethered on the headland of the field. Then\ncame the Wild-women out of the hill and wanted to take away the boy by\nforce. But the father, who was well acquainted with the secrets of\nthis hill, and what used to occur there, without any dread hasted up\nto the women and took the boy from them, with these words: \"What makes\nyou presume to come so often out of the hill, and now to take away my\nchild with you? What do you want to do with him?\" The Wild-women\nanswered: \"He will be better with us, and have better care taken of\nhim than at home. We shall be very fond of the boy, and he will meet\nwith no injury.\" But the father would not let the boy out of his\nhands, and the Wild-women went away weeping bitterly.\n\nOne time the Wild-women came out of the Wunderberg, near the place\ncalled the Kugelmill, which is prettily situated on the side of this\nhill, and took away a boy who was keeping cattle. This boy, whom every\none knew, was seen about a year after by some wood-cutters, in a green\ndress, and sitting on a block of this hill. Next day they took his\nparents with them, intending to search the hill for him, but they all\nwent about it to no purpose, for the boy never appeared any more.\n\nIt frequently has happened that a Wild-woman out of the Wunderberg has\ngone toward the village of Anif, which is better than a mile from the\nhill. She used to make holes and beds for herself in the ground. She\nhad uncommonly long and beautiful hair, which reached nearly to the\nsoles of her feet. A peasant belonging to the village often saw this\nwoman going and coming, and he fell deeply in love with her,\nespecially on account of her beautiful hair. He could not refrain from\ngoing up to her, and he gazed on her with delight; and at last, in his\nsimplicity, he laid himself, without any repugnance, down by her side.\nThe second night the Wild-woman asked him if he had not a wife\nalready? The peasant however denied his wife, and said he had not.\n\nHis wife meanwhile was greatly puzzled to think where it was that her\nhusband went every evening, and slept every night. She therefore watched\nhim and found him in the field sleeping near the Wild-woman:--\"Oh, God\npreserve thy beautiful hair!\" said she to the Wild-woman; \"what are you\ndoing there?\"[284] With these words the peasant's wife retired and left\nthem, and her husband was greatly frightened at it. But the Wild-woman\nupbraided him with his false denial, and said to him, \"Had your wife\nmanifested hatred and spite against me, you would now be unfortunate,\nand would never leave this place; but since your wife was not malicious,\nlove her from henceforth, and dwell with her faithfully, and never\nventure more to come here, for it is written, 'Let every one live\nfaithfully with his wedded wife,' though the force of this commandment\nwill greatly decrease, and with it all the temporal prosperity of\nmarried people. Take this shoefull of money from me: go home, and look\nno more about you.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs the fair maiden who originally possessed the famed Oldenburg Horn\nwas probably a Wild-woman, we will place the story of it here.\n\n\n _The Oldenburg Horn._\n\nIn the time of count Otto of Oldenburg, who succeeded his father\nUlrich in the year 967, a wonderful transaction occurred. For as he,\nbeing a good sportsman, and one who took great delight in the chase,\nhad set out early one day with his nobles and attendants, and had\nhunted in the wood of Bernefeuer, and the count himself had put up a\nroe, and followed him alone from the wood of Bernefeuer to the\nOsenberg, and with his white horse stood on the top of the hill, and\nendeavoured to trace the game, he said to himself, for it was an\nexcessively hot day, \"Oh God! if one had now but a cool drink!\"\n\nNo sooner had the count spoken the word than the Osenberg opened, and\nout of the cleft there came a beautiful maiden, fairly adorned and\nhandsomely dressed, and with her beautiful hair divided on her\nshoulders, and a garland on her head. And she had a rich silver vessel,\nthat was gilded and shaped like a hunter's horn, well and ingeniously\nmade, granulated, and fairly ornamented. It was adorned with various\nkinds of arms that are now but little known, and with strange unknown\ninscriptions and ingenious figures, and it was soldered together and\nadorned in the same manner as the old antiques, and it was beautifully\nand ingeniously wrought. This horn the maiden held in her hand, and it\nwas full, and she gave it into the hand of the count, and prayed that\nthe count would drink out of it to refresh himself therewith.\n\nWhen the count had received and taken this gilded silver horn from the\nmaiden, and had opened it and looked into it, the drink, or whatever\nit was that was in it, when he shook it, did not please him, and he\ntherefore refused to drink for the maiden. Whereupon the maiden said,\n\"My dear lord, drink of it upon my faith, for it will do you no harm,\nbut will be of advantage;\" adding farther, that if the count would\ndrink out of it, it would go well with him, count Otto, and his, and\nalso with the whole house of Oldenburg after him, and that the whole\ncountry would improve and flourish. But if the count would place no\nfaith in her, and would not drink of it, then for the future, in the\nsucceeding family of Oldenburg, there would remain no unity. But when\nthe count gave no heed to what she said, but, as was not without\nreason, considered with himself a long time whether he should drink or\nnot, he held the silver gilded horn in his hand and swung it behind\nhim, and poured it out, and some of its contents sprinkled the white\nhorse, and where it fell and wetted him the hair all came off.\n\nWhen the maiden saw this, she desired to have her horn back again, but\nthe count made speed down the hill with the horn, which he held in his\nhand, and when he looked round he observed that the maiden was gone\ninto the hill again. And when terror seized on the count on account of\nthis, he laid spurs to his horse, and at full speed hasted to join his\nattendants, and informed them of what had befallen him. He moreover\nshowed them the silver gilded horn, and took it with him to Oldenburg,\nand the same horn, as it was obtained in so wonderful a manner, was\npreserved as a costly jewel by him, and by all the succeeding reigning\nprinces of the house of Oldenburg.[285]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[283] All relating to the Wild-women and the Wunderberg is given by MM.\nGrimm from the Brixener Volksbuch, 1782. For an account of the various\n_Bergentr\u00fcckte Helden_, see the Deutsche Mythologie, ch. xxxii.\n\n[284] In a similar tradition (Strack, Beschr. von Eilsen, p. 120) the\nwife cuts off one of her fair long tresses, and is afterwards most\nearnestly conjured by her to restore it.\n\n[285] Given by B\u00fcsching (Volks-sagen M\u00e4rchen und Legenden. Leipzig,\n1820), from Hammelmann's Oldenburg Chronicle, 1599. Mme. Naubert has,\nin the second volume of her Volksm\u00e4rchen, wrought it up into a tale of\n130 pages.\n\nThe Oldenburg horn, or what is called such, is now in the King of\nDenmark's collection.\n\n\n\n\n KOBOLDS.[286]\n\n Von Kobolt sang die Amme mir\n Von Kobolt sing' ich wieder.\n VON HALEM.\n\n Of Kobold sang my nurse to me;\n Of Kobold I too sing.\n\n\nThe Kobold is exactly the same being as the Danish Nis, and Scottish\nBrownie, and English Hobgoblin.[287] He performs the very same\nservices for the family to whom he attaches himself.\n\nWhen the Kobold is about coming into any place, he first makes trial\nof the disposition of the family in this way. He brings chips and\nsaw-dust into the house, and throws dirt into the milk vessels. If the\nmaster of the house takes care that the chips are not scattered about,\nand that the dirt is left in the vessels, and the milk drunk out of\nthem, the Kobold comes and stays in the house as long as there is one\nof the family alive.\n\nThe change of servants does not affect the Kobold, who still remains.\nThe maid who is going away must recommend her successor to take care\nof him, and treat him well. If she does not so, things go ill with her\ntill she is also obliged to leave the place.\n\nThe history of the celebrated Hinzelmann will give most full and\nsatisfactory information respecting the nature and properties of\nKobolds; for such he was, though he used constantly to deny it. His\nhistory was written at considerable length by a pious minister, named\nFeldmann. MM. Grimm gives us the following abridgement of it.[288]\n\n\n _Hinzelmann._[289]\n\nA wonderful house-spirit haunted for a long time the old castle of\nHudem\u00fchlen, situated in the country of L\u00fcneburg, not far from the Aller,\nand of which there is nothing remaining but the walls. It was in the\nyear 1584 that he first notified his presence, by knocking and making\nvarious noises. Soon after he began to converse with the servants in the\ndaylight. They were at first terrified at hearing a voice and seeing\nnothing, but by degrees they became accustomed to it and thought no more\nof it. At last he became quite courageous, and began to speak to the\nmaster of the house himself, and used, in the middle of the day and in\nthe evening, to carry on conversations of various kinds; and at\nmeal-times he discoursed with those who were present, whether strangers\nor belonging to the family. When all fear of him was gone he became\nquite friendly and intimate: he sang, laughed, and went on with every\nkind of sport, so long as no one vexed him: and his voice was on these\noccasions soft and tender like that of a boy or maiden. When he was\nasked whence he came, and what he had to do in that place, he said he\nwas come from the Bohemian mountains, and that his companions were in\nthe Bohemian forest--that they would not tolerate him, and that he was\nin consequence obliged to retire and take refuge with good people till\nhis affairs should be in a better condition. He added that his name was\nHinzelmann, but that he was also called L\u00fcring; and that he had a wife\nwhose name was Hille Bingels. When the time for it was come he would let\nhimself he seen in his real shape, but that at present it was not\nconvenient for him to do so. In all other respects he was, he said, as\ngood and honest a fellow as need be.\n\nThe master of the house, when he saw that the spirit attached himself\nmore and more to him, began to get frightened, and knew not how he\nshould get rid of him. By the advice of his friends he determined at\nlast to leave his castle for some time, and set out for Hanover. On\nthe road they observed a white feather that flew beside the carriage,\nbut no one knew what it signified. When he arrived at Hanover he\nmissed a valuable gold chain that he wore about his neck, and his\nsuspicions fell upon the servants of the house. But the innkeeper took\nthe part of his servants, and demanded satisfaction for the\ndiscreditable charge. The nobleman, who could prove nothing against\nthem, sat in his chamber in bad spirits, thinking how he should manage\nto get himself out of this unpleasant affair, when all of a sudden he\nheard Hinzelmann's voice beside him, saying, \"Why are you so sad? If\nthere is anything gone wrong with you tell it to me, and I shall\nperhaps know how to assist you. If I were to make a guess, I should\nsay that you are fretting on account of a chain you have lost.\" \"What\nare you doing here?\" replied the terrified nobleman; \"why have you\nfollowed me? Do you know anything about the chain?\" \"Yes, indeed,\"\nsaid Hinzelmann, \"I have followed you, and I kept you company on the\nroad, and was always present: did you not see me? why, I was the white\nfeather that flew beside the carriage. And now I'll tell you where the\nchain is:--Search under the pillow of your bed, and there you'll find\nit.\" The chain was found where he said; but the mind of the nobleman\nbecame still more uneasy, and he asked him in an angry tone why he had\nbrought him into a quarrel with the landlord on account of the chain,\nsince he was the cause of his leaving his own house. Hinzelmann\nreplied, \"Why do you retire from me? I can easily follow you anywhere,\nand be where you are. It is much better for you to return to your own\nestate, and not be quitting it on my account. You see well that if I\nwished it I could take away all you have, but I am not inclined to do\nso.\" The nobleman thought some time of it, and at last came to the\nresolution of returning home, and trusting in God not to retreat a\nstep from the spirit.\n\nAt home in Hudem\u00fchlen, Hinzelmann now showed himself extremely\nobliging, and active and industrious at every kind of work. He used to\ntoil every night in the kitchen; and if the cook, in the evening after\nsupper, left the plates and dishes lying in a heap without being\nwashed, next morning they were all nice and clean, shining like\nlooking-glasses, and put up in proper order. She therefore might\ndepend upon him, and go to bed in the evening after supper without\ngiving herself any concern about them. In like manner nothing was ever\nlost in the kitchen; and if anything was astray Hinzelmann knew\nimmediately where to find it, in whatever corner it was hid, and gave\nit into the hands of the owner. If strangers were expected, the spirit\nlet himself be heard in a particular manner, and his labours were\ncontinued the whole night long: he scoured the pots and kettles,\nwashed the dishes, cleaned the pails and tubs. The cook was grateful\nto him for all this, and not only did what he desired, but cheerfully\ngot ready his sweet milk for his breakfast. He took also the charge of\nsuperintending the other men and maids. He noticed how they got\nthrough their business; and when they were at work he encouraged them\nwith good words to be industrious. But if any one was inattentive to\nwhat he said, he caught up a stick and communicated his instructions\nby laying on heartily with it. He frequently warned the maids of their\nmistress's displeasure, and reminded them of some piece of work which\nthey should set about doing. He was equally busy in the stable: he\nattended to the horses, and curried them carefully, so that they were\nas smooth in their coats as an eel; they also throve and improved so\nmuch, in next to no time, that everybody wondered at it.\n\nHis chamber was in the upper story on the right hand side, and his\nfurniture consisted of only three articles. Imprimis, of a settle or\narm-chair, which he plaited very neatly for himself of straw of\ndifferent colours, full of handsome figures and crosses, which no one\nlooked upon without admiration. Secondly, of a little round table,\nwhich was on his repeated entreaties made and put there. Thirdly, of a\nbed and bedstead, which he had also expressed a wish for. There never\nwas any trace found as if a man had lain in it; there could only be\nperceived a very small depression, as if a cat had been there. The\nservants, especially the cook, were obliged every day to prepare a\ndish full of sweet milk, with crums of wheaten bread, and place it\nupon his little table; and it was soon after eaten up clean. He\nsometimes used to come to the table of the master of the house, and\nthey were obliged to put a chair and a plate for him at a particular\nplace. Whoever was helping, put his food on his plate, and if that was\nforgotten he fell into a great passion. What was put on his plate\nvanished, and a glass full of wine was taken away for some time, and\nwas then set again in its place empty. But the food was afterwards\nfound lying under the benches, or in a corner of the room.\n\nIn the society of young people Hinzelmann was extremely cheerful. He\nsang and made verses: one of his most usual ones was,\n\n If thou here wilt let me stay,\n Good luck shalt thou have alway;\n But if hence thou wilt me chase,\n Luck will ne'er come near the place.\n\nHe used also to repeat the songs and sayings of other people by way of\namusement or to attract their attention. The minister Feldmann was\nonce invited to Hudem\u00fchlen, and when he came to the door he heard some\none above in the hall singing, shouting, and making every sort of\nnoise, which made him think that some strangers had come the evening\nbefore, and were lodged above, and making themselves merry. He\ntherefore said to the steward, who was standing in the court after\nhaving cut up some wood, \"John, what guests have you above there?\" The\nsteward answered, \"We have no strangers; it is only our Hinzelmann who\nis amusing himself; there is not a living soul else in the hall.\" When\nthe minister went up into the hall, Hinzelmann sang out to him\n\n My thumb, my thumb,\n And my elbow are two.\n\nThe minister wondered at this unusual kind of song, and he said to\nHinzelmann, \"What sort of music is that you come to meet me with?\"\n\"Why,\" replied Hinzelmann, \"it was from yourself I learned the song,\nfor you have often sung it, and it is only a few days since I heard it\nfrom you, when you were in a certain place at a christening.\"\n\nHinzelmann was fond of playing tricks, but he never hurt any one by\nthem. He used to set servants and workmen by the ears as they sat\ndrinking in the evening, and took great delight then in looking at the\nsport. When any one of them was well warmed with liquor, and let\nanything fall under the table and stooped to take it up, Hinzelmann\nwould give him a good box on the ear from behind, and at the same time\npinch his neighbour's leg. Then the two attacked each other, first\nwith words and then with blows; the rest joined in the scuffle, and\nthey dealt about their blows, and were repaid in kind; and next\nmorning black eyes and swelled faces bore testimony of the fray. But\nHinzelmann's very heart was delighted at it, and he used afterwards to\ntell how it was he that began it, on purpose to set them fighting. He\nhowever always took care so to order matters that no one should run\nany risk of his life.\n\nThere came one time to Hudem\u00fchlen a nobleman who undertook to banish\nHinzelmann. Accordingly, when he remarked that he was in a certain room,\nof which all the doors and windows were shut fast, he had this chamber\nand the whole house also beset with armed men, and went himself with his\ndrawn sword into the room, accompanied by some others. They however saw\nnothing, so they began to cut and thrust left and right in all\ndirections, thinking that if Hinzelmann had a body some blow or other\nmust certainly reach him and kill him; still they could not perceive\nthat their hangers met anything but mere air. When they thought they\nmust have accomplished their task, and were going out of the room tired\nwith their long fencing, just as they opened the door, they saw a figure\nlike that of a black marten, and heard these words, \"Ha, ha! how well\nyou caught me!\" But Hinzelmann afterwards expressed himself very\nbitterly for this insult, and declared, that he would have easily had an\nopportunity of revenging himself, were it not that he wished to spare\nthe two ladies of the house any uneasiness. When this same nobleman not\nlong after went into an empty room in the house, he saw a large snake\nlying coiled up on an unoccupied bed. It instantly vanished, and he\nheard the words of the spirit--\"You were near catching me.\"\n\nAnother nobleman had heard a great deal about Hinzelmann, and he was\ncurious to get some personal knowledge of him. He came accordingly to\nHudem\u00fchlen, and his wish was not long ungratified, for the spirit let\nhimself be heard from a corner of the room where there was a large\ncupboard, in which were standing some empty wine-jugs with long necks.\nAs the voice was soft and delicate, and somewhat hoarse, as if it came\nout of a hollow vessel, the nobleman thought it likely that he was\nsitting in one of these jugs, so he got up and ran and caught them up,\nand went to stop them, thinking in this way to catch the spirit. While\nhe was thus engaged, Hinzelmann began to laugh aloud, and cried out,\n\"If I had not heard long ago from other people that you were a fool, I\nmight now have known it of myself, since you thought I was sitting in\nan empty jug, and went to cover it up with your hand, as if you had me\ncaught. I don't think you worth the trouble, or I would have given\nyou, long since, such a lesson, that you should remember me long\nenough. But before long you will get a slight ducking.\" He then became\nsilent, and did not let himself be heard any more so long as the\nnobleman stayed. Whether he fell into the water, as Hinzelmann\nthreatened him, is not said, but it is probable he did.\n\nThere came, too, an exorcist to banish him. When he began his\nconjuration with his magic words, Hinzelmann was at first quite quiet,\nand did not let himself be heard at all, but when he was going to read\nthe most powerful sentences against him, he snatched the book out of\nhis hand, tore it to pieces, so that the leaves flew about the room,\ncaught hold of the exorcist himself, and squeezed and scratched him\ntill he ran away frightened out of his wits. He complained greatly of\nthis treatment, and said, \"I am a Christian, like any other man, and I\nhope to be saved.\" When he was asked if he knew the Kobolds and\nKnocking-spirits (_Polter Geister_), he answered, \"What have these to\ndo with me? They are the Devil's spectres, and I do not belong to\nthem. No one has any evil, but rather good, to expect from me. Let me\nalone and you will have luck in everything; the cattle will thrive,\nyour substance will increase, and everything will go on well.\"\n\nProfligacy and vice were quite displeasing to him; he used frequently to\nscold severely one of the family for his stinginess, and told the rest\nthat he could not endure him on account of it. Another he upbraided with\nhis pride, which he said he hated from his heart. When some one once\nsaid to him that if he would be a good Christian, he should call upon\nGod, and say Christian prayers, he began the Lord's Prayer, and went\nthrough it till he came to the last petition, when he murmured \"Deliver\nus from the Evil one\" quite low. He also repeated the Creed, but in a\nbroken and stammering manner, for when he came to the words, \"I believe\nin the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life\neverlasting,\" he pronounced them in so hoarse and indistinct a voice\nthat no one could rightly hear and understand him. The minister of\nEicheloke, Mr. Feldmann, said that his father was invited to dinner to\nHudem\u00fchlen at Whitsuntide, where he heard Hinzelmann go through the\nwhole of the beautiful hymn, \"_Nun bitten wir den heiligen Geist_,\" in a\nvery high but not unpleasant voice, like that of a girl or a young boy.\nNay, he sang not merely this, but several other spiritual songs also\nwhen requested, especially by those whom he regarded as his friends, and\nwith whom he was on terms of intimacy.\n\nOn the other hand, he was extremely angry when he was not treated with\nrespect and as a Christian. A nobleman of the family of Mandelsloh once\ncame to Hudem\u00fchlen. This nobleman was highly respected for his learning;\nhe was a canon of the cathedral of Verden, and had been ambassador to\nthe Elector of Brandenburg and the King of Denmark. When he heard of the\nhouse-spirit, and that he expected to be treated as a Christian, he said\nhe could not believe that all was right with him: he was far more\ninclined to regard him as the Enemy and the Devil, for that God had\nnever made men of that kind and form, that angels praised God their\nLord, and guarded and protected men, with which the knocking and\npounding and strange proceedings of the House-spirit did not accord.\nHinzelmann, who had not let himself be heard since his arrival, now made\na noise and cried out, \"What say you Barthold? (that was the nobleman's\nname) am I the Enemy? I advise you not to say too much, or I will show\nyou another trick, and teach you to deliver a better judgment of me\nanother time.\" The nobleman was frightened when he heard a voice without\nseeing any one, broke off the discourse, and would hear nothing more of\nhim, but left him in possession of his dignity.\n\nAnother time a nobleman came there, who, when he saw a chair and plate\nlaid for Hinzelmann at dinner, refused to pledge him. At this the\nspirit was offended, and he said, \"I am as honest and good a fellow as\nhe is; why then does he not drink to me?\" To this the nobleman\nreplied, \"Depart hence, and go drink with thy infernal companions;\nthou hast nothing to do here.\" When Hinzelmann heard that, he became\nso highly exasperated, that he seized him by the strap with which,\naccording to the custom of those days, his cloak was fastened under\nhis chin, dragged him to the ground, and choked and pressed him in\nsuch a manner that all that were present were in pain lest he should\nkill him; and the gentleman did not come to himself for some hours\nafter the spirit had left him.\n\nAnother time an esteemed friend of the master of Hudem\u00fchlen was\ntravelling that way, but he hesitated to come in on account of the\nHouse-spirit, of whose mischievous turn he had heard a great deal, and\nsent his servant to inform the family that he could not call upon\nthem. The master of the house sent out and pressed him very much to\ncome in and dine there, but the stranger politely excused himself, by\nsaying that it was not in his power to stop; he, however, added, that\nhe was too much terrified at the idea of sitting at the same table\neating and drinking with a devil. Hinzelmann, it appears, was present\nat this conversation out in the road; for when the stranger had thus\nrefused they heard these words, \"Wait, my good fellow, you shall be\nwell paid for this talk.\" Accordingly, when the traveller went on and\ncame to the bridge over the Meisse, the horses took fright, entangled\nthemselves in the harness, and horses, carriage and all, were within\nan ace of tumbling down into the water. When everything had been set\nto rights, and the carriage had got on about a gun-shot, it was turned\nover in the sand on the level ground, without, however, those who\nwere in it receiving any farther injury.\n\nHinzelmann was fond of society, but the society he chiefly delighted\nin was that of females, and he was to them very friendly and affable.\nThere were two young ladies at Hudem\u00fchlen, named Anne and Catherine,\nto whom he was particularly attached; he used to make his complaint to\nthem whenever he was angry at anything, and held, besides,\nconversations of every kind with them. Whenever they travelled he\nwould not quit them, but accompanied them everywhere in the shape of a\nwhite feather. When they went to sleep at night, he lay beneath, at\ntheir feet, outside the clothes, and in the morning there was a little\nhole to be seen, as if a little dog had lain there.\n\nNeither of these ladies ever married; for Hinzelmann frightened away\ntheir wooers. Matters had frequently gone so far as the engagement,\nbut the spirit always contrived to have it broken off. One lover he\nwould make all bewildered and confused when he was about to address\nthe lady, so that he did not know what he should say. In another he\nwould excite such fear as to make him quiver and tremble. But his\nusual way was to make a writing appear before their eyes on the\nopposite white wall, with these words in golden letters: \"Take maid\nAnne, and leave me maid Catherine.\" But if any one came to court lady\nAnne, the golden writing changed all at once, and became \"Take maid\nCatherine, and leave me maid Anne.\" If any one did not change his\ncourse for this, but persisted in his purpose, and happened to spend\nthe night in the house, he terrified and tormented him so in the dark\nwith knocking and flinging and pounding, that he laid aside all\nwedding-thoughts, and was right glad to get away with a whole skin.\nSome, when they were on their way back, he tumbled, themselves and\ntheir horses, over and over, that they thought their necks and legs\nwould be broken, and yet knew not how it had happened to them. In\nconsequence of this, the two ladies remained unmarried; they arrived\nto a great age, and died within a week of each other.\n\nOne of these ladies once sent a servant from Hudem\u00fchlen to Rethem to\nbuy different articles; while he was away Hinzelmann began suddenly to\nclapper in the ladies' chamber like a stork, and then said, \"Maid\nAnne, you must go look for your things to-day in the mill-stream.\" She\ndid not know what this meant; but the servant soon came in, and\nrelated, that as he was on his way home, he had seen a stork sitting\nat no great distance from him, which he shot at, and it seemed to him\nas if he had hit it, but that the stork had remained sitting, and at\nlast began to clap its wings aloud and then flew away. It was now\nplain that Hinzelmann knew this, and his prophecy also soon came to\npass. For the servant, who was a little intoxicated, wanted to wash\nhis horse, who was covered with sweat and dirt, and he rode him into\nthe mill-stream in front of the castle; but owing to his drunkenness\nhe missed the right place, and got into a deep hole, where, not being\nable to keep his seat on the horse, he fell off and was drowned. He\nhad not delivered the things he had brought with him; so they and the\nbody together were fished up out of the stream.\n\nHinzelmann also informed and warned others of the future. There came\nto Hudem\u00fchlen a colonel, who was greatly esteemed by Christian III.\nKing of Denmark, and who had done good service in the wars with the\ntown of L\u00fcbeck. He was a good shot and passionately fond of the chase,\nand used to spend many hours in the neighbouring woods after the harts\nand the wild sows. As he was getting ready one day to go to the chase\nas usual, Hinzelmann came and said, \"Thomas (that was his name), I\nwarn you to be cautious how you shoot, or you will before long meet\nwith a mishap.\" The colonel took no notice of this, and thought it\nmeant nothing. But a few days after, as he was firing at a roe, his\ngun burst, and took the thumb off his left hand. When this occurred,\nHinzelmann was instantly by his side, and said, \"See, now, you have\ngot what I warned you of! If you had refrained from shooting this\ntime, this mischance would not have befallen you.\"\n\nAnother time a certain lord Falkenberg, who was a soldier, was on a\nvisit at Hudem\u00fchlen. He was a lively, jolly man, and he began to play\ntricks on Hinzelmann, and to mock and jeer him. Hinzelmann would not\nlong put up with this, and he began to exhibit signs of great\ndissatisfaction. At last he said,--\"Falkenberg, you are making very\nmerry now at my expense, but wait till you come to Magdeburg, and\nthere your cap will be burst in such a way that you will forget your\njibes and your jeers.\" The nobleman was awed: he was persuaded that\nthese words contained a hidden sense: he broke off the conversation\nwith Hinzelmann, and shortly after departed. Not long after the siege\nof Magdeburg, under the Elector Maurice, commenced, at which this lord\nFalkenberg was present, under a German prince of high rank. The\nbesieged made a gallant resistance, and night and day kept up a firing\nof double-harquebuses, and other kinds of artillery; and it happened\nthat one day Falkenberg's chin was shot away by a ball from a\nfalconet, and three days after he died of the wound, in great agony.\n\nAny one whom the spirit could not endure he used to plague or punish for\nhis vices. He accused the secretary at Hudem\u00fchlen of too much pride,\ntook a great dislike to him on account of it, and night and day gave him\nevery kind of annoyance. He once related with great glee how he had\ngiven the haughty secretary a sound box on the ear. When the secretary\nwas asked about it, and whether the Spirit had been with him, he\nreplied, \"Ay, indeed, he has been with me but too often; this very night\nhe tormented me in such a manner that I could not stand before him.\" He\nhad a love affair with the chamber-maid; and one night as he was in high\nand confidential discourse with her, and they were sitting together in\ngreat joy, thinking that no one could see them but the four walls, the\ncrafty spirit came and drove them asunder, and roughly tumbled the poor\nsecretary out at the door, and then took up a broomstick and laid on him\nwith it, that he made over head and neck for his chamber, and forgot his\nlove altogether. Hinzelmann is said to have made some verses on the\nunfortunate lover, and to have often sung them for his amusement, and\nrepeated them to travellers, laughing heartily at them.\n\nOne time some one at Hudem\u00fchlen was suddenly taken in the evening with a\nviolent fit of the cholic, and a maid was despatched to the cellar to\nfetch some wine, in which the patient was to take his medicine. As the\nmaid was sitting before the cask, and was just going to draw the wine,\nHinzelmann was by her side, and said, \"You will be pleased to recollect\nthat, a few days ago, you scolded me and abused me; by way of punishment\nfor it, you shall spend this night sitting in the cellar. As to the\nsick person, he is in no danger whatever; his pain will be all gone in\nhalf an hour, and the wine would rather injure him. So just stay sitting\nhere till the cellar door is opened.\" The patient waited a long time,\nbut no wine came; another maid was sent down, and she found the cellar\ndoor well secured on the outside with a good padlock, and the maid\nsitting within, who told her that Hinzelmann had fastened her up in that\nway. They wanted to open the cellar and let the maid out, but they could\nnot find a key for the lock, though they searched with the greatest\nindustry. Next morning the cellar was open, and the lock and key lying\nbefore the door. Just as the spirit said, all his pain left the sick man\nin the course of half an hour.\n\nHinzelmann had never shown himself to the master of the house at\nHudem\u00fchlen, and whenever he begged of him that if he was shaped like a\nman, he would let himself be seen by him, he answered, \"that the time\nwas not yet come; that he should wait till it was agreeable to him.\" One\nnight, as the master was lying awake in bed, he heard a rushing noise on\none side of the chamber, and he conjectured that the spirit must be\nthere. So he said \"Hinzelmann, if you are there, answer me.\" \"It is I,\"\nreplied he; \"what do you want?\" As the room was quite light with the\nmoonshine, it seemed to the master as if there was the shadow of a form\nlike that of a child, perceptible in the place from which the sound\nproceeded. As he observed that the spirit was in a very friendly humour,\nhe entered into conversation with him, and said, \"Let me, for this once,\nsee and feel you.\" But Hinzelmann would not: \"Will you reach me your\nhand, at least, that I may know whether you are flesh and bone like a\nman?\" \"No,\" said Hinzelmann; \"I won't trust you; you are a knave; you\nmight catch hold of me, and not let me go any more.\" After a long demur,\nhowever, and after he had promised, on his faith and honour, not to hold\nhim, but to let him go again immediately, he said, \"See, there is my\nhand.\" And as the master caught at it, it seemed to him as if he felt\nthe fingers of the hand of a little child; but the spirit drew it back\nquickly. The master further desired that he would let him feel his face,\nto which he at last consented; and when he touched it, it seemed to him\nas if he had touched teeth, or a fleshless skeleton, and the face drew\nback instantaneously, so that he could not ascertain its exact shape; he\nonly noticed that it, like the hand, was cold, and devoid of vital heat.\n\nThe cook, who was on terms of great intimacy with him, thought that\nshe might venture to make a request of him, though another might not,\nand as she felt a strong desire to see Hinzelmann bodily, whom she\nheard talking every day, and whom she supplied with meat and drink,\nshe prayed him earnestly to grant her that favour; but he would not,\nand said that this was not the right time, but that after some time,\nhe would let himself be seen by any person. This refusal only\nstimulated her desire, and she pressed him more and more not to deny\nher request. He said she would repent of her curiosity if she would\nnot give up her desire; and when all his representations were to no\npurpose, and she would not give over, he at last said to her, \"Come\nto-morrow morning before sun-rise into the cellar, and carry in each\nhand a pail full of water, and your request shall be complied with.\"\nThe maid inquired what the water was for: \"That you will learn,\"\nanswered he; \"without it, the sight of me might be injurious to you.\"\n\nNext morning the cook was ready at peep of dawn, took in each hand a\npail of water, and went down to the cellar. She looked about her\nwithout seeing anything; but as she cast her eyes on the ground she\nperceived a tray, on which was lying a naked child apparently three\nyears old, and two knives sticking crosswise in his heart, and his\nwhole body streaming with blood. The maid was terrified at this sight\nto such a degree, that she lost her senses, and fell in a swoon on the\nground. The spirit immediately took the water that she had brought\nwith her, and poured it all over her head, by which means she came to\nherself again. She looked about for the tray, but all had vanished,\nand she only heard the voice of Hinzelmann, who said. \"You see now how\nneedful the water was; if it had not been at hand you had died here in\nthe cellar. I hope your burning desire to see me is now pretty well\ncooled.\" He often afterwards illuded the cook with this trick, and\ntold it to strangers with great glee and laughter.\n\nHe frequently showed himself to innocent children when at play. The\nminister Feldmann recollected well, that when he was about fourteen\nor fifteen years old, and was not thinking particularly about him, he\nsaw the Spirit in the form of a little boy going up the stairs very\nswiftly. When children were collected about Hudem\u00fchlen house, and were\nplaying with one another, he used to get among them and play with them\nin the shape of a pretty little child, so that all the other children\nsaw him plainly, and when they went home told their parents how, while\nthey were engaged in play, a strange child came to them and amused\nhimself with them. This was confirmed by a maid, who went one time\ninto a room in which four or six children were playing together, and\namong them she saw a strange little boy of a beautiful countenance,\nwith curled yellow hair hanging down his shoulders, and dressed in a\nred silk coat; and while she wanted to observe him more closely, he\ngot out of the party, and disappeared. Hinzelmann let himself be seen\nalso by a fool, named Claus, who was kept there, and used to pursue\nevery sort of diversion with him. When the fool could not anywhere be\nfound, and they asked him afterwards where he had been so long, he\nused to reply, \"I was with the little wee man, and I was playing with\nhim.\" If he was farther asked how big the little man was, he held his\nhand at a height about that of a child of four years.[290]\n\nWhen the time came that the house-spirit was about to depart, he went\nto the master of the house and said to him, \"See, I will make you a\npresent; take care of it, and let it remind you of me.\" He then handed\nhim a little _cross_--it is doubtful from the author's words whether\nof silk (_seide_) or strings (_saiten_)--very prettily plaited. It was\nthe length of a finger, was hollow within, and jingled when it was\nshaken. Secondly, a _straw hat_, which he had made himself, and in\nwhich might be seen forms and figures very ingeniously made in the\nvariously-coloured straw. Thirdly, a leathern _glove_ set with\npearls, which formed wonderful figures. He then subjoined this\nprophecy: \"So long as these things remain unseparated in good\npreservation in your family, so long will your entire race flourish,\nand their good fortune continually increase; but if these presents are\ndivided, lost, or wasted, your race will decrease and sink.\" And when\nhe perceived that the master appeared to set no particular value on\nthe present, he continued: \"I fear that you do not much esteem these\nthings, and will let them go out of your hands; I therefore counsel\nyou to give them in charge to your sisters Anne and Catherine, who\nwill take better care of them.\"\n\nHe accordingly gave the gifts to his sisters, who took them and kept\nthem carefully, and never showed them to any but most particular\nfriends. After their death they reverted to their brother, who took them\nto himself, and with him they remained so long as he lived. He showed\nthem to the minister Feldmann, at his earnest request, during a\nconfidential conversation. When he died, they came to his only daughter\nAdelaide, who was married to L. von H., along with the rest of the\ninheritance, and they remained for some time in her possession. The son\nof the minister Feldmann made several inquiries about what had\nafterwards become of the House-spirit's presents, and he learned that\nthe straw-hat was given to the emperor Ferdinand II., who regarded it as\nsomething wonderful. The leathern glove was still in his time in the\npossession of a nobleman. It was short, and just exactly reached above\nthe hand, and there was a snail worked with pearls on the part that came\nabove the hand. What became of the little cross was never known.\n\nThe spirit departed of his own accord, after he had staid four years,\nfrom 1584 to 1588, at Hudem\u00fchlen. He said, before he went away, that\nhe would return once more when the family would be declined, and that\nit would then flourish anew and increase in consequence.[291]\n\n\n _H\u00f6deken._\n\nAnother Kobold or House-spirit took up his abode in the palace of the\nbishop of Hildesheim. He was named H\u00f6deken or H\u00fctchen, that is Hatekin\nor Little Hat, from his always wearing a little felt hat very much\ndown upon his face. He was of a kind and obliging disposition, often\ntold the bishop and others of what was to happen, and he took good\ncare that the watchmen should not go to sleep on their post.\n\nIt was, however, dangerous to affront him. One of the scullions in the\nbishop's kitchen used to fling dirt on him and splash him with foul\nwater. H\u00f6deken complained to the head cook, who only laughed at him, and\nsaid, \"Are you a spirit and afraid of a little boy?\" \"Since you won't\npunish the boy,\" replied H\u00f6deken, \"I will, in a few days, let you see\nhow much afraid of him I am,\" and he went off in high dudgeon. But very\nsoon after he got the boy asleep at the fire-side, and he strangled him,\ncut him up, and put him into the pot on the fire. When the cook abused\nhim for what he had done, he squeezed toads all over the meat that was\nat the fire, and he soon after tumbled the cook from the bridge into the\ndeep moat. At last people grew so much afraid of his setting fire to the\ntown and palace, that the bishop had him exorcised and banished.\n\nThe following was one of H\u00f6deken's principal exploits. There was a man\nin Hildesheim who had a light sort of wife, and one time when he was\ngoing on a journey he spoke to H\u00f6deken and said, \"My good fellow, just\nkeep an eye on my wife while I am away, and see that all goes on\nright.\" H\u00f6deken agreed to do so; and when the wife, after the\ndeparture of her husband, made her gallants come to her, and was going\nto make merry with them, H\u00f6deken always threw himself in the middle\nand drove them away by assuming terrific forms; or, when any one had\ngone to bed, he invisibly flung him so roughly out on the floor as to\ncrack his ribs. Thus they fared, one after another, as the\nlight-o'-love dame introduced them into her chamber, so that no one\nventured to come near her. At length, when the husband had returned\nhome, the honest guardian of his honour presented himself before him\nfull of joy, and said, \"Your return is most grateful to me, that I may\nescape the trouble and disquiet that you had imposed upon me.\" \"Who\nare you, pray?\" said the man. \"I am H\u00f6deken,\" replied he, \"to whom, at\nyour departure, you gave your wife in charge. To gratify you I have\nguarded her this time, and kept her from adultery, though with great\nand incessant toil. But I beg of you never more to commit her to my\nkeeping; for I would sooner take charge of, and be accountable for,\nall the swine in Saxony than for one such woman, so many were the\nartifices and plots she devised to blink me.\"\n\n\n _King Goldemar._\n\nAnother celebrated House-spirit was King Goldemar, who lived in great\nintimacy with Neveling von Hardenberg, on the Hardenstein at the Ruhr,\nand often slept in the same bed with him. He played most beautifully\non the harp, and he was in the habit of staking great sums of money at\ndice. He used to call Neveling brother-in-law, and often gave him\nwarning of various things. He talked with all kinds of people, and\nused to make the clergy blush by discovering their secret\ntransgressions. His hands were thin like those of a frog, cold and\nsoft to the feel; he let himself be felt, but no one could see him.\nAfter remaining there for three years, he went away without offending\nany one. Some call him King Vollmar, and the chamber in which he lived\nis still said to be called Vollmar's Chamber. He insisted on having a\nplace at the table for himself, and a stall in the stable for his\nhorse; the food, the hay, and the oats were consumed, but of man or\nhorse nothing more than the shadow ever was seen. When one time a\ncurious person had strewed ashes and tares in his way to make him\nfall, that his foot-prints might be seen, he came behind him as he was\nlighting the fire and hewed him to pieces, which he put on the spit\nand roasted, and he began to boil the head and legs. As soon as the\nmeat was ready it was brought to Vollmar's chamber, and people heard\ngreat cries of joy as it was consumed. After this there was no trace\nof King Vollmar; but over the door of his chamber was found written,\nthat in future the house would be as unfortunate as it had hitherto\nbeen fortunate; the scattered property would not be brought together\nagain till the time when three Hardenbergs of Hardenstein should be\nliving at the same time. The spit and the roast meat were preserved\nfor a long time; but they disappeared in the Lorrain war in 1651. The\npot still remains built into the wall of the kitchen.[292]\n\n\n _The Heinzelm\u00e4nchen._\n\nIt is not over fifty years since the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen, as they are called,\nused to live and perform their exploits in Cologne. They were little\nnaked mannikins, who used to do all sorts of work; bake bread, wash, and\nsuch like house-work. So it is said, but no one ever saw them.\n\nIn the time that the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen were still there, there was in\nCologne many a baker, who kept no man, for the little people used\nalways to make over-night, as much black and white bread as the baker\nwanted for his shop. In many houses they used to wash and do all their\nwork for the maids.\n\nNow, about this time, there was an expert tailor to whom they appeared\nto have taken a great fancy, for when he married he found in his house,\non the wedding day, the finest victuals and the most beautiful vessels\nand utensils, which the little folk had stolen elsewhere and brought\ntheir favourite. When, with time, his family increased, the little ones\nused to give the tailor's wife considerable aid in her household\naffairs; they washed for her, and on holidays and festival times they\nscoured the copper and tin, and the house from the garret to the cellar.\nIf at any time the tailor had a press of work, he was sure to find it\nall ready done for him in the morning by the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen. But\ncuriosity began now to torment the tailor's wife, and she was dying to\nget one sight of the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen, but do what she would she could\nnever compass it. She one time strewed peas all down the stairs that\nthey might fall and hurt themselves, and that so she might see them next\nmorning. But this project missed, and since that time the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen\nhave totally disappeared, as has been everywhere the case, owing to the\ncuriosity of people, which has at all times been the destruction of so\nmuch of what was beautiful in the world. The Heinzelm\u00e4nchen, in\nconsequence of this, went off all in a body out of the town with music\nplaying, but people could only hear the music, for no one could see the\nmannikins themselves, who forthwith got into a boat and went away,\nwhither no one knows. The good times, however, are said to have\ndisappeared from Cologne along with the Heinzelm\u00e4nchen.[293]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[286] This word is usually derived from the Greek \u03ba\u03bf\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, a knave,\nwhich is found in Aristophanes. According to Grimm (p. 408) the German\nKobold is not mentioned by any writer anterior to the thirteenth\ncentury, we find the French Gobelin in the eleventh; see _France_.\n\n[287] In Hanover the Will-o'the-wisp is called the T\u00fcckebold, _i. e._\nT\u00fccke-Kobold, and is, as his name denotes, a malicious being. Voss.\nLyr. Ged., ii. p. 315.\n\n[288] Deutsche Sagen, i. p. 103. Feldmann's work is a 12mo vol. of 379\npages.\n\n[289] Heinze is the abbreviation of Heinrich (Henry). In the North of\nGermany the Kobold is also named Chimmeken and Wolterken, from Joachim\nand Walther.\n\n[290] This is a usual measure of size for the Dwarfs, and even the\nangels, in the old German poetry; see above, p. 208. In Otnit it is\nsaid of Elberich: _nu bist in Kindes m\u00e2ze des vierden j\u00e2res alt_; and\nof Antilois in Ulrich's Alexander: _er war kleine und niht gr\u00f4z in der\nm\u00e2ze als diu kint, wenn si in vier j\u00e2ren sint_, Grimm, Deut. Mythol.,\np. 418. We meet with it even in Italian poetry:\n\n E sovra il dorso un nano si piccino\n Che sembri di quattr' anni un fanciullino.\n B. Tasso, Amadigi, C. c. st. 78.\n\n\n[291] The feats of House-spirits, it is plain, may in general be\nascribed to ventriloquism and to contrivances of servants and others.\n\n[292] Von Steinen, Westf\u00e4l. Gesch. _ap._ Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 477.\n\n[293] _Oral._ C\u00f6lns Vorzeit. C\u00f6ln. 1826.\n\n\n\n\n NIXES.\n\n Kennt ihr der Nixen, munt're Schaar?\n Von Auge schwarz und gr\u00fcn von Haar\n Sie lauscht am Schilfgestade.\n MATTHISSON.\n\n Know you the Nixes, gay and fair?\n Their eyes are black, and green their hair--\n They lurk in sedgy shores.\n\nThe Nixes, or Water-people, inhabit lakes and rivers. The man is like\nany other man, only he has green teeth. He also wears a green hat. The\nfemale Nixes appear like beautiful maidens. On fine sunny days they\nmay be seen sitting on the banks, or on the branches of the trees,\ncombing their long golden locks. When any person is shortly to be\ndrowned, the Nixes may be previously seen dancing on the surface of\nthe water. They inhabit a magnificent region below the water, whither\nthey sometimes convey mortals. A girl from a village near Leipzig was\none time at service in the house of a Nix. She said that everything\nthere was very good; all she had to complain of was that she was\nobliged to eat her food without salt. The female Nixes frequently go\nto the market to buy meat: they are always dressed with extreme\nneatness, only a corner of their apron or some other part of their\nclothes is wet. The man has also occasionally gone to market. They are\nfond of carrying off women whom they make wives of, and often fetch an\nearthly midwife to assist at their labour. Among the many tales of the\nNixes we select the following:--\n\n\n _The Peasant and the Waterman._\n\nA Water-man once lived on good terms with a peasant who dwelt not far\nfrom his lake. He often visited him, and at last begged that the peasant\nwould visit him in his house under the water. The peasant consented, and\nwent down with him. There was everything down under the water as in a\nstately palace on the land,--halls, chambers, and cabinets, with costly\nfurniture of every description. The Water-man led his guest over the\nwhole, and showed him everything that was in it. They came at length to\na little chamber, where were standing several new pots turned upside\ndown. The peasant asked what was in them. \"They contain,\" was the reply,\n\"the souls of drowned people, which I put under the pots and keep them\nclose, so that they cannot get away.\" The peasant made no remark, and he\ncame up again on the land. But for a long time the affair of the souls\ncontinued to give him great trouble, and he watched to find when the\nWater-man should be from home. When this occurred, as he had marked the\nright way down, he descended into the water-house, and, having made out\nthe little chamber, he turned up all the pots one after another, and\nimmediately the souls of the drowned people ascended out of the water,\nand recovered their liberty.[294]\n\n\n _The Water-Smith._\n\nThere is a little lake in Westphalia called the Darmssen, from which\nthe peasants in the adjacent village of Epe used to hear all through\nthe night a sound as if of hammering upon an anvil. People who were\nawake used also to see something in the middle of the lake. They got\none time into a boat and went to it, and there they found that it was\na smith, who, with his body raised over the water, and a hammer in his\nhand, pointed to an anvil, and bid the people bring him something to\nforge. From that time forth they brought iron to him, and no people\nhad such good plough-irons as those of Epe.\n\nOne time as a man from this village was getting reeds at the Darmssen,\nhe found among them a little child that was rough all over his body. The\nsmith cried out, \"Don't take away my son!\" but the man put the child on\nhis back, and ran home with it. Since that time the smith has never more\nbeen seen or heard. The man reared the Roughy, and he became the\ncleverest and best lad in the place. But when he was twenty years old he\nsaid to the farmer, \"Farmer, I must leave you. My father has called me!\"\n\"I am sorry for that,\" said the farmer. \"Is there no way that you could\nstay with me?\" \"I will see about it,\" said the water-child. \"Do you go\nto Braumske and fetch me a little sword; but you must give the seller\nwhatever he asks for it, and not haggle about it.\" The farmer went to\nBraumske and bought the sword; but he haggled, and got something off the\nprice. They now went together to the Darmssen, and the Roughy said, \"Now\nmind. When I strike the water, if there comes up blood, I must go away;\nbut if there comes milk, then I may stay with you.\" He struck the water,\nand there came neither milk nor blood. The Roughy was annoyed, and said,\n\"You _have_ been bargaining and haggling, and so there comes neither\nblood nor milk. Go off to Braumske and buy another sword.\" The farmer\nwent and returned; but it was not till the third time that he bought a\nsword without haggling. When the Roughy struck the water with this it\nbecame as red as blood, and he threw himself into the lake, and never\nwas seen more.[295]\n\n\n _The Working Waterman._\n\nAt Seewenweiher, in the Black-Forest, a little Water-man\n(_Seem\u00e4nlein_) used to come and join the people, work the whole day\nlong with them, and in the evening go back into the lakes. They used\nto set his breakfast and dinner apart for him. When, in apportioning\nthe work, the rule of \"Not too much and not too little\" was infringed,\nhe got angry, and knocked all the things about. Though his clothes\nwere old and worn, he steadily refused to let the people get him new\nones. But when at last they would do so, and one evening the lake-man\nwas presented with a new coat, he said, \"When one is paid off, one\nmust go away. After this day I'll come no more to you.\" And, unmoved\nby the excuses of the people, he never let himself be seen again.[296]\n\n\n _The Nix-Labour._\n\nA midwife related that her mother was one night called up, and desired\nto make haste and come to the aid of a woman in labour. It was dark,\nbut notwithstanding she got up and dressed herself, and went down,\nwhere she found a man waiting. She begged of him to stay till she\nshould get a lantern, and she would go with him; but he was urgent,\nsaid he would show her the way without a lantern, and that there was\nno fear of her going astray.\n\nHe then bandaged her eyes, at which she was terrified, and was going\nto cry out; but he told her she was in no danger, and might go with\nhim without any apprehension. They accordingly went away together, and\nthe woman remarked that he struck the water with a rod, and that they\nwent down deeper and deeper till they came to a room, in which there\nwas no one but the lying-in woman.\n\nHer guide now took the bandage off her eyes, led her up to the bed,\nand recommending her to his wife, went away. She then helped to bring\nthe babe into the world, put the woman to bed, washed the babe, and\ndid everything that was requisite.\n\nThe woman, grateful to the midwife, then secretly said to her: \"I am a\nChristian woman as well as you; and I was carried off by a Water-man,\nwho changed me. Whenever I bring a child into the world he always eats\nit on the third day. Come on the third day to your pond, and you will\nsee the water turned to blood. When my husband comes in now and offers\nyou money, take no more from him than you usually get, or else he will\ntwist your neck. Take good care!\"\n\nJust then the husband came in. He was in a great passion, and he\nlooked all about; and when he saw that all had gone on properly he\nbestowed great praise on the midwife. He then threw a great heap of\nmoney on the table, and said, \"Take as much as you will!\" She,\nhowever, prudently answered, \"I desire no more from you than from\nothers, and that is a small sum. If you give me that I am content; if\nyou think it too much, I ask nothing from you but to take me home\nagain.\" \"It is God,\" says he, \"has directed you to say that.\" He paid\nher then the sum she mentioned, and conducted her home honestly. She\nwas, however, afraid to go to the pond at the appointed day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere are many other tales in Germany of midwives, and even ladies of\nrank, who have been called in to assist at Nix or Dwarf labours. The\nAhnfrau von Ranzau, for example, and the Frau von Alvensleben--the\nLadies Bountiful of Germany--were waked up in the night to attend the\nlittle women in their confinement.[297] There is the same danger in\ntouching anything in the Dwarf as in the Nix abodes, but the Dwarfs\nusually bestow rings and other articles, which will cause the family\nto flourish. We have seen tales of the same kind in Scandinavia, and\nshall meet with them in many other countries.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[294] This legend seems to be connected with the ancient idea of the\nwater-deities taking the souls of drowned persons to themselves. In\nthe Edda, this is done by the sea-goddess Ran.\n\n[295] Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 463.\n\n[296] Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 453.\n\n[297] A tale of this kind is to be seen in Luther's Table-talk, told\nby _die frau doctorin_, his wife. The scene of it was the river Mulda.\n\n\n\n\n SWITZERLAND.\n\n Denn da hielten auch im lande\n Noch die guten Zwerglein Haus;\n Kleingestalt, doch hochbegabet,\n Und so h\u00fclfreich \u00fcberaus!\n M\u00dcLLER.\n\n For then also in the country\n The good Dwarflings still kept house;\n Small in form, but highly gifted,\n And so kind and generous!\n\n\nWe now arrive at Switzerland, a country with which are usually\nassociated ideas of sublime and romantic scenery, simple manners, and\nhonest hearts. The character of the Swiss Dwarfs will be found to\ncorrespond with these ideas. For, like the face of Nature, these\npersonifications of natural powers seem to become more gentle and mild\nas they approach the sun and the south.\n\nThe Dwarfs, or little Hill- or Earth-men[298] of Switzerland, are\ndescribed as of a lively, joyous disposition, fond of strolling\nthrough the valleys, and viewing and partaking in the labours of\nagriculture. Kind and generous, they are represented as driving home\nstray lambs, and leaving brushwood and berries in the way of poor\nchildren. Their principal occupation is keeping cattle--not goats,\nsheep, or cows, but the chamois, from whose milk they make excellent\nand well-flavoured cheese. This cheese, when given by the Dwarfs to\nany one, has the property of growing again when it has been cut or\nbitten. But should the hungry owner be improvident enough to eat up\nthe whole of it and leave nothing from it to sprout from, he of course\nhas seen the end of his cheese.\n\nThe Kobolds are also to be met with in Switzerland. In the Vaudois,\nthey call them Servants,[299] and believe that they live in remote\ndwellings and lonely shiels.[300] The most celebrated of them in those\nparts is Jean de la Boli\u00e9ta, or, as he is called in German, Napf-Hans,\n_i. e._ Jack-of-the-Bowl, because it was the custom to lay for him\nevery evening on the roof of the cow-house a bowl of fresh sweet\ncream, of which he was sure to give a good account. He used to lead\nthe cows to feed in the most dangerous places, and yet none of them\never sustained the slightest injury. He always went along the same\nsteep path on which no one ever saw even a single stone lying, though\nthe whole side of the mountain was strewn as thickly as possible with\nboulders. It is still called Boli\u00e9ta's Path.[301]\n\nRationalising theory has been at work with the Swiss Dwarfs also. It\nis supposed, that the early inhabitants of the Swiss mountains, when\ndriven back by later tribes of immigrants, retired to the high lands\nand took refuge in the clefts and caverns of the mountains, whence\nthey gradually showed themselves to the new settlers--approached them,\nassisted them, and were finally, as a species of Genii, raised to the\nregion of the wonderful.\n\nFor our knowledge of the Dwarf Mythology of Switzerland, we are\nchiefly indebted to professor Wyss, of Bern, who has put some of the\nlegends in a poetical dress, and given others in the notes to his\nIdylls as he styles them.[302] These legends were related by the\npeasants to Mr. Wyss or his friends, on their excursions through the\nmountains; and he declares that he has very rarely permitted himself\nto add to, or subtract from, the peasants' narrative. He adds, that\nthe belief in these beings is strong in the minds of the people, not\nmerely in the mountain districts, but also at the foot of Belp\nmountain, Belp, Gelterfingen, and other places about Bern.[303]\n\nAs a specimen of Mr. Wyss's manner of narrating these legends, we\ngive here a faithful translation of his first Idyll.[304]\n\n\n _Gertrude and Rosy._\n\n GERTRUDE.\n\n Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock.\n 'Tis Saturday night, and with the week you know\n Our work must end; we shall the more enjoy\n To-morrow's rest when all's done out of hand.[305]\n Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock.\n\n ROSY.\n\n True, mother, but every minute sleep\n Falls on my eyes as heavy as lead, and I\n Must yawn do what I will; and then God knows\n I can't help nodding though 'twere for my life;\n Or ... oh! it might be of some use if you\n Would once more, dearest mother, tell about\n The wonderful, good-natured little Dwarfs,\n What they here round the country used to do,\n And how they showed their kindness to the hinds.\n\n GERTRUDE.\n\n See now! what industry!--your work itself\n Should keep you waking. I have told you o'er\n A thousand times the stories, and we lose,\n If you grow wearied of them, store of joy\n Reserved for winter-nights; besides, methinks,\n The evening's now too short for chat like this.\n\n ROSY.\n\n There's only one thing I desire to hear\n Again, and sure, dear mother, never yet\n Have you explained how 'twas the little men\n Lived in the hills, and how, all through the year,\n They sported round the country here, and gave\n Marks of their kindness. For you'll ne'er persuade\n Me to believe that barely, one by one,\n They wandered in the valleys, and appeared\n Unto the people, and bestowed their gifts:\n So, come now, tell at once, how 'twas the Dwarfs\n Lived all together in society.\n\n GERTRUDE.\n\n 'Tis plain, however, of itself, and well\n Wise folks can see, that such an active race\n Would never with their hands before them sit.\n Ah! a right merry lively thing, and full\n Of roguish tricks, the little Hill-man is,\n And quickly too he gets into a rage,\n If you behave not toward him mannerly,\n And be not frank and delicate in your acts.\n But, above all things, they delight to dwell,\n Quiet and peaceful, in the secret clefts\n Of hills and mountains, evermore concealed.\n All through the winter, when with icy rind\n The frost doth cover o'er the earth, the wise\n And prudent little people keep them warm\n By their fine fires, many a fathom down\n Within the inmost rocks. Pure native gold,\n And the rock-crystals shaped like towers, clear,\n Transparent, gleam with colours thousandfold\n Through the fair palace, and the Little-folk,\n So happy and so gay, amuse themselves\n Sometimes with singing--Oh, so sweet! 'twould charm\n The heart of any one who heard it sound.\n Sometimes with dancing, when they jump and spring\n Like the young skipping kids in the Alp-grass.\n Then when the spring is come, and in the fields\n The flowers are blooming, with sweet May's approach,\n They bolts and bars take from their doors and gates,\n That early ere the hind or hunter stirs,\n In the cool morning, they may sport and play;\n Or ramble in the evening, when the moon\n Lights up the plains. Seldom hath mortal man\n Beheld them with his eyes; but should one chance\n To see them, it betokens suffering\n And a bad year, if bent in woe they glide\n Through woods and thickets; but the sight proclaims\n Joy and good luck, when social, in a ring,\n On the green meads and fields, their hair adorned\n With flowers, they shout and whirl their merry rounds.\n Abundance then they joyously announce\n For barn, for cellar, and for granary,\n And a blest year to men, to herds, and game.\n Thus they do constantly foreshow what will\n Befall to-morrow and hereafter; now\n Sighing, and still, by their lamenting tones,\n A furious tempest; and again, with sweet\n And smiling lips, and shouting, clear bright skies.[306]\n Chief to the poor and good, they love to show\n Kindness and favour, often bringing home\n At night the straying lambs, and oftener still\n In springtime nicely spreading, in the wood,\n Brushwood, in noble bundles, in the way\n Of needy children gone to fetch home fuel.\n Many a good little girl, who well obeyed\n Her mother,--or, mayhap, a little boy,--\n Has, with surprise, found lying on the hills\n Bright dazzling bowls of milk, and baskets too,\n Nice little baskets, full of berries, left\n By the kind hands of the wood-roaming Dwarfs.\n Now be attentive while I tell you one\n Out of a hundred and a hundred stories;\n 'Tis one, however, that concerns us more\n Than all the rest, because it was my own\n Great-great-grandfather that the thing befell,\n In the old time, in years long since agone.\n Where from the lofty rocks the boundary runs\n Down to the vale, Barthel, of herdsmen first\n In all the country round, was ploughing up\n A spacious field, where he designed to try\n The seed of corn; but with anxiety\n His heart was filled, lest by any chance\n His venture should miscarry, for his sheep\n In the contagion he had lost, now poor\n And without skill, he ventures on the plough.\n Deliberate and still, at the plough-tail,\n In furrows he cuts up the grassy soil,\n While with the goad his little boy drives on\n The panting ox. When, lo! along the tall\n Rocky hill-side, a smoke ascends in clouds\n Like snow-flakes, soaring from the summit up\n Into the sky. At this the hungry boy\n Began to think of food, for the poor child\n Had tasted nothing all the live-long day\n For lunch, and, looking up, he thus began:\n \"Ah! there the little Dwarf-folk are so gay\n At their grand cooking, roasting, boiling now,\n For a fine banquet, while with hunger I\n Am dying. Had we here one little dish\n Of the nice savoury food, were it but as\n A sign that there's a blessing on our work!\"\n 'Twas thus the boy spake, and his father ploughed\n Silently on, bent forwards o'er his work.\n They turn the plough; when huzza! lo! behold\n A miracle! there gleamed right from the midst\n Of the dark furrow, toward them, a bright\n Lustre, and there so charming! lay a plate\n Heaped up with roast meat; by the plate, a loaf\n Of bread upon the outspread table-cloth,\n At the disposal of the honest pair.\n Hurra! long live the friendly, generous Dwarfs!\n Barthel had now enough--so had the boy--\n And laughing gratefully and loud, they praise\n And thank the givers; then, with strength restored,\n They quick return unto their idle plough.\n But when again their day's task they resume,\n To break more of the field, encouraged now\n To hope for a good crop, since the kind Dwarfs\n Had given them the sign of luck they asked--\n Hush! bread and plate, and crums, and knife and fork,\n Were vanished clean; only--just for a sign\n For ever of the truth--lay on the ridge\n The white, nice-woven, pretty table-cloth.\n\n ROSY.\n\n O mother! mother! what? the glittering plate\n And real? and the cloth with their own hands\n Spun by the generous Dwarfs? No, I can ne'er\n Believe it!--Was the thread then, real drawn\n And twisted thread, set in it evenly?\n And was there too a flower, a pretty figure,\n Nicely wrought in with warp and crossing woof?\n Did there a handsome border go all round.\n Enclosing all the figures?--Sure your great-\n Great-grandfather, if really he was\n The owner of the curious little cloth,\n He would have left it carefully unto\n His son and grandson for a legacy,\n That, for a lasting witness of the meal\n Given by the Dwarfs, it might to distant years,\n The praise and wonder of our vale remain.\n\n GERTRUDE.\n\n Odds me! how wise the child is! what a loss\n And pity 'tis that in old times the folk\n Were not so thoughtful and so over-knowing!\n Ah! our poor simple fathers should rise up\n Out of their graves, and come to get advice\n And comfort from the brooders that are now,--\n As if they knew not what was right and fit!\n Have but a little patience, girl, and spin\n What's on your rock; to-morrow when 'tis day\n I'll let you see the Dwarfs' flowered table-cloth,\n Which, in the chest laid safe, inherited\n From mother down to daughter, I have long\n Kept treasured under lock and key, for fear\n Some little girl, like some one that you know,\n Might out of curiosity, and not\n Acquainted with its worth, set it astray.\n\n ROSY.\n\n Ah, that is kind, dear mother; and see now\n How broad awake I am, and how so smart\n I'm finishing my work since you relate\n These pretty tales; but I will call you up\n Out of your bed to-morrow in the morning\n So early! Oh, I wish now it were day\n Already, for I'm sure I shall not get\n One wink of sleep for thinking of the cloth.[307]\n\n\n _The Chamois-Hunter._\n\nA chamois-hunter set out early one morning, and ascended the\nmountains. He had arrived at a great height, and was in view of some\nchamois, when, just as he was laying his bolt on his crossbow, and was\nabout to shoot, a terrible cry from a cleft of the rock interrupted\nhis purpose. Turning round he saw a hideous Dwarf, with a battle-axe\nin his hand raised to slay him. \"Why,\" cried he, in a rage, \"hast thou\nso long been destroying my chamois, and leavest not with me my flock?\nBut now thou shalt pay for it with thy blood.\" The poor hunter turned\npale at the stranger's words. In his terror he was near falling from\nthe cliff. At length, however, he recovered himself, and begged\nforgiveness of the Dwarf, pleaded his ignorance that the chamois\nbelonged to him, declaring at the same time that he had no other means\nof support than what he derived from hunting. The Dwarf was pacified,\nlaid down his axe, and said to him, \"'Tis well; never be seen here\nagain, and I promise thee that every seventh day thou shalt find,\nearly in the morning, a dead chamois hanging before thy cottage; but\nbeware and keep from the others.\" The Dwarf then vanished, and the\nhunter returned thoughtfully home, little pleased with the prospect of\nthe inactive live he was now to lead.\n\nOn the seventh morning he found, according to the Dwarf's promise, a\nfat chamois hanging in the branches of a tree before his cottage, of\nwhich he ate with great satisfaction. The next week it was the same,\nand so it continued for some months. But at last he grew weary of this\nidle life, and preferred, come what might, returning to the chase, and\ncatching chamois for himself, to having his food provided for him\nwithout the remembrance of his toils to sweeten the repast. His\ndetermination made, he once more ascended the mountains. Almost the\nfirst object that met his view was a fine buck. The hunter levelled\nhis bow and took aim at the prey; and as the Dwarf did not appear, he\nwas just pulling the trigger, when the Dwarf stole behind him, took\nhim by the ankle, and tumbled him down the precipice.\n\nOthers say the Dwarf gave the hunter a small cheese of chamois-milk,\nwhich would last him his whole life, but that he one day thoughtlessly\nate the whole of it, or, as some will have it, a guest who was\nignorant of the quality of it ate up the remainder. Poverty then drove\nhim to return to the chamois-hunting, and he was thrown into a chasm\nby the Dwarf.[308]\n\n _The Dwarfs on the Tree._\n\nIn the summer-time the troop of the Dwarfs came in great numbers down\nfrom the hills into the valley, and joined the men that were at work,\neither assisting them or merely looking on. They especially liked to be\nwith the mowers in the hay-making season, seating themselves, greatly to\ntheir satisfaction, on the long thick branch of a maple-tree, among the\ndense foliage. But one time some mischief-loving people came by night\nand sawed the branch nearly through. The unsuspecting Dwarfs, as usual,\nsat down on it in the morning; the branch snapt in two, and the Dwarfs\nwere thrown to the ground. When the people laughed at them they became\ngreatly incensed, and cried out,\n\n O how is heaven so high\n And perfidy so great!\n Here to-day and never more!\n\nand they never let themselves again be seen.[309]\n\nIt is also related that it was the custom of the Dwarfs to seat\nthemselves on a large piece of rock, and thence to look on the haymakers\nwhen at work. But some mischievous people lighted a fire on the rock and\nmade it quite hot, and then swept off all the coals. In the morning the\nlittle people, coming to take their usual station, burned themselves in\na lamentable manner. Full of anger, they cried out, \"O wicked world! O\nwicked world!\" called aloud for vengeance, and disappeared for ever.\n\n\n _Curiosity Punished._\n\nIn old times men lived in the valley, and around them, in the clefts and\nholes of the rocks, dwelt the Dwarfs. They were kind and friendly to\nthe people, often performing hard and heavy work for them in the night;\nand when the country-people came early in the morning with their carts\nand tools, they saw, to their astonishment, that the work was already\ndone, while the Dwarfs hid themselves in the bushes, and laughed aloud\nat the astonished rustics. Often, too, were the peasants incensed to\nfind their corn, which was scarcely yet ripe, lying cut on the ground;\nbut shortly after there was sure to come on such a hail-storm, that it\nbecame obvious that hardly a single stalk could have escaped destruction\nhad it not been cut, and then, from the bottom of their hearts, they\nthanked the provident Dwarf-people. But at last mankind, through their\nown folly, deprived themselves of the favour and kindness of the Dwarfs;\nthey fled the country, and since that time no mortal eye has seen them.\nThe cause of their departure was this:\n\nA shepherd had a fine cherry-tree[310] that stood on the mountain.\nWhen in the summer the fruit had ripened, it happened that, three\ntimes running, the tree was stript, and all the fruit spread out on\nthe benches and hurdles, where the shepherd himself used to spread it\nout to dry for the winter. The people of the village all said, \"It\ncould be none but the good-natured Dwarfs, who come by night tripping\nalong with their feet covered with long mantles, as light as birds,\nand industriously perform for mankind their daily work. People have\noften watched them,\" continued the narrators, \"but no one disturbs\nthem; they are left to come and go as they please.\" This talk only\nexcited the curiosity of the shepherd, and he longed to know why it\nwas that the Dwarfs so carefully concealed their feet, and whether\nthey were differently formed from those of men. Accordingly, next\nyear, when the summer came, and the time when the Dwarfs secretly\npulled the cherries, and brought them to the barn, the shepherd took a\nsack full of ashes, and strewed them about under the cherry-tree. Next\nmorning, at break of day, he hastened to the place: the tree was\nplucked completely empty, and he saw the marks of several goose-feet\nimpressed on the ashes. The shepherd then laughed and jested at\nhaving discovered the Dwarfs' secret. But soon after the Dwarfs broke\nand laid waste their houses, and fled down deeper in the mountain to\ntheir splendid secret palace, that had long lain empty to receive\nthem. Vexed with mankind, they never more granted them their aid; and\nthe imprudent shepherd who had betrayed them became sickly, and\ncontinued so to the end of his life.[311]\n\n\n _The Rejected Gift._\n\nA Dwarf came down one night from the chesnut woods on the side of the\nmountain over the village of Walchwyl, and enquired for the house of a\nmidwife, whom he earnestly pressed to come out and go with him. She\nconsented, and the Dwarf, bearing a light, led the way in silence to the\nwoods. He stopped at last before a cleft in a rock, at which they\nentered, and the woman suddenly found herself in a magnificent hall. She\nwas thence led through several rich apartments to the chamber of state,\nwhere the queen of the Dwarfs, for whom her services were required, was\nlying. She performed her office, and brought a fair young prince to the\nlight. She was thanked and dismissed, and her former conductor appeared\nto lead her home. As he was taking leave of her, he filled her apron\nwith something, bidding her on no account to look at it till she was in\nher own house. But the woman could not control her curiosity, and the\nmoment the Dwarf disappeared, she partly opened the apron, and lo! there\nwas nothing in it but some black coals. In a rage, she shook them out on\nthe ground, but she kept two of them in her hands, as a proof of the\nshabby treatment she had met with from the Dwarfs. On reaching home, she\nthrew them also down on the ground. Her husband cried out with joy and\nsurprise, for they shone like carbuncles. She asserted that the Dwarf\nhad put nothing but coals into her apron; but she ran out to call a\nneighbour, who knew more of such things than they did, and he on\nexamining them pronounced them to be precious stones of great value. The\nwoman immediately ran back to where she had shaken out the supposed\ncoals, but they were all gone.[312]\n\n\n _The Wonderful Little Pouch._\n\nAt noon one day a young peasant sat by the side of a wood, and,\nsighing, prayed to God to give him a morsel of food. A Dwarf suddenly\nemerged from the wood, and told him that his prayer should be\nfulfilled. He then gave him the pouch that he had on his side, with\nthe assurance that he would always find in it wherewithal to satisfy\nhis thirst and hunger, charging him at the same time not to consume it\nall and to share with any one who asked him for food. The Dwarf\nvanished, and the peasant put his hand into the pouch to make trial of\nit, and there he found a cake of new bread, a cheese, and a bottle of\nwine, on which he made a hearty meal. He then saw that the pouch\nswelled up as before, and looking in he found that it was again full\nof bread, cheese, and wine. He now felt sure of his food, and he lived\non in an idle luxurious way, without doing any work. One day, as he\nwas gorging himself, there came up to him a feeble old man, who prayed\nhim to give him a morsel to eat. He refused in a brutal, churlish\ntone, when instantly the bread and choose broke, and scattered out of\nhis hands, and pouch and all vanished.[313]\n\n\n _Aid and Punishment._\n\nOn the side of Mount Pilatus is a place named the Kastler-Alpe, now\ncovered with stones and rubbish, but which once was verdant and\nfertile. The cause of the change was as follows.\n\nThe land there was formerly occupied by a farmer, a churlish,\nunfeeling man, who, though wealthy, let his only sister struggle with\nthe greatest poverty in the valley beneath. The poor woman at length\nhaving fallen sick, and seeing no other resource, resolved to apply to\nher hardhearted brother for the means of employing a doctor. She sent\nher daughter to him; but all the prayers and tears of the poor girl\nfailed to move him, and he told her he would, sooner than give her\nanything, see the Alpe covered with stones and rubbish. She departed,\nand as she went along a Dwarf suddenly appeared to her. She would have\nfled, but he gently detained her, and telling her he had heard all\nthat had passed, gave her a parcel of herbs, which he assured her\nwould cure her mother, and a little cheese, which he said would last\nthem a long time.\n\nOn trial, the herbs quickly produced the promised effect; and when\nthey went to cut the cheese they found the knife would not penetrate\nit, and no wonder, for it was pure gold. There also came a sudden\nstorm on the mountain, and the Kastler-Alpe was reduced to its present\ncondition.[314]\n\n\n\n _The Dwarf in Search of Lodging._\n\nOne night, during a tremendous storm of wind and rain, a Dwarf came\ntravelling through a little village, and went from cottage to cottage,\ndripping with rain, knocking at the doors for admission. None,\nhowever, took pity on him, or would open the door to receive him: on\nthe contrary, the inhabitants even mocked at his distress.\n\nAt the very end of the village there dwelt two honest poor people, a\nman and his wife. Tired and faint, the Dwarf crept on his staff up to\ntheir house, and tapped modestly three times at the little window.\nImmediately the old shepherd opened the door for him, and cheerfully\noffered him the little that the house afforded. The old woman produced\nsome bread, milk, and cheese: the Dwarf sipped a few drops of the\nmilk, and ate some crums of the bread and cheese. \"I am not used,\"\nsaid he, laughing, \"to eat such coarse food: but I thank you from my\nheart, and God reward you for it: now that I am rested, I will proceed\non farther.\" \"God forbid!\" cried the good woman; \"you surely don't\nthink of going out in the night and in the storm! It were better for\nyou to take a bed here, and set out in the daylight.\" But the Dwarf\nshook his head, and with a smile replied, \"You little know what\nbusiness I have to do this night on the top of the mountain. I have to\nprovide for you too; and to-morrow you shall see that I am not\nungrateful for the kindness you have shown to me.\" So saying, the\nDwarf departed, and the worthy old couple went to rest.\n\nBut at break of day they were awaked by storm and tempest; the\nlightnings flashed along the red sky, and torrents of water poured down\nthe hills and through the valley. A huge rock now tumbled from the top\nof the mountain, and rolled down toward the village, carrying along with\nit, in its course, trees, stones, and earth. Men and cattle, every thing\nin the village that had breath in it, were buried beneath it. The waves\nhad now reached the cottage of the two old people, and in terror and\ndismay they stood out before their door. They then beheld approaching in\nthe middle of the stream a large piece of rock, and on it, jumping\nmerrily, the Dwarf, as if he was riding and steering it with a great\ntrunk of a pine till he brought it before the house, where it stemmed\nthe water and kept it from the cottage, so that both it and the good\nowners escaped. The Dwarf then swelled and grew higher and higher till\nhe became a monstrous Giant, and vanished in the air, while the old\npeople were praying to God and thanking him for their deliverance.[315]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[298] In Swiss _H\u00e4rdmandle_, pl. _H\u00e4rdm\u00e4ndlene_.\n\n[299] Wyss, Reise in das Berner Oberland, ii. 412. _Servants_ is the\nterm in the original.\n\n[300] This Scottish word, signifying the summer cabin of the herdsmen\non the mountains, exactly expresses the Sennh\u00fctten of the Swiss.\n\n[301] Alpenrosen for 1824, _ap._ Grimm, Introd. to Irish Fairy\nLegends.\n\n[302] Idyllen, Volkssagen, Legenden, und Erz\u00e4hlungen aus der Schweiz.\nVon J. Rud Wyss, Prof. Bern, 1813.\n\n[303] In Bilder und Sagen aus der Schweiz, von Dr. Rudolf. M\u00fcller.\nGlarus, 1842, may be found some legends of the Erdm\u00e4nnlein, but they\nare nearly all the same as those collected by Mr. Wyss. We give below\nthose in which there is anything peculiar.\n\n[304] The original is in German hexameters.\n\n[305] It is a notion in some parts of Germany, that if a girl leaves\nany flax or tow on her distaff unspun on Saturday night, none of what\nremains will make good thread. Grimm, Deut. Mythol. Anhang, p. lxxii.\n\n[306] _Glanz_ is the term employed in Switzerland.\n\n[307] This legend was picked up by a friend of Mr. Wyss when on a\ntopographical ramble in the neighbourhood of Bern. It was told to him\nby a peasant of Belp; \"but,\" says Mr. Wyss, \"if I recollect right,\nthis man said it was a nice smoking-hot cake that was on the plate,\nand it was a servant, not the man's son, who was driving the plough.\nThe circumstance of the table-cloth being handed down from mother to\ndaughter,\" he adds, \"is a fair addition which I have allowed myself.\"\n\nThe writer recollects to have heard this story, when a boy, from an\nold woman in Ireland; and he could probably point out the very field\nin the county of Kildare where it occurred. A man and a boy were\nploughing: the boy, as they were about in the middle of their furrow,\nsmelled roast beef, and wished for some. As they returned, it was\nlying on the grass before them. When they had eaten, the boy said \"God\nbless me, and God bless the fairies!\" The man did not give thanks, and\nhe met with misfortunes very shortly after.--The same legend is also\nin Scotland. See below.\n\n[308] The former account was obtained by a friend in Glarnerland. The\nlatter was given to Mr. Wyss himself by a man of Zweyl\u00fctschinen, very\nrich, says Mr. Wyss, in Dwarf lore, and who accompanied him to\nLauterbrunnen. Schiller has founded his poem Der Alpenj\u00e4ger on this\nlegend.\n\n[309] Mr. Wyss heard this and the following tale in Haslithal and\nGadmen.\n\n[310] In several of the high valleys of Switzerland it is only a\nsingle cherry-tree which happens to be favourably situated that bears\nfruit. It bears abundantly, and the fruit ripens about the month of\nAugust. _Wyss._\n\n[311] Compare the narrative in the Swiss dialect given by Grimm, Deut.\nMythol. p. 419. The same peasant of Belp who related the first legend\nwas Mr. Wyss's authority for this one. \"The vanishing of the\nBergm\u00e4nlein,\" says Mr. Wyss, \"appears to be a matter of importance to\nthe popular faith. It is almost always ascribed to the fault of\nmankind--sometimes to their wickedness.\"\n\nWe may in these tales recognise the box of Pandora under a different\nform, but the ground is the same. Curiosity and wickedness are still\nthe cause of superior beings withdrawing their favour from man.\n\n\"I have never any where else,\" says Mr. Wyss, \"heard of the\ngoose-feet; but that all is not right with their feet is evident from\nthe popular tradition giving long trailing mantles as the dress of the\nlittle people. Some will have it that their feet are regularly formed,\nbut set on their legs the wrong way, so that the toes are behind and\nthe heels before.\"\n\nHeywood, in his Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels, p. 554, relates a\nstory which would seem to refer to a similar belief.\n\n[312] M\u00fcller, Bilder und Sagen, p. 119; see above, p. 81. Coals are\nthe usual form under which the Dwarfs conceal the precious metals. We\nalso find this trait in Scandinavia. A smith who lived near Aarhuus in\nJutland, as he was going to church, saw a Troll on the roadside very\nbusy about two straws that had got across each other on a heap of\ncoals, and which, do what he would, he could not remove from their\nposition. He asked the smith to do it for him; but he who knew better\nthings took up the coals with the cross straws on them, and carried\nthem home in spite of the screams of the Troll, and when he reached\nhis own house he found it was a large treasure he had got, over which\nthe Troll had lost all power. Thiele, i. 122.\n\n[313] M\u00fcller, _ut sup._ p. 123.\n\n[314] M\u00fcller, _ut sup._ p. 126.\n\n[315] This story is told of two places in the Highlands of Berning, of\nRalligen, a little village on the lake of Thun, where there once stood\na town called Roll; and again, of Schillingsdorf, a place in the\nvalley of Grinderwald, formerly destroyed by a mountain slip.\n\nThe reader need scarcely be reminded of the stories of Lot and of\nBaucis and Philemon: see also Grimm's Kinder und Hausm\u00e4rchen, iii.\n153, for other parallels.\n\n\n\n\n GREAT BRITAIN.\n\n In old wives daies that in old time did live,\n To whose odde tales much credit men did give,\n Great store of goblins, fairies, bugs, nightmares,\n Urchins and elves to many a house repaires.\n OLD POEM.\n\n\nWe use the term Great Britain in a very limited sense, as merely\ninclusive of those parts of the island whose inhabitants are of\nGotho-German origin--England and the Lowlands of Scotland.\n\nWe have already seen[316] that the Anglo-Saxon conquerors of Britain\nhad in their language the terms from which are derived Elf and Dwarf,\nand the inference is natural that their ideas respecting these beings\ncorresponded with those of the Scandinavians and Germans. The same may\nbe said of the Picts, who, akin to the Scandinavians, early seized on\nthe Scottish Lowlands. We therefore close our survey of the Fairy\nMythology of the Gotho-German race with Great Britain.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[316] See above pp. 66, 75.\n\n\n\n\n ENGLAND.\n\n Merry elves, their morrice pacing,\n To a\u00ebrial minstrelsy,\n Emerald rings on brown heath tracing,\n Trip it deft and merrily.\n SCOTT.\n\n\nThe Fairy Mythology of England divides itself into two branches, that\nof the people and that of the poets. Under the former head will be\ncomprised the few scattered traditions which we have been able to\ncollect respecting a system, the belief in which is usually thought to\nbe nearly extinct; the latter will contain a selection of passages,\ntreating of fairies and their exploits, from our principal poets.\n\nThe Fairies of England are evidently the Dwarfs of Germany and the\nNorth, though they do not appear to have been ever so denominated.[317]\nTheir appellation was Elves, subsequently Fairies; but there would seem\nto have been formerly other terms expressive of them, of which hardly a\nvestige is now remaining in the English language.\n\nThey were, like their northern kindred, divided into two classes--the\nrural Elves, inhabiting the woods, fields, mountains, and caverns; and\nthe domestic or house-spirits, usually called Hobgoblins and Robin\nGoodfellows. But the Thames, the Avon, and the other English streams,\nnever seem to have been the abode of a Neck or Kelpie.\n\nThe following curious instances of English superstition, occur in the\ntwelfth century.\n\n\n _The Green Children._\n\n\"Another wonderful thing,\" says Ralph of Coggeshall,[318] \"happened in\nSuffolk, at St. Mary's of the Wolf-pits. A boy and his sister were\nfound by the inhabitants of that place near the mouth of a pit which\nis there, who had the form of all their limbs like to those of other\nmen, but they differed in the colour of their skin from all the people\nof our habitable world; for the whole surface of their skin was tinged\nof a green colour. No one could understand their speech. When they\nwere brought as curiosities to the house of a certain knight, Sir\nRichard de Calne, at Wikes, they wept bitterly. Bread and other\nvictuals were set before them, but they would touch none of them,\nthough they were tormented by great hunger, as the girl afterwards\nacknowledged. At length, when some beans just cut, with their stalks,\nwere brought into the house, they made signs, with great avidity, that\nthey should be given to them. When they were brought, they opened the\nstalks instead of the pods, thinking the beans were in the hollow of\nthem; but not finding them there, they began to weep anew. When those\nwho were present saw this, they opened the pods, and showed them the\nnaked beans. They fed on these with great delight, and for a long time\ntasted no other food. The boy, however, was always languid and\ndepressed, and he died within a short time. The girl enjoyed continual\ngood health; and becoming accustomed to various kinds of food, lost\ncompletely that green colour, and gradually recovered the sanguine\nhabit of her entire body. She was afterwards regenerated by the laver\nof holy baptism, and lived for many years in the service of that\nknight (as I have frequently heard from him and his family), and was\nrather loose and wanton in her conduct. Being frequently asked about\nthe people of her country, she asserted that the inhabitants, and all\nthey had in that country, were of a green colour; and that they saw no\nsun, but enjoyed a degree of light like what is after sunset. Being\nasked how she came into this country with the aforesaid boy, she\nreplied, that as they were following their flocks, they came to a\ncertain cavern, on entering which they heard a delightful sound of\nbells; ravished by whose sweetness, they went for a long time\nwandering on through the cavern, until they came to its mouth. When\nthey came out of it, they were struck senseless by the excessive light\nof the sun, and the unusual temperature of the air; and they thus lay\nfor a long time. Being terrified by the noise of those who came on\nthem, they wished to fly, but they could not find the entrance of the\ncavern before they were caught.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis story is also told by William of Newbridge,[319] who places it in\nthe reign of King Stephen. He says he long hesitated to believe it,\nbut he was at length overcome by the weight of evidence. According to\nhim, the place where the children appeared was about four or five\nmiles from Bury St. Edmund's: they came in harvest-time out of the\nWolf-pits; they both lost their green hue, and were baptised, and\nlearned English. The boy, who was the younger, died; but the girl\nmarried a man at Lenna, and lived many years. They said their country\nwas called St. Martin's Land, as that saint was chiefly worshiped\nthere; that the people were Christians, and had churches; that the sun\ndid not rise there, but that there was a bright country which could be\nseen from theirs, being divided from it by a very broad river.\n\n\n _The Fairy Banquet._\n\nIn the next chapter of his history, William of Newbridge relates as\nfollows:--\n\n\"In the province of the Deiri (Yorkshire), not far from my birth-place,\na wonderful thing occurred, which I have known from my boyhood. There is\na town a few miles distant from the Eastern Sea, near which are those\ncelebrated waters commonly called Gipse.... A peasant of this town went\nonce to see a friend who lived in the next town, and it was late at\nnight when he was coming back, not very sober; when lo! from the\nadjoining barrow, which I have often seen, and which is not much over a\nquarter of a mile from the town, he heard the voices of people singing,\nand, as it were, joyfully feasting. He wondered who they could be that\nwere breaking in that place, by their merriment, the silence of the dead\nnight, and he wished to examine into the matter more closely. Seeing a\ndoor open in the side of the barrow, he went up to it, and looked in;\nand there he beheld a large and luminous house, full of people, women as\nwell as men, who were reclining as at a solemn banquet. One of the\nattendants, seeing him standing at the door, offered him a cup. He took\nit, but would not drink; and pouring out the contents, kept the vessel.\nA great tumult arose at the banquet on account of his taking away the\ncup, and all the guests pursued him; but he escaped by the fleetness of\nthe beast he rode, and got into the town with his booty. Finally, this\nvessel of unknown material, of unusual colour, and of extraordinary\nform, was presented to Henry the Elder, king of the English, as a\nvaluable gift, and was then given to the queen's brother David, king of\nthe Scots, and was kept for several years in the treasury of Scotland;\nand a few years ago (as I have heard from good authority), it was given\nby William, king of the Scots, to Henry the Second, who wished to see\nit.\"\n\nThe scene of this legend, we may observe, is the very country in which\nthe Danes settled; and it is exactly the same as some of the legends\ncurrent at the present day among the Danish peasantry.[320] It is\nreally extraordinary to observe the manner in which popular traditions\nand superstitions will thus exist for centuries.\n\nGervase of Tilbury, the Imperial Chancellor, gives the following\nparticulars respecting the Fairy Mythology of England in the\nthirteenth century.\n\n\n _The Fairy Horn._\n\n\"There is,\" says he,[321] \"in the county of Gloucester, a forest\nabounding in boars, stags, and every species of game that England\nproduces. In a grovy lawn of this forest there is a little mount,\nrising in a point to the height of a man, on which knights and other\nhunters are used to ascend when fatigued with heat and thirst, to seek\nsome relief for their wants. The nature of the place, and of the\nbusiness, is, however, such, that whoever ascends the mount must leave\nhis companions, and go quite alone.\n\n\"When alone, he was to say, as if speaking to some other person, 'I\nthirst,' and immediately there would appear a cupbearer in an elegant\ndress, with a cheerful countenance, bearing in his stretched-out hand a\nlarge horn, adorned with gold and gems, as was the custom among the\nmost ancient English. In the cup[322] nectar of an unknown but most\ndelicious flavour was presented, and when it was drunk, all heat and\nweariness fled from the glowing body, so that one would be thought ready\nto undertake toil instead of having toiled. Moreover, when the nectar\nwas taken, the servant presented a towel to the drinker, to wipe his\nmouth with, and then having performed his office, he waited neither for\na recompense for his services, nor for questions and enquiry.\n\n\"This frequent and daily action had for a very long period of old\ntimes taken place among the ancient people, till one day a knight of\nthat city, when out hunting, went thither, and having called for a\ndrink and gotten the horn, did not, as was the custom, and as in good\nmanners he should have done, return it to the cup-bearer, but kept it\nfor his own use. But the illustrious Earl of Gloucester, when he\nlearned the truth of the matter, condemned the robber to death, and\npresented the horn to the most excellent King Henry the Elder, lest he\nshould be thought to have approved of such wickedness, if he had added\nthe rapine of another to the store of his private property.\"\n\n\n _The Portunes._\n\nIn another part of this work the Chancellor says,[323]--\n\n\"They have in England certain demons, though I know not whether I\nshould call them demons or figures of a secret and unknown generation,\nwhich the French call Neptunes, the English Portunes.[324] It is their\nnature to embrace the simple life of comfortable farmers, and when, on\naccount of their domestic work, they are sitting up at night, when\nthe doors are shut, they warm themselves at the fire, and take little\nfrogs out of their bosom, roast them on the coals, and eat them. They\nhave the countenance of old men, with wrinkled cheeks, and they are of\na very small stature, not being quite half-an-inch high.[325] They\nwear little patched coats, and if anything is to be carried into the\nhouse, or any laborious work to be done, they lend a hand, and finish\nit sooner than any man could. It is their nature to have the power to\nserve, but not to injure. They have, however, one little mode of\nannoying. When in the uncertain shades of night the English are riding\nany where alone, the Portune sometimes invisibly joins the horseman;\nand when he has accompanied him a good while, he at last takes the\nreins, and leads the horse into a neighbouring slough; and when he is\nfixed and floundering in it, the Portune goes off with a loud laugh,\nand by sport of this sort he mocks the simplicity of mankind.\n\n\n _The Grant._\n\n\"There is,\" says he, again[326] \"in England a certain kind of demon\nwhom in their language they call Grant,[327] like a yearling foal,\nerect on its hind legs, with sparkling eyes. This kind of demon often\nappears in the streets in the heat of the day, or about sunset. If\nthere is any danger impending on the following day or night, it runs\nabout the streets provoking the dogs to bark, and, by feigning flight,\ndraws the dogs after it, in the vain hope of catching it. This\nillusion warns the inhabitants to beware of fire, and the friendly\ndemon, while he terrifies those who see him, puts by his coming the\nignorant on their guard.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThus far the Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire, and, except in the\npoets, we have met with no further account of, or allusion to,\nfairies, until the reign of Elizabeth, when a little work appeared,\nnamed, The mad Pranks and merry Jests of Robin Goodfellow,[328] from\nwhich Shakespeare seems in a good measure to have derived his Puck.\n\nThis work consists of two parts. In the first we are informed that Robin\nwas the offspring of a \"proper young wench by a hee-fayrie, a king or\nsomething of that kind among them.\" By the time he was six years old he\nwas so mischievous and unlucky that his mother found it necessary to\npromise him a whipping. He ran away and engaged with a tailor, from whom\nalso he soon eloped. When tired he sat down and fell asleep, and in his\nsleep he had a vision of fairies; and when he awoke he found lying\nbeside him a scroll, evidently left by his father, which, in verses\nwritten in letters of gold, informed him that he should have any thing\nhe wished for, and have also the power of turning himself \"To horse, to\nhog, to dog, to ape,\" etc., but he was to harm none but knaves and\nqueans, and was to \"love those that honest be, and help them in\nnecessity.\" He made trials of his power and found that he really\npossessed it. His first exploit was to turn himself into a horse, to\npunish a churlish clown, whom he induced to mount him, and gave him a\nfall that went well nigh to break his neck. The fellow then went to ride\nhim through a great plash of water, \"and in the middle of it he found\nhimself with nothing but a pack-saddle between his legs, while Robin\nwent off laughing, _Ho, ho, hoh_! He next exerted himself in the cause\nof two young lovers, and secured their happiness.\n\nIn the Second Part we find him more in the character of the Nis or\nBrownie. Coming to a farmer's house, he takes a liking to a \"good\nhandsome maid,\" that was there, and in the night does her work for\nher, at breaking hemp and flax, bolting meal, etc. Having watched one\nnight and seen him at work, and observed that he was rather bare of\nclothes, she provided him with a waistcoat against the next night.\nBut when he saw it he started and said:--\n\n Because thou layest me himpen hampen\n I will neither bolt nor stampen:\n 'Tis not your garments, new or old,\n That Robin loves: I feel no cold.\n Had you left me milk or cream,\n You should have had a pleasing dream:\n Because you left no drop or crum,\n Robin never more will come.\n\nHe went off laughing _Ho, ho, hoh_! and the maid in future had to do\nall the work herself.\n\nA company of young fellows who had been making merry with their\nsweethearts were coming home over a heath. Robin met them, and to make\nhimself merry took the form of _a walking fire_, and led them up and\ndown till daylight, and then went off saying:--\n\n Get you home, you merry lads:\n Tell your mammies and your dads,\n And all those that news desire,\n How you saw a walking fire.\n Wenches that do smile and lispe,\n Use to call me Willy Wispe.\n If that you but weary be,\n It is sport alone for me.\n Away: unto your houses go,\n And I'll go laughing, _Ho, ho, hoh_!\n\nA fellow was attempting to offer violence to a young maiden. Robin\ncame to her aid, ran between his legs in the shape of a hare, then\nturning himself into a horse, carried him off on his back, and flung\nhim into a thick hedge.\n\nRobin fell in love with a weaver's pretty wife, and for her sake took\nservice with her husband. The man caught them one day kissing, and next\nnight he went and took Robin as he was sleeping, up out of his bed, and\nwent to the river and threw him in. But instantly he heard behind him--\n\n For this your service, master, I you thank.\n Go swim yourself; I'll stay upon the bank;\n\nand was pushed in by Robin, who had put a bag of yarn in his bed, and\nnow went off with, _Ho, ho, hoh_!\n\nRobin went as a fiddler to a wedding. When the candles came he blew\nthem out, and giving the men boxes in the ears he set them a-fighting.\nHe kissed the prettiest girls, and pinched the others, till he made\nthem scratch one another like cats. When the posset was brought forth,\nhe turned himself into a bear, and frightening them away, had it all\nto himself.\n\nAt length his father who we now find was king Obreon (i.e.\nOberon),[329] called him up out of his bed one night, and took him to\nwhere the fairies were dancing to the music of Tom Thumb's bagpipe,\nand thence to Fairy-land, where he \"did show him many secrets which he\nnever did open to the world.\"\n\nIn the same work Sib says of the woman-fairies:\n\n\"To walk nightly as do the men-fairies we use not; but now and then we\ngo together, and at good housewives' fires we warm our fairy\nchildren.[330] If we find clean water and clean towels we leave them\nmoney, either in their basins, or in their shoes; but if we find no\nclean water in their houses, we wash our children in their pottage,\nmilk, or beer, or whatever we find: for the sluts that have not such\nthings fitting, we wash their faces and hands with a gilded child's\nclout, or else carry them to some river and duck them over head and\nears. We often use to dwell in some great hill, and from thence we do\nlend money to any poor man or woman that hath need; but if they bring\nit not again at the day appointed, we do not only punish them with\npinching, but also in their goods, so that they never thrive till they\nhave paid us.\"\n\nThe learned and strong-minded Reginald Scot, thus notices the\nsuperstitions of his own and the preceding age.[331]\n\n\"Indeed your grandams' maids were wont to set a bowl of milk before\nhim (Incubus) and his cousin Robin Goodfellow, for grinding of malt or\nmustard, and sweeping the house at midnight; and you have also heard\nthat he would chafe exceedingly if the maid or good-wife of the house,\nhaving compassion of his nakedness, laid any clothes for him besides\nhis mess of white bread and milk, which was his standing fee; for in\nthat case he saith,\n\n What have we here? Hemten, hamten,\n Here will I never more tread nor stampen.\n\nAgain:[332]\n\n\"The Faeries do principally inhabit the mountains and caverns of the\nearth, whose nature is to make strange apparitions on the earth, in\nmeadows or on mountains, being like men and women, soldiers, kings,\nand ladies, children and horsemen, clothed in green, to which purpose\nthey do in the night steal hempen stalks from the fields where they\ngrow, to convert them into horses, as the story goes.\n\n\"Such jocund and facetious spirits,\" he continues, \"are said to sport\nthemselves in the night by tumbling and fooling with servants and\nshepherds in country houses, pinching them black and blue, and leaving\nbread, butter, and cheese, sometimes with them, which, if they refuse\nto eat, some mischief shall undoubtedly befal them by the means of\nthese Faeries; and many such have been taken away by the said spirits\nfor a fortnight or a month together, being carried with them in\nchariots through the air, over hills and dales, rocks and precipices,\ntill at last they have been found lying in some meadow or mountain,\nbereaved of their senses, and commonly one of their members to boot.\"\n\nElsewhere[333] he gives the following goodly catalogue of these\nobjects of popular terror:--\"Our mother's maids have so frayed us with\nBull-beggars, Spirits, Witches, Urchins, Elves, Hags, Faeries, Satyrs,\nPans, Faunes, Sylens, Kit-wi-the-Canstick, Tritons, Centaurs, Dwarfs,\nGyants, Impes, Calcars, Conjurors, Nymphs, Changelings, Incubus, Robin\nGoodfellow, the Spoorn, the Mare, the Man-in-the-Oak, the Hell-wain,\nthe Firedrake, the Puckle, Tom-thombe, Hob-goblin, Tom-tumbler,\nBoneless, and such other Bugs, that we are afraid of our shadow.\"[334]\n\nBurton, after noticing from Paracelsus those which in Germany \"do\nusually walk in little coats, some two foot long,\" says,[335] \"A\nbigger kind there is of them called with us Hobgoblins and Robin\nGoodfellows, that would, in those superstitious times, grind corn for\na mess of milk, cut wood, or do any manner of drudgery work.\" And\nagain: \"Some put our Fairies into this rank (that of terrestrial\ndevils), which have been in former times adored with much\nsuperstition, with sweeping their houses, and setting of a pail of\nclean water, good victuals, and the like, and then they should not be\npinched, but find money in their shoes, and be fortunate in their\nenterprises.\" In another place (p. 30,) he says, \"And so those which\nMiyaldus calls _Ambulones_, that walk about midnight, on heaths and\ndesert places, which (saith Lavater) draw men out of the way and lead\nthem all night a by-way, or quite barre them of their way; these have\nseveral names, in several places; we commonly call them _Pucks_.\"\n\nHarsenet thus speaks of them in his Declaration:[336]--\n\n\"And if that the _bowl_ of curds and _cream_ were not _duly set_ out\nfor Robin Goodfellow, the _friar_, and Sisse the dairy-maid, why then,\neither the pottage was burned the next day in the pot, or the cheeses\nwould not curdle, or the butter would not come, or the ale in the fat\nnever would have good head. But if a Peter-penny or a Housle-egge[337]\nwere behind, or a patch of tythe unpaid--then 'ware of bull-beggars,\nspirits, &c.\"\n\nNash thus describes them:[338]--\n\n\"Then ground they malt, and had hempen shirts for their labours;\ndaunced in rounds in green meadows; pincht maids in their sleep that\nswept not their houses clean, and led poor travellers out of their way.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs the celebrated Luck of Eden Hall is supposed to have been a\nchalice, due respect for the piety of our forefathers will not allow\nof our placing the desecration of it any higher than the reign of\nElizabeth, or that of her father at farthest. We will therefore\nintroduce its history in this place.\n\n _The Luck of Eden Hall._\n\nIn this house (Eden Hall, a seat of the Musgraves,) are some good\nold-fashioned apartments. An old painted drinking-glass, called the\n_Luck of Eden Hall_, is preserved with great care. In the garden near\nto the house is a well of excellent spring water, called St.\nCuthbert's Well. (The church is dedicated to that saint.) This glass\nis supposed to have been a sacred chalice; but the legendary tale is,\nthat the butler, going to draw water, surprised a company of Fairies,\nwho were amusing themselves upon the green near the well; he seized\nthe glass which was standing upon its margin. They tried to recover\nit; but, after an ineffectual struggle, flew away, saying,--\n\n If that glass either break or fall,\n Farewell the luck of Eden Hall.[339]\n\n\"In the year 1633-4 (says Aubrey[340]) soon after I had entered into\nmy grammar, at the Latin schoole of Yatton-Keynel, [near Chippenham,\nWilts,] our curate, Mr. Hart, was annoyed one night by these elves or\nfayeries. Comming over the downes, it being neere darke, and\napproaching one of the faiery dances, as the common people call them\nin these parts, viz. the greene circles made by those sprites on the\ngrasse, he all at once saw an innumerable quantitie of pigmies, or\nvery small people, dancing rounde and rounde, and singing and making\nall maner of small odd noyses. He, being very greatly amazed, and yet\nnot being able, as he says, to run away from them, being, as he\nsupposes, kept there in a kinde of enchantment, they no sooner\nperceave him but they surround him on all sides, and what betwixte\nfeare and amazement he fell down, scarcely knowing what he did; and\nthereupon these little creatures pinched him all over, and made a\nquick humming noyse all the tyme; but at length they left him, and\nwhen the sun rose he found himself exactly in the midst of one of\nthese faiery dances. This relation I had from him myselfe a few days\nafter he was so tormented; but when I and my bed-fellow, Stump, wente\nsoon afterwards, at night time, to the dances on the downes, we sawe\nnone of the elves or faieries. But, indeed, it is saide they seldom\nappeare to any persons who go to seeke for them.\"\n\nThe next account, in order of time, that occurs, is what Sir Walter\nScott calls the Cock Lane narrative of Anne Jefferies, who was born in\n1626, in the parish of St. Teath, in Cornwall, and whose wonderful\nadventures with the fairies were, in 1696, communicated by Mr. Moses\nPitt, her master's son, to Dr. Fowler, bishop of Gloucester.[341]\n\nAccording to this account, Anne described the Fairies, who she said came\nto her, as \"six small people, all in green clothes.\" They taught her to\nperform numerous surprising cures; they fed her from harvest-time till\nChristmas; they always appeared in even numbers. When seen dancing in\nthe orchard among the trees, she said she was dancing with the fairies.\nThese fairies scorned the imputation of being evil spirits, and referred\nthose who termed them such to Scripture.\n\nThe following \"relation of the apparition of Fairies, their seeming to\nkeep a fair, and what happened to a certain man that endeavoured to\nput himself in amongst them,\" is given by Bovet.[342]\n\n\n\n _The Fairy-Fair._\n\n\"Reading once the eighteenth of Mr. Glanvil's relations, p. 203,\nconcerning an Irishman that had like to have been carried away by\nspirits, and of the banquet they had spread before them in the fields,\netc., it called to mind a passage I had often heard, of Fairies or\nspirits, so called by the country people, which showed themselves in\ngreat companies at divers times. At some times they would seem to\ndance, at other times to keep a great fair or market. I made it my\nbusiness to inquire amongst the neighbours what credit might be given\nto that which was reported of them, and by many of the neighbouring\ninhabitants I had this account confirmed.\n\n\"The place near which they most ordinarily showed themselves was on\nthe side of a hill, named Black-down, between the parishes of\nPittminster and Chestonford, not many miles from Tanton. Those that\nhave had occasion to travel that way have frequently seen them there,\nappearing like men and women, of a stature generally near the smaller\nsize of men. Their habits used to be of red, blue, or green, according\nto the old way of country garb, with high crowned hats. One time,\nabout fifty years since, a person living at Comb St. Nicholas, a\nparish lying on one side of that hill, near Chard, was riding towards\nhis home that way, and saw, just before him, on the side of the hill,\na great company of people, that seemed to him like country folks\nassembled as at a fair. There were all sorts of commodities, to his\nappearance, as at our ordinary fairs; pewterers, shoemakers, pedlars,\nwith all kind of trinkets, fruit, and drinking-booths. He could not\nremember anything which he had usually seen at fairs but what he saw\nthere. It was once in his thoughts that it might be some fair for\nChestonford, there being a considerable one at some time of the year;\nbut then again he considered that it was not the season for it. He\nwas under very great surprise, and admired what the meaning of what\nhe saw should be. At length it came into his mind what he had heard\nconcerning the Fairies on the side of that hill, and it being near the\nroad he was to take, he resolved to ride in amongst them, and see what\nthey were. Accordingly he put on his horse that way, and, though he\nsaw them perfectly all along as he came, yet when he was upon the\nplace where all this had appeared to him, he could discern nothing at\nall, only seemed to be crowded and thrust, as when one passes through\na throng of people. All the rest became invisible to him until he came\nto a little distance, and then it appeared to him again as at first.\nHe found himself in pain, and so hastened home; where, being arrived,\nlameness seized him all on one side, which continued on him as long as\nhe lived, which was many years; for he was living in Comb, and gave an\naccount to any that inquired of this accident for more than twenty\nyears afterwards; and this relation I had from a person of known\nhonour, who had it from the man himself.\n\n\"There were some whose names I have now forgot, but they then lived at\na gentleman's house, named Comb Farm, near the place before specified:\nboth the man, his wife, and divers of the neighbours, assured me they\nhad, at many times, seen this _fair-keeping_ in the summer-time, as\nthey came from Tanton-market, but that they durst not adventure in\namongst them; for that every one that had done so had received great\ndamage by it.\"\n\n\n _The Fairies' Caldron._\n\n\"In the vestry of Frensham church, in Surrey, on the north side of the\nchancel, is an extraordinary great kettle or caldron, which the\ninhabitants say, by tradition, was brought hither by the fairies, time\nout of mind, from Borough-hill, about a mile hence. To this place, if\nanyone went to borrow a yoke of oxen, money, etc., he might have it\nfor a year or longer, so he kept his word to return it. There is a\ncave where some have fancied to hear music. In this Borough-hill is a\ngreat stone, lying along of the length of about six feet. They went to\nthis stone and knocked at it, and declared what they would borrow, and\nwhen they would repay, and a voice would answer when they should come,\nand that they should find what they desired to borrow at that stone.\nThis caldron, with the trivet, was borrowed here after the manner\naforesaid, and not returned according to promise; and though the\ncaldron was afterwards carried to the stone, it could not be received,\nand ever since that time no borrowing there.\"[343]\n\n\n _The Cauld Lad of Hilton._\n\n\"Hilton Hall, in the vale of the Wear, was in former times the resort of\na Brownie or House-spirit called The Cauld Lad. Every night the servants\nwho slept in the great hall heard him at work in the kitchen, knocking\nthe things about if they had been set in order, arranging them if\notherwise, which was more frequently the case. They were resolved to\nbanish him if they could, and the spirit, who seemed to have an inkling\nof their design, was often heard singing in a melancholy tone:\n\n Wae's me! wae's me!\n The acorn is not yet\n Fallen from the tree,\n That's to grow the wood,\n That's to make the cradle,\n That's to rock the bairn,\n That's to grow to a man,\n That's to lay me.\n\nThe servants, however, resorted to the usual mode of banishing a\nBrownie: they left a green cloke and hood for him by the kitchen fire,\nand remained on the watch. They saw him come in, gaze at the new\nclothes, try them on, and, apparently in great delight, go jumping\nand frisking about the kitchen. But at the first crow of the cock he\nvanished, crying--\n\n Here's a cloak, and here's a hood!\n The Cauld Lad of Hilton will do no more good;\n\nand he never again returned to the kitchen; yet it was said that he\nmight still be heard at midnight singing those lines in a tone of\nmelancholy.\n\nThere was a room in the castle long called the Cauld Lad's Room, which\nwas never occupied unless the castle was full of company, and within\nthe last century many persons of credit had heard of the midnight\nwailing of the Cauld Lad, who some maintained was the spirit of a\nservant whom one of the barons of Hilton had killed unintentionally in\na fit of passion.\"[344]\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the beginning of the last century Bourne thus gives the popular\nbelief on this subject:\n\n\"Another part of this (winter's evening) conversation generally turns\nupon Fairies. These, they tell you, have frequently been seen and heard;\nnay, that there are some still living who were stolen away by them, and\nconfined seven years. According to the description they give of them,\nwho pretend to have seen them, they are in the shape of men exceeding\nlittle: they are always clad in green, and frequent the woods and\nfields. When they make cakes (which is a work they have been often heard\nat), they are very noisy; and when they have done, they are full of\nmirth and pastime. But generally they dance in moonlight, when mortals\nare asleep, and not capable of seeing them; as may be observed on the\nfollowing morning, their dancing places being very distinguishable: for\nas they dance hand in hand, and so make a circle in their dance, so next\nday there will be seen rings and circles on the grass.\"[345]\n\nThe author of \"Round about our Coalfire\" says:[346]\n\n\"My grandmother has often told me of Fairies dancing upon our green,\nand they were _little little creatures, clothed in green_.\n\n\"The moment any one saw them, and took notice of them, they were\nstruck blind of an eye. They lived under ground, and generally came\nout of a mole-hill.\n\n\"They had fine music always among themselves, and danced in a\nmoonshiny night around, or in a ring, as one may see at this day upon\nevery common in England, where mushrooms grow.\n\n\"When the master and mistress were laid on their pillows, the men and\nmaids, if they had a game at romp, and blundered upstairs, or jumbled\na chair, the next morning every one would swear it was the fairies,\nand that they heard them stamping up and down stairs all night, crying\n'Water's locked! Water's locked!' when there was not water in every\npail in the kitchen.\"\n\nTo come to the present times. There is no stronger proof of the\nneglect of what Mr Thoms has very happily designated \"Folk-lore\" in\nthis country, than the fact of there having been no account given\nanywhere of the Pixies or Pisgies[347] of Devonshire and Cornwall,\ntill within these last few years. In the year 1836, Mrs. Bray, a lady\nwell known as the author of several novels, and wife of a clergyman at\nTavistock, published, in a series of letters to Robert Southey,\ninteresting descriptions of the part of Devonshire bordering on the\nTamar and the Tavy. In this work there is given an account of the\nPixies, from which we derive the following information:\n\nAccording to the Devon peasant, the Pixies are the souls of infants\nwho died before they were baptised. They are of small dimensions,\ngenerally handsome in their form. Their attire is always green.\nDancing is their chief amusement, which they perform to the music of\nthe cricket, the grasshopper, and the frog,--always at night; and thus\nthey form the fairy-rings. The Pixy-house is usually in a rock. By\nmoon-light, on the moor, or under the dark shade of rocks, the\nPixy-monarch, Mrs. Bray says, holds his court, where, like Titania, he\ngives his subjects their several charges. Some are sent to the mines,\nwhere they will kindly lead the miner to the richest lode, or\nmaliciously, by noises imitating the stroke of the hammer, and by\nfalse fires, draw him on to where the worst ore in the mine lies, and\nthen laugh at his disappointment. Others are sent\n\n To make the maids their sluttery rue,\n By pinching them both black and blue.\n\nOn this account, says Mrs. Bray, \"the good dames in this part of the\nworld are very particular in sweeping their houses before they go to\nbed; and they will frequently place a basin of water beside the\nchimney-nook, to accommodate the Pixies, who are great lovers of\nwater; and sometimes they requite the good deed by dropping a piece of\nmoney into the basin. A young woman of our town, who declared she had\nreceived the reward of sixpence for a like service, told the\ncircumstance to her gossips; but no sixpence ever came again, and it\nwas generally believed that the Pixies had taken offence by her\nchattering, as they do not like to have their deeds, good or evil,\ntalked over by mortal tongues.\"\n\nThe office of some is to steal children; of others, to lead travellers\nastray, as Will-o'-the-wisps, or to _Pixy-lead_ them, as it is termed.\nSome will make confusion in a house by blowing out the candle, or\nkissing the maids \"with a smack, as they 'shriek Who's this?' as the\nold poet writes, till their grandams come in and lecture them for\nallowing unseemly freedoms with their bachelors.\" Others will make\nnoises in walls, to frighten people. In short, everything that is done\nelsewhere by fairies, boggarts, or other like beings, is done in Devon\nby the Pixies.\n\nIt is said that they will sometimes aid their favourites in spinning\ntheir flax. \"I have heard a story about an old woman in this town,\"\nsays Mrs. Bray, \"who suspected she received assistance of the above\nnature; and one evening, coming suddenly into the room, she spied a\nragged little creature, who jumped out of the door. She thought she\nwould try still further to win the services of her elfin friend, and\nso bought some smart new clothes, as big as those made for a doll.\nThese pretty things she placed by the side of her wheel. The Pixy\nreturned, and put them on; when, clapping her tiny hands, she was\nheard to exclaim--\n\n Pixy fine, Pixy gay,\n Pixy now will run away;\n\nand off she went. But the ungrateful little creature never spun for\nthe poor old woman after.\"\n\nMrs. Bray has been assured that mothers used frequently to pin their\nchildren to their sides, to prevent their being stolen by the Pixies;\nand she heard of a woman in Tavistock who avowed that her mother had a\nchild which was stolen by them, as she was engaged hanging out clothes\nto dry in her garden. She almost broke her heart when she discovered\nit; but she took great care of the changeling, which so pleased the\nPixy, that she soon after gave the woman back her child, who proved\neminently lucky in after life.\n\nThe being _Pixy-led_ is a thing very apt to befall worthy yeomen\nreturning at night from fair or market, especially if they sat long at\nthe market-table; and then, says our authority, \"he will declare, and\noffer to take his Bible-oath upon it, that, as sure as ever he's alive\nto tell it, whilst his head was running round like a mill-wheel, he\nheard with his own ears they bits of Pisgies a-laughing and\na-_tacking_ their hands, all to see he led-astray, and never able to\nfind the right road, though he had travelled it scores of times long\nagone, by night or by day, as a body might tell.\" Mr. Thoms, too, was\ntold by a Devon girl, who had often heard of the Pixies, though she\nhad never seen any, that \"she once knew a man who, one night, could\nnot find his way out of his own fields, all he could do, until he\nrecollected to _turn his coat_; and the moment he did so, he heard the\nPixies all fly away, up into the trees, and there they sat and\nlaughed. Oh! how they did laugh! But the man then soon found his way\nout of the field.\"\n\nThis turning of the coat, or some other article of dress, is found to\nbe the surest remedy against Pixy-illusion. Mrs. Bray says that the\nold folk in Tavistock have recourse to it as a preventive against\nbeing _Pixy-led_, if they have occasion to go out after sun-down. It\nappears to have been formerly in use in other parts of England also;\nfor Bishop Corbet thus notices it in his \"Iter Boreale:\"\n\n William found\n A mean for our deliverance, _Turne your cloakes_\n Quoth hee, for Pucke is busy in these oakes;\n If ever wee at Bosworth will be found\n Then _turne your cloakes_, for this is fairy ground.\n\nIn Scandinavia, also, we learn the remedy against being led astray by\nthe Lygtemand, Lyktgubhe, or Will-o'-the-Wisp, is to turn one's cap\ninside out.\n\nMrs. Bray gives, in addition, the following legends, which we have\ntaken the liberty of abridging a little.\n\n\n _The Pixy-Labour._\n\nOne night, about twelve o'clock in the morning, as the good folks say,\nwho tell this good tale, Dame ---- the _sage femme_ of Tavistock, had\njust got comfortably into bed, when rap, rap, rap, came on her cottage\ndoor, with such bold and continued noise, that there was a sound of\nauthority in every individual knock. Startled and alarmed by the call,\nshe arose from her bed, and soon learnt that the summons was a hasty\none to bid her attend on a patient who needed her help. She opened her\ndoor, when the summoner appeared to be a strange, squint-eyed, little,\nugly old fellow, who had a look, as she said, very like a certain dark\npersonage, who ought not at all times to be called by his proper name.\nNot at all prepossessed in favour of the errand by the visage of the\nmessenger, she nevertheless could not, or dared not, resist the\ncommand to follow him straight, and attend on \"his wife.\"\n\n\"Thy wife!\" thought the good dame; \"Heaven forgive me, but as sure as\nI live I be going to the birth of a little divil.\" A large coal-black\nhorse, with eyes like balls of fire, stood at the door. The\nill-looking old fellow, without more ado, whisked her up on a high\npillion in a minute, seated himself before her, and away went horse\nand riders as if sailing through the air rather than trotting on the\nground. How she got to the place of her destination she could not\ntell; but it was a great relief to her fears when she found herself\nset down at the door of a neat cottage, saw a couple of tidy children,\nand remarked her patient to be a decent looking woman, having all\nthings about her fitting the time and occasion. A fine bouncing babe\nsoon made its appearance, who seemed very bold on its entry into life,\nfor it gave the good dame a box on the ear, as, with the coaxing and\ncajolery of all good old nurses, she declared the \"sweet little thing\nto be very like its father.\" The mother said nothing to this, but gave\nnurse a certain ointment, with directions that she should _strike_ (i.\ne. _rub_) the child's eyes with it. The nurse performed her task,\nconsidering what it could be for. She thought that, as no doubt it was\na good thing, she might just as well try it upon her own eyes as well\nas those of the baby; so she made free to _strike_ one of them by way\nof trial, when, O ye powers of fairy land! what a change was there!\n\nThe neat, but homely cottage, and all who were in it, seemed all on a\nsudden to undergo a mighty transformation; some for the better, some for\nthe worse. The new-made mother appeared as a beautiful lady attired in\nwhite; the babe was seen wrapped in swaddling clothes of a silvery\ngauze. It looked much prettier than before, but still maintained the\nelfish cast of the eye, like his father, whilst two or three children\nmore had undergone a strange metamorphosis. For there sat on either side\nthe bed's head, a couple of little flat-nosed imps, who with \"mops and\nmows,\" and with many a grimace and grin, were busied to no end in\nscratching their own polls, or in pulling the fairy lady's ears with\ntheir long and hairy paws. The dame who beheld all this, fearing she\nknew not what, in the house of enchantment, got away as fast as she\ncould, without saying one word about _striking_ her own eye with the\nmagic ointment and what she had seen. The sour-looking old fellow once\nmore handed her up on the coal-black-horse, and sent her home in a _whip\nsissa_[348] much faster than she came.\n\nOn the next market-day, when she sallied forth to sell her eggs, she\nsaw the same old fellow busy pilfering sundry articles from stall to\nstall, and going up to him she enquired about his wife and child.\n\"What!\" exclaimed he, \"do you see me to-day?\" \"See you! to be sure I\ndo, as plain as I see the sun in the sky; and I see you are busy,\ntoo.\" \"Do you?\" says he, \"and pray with which eye do you see all\nthis?\" \"With the right eye to be sure.\"\n\n\"The ointment! the ointment!\" cried he. \"Take that, for meddling with\nwhat did not belong to you; you shall see me no more.\"\n\nHe struck her eye as he spoke, and from that hour till the day of her\ndeath she was blind of that eye.\n\n\n _Pixy-Vengeance._\n\nTwo serving-girls in Tavistock said that the Pixies were very kind to\nthem, and used to drop silver for them into a bucket of fair water\nwhich they took care to place for them in the chimney-nook every\nnight. Once it was forgotten, and the Pixies forthwith came up to the\ngirls' room, and loudly complained of the neglect. One of them, who\nhappened to be awake, jogged the other, and proposed going down to\nrectify the omission, but she said, \"for her part she would not stir\nout of bed to please all the pixies in Devonshire.\" The other went\ndown and filled the bucket, in which, by the way, she found next\nmorning a handful of silver pennies. As she was returning, she heard\nthe Pixies debating about what they would do to punish the other.\nVarious modes were proposed and rejected; at last it was agreed to\ngive her a lame leg for a term of seven years, then to be cured by an\nherb growing on Dartmoor, whose name of seven syllables was\npronounced in a clear and audible tone. This the girl tried by every\nknown means to fix in her memory. But when she awoke in the morning,\nit was gone, and she could only tell that Molly was to be lame for\nseven years, and then be cured by an herb with a strange name. As for\nMolly, she arose dead lame, and so she continued till the end of the\nperiod, when one day, as she was picking up a mushroom, a\nstrange-looking boy started up and insisted on _striking_ her leg with\na plant which he held in his hand. He did so, and she was cured and\nbecame the best dancer in the town.\n\n\n _Pixy-Gratitude._\n\nAn old woman who lived near Tavistock had in her garden a splendid bed\nof tulips. To these the Pixies of the neighbourhood loved to resort,\nand often at midnight might they be heard singing their babes to rest\namong them. By their magic power they made the tulips more beautiful\nand more permanent than any other tulips, and they caused them to emit\na fragrance equal to that of the rose. The old woman was so fond of\nher tulips that she would never let one of them be plucked, and thus\nthe Pixies were never deprived of their floral bowers.\n\nBut at length the old woman died; the tulips were taken up, and the\nplace converted into a parsley-bed. Again, however, the power of the\nPixies was shown; the parsley withered, and nothing would grow even in\nthe other beds of the garden. On the other hand, they tended diligently\nthe grave of the old woman, around which they were heard lamenting and\nsinging dirges. They suffered not a weed to grow on it; they kept it\nalways green, and evermore in spring-time spangled with wild flowers.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThus far for the Pixies of Devon; as for the adjoining Somerset, all\nwe have to say is, that a good woman from that county, with whom we\nwere acquainted, used, when making a cake, always to draw a cross\nupon it. This, she said, was in order to prevent the Vairies from\ndancing on it. She described these Vairies as being very small people,\nwho, with the vanity natural to little personages, wear high-heeled\nshoes, and if a new-made cake be not duly crossed, they imprint on it\nin their capers the marks of their heels. Of the actual existence of\nthe Vairies, she did not seem to entertain the shadow of a doubt.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn Dorset also, the Pixy-lore still lingers. The being is called _Pexy_\nand _Colepexy_; the fossil belemnites are named Colepexies'-fingers; and\nthe fossil echini, Colepexies'-heads. The children, when naughty, are\nalso threatened with the Pexy, who is supposed to haunt woods and\ncoppices.[349]\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"In Hampshire,\" says Captain Grose, \"they give the name of Colt-Pixy\nto a supposed spirit or fairy, which in the shape of a horse\n_wickers_, i. e. neighs, and misleads horses into bogs, etc.\"\n\nThe following is a Hampshire legend:[350]\n\n\n _The Fairy-Thieves._\n\nA farmer in Hampshire was sorely distressed by the unsettling of his\nbarn. However straightly over-night he laid his sheaves on the\nthreshing-floor for the application of the morning's flail, when\nmorning came, all was topsy-turvy, higgledy-piggledy, though the door\nremained locked, and there was no sign whatever of irregular entry.\nResolved to find out who played him these mischievous pranks, Hodge\ncouched himself one night deeply among the sheaves, and watched for\nthe enemy. At length midnight arrived, the barn was illuminated as if\nby moonbeams of wonderful brightness, and through the key-hole came\nthousands of elves, the most diminutive that could be imagined. They\nimmediately began their gambols among the straw, which was soon in a\nmost admired disorder. Hodge wondered, but interfered not; but at last\nthe supernatural thieves began to busy themselves in a way still less\nto his taste, for each elf set about conveying the crop away, a straw\nat a time, with astonishing activity and perseverance. The key-hole\nwas still their port of egress and regress, and it resembled the\naperture of a bee-hive, on a sunny day in June. The farmer was rather\nannoyed at seeing his grain vanish in this fashion, when one of the\nfairies said to another in the tiniest voice that ever was heard--\"_I\nweat, you weat?_\" Hodge could contain himself no longer. He leaped out\ncrying, \"The devil sweat ye. Let me get among ye!\" when they all flew\naway so frightened that they never disturbed the barn any more.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn Suffolk the fairies are called _farisees_. Not many years ago, a\nbutcher near Woodbridge went to a farmer's to buy a calf, and finding,\nas he expressed it, that \"the cratur was all o' a muck,\" he desired\nthe farmer to hang a flint by a string in the crib, so as to be just\nclear of the calf's head. \"Becaze,\" said he, \"the calf is rid every\nnight by the _farisees_, and the stone will brush them off.\"[351]\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe once questioned a girl from Norfolk on the subject of Fairy-lore.\nShe said she had often heard of and even seen the _Frairies_. They\nwere dressed in white, and lived under the ground, where they\nconstructed houses, bridges, and other edifices. It is not safe, she\nadded, to go near them when they appear above ground.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe now proceed to Yorkshire, where the Boggart and the Barguest used\nto appear in by-gone days. The former, whose name we will presently\nexplain, is the same as the Brownie or Kobold; the latter, whose\nproper name perhaps is Barn-ghaist, or Barn-spirit, keeps without, and\nusually takes the form of some domestic animal.\n\n\n _The Boggart._\n\nIn the house of an honest farmer in Yorkshire, named George\nGilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He here caused a good\ndeal of annoyance, especially by tormenting the children in various\nways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away, or\ntheir porringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible hand;\nfor the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times, the\ncurtains of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a\nheavy weight would press on and nearly suffocate them. The parents had\noften, on hearing their cries, to fly to their aid. There was a kind\nof closet, formed by a wooden partition on the kitchen-stairs, and a\nlarge knot having been driven out of one of the deal-boards of which\nit was made, there remained a hole.[352] Into this one day the\nfarmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe-horn with which he was amusing\nhimself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and struck the boy\non the head. The agent was of course the Boggart, and it soon became\ntheir sport (which they called _laking_[353] _with Boggart_) to put\nthe shoe-horn into the hole and have it shot back at them.\n\nThe Boggart at length proved such a torment that the farmer and his wife\nresolved to quit the house and let him have it all to himself. This was\nput into execution, and the farmer and his family were following the\nlast loads of furniture, when a neighbour named John Marshall came\nup--\"Well, Georgey,\" said he, \"and soa you're leaving t'ould hoose at\nlast?\"--\"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced tull it; for that damned\nBoggart torments us soa, we can neither rest neet nor day for't. It\nseems loike to have such a malice again t'poor bairns, it ommost kills\nmy poor dame here at thoughts on't, and soa, ye see, we're forced to\nflitt loike.\" He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep\nupright churn cried out, \"Aye, aye, Georgey, we're flitting ye\nsee.\"--\"Od damn thee,\" cried the poor farmer, \"if I'd known thou'd been\nthere, I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally,\"\nturning to his wife, \"we may as weel turn back again to t'ould hoose as\nbe tormented in another that's not so convenient.\"[354]\n\n\n _Addlers and Menters._\n\nAn old lady in Yorkshire related as follows:--My eldest daughter\nBetsey was about four years old; I remember it was on a fine summer's\nafternoon, or rather evening, I was seated in this chair which I now\noccupy. The child had been in the garden, she came into that entry or\npassage from the kitchen (on the right side of the entry was the old\nparlour-door, on the left the door of the common sitting-room; the\nmother of the child was in a line with both the doors); the child,\ninstead of turning towards the sitting-room made a pause at the\nparlour-door, which was open. She stood several minutes quite still;\nat last I saw her draw her hand quickly towards her body; she set up a\nloud shriek and ran, or rather flew, to me crying out \"Oh! Mammy,\ngreen man will hab me! green man will hab me!\" It was a long time\nbefore I could pacify her; I then asked her why she was so frightened.\n\"O Mammy,\" she said, \"all t'parlour is full of _addlers_ and\n_menters_.\" Elves and fairies (spectres?) I suppose she meant. She\nsaid they were dancing, and a little man in a green coat with a gold\nlaced cocked hat on his head, offered to take her hand as if he would\nhave her as his partner in the dance. The mother, upon hearing this,\nwent and looked into the old parlour, but the fairy vision had melted\ninto thin air. \"Such,\" adds the narrator, \"is the account I heard of\nthis vision of fairies. The person is still alive who witnessed or\nsupposed she saw it, and though a well-informed person, still\npositively asserts the relation to be strictly true.[355]\n\n * * * * *\n\nRitson, who was a native of the bishopriek of Durham, tells us[356] that\nthe fairies frequented many parts of it; that they were described as\nbeing of the smallest size, and uniformly habited in green. They could,\nhowever, change their size and appearance. \"A woman,\" he says, \"who had\nbeen in their society challenged one of the guests whom she espied in\nthe market selling fairy-butter.[357] This freedom was deeply resented,\nand cost her the eye she first saw him with. Some one informed him that\nan acquaintance of his in Westmoreland, wishing to see a fairy, was told\nthat on such a day on the side of such a hill, he should be gratified.\nHe went, and there, to use his own words, \"the hobgoblin stood before\nhim in the likeness of a green-coat lad,\" but vanished instantly. This,\nhe said, the man told him. A female relation of his own told Mr. Ritson\nof Robin Goodfellow's, it would seem, thrashing the corn, churning the\nbutter, drinking the milk, etc., and when all was done, lying before the\nfire \"_like a great rough hurgin_ (hugging?) _bear_.\"[358]\n\nThe Barguest used also to appear in the shape of a mastiff-dog and\nother animals, and terrify people with his _skrikes_ (shrieks). There\nwas a Barguest named the Picktree Brag, whose usual form was that of a\nlittle galloway, \"in which shape a farmer, still or lately living\nthereabouts, reported that it had come to him one night as he was going\nhome; that he got upon it and rode very quietly till it came to a great\npond, to which it ran and threw him in, and _went laughing away_.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn Northumberland the belief in the fairies is not yet extinct. The\nwriter from whom we derive the following legends tells us[359] that he\nknew an old man whose dog had _pointed_ a troop of fairies,[360] and\nthough he could not see them he plainly heard their music sounding like\na fiddle and a _very small_ pair of pipes. He also tells us, that many\nyears ago a girl who lived near Nether Witton, as she was returning from\nmilking with her pail on her head, saw the fairies playing in the\nfields, and though she pointed them out to her companions they could not\nsee them. The reason it seemed was her _weise_ or pad for bearing the\npail on her head was composed of four-leaved clover, which gives the\npower of seeing fairies. Spots are pointed out in sequestered places as\nthe favourite haunts of the elves. A few miles from Alnwick is a\nfairy-ring, round which if people run more than nine times, some evil\nwill befall them. The children constantly run this number, but nothing\nwill induce them to venture a tenth run.\n\n\n _The Fary Nurseling._\n\nA cottager and his wife residing at Nether Witton were one day visited\nby a _fary_ and his spouse with their young child, which they wished\nto leave in their charge. The cottager agreed to take care of the\nchild for a certain period when it had to be taken thence. The fary\ngave the man a box of ointment with which to anoint the child's eyes;\nbut he had not on any account to touch himself with it, or some\nmisfortune would befal him. For a long time he and his wife were very\ncareful to avoid the dangerous unction; but one day when his wife was\nout curiosity overcame his prudence, and he anointed his eyes without\nany noticeable effect; but after a while, when walking through Long\nHorsley Fair, he met the male fary and accosted him. He started back\nin amazement at the recognition; but instantly guessing the truth,\nblew on the eyes of the cottager, and instantly blinded him. The child\nwas never more seen.\n\n\n _The Fary Labour._\n\nAnother tale relates that a messenger having visited a country midwife\nor _howdie_ requested her professional assistance in a case where so\nmuch secrecy was required that she must be conducted to and from the\ndestined place blindfolded; she at first hesitated, but her scruples\nwere overcome by a handsome present, the promise of a future reward,\nand assurance of perfect personal safety. She then submitted to the\nrequired condition, mounted behind the messenger on a fleet charger,\nand was carried forward in an unaccountable manner. The journey was\nnot of long continuance, the steed halted, she dismounted, and was\nconducted into a cottage where the bandage was removed from her eyes;\neverything appeared neat and comfortable. She was shown the woman \"in\nthe straw,\" and performed her office; but when ready to dress the\nbabe, an old woman, (who, according to the narration, appears to have\nbeen the nurse,) put a box of ointment into her hand, requiring her to\nanoint the child all over with it, but to be careful that it did not\ntouch her own person; she prudently complied, though wondering at the\nmotive. Whilst this operation was going on, she felt an itching in one\nof her eyes, and in an unguarded moment rubbed it with a finger which\nhad touched the mysterious ointment. And now a new scene forced itself\nupon her astonished vision, and she saw everything in a different\nlight; instead of the neat cottage, she perceived the large\noverhanging branches of an ancient oak, whose hollow and moss-grown\ntrunk she had before mistaken for the fire place, glowworms supplied\nthe place of lamps, and, in short, she found herself in the abode of a\nfamily of faries, with faries was she surrounded, and one of their\nnumber reposed on her lap. She however retained her self-possession,\nfinished her task, and was conducted homeward in the same manner as\nshe was brought. So far all went well, and the _howdie_ might have\ncarried the secret to her grave, but in after time, on a market-day\n(in what town the legend saith not,) forgetful of her former caution,\nshe saw the old nurse among the countrywomen, gliding about from one\nbasket to another, passing a little wooden scraper along the rolls of\nbutter, and carefully collecting the particles thus purloined into a\nvessel hung by her side. After a mutual but silent recognition, the\nnurse addressed her thus, \"Which eye do you see me with?\" \"With this,\"\ninnocently answered the other. No sooner had she spoken than a puff\nfrom the withering breath of her unearthly companion extinguished the\nill-fated orb for ever, and the hag instantly vanished.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother version says the Doctor is presented with a box of eye-salve\nby his conductor; on using it he sees a splendid portico in the side\nof a steep hill, through this he is shown into the faries' hall in the\ninterior of the mountain: he performs his office, and on coming out\nreceives a second box; he rubs one eye, and with it sees the hill in\nits natural shape; then thinking to cheat the devil, feigns to rub the\nother, and gallops off. Afterwards he sees the fary's husband stealing\ncorn in the market, when similar consequences befal him as those which\noccurred unto the woman.\n\n\n _Ainsel._\n\nA widow and her son, a little boy, lived together in a cottage in or\nnear the village of Rothley, Northumberland. One winter's evening the\nchild refused to go to bed with his mother, as he wished to sit up for\na while longer, \"for,\" said he, \"I am not sleepy.\" The mother finding\nremonstrance in vain, at last told him that if he sat up by himself\nthe faries would most certainly come and take him away. The boy\nlaughed as his mother went to bed, leaving him sitting by the fire; he\nhad not been there long, watching the fire and enjoying its cheerful\nwarmth, till a beautiful little figure, about the size of a child's\ndoll, descended the chimney and alighted on the hearth! The little\nfellow was somewhat startled at first, but its prepossessing smile as\nit paced to and fro before him soon overcame his fears, and he\ninquired familiarly, \"What do they ca' thou?\" \"Ainsel,\" answered the\nlittle thing haughtily, at the same time retorting the question, \"And\nwhat do they ca' _thou_?\" \"_My_ ainsel',\" answered the boy; and they\ncommenced playing together like two children newly acquainted. Their\ngambols continued quite innocently until the fire began to grow dim;\nthe boy then took up the poker to stir it, when a hot cinder\naccidently fell upon the foot of his playmate; her tiny voice was\ninstantly raised to a most terrific roar, and the boy had scarcely\ntime to crouch into the bed behind his mother, before the voice of the\nold fary-mother was heard shouting, \"Who's done it? Who's done it?\"\n\"Oh! it was my ainsel!\" answered the daughter. \"Why, then,\" said the\nmother, as she kicked her up the chimney, \"what's all this noise for:\nthere's nyon (_i.e._ no one) to blame.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nSuch is the sum of what we have been able to collect respecting the\npopular fairy-lore of England, the largest and most complete\ncollection that, to our knowledge, has ever been made. We might\nventure to add that little more is ever likely to be collected, for\nthe sounds of the cotton-mill, the steam-engine, and, more than all,\nthe whistle of the railway train, more powerful than any exorcists,\nhave banished, or soon will banish, the fairy tribes from all their\naccustomed haunts, and their name and their exploits will in future be\nfound in works like the present rather than in village tradition.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs the merry spirit, Puck, is so prominent an actor in the scenes\nforming our next division, this may be deemed no unfitting place for\nthe consideration of his various appellations; such as Puck, Robin\nGood-fellow, Robin Hood, Hobgoblin.\n\nPuck is evidently the same with the old word _Pouke_,[361] the\noriginal meaning of which would seem to be devil, demon, or evil\nspirit. We first meet with it in the Vision of Piers Ploughman, where\nit undoubtedly signifies 'the grand adversary of God and man.'\n\nWhen, in this poem,[362] the Seer beholds Abraham, the personification\nof Faith, with his \"wide clothes,\" within which lay a Lazar,\n\n Amonges patriarkes and prophetes,\n Pleying togideres,\n\nand asks him what was there,\n\n Loo! quod he, and leet me see.\n Lord mercy! I seide;\n This is a present of muche pris,\n What prynce shal it have?\n It is a precious present, quod he,\n Ac the _pouke_ it hath attached,\n And me theremyde, quod that man,\n May no wed us quyte,\n\n Ne no buyrn be oure borgh,\n Ne bringe us from his daunger;\n Out of the _poukes pondfold_\n No maynprise may us fecche,\n Til he come that I carpe of,\n Crist is his name,\n That shall delivere us som day\n Out of the _develes_ power.\n\nGolding also must have understood Pooke in the sense of devil, when in\nthe ninth book of his translation of Ovid, unauthorised however by\nthe original, he applies it to the Chim\u00e6ra,\n\n The country where Chym\u00e6ra, that same _pooke_\n Hath goatish body, lion's head and brist, and dragon's tayle.\n\nSpenser employs the word, and he clearly distinguishes it from\nhob-goblin:\n\n Ne let housefires nor lightnings helpless harms,\n Ne let the _pouke_[363] nor other evil sprites,\n Ne let mischievous witches with their charms,\n Ne let _hob-goblins_, names whose sense we see not,\n Fray us with things that be not.--_Epithalamion_, v. 340.\n\nThese terms are also distinguished in the poem named The Scourge of\nVenus:\n\n And that they may perceive the heavens frown,\n The _poukes_ and _goblins_ pull the coverings down.\n\nIn Ben Jonson's play of The Devil is an Ass, the unlucky fiend who gives\norigin to its name is called Pug, and in the same author's Sad Shepherd\nthe personage named Puck-hairy is, as Gifford justly observes, \"not the\nFairy or Oriental Puck, though often confounded with him.\"[364] In\ntruth, it is first in Shakespeare that we find Puck confounded with the\nHouse-spirit, and having those traits of character which are now\nregarded as his very essence, and have caused his name Pug to be given\nto the agile mischievous monkey, and to a kind of little dog.\n\nWe will now discuss the origin of this far-famed appellation and its\nderivation.\n\nIn the Slavonic tongues, which are akin to the Teutonic, _B\u00f4g_ is God,\nand there are sleights of etymology which would identify the two\nterms; the Icelandic Puki is an evil spirit, and such we have seen was\nthe English Pouke, which easily became Puck, Pug, and Bug; finally, in\nFriesland the Kobold is called Puk, and in old German we meet with\nPutz or Butz as the name of a being not unlike the original English\nPuck.[365] The Devonshire fairies are called Pixies, and the Irish\nhave their Pooka, and the Welsh their Pwcca, both derived from Pouke\nor Puck. From Bug comes the Scottish Bogle, (which Gawin Douglas\nexpressly distinguishes from the Brownie) and the Yorkshire\nBoggart.[366] The Swedish language has the terms _sp\u00f6ka_, _sp\u00f6ke_; the\nDanish _sp\u00f6ge_, _sp\u00f6gelse_, the German, _spuken_, _spuk_, all used of\nspirits or ghosts, and their apparitions. Perhaps the Scottish\n_pawkey_, sly, knowing, may belong to the same family of words. Akin\nto Bogle was the old English term Puckle, noticed above, which is\nstill retained in the sense of mischievous, as in Peregrine Pickle and\nLittle Pickle. It has been conjectured[367] that _Pickleh\u00e4ring_, the\nGerman term for zany or merry-andrew, may have been properly\n_Pickleh\u00e4rin_, _i.e._ the hairy sprite, answering to Jonson's\nPuck-hairy, and that he may have worn a vesture of hair or leaves to\nbe rough like the Brownie and kindred beings.\n\nFrom Bug also come Bugbear, and Bugleboo, or Bugaboo. They owe their\norigin probably to the Ho! Ho! Ho! given to Puck or Robin Goodfellow,\nas it was to the Devil (_i.e._, Pouke) in the Mysteries. Bull-beggar\nmay be only a corruption of Bugbear.[368]\n\nThe following passage from a writer of the present day proves that in\nsome places the idea of Puck as a spirit haunting the woods and fields\nis still retained. \"The peasantry,\" says Mr. Allies,[369] \"of Alfrick\nand those parts of Worcestershire, say that they are sometimes what\nthey call _Poake-ledden_, that is, that they are occasionally waylaid\nin the night by a mischievous sprite whom they call Poake, who leads\nthem into ditches, bogs, pools, and other such scrapes, and then sets\nup a loud laugh and leaves them quite bewildered in the lurch.\" This\nis what in Devon is called being _Pixy-led_. We may observe the\nlikeness here to the Puck of Shakspeare and Drayton, who were both\nnatives of the adjoining county.\n\nA further proof perhaps of Puck's rural and extern character is the\nfollowing rather trifling circumstance. An old name of the fungus\nnamed _puffball_ is _puckfist_, which is plainly Puck's-fist, and not\n_puff-fist_ as Nares conjectured; for its Irish name is\n_Cos-a-Phooka_, or Pooka's-foot, _i.e._, Puck's-foot. We will add by\nthe way, that the Anglo-Saxon [Old English: Wulfes-fist], Wolf's-fist,\nis rendered in the dictionaries toadstool, mushroom, and we cannot\nhelp suspecting that as wolf and elf were sometimes confounded, and\nwolf and fist are, in fact, incompatible terms, this was originally\n[Old English: \u00c6lfes-fist] Elf's-fist, and that the mushrooms meant\nwere not the thick ugly toadstools, the \"grislie todestooles,\" of\nSpenser, but those delicate fungi called in Ireland _fairy-mushrooms_,\nand which perhaps in England also were ascribed to the fairies.[370]\n\nSo much then for Puck; we will now consider some other terms.\n\n * * * * *\n\nRobin Goodfellow, of whom we have given above a full account, is\nevidently a domestic spirit, answering in name and character to the\nNisse God-dreng of Scandinavia, the Knecht Ruprecht, _i.e._, Robin of\nGermany. He seems to unite in his person the Boggart and Barguest of\nYorkshire.\n\nHob-goblin is, as we have seen, another name of the same spirit.\nGoblin is the French _gobelin_, German Kobold; Hob is Rob, Robin, Bob;\njust as Hodge is Roger. We still have the proper names Hobbs, Hobson,\nlike Dix, Dixon, Wills, Wilson; by the way, Hick, _i. e._ Dick, from\nRichard, still remains in Hicks, Hickson.\n\nRobin Hood, though we can produce no instance of it, must, we think,\nalso have been an appellation of this spirit, and been given to the\nfamed outlaw of merry Sherwood, from his sportive character and his\nabiding in the recesses of the greenwood. The hood is a usual\nappendage of the domestic spirit.\n\nRoguery and sportiveness are, we may see, the characteristics of this\nspirit. Hence it may have been that the diminutives of proper names were\ngiven to him, and even to the Ignis Fatuus, which in a country like\nEngland, that was in general dry and free from sloughs and bog-holes,\nwas mischievous rather than dangerous.[371] But this seems to have been\na custom of our forefathers, for we find the devil himself called Old\nNick, and Old Davy is the sailor's familiar name for Death.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the Midsummer Night's Dream the fairy says to Puck \"Thou Lob of\nspirits;\" Milton has the _lubber-fiend_, and Fletcher says,[372]\n\"There is a pretty tale of a witch that had a giant to be her son that\nwas called Lob Lie-by-the-fire.\" This might lead us to suppose that\n_Lob_, whence _loby_ (looby), _lubbard_, _lubber_,[373] and adding the\ndiminutive _kin_, Lubberkin, a name of one of the clowns in Gay's\nPastorals, was an original name of some kind of spirit. We shall\npresently see that the Irish name of the Leprechaun is actually\nLubberkin. As to the origin of the name we have little to say, but it\nmay have had a sense the very opposite of the present one of _lubber_,\nand have been connected with the verb _to leap_.[374] Grimm[375] tells\nof a spirit named the Good Lubber, to whom the bones of animals used\nto be offered at Mansfield in Germany; but we see no resemblance\nbetween him and our Lob of spirits; we might rather trace a connexion\nwith the French Lutin, Lubin.[376] The phrase of _being in_ or\n_getting into Lob's Pound_ (like the \"Pouke's pondfold,\") is easy of\nexplanation, if we suppose Lob to be a sportive spirit. It is\nequivalent to being _Poake-ledden_ or _Pixy-led_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWight, answering to the German _Wicht_, seems to have been used in the\ntime of Chaucer for elf or fairy, most probably for such as haunted\nhouses, or it may have had the signification of _witch_, which is\nevidently another form of it. In the Miller's Tale the carpenter says,\n\n I crouch\u00e8 thee from elv\u00e8s and from _wights_.\n\nAnd\n\n Jesu Crist, and Seint Benedight,\n Blisse this house from every wicked _wight_![377]\n\nUrchin is a term which, like _elf_ and such like, we still apply to\nchildren, but which seems formerly to have been one of the\nappellations of the fairies. Reginald Scott, as we have seen, places\nit in his list, and we find it in the following places of the poets:--\n\n _Urchins_\n Shall for the vast of night that they may work\n All exercise on thee.--_Tempest_, i. 2.\n\n His spirits hear me,\n And yet I needs must curse; but they'll not pinch.\n Fright me with _urchin-shows_, pitch me i' the mire,\n Nor lead me like a fire-brand in the dark\n Out of my way, unless he bid 'em.--_Ib._ ii. 2.\n\n Like _urchins_, ouphs, and fairies.\n _Merry Wives of Windsor_, iv. 4.\n\n Elves, _urchins_, goblins all, and little fairyes.\n _Mad Pranks_, etc., p. 38.\n\n Great store of goblins, fairies, bugs, nightmares,\n _Urchins_, and elves, to many a house repairs.\n _Old Poem_, in Brand, ii. 514.\n\n Trip it, little _urchins_ all.\n _Maid's Metamorphosis._\n\n Helping all _urchin-blasts_ and ill-luck signs,\n That the shrewd meddling elfe delights to make.\n _Comus_, 845.\n\nUrchin is a hedgehog, as Stevens has justly observed,[378] and in\nthese lines of Titus Andronicus (ii. 3.)\n\n A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,\n Ten thousand swelling toads, as many _urchins_,\n\nit probably has this sense. We still call the _echinus marinus_ the\nSea-urchin. Still as we have no analogy, but rather the contrary, for\ntransferring the name of an animal to the elves, we feel inclined to\nlook for a different origin of the term as applied to these beings. The\nbest or rather only hypothesis we have met with[379] is that which finds\nit in the hitherto unexplained word _Orcneas_ in Be\u00f3wulf, which may have\nbeen _Orcenas_, and if, as we have supposed,[380] the Anglo-Saxons\nsometimes pronounced _c_ before _e_ and _i_ in the Italian manner, we\nshould have, if needed, the exact word. We would also notice the old\nGerman _urkinde_, which Grimm renders _nanus_.[381]\n\nWe now come to the poets.\n\nIn Be\u00f3wulf, an Anglo-Saxon poem, supposed not to be later than the\nseventh century, we meet with the following verse,\n\n \"Eotenas, and Ylfe,\n And Orcneas.\"\n\nThe first of these words is evidently the same as the I\u00f6tunn or Giants\nof the northern mythology; the second is as plainly its Alfar, and we\nsurely may be excused for supposing that the last may be the same as\nits Duergar.\n\nLayamon, in the twelfth century, in his poetic paraphrase of Wace's\nBrut,[382] thus expands that poet's brief notice of the birth of\nArthur:--\n\n \"Ertur son nom; de sa bunte\n Ad grant parole puis este.\"\n\n Sone swa he com on eorthe, So soon he came on earth,\n Alven hine ivengen. Elves received him.\n Heo bigolen that child They enchanted that child\n Mid galdere swith stronge. With magic most strong.\n Heo zeven him mihte They gave him might\n To beon best alre cnihton. To be the best of all knights.\n Heo zeven him an other thing They gave him another thing\n That he scolde beon riche king. That he should be a rich king.\n Heo zeven him that thridde They gave him the third\n That he scolde longe libben. That he should long live.\n Heo zeven that kin-bern They gave to that kingly child\n Custen swithe gode. Virtues most good.\n That he was mete-custi That he was most generous\n Of alle quike monnen. Of all men alive.\n This the Alven him zef. This the Elves him gave.\n vv. 19254: _seq._\n\nIf we have made any discovery of importance in the department of\nromantic literature, it is our identification of Ogier le Danois with\nthe Eddaic Helgi.[383] We have shown among other points of\nresemblance, that as the Norns were at the birth of the one, so the\nF\u00e9es were at that of the other. With this circumstance Layamon was\napparently acquainted, and when he wished to transfer it to Arthur as\nthe Norns were no longer known and the Fees had not yet risen into\nimportance, there only remained for him to employ the Elves, which had\nnot yet acquired tiny dimensions. Hence then we see that the progress\nwas Norns, Elves, F\u00e9es, and these last held their place in the\nsubsequent Fairy tales of France and Italy.\n\nThese potent Elves are still superior to the popular Fairies which we\nfirst met with in Chaucer.\n\nYet nothing in the passages in which he speaks of them leads to the\ninference of his conceiving them to be of a diminutive stature. His\nnotions, indeed, on the subject seem very vague and unsettled; and\nthere is something like a confusion of the Elves and Fairies of\nRomance, as the following passages will show:--\n\nThe Wife of Bathes Tale is evidently a Fairy tale. It thus commences:\n\n In old\u00e8 day\u00e8s of the king Arto\u00far,\n Of which that Bretons speken gret hono\u00far,\n All was this lond fulfilled of fa\u00ebrie;[384]\n The Elf-quene with her joly compagnie,\n Danced ful oft in many a gren\u00e8 mede.\n This was the old opinion as I rede;\n I speke of many hundred yeres ago.\n But now can no man see non elv\u00e8s mo,\n For now the gret\u00e8 charitee and pray\u00e9res\n Of limitoures, and other holy freres,\n That serchen every land and every streme,\n As thikke as mot\u00e8s in the sonn\u00e8-beme,\n Blissing halles, chambres, kichen\u00e8s, and boures,\n Citees and burgh\u00e8s, castles highe, and toures,\n Throp\u00e8s[385] and bern\u00e8s, shepenes and dairi\u00e9s,\n This maketh that there ben no fa\u00ebries;\n For there as wont to walken was an elf,\n There walketh now the limitour himself,\n In undermel\u00e8s,[386] and in morweninges,\n And sayth his matines and his holy thinges,\n As he goth in his limitatioun.\n Women may now go safely up and down;\n In every bush and under every tree\n There is none other incubus but he,\n And he ne will don hem no dishono\u00far.\n\nThe Fairies therefore form a part of the tale, and they are thus\nintroduced:\n\n The day was come that homward must he turne;\n And in his way it happed him to ride,\n In all his care, under a forest side,\n Wheras he saw upon a danc\u00e8 go\n Of ladies foure and twenty, and yet mo:\n Toward this ilke dance he drow ful yerne,\n In hope that he som wisdom shuld\u00e8 lerne;\n But certainly, er he came fully there,\n Yvanished was this dance, he n'iste not wher;\n No cre\u00e4ture saw he that bar\u00e8 lif,\n Save on the grene he saw sitting a wif,\n A fouler wight ther may no man devise.\n\nThese ladies bear a great resemblance to the Elle-maids of\nScandinavia. We need hardly inform our readers that this \"foul wight\"\nbecomes the knight's deliverer from the imminent danger he is in, and\nthat, when he has been forced to marry her, she is changed into a\nbeautiful young maiden. But who or what she was the poet sayeth not.\n\nIn the Marchantes Tale we meet the Faerie attendant on Pluto and\nProserpina, their king and queen, a sort of blending of classic and\nGothic mythology:\n\n for to tell\n The beautee of the gardin, and the well\n That stood under a laurer alway grene;\n Ful often time he Pluto, and his quene\n Proserpina, and alle hir fa\u00ebrie[387]\n Disporten hem, and maken melodie\n About that well, and daunced, as men told.\n\nAgain, in the same Tale:\n\n And so befel in that bright morwe tide,\n That, in the gardin, on the ferther side,\n Pluto, that is the king of Fa\u00ebrie,\n And many a ladye in his compagnie,\n Folwing his wif, the quene Proserpina,\n Which that he ravisshed out of Ethn\u00e1,\n While that she gadred floures in the mede,\n (In Claudian ye may the story rede,\n How that hire in his grisely carte he fette);\n This king of Fa\u00ebrie adoun him sette\n Upon a benche of turv\u00e8s, fresh and grene.\n\n\nIn the conversation which ensues between these august personages,\ngreat knowledge of Scripture is displayed; and the queen, speaking of\nthe \"sapient prince,\" passionately exclaims--\n\n I set\u00e8 nat of all the vilanie\n That he of women wrote a boterflie;\n I am a woman ned\u00e8s moste I speke,\n Or swell unto that time min hert\u00e8 breke.\n\nSome might suspect a mystery in the queen's thus emphatically styling\nherself a woman, but we lay no stress upon it, as Faire Damoselle\nPertelote, the hen, who was certainly less entitled to it, does the\nsame.\n\nIn the Man of Lawes Tale the word Elfe is employed, but whether as\nequivalent to witch or fairy is doubtful.\n\n This lettre spake, the quene delivered was\n Of so horr\u00edble a fendliche cre\u00e4t\u00fare,\n That in the castle, non so hardy was,\n That any whil\u00e8 dorste therein endure.\n The mother was an _elfe_ by \u00e1venture,\n Y come, by charm\u00e8s or by sorcerie,\n And everich man hateth hire compagnie.[388]\n\nThe Rime of Sir Thopas has been already considered as belonging to\nromance.\n\nIt thus appears that the works of manners-painting Chaucer give very\nlittle information respecting the popular belief in Fairies of his\nday. Were it not for the sly satire of the passage, we might be apt to\nsuspect that, like one who lived away from the common people, he was\nwilling to represent the superstition as extinct--\"But now can no man\nsee non elves mo.\" The only trait that he gives really characteristic\nof the popular elves is their love of dancing.\n\nIn the poets that intervene between Chaucer and the Maiden Reign, we\ndo not recollect to have noticed anything of importance respecting\nFairies, except the employment, already adverted to, of that term, and\nthat of Elves, by translators in rendering the Latin _Nymph\u00e6_. Of the\nsize of these beings, the passages in question give no information.\n\nBut in Elizabeth's days, \"Fairies,\" as Johnson observes, \"were much in\nfashion; common tradition had made them familiar, and Spenser's poem had\nmade them great.\" A just remark, no doubt, though Johnson fell into the\ncommon error of identifying Spenser's Fairies with the popular ones.\n\nThe three first books of the Faerie Queene were published in 1590,\nand, as Warton remarks, Fairies became a familiar and fashionable\nmachinery with the poets and poetasters. Shakspeare, well acquainted,\nfrom the rural habits of his early life, with the notions of the\npeasantry respecting these beings, and highly gifted with the\nprescient power of genius, saw clearly how capable they were of being\napplied to the production of a species of the wonderful, as pleasing,\nor perhaps even more so, than the classic gods; and in the\nMidsummer-Night's Dream he presented them in combination with the\nheroes and heroines of the mythic age of Greece. But what cannot the\nmagic wand of genius effect? We view with undisturbed delight the\nElves of Gothic mythology sporting in the groves of Attica, the\nlegitimate haunts of Nymphs and Satyrs.\n\nShakspeare, having the Faerie Queene before his eyes, seems to have\nattempted a blending of the Elves of the village with the Fays of\nromance. His Fairies agree with the former in their diminutive\nstature,--diminished, indeed, to dimensions inappreciable by village\ngossips,--in their fondness for dancing, their love of cleanliness,\nand their child-abstracting propensities. Like the Fays, they form a\ncommunity, ruled over by the princely Oberon and the fair\nTitania.[389] There is a court and chivalry: Oberon would have the\nqueen's sweet changeling to be a \"Knight of his train to trace the\nforest wild.\" Like earthly monarchs, he has his jester, \"the shrewd\nand knavish sprite, called Robin Good-fellow.\"\n\nThe luxuriant imagination of the poet seemed to exult in pouring forth\nits wealth in the production of these new actors on the mimic scene, and\na profusion of poetic imagery always appears in their train. Such lovely\nand truly British poetry cannot be too often brought to view; we will\ntherefore insert in this part of our work several of these gems of our\nParnassus, distinguishing by a different character such acts and\nattributes as appear properly to belong to the Fairy of popular belief.\n\n\n MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.\n\n ACT II.--SCENE I.\n\n _Puck and a Fairy._\n\n _Puck._ How now, spirit! whither wander you?\n\n _Fai._ Over hill, over dale,\n Thorough bush, thorough briar,\n Over park, over pale,\n Thorough flood, thorough fire.\n I do wander every where,\n Swifter than the moon\u00e8s sphere,\n And I serve the Fairy-queen,\n To dew her orbs upon the green.\n The cowslips tall her pensioners be;\n In their gold coats spots you see.\n Those be rubies, fairy favours,\n In those freckles live their savours.\n I must go seek some dew-drops here,\n And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.[390]\n Farewell, thou lob of spirits! I'll be gone;\n Our queen and all her elves come here anon.\n\n _Puck._ The king doth keep his revels here to-night.\n Take heed the queen come not within his sight;\n For Oberon is passing fell and wroth,\n Because that she, as her attendant, hath\n A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king,--\n She never had so sweet a changeling;\n And jealous Oberon would have the child\n Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;\n But she, perforce, withholds the loved boy,\n Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy\n And now they never meet in grove or green,\n By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen,\n But they do square; that all their elves, for fear,\n Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.\n\n _Fai._ Either I mistake your shape and making quite,\n Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite\n Call'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not he\n _That frights the maidens of the villagery,\n Skims milk, and sometimes labours in the quern,\n And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn;\n And sometimes makes the drink to bear no barm;\n Misleads night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?\n Those that Hob-goblin call you, and sweet Puck,\n You do their work, and they shall have good luck_,\n Are not you he?\n\n _Puck._ Thou speakest aright,\n I am that merry wanderer of the night.\n I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,\n _When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,\n Neighing in likeness of a filly-foal_;\n And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl,\n In very likeness of a roasted crab,\n And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,\n And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.\n The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,\n Sometimes for three-foot stool mistaketh me:\n Then slip I from her bum,--down topples she,\n And _tailor_ cries, and falls into a cough;\n And then the whole quire hold their hips and loffe,\n And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear\n A merrier hour was never wasted there.\n\nThe haunts of the Fairies on earth are the most rural and romantic\nthat can be selected. They meet\n\n On hill, in dale, forest or mead,\n By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,\n Or on the beached margent of the sea,\n To dance their ringlets to the whistling wind.\n\nAnd the place of Titania's repose is\n\n A bank whereon the wild thyme blows,\n Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,\n Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine,\n With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine.\n There sleeps Titania, some time of the night\n Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;\n And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,\n Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.\n\nThe powers of the poet are exerted to the utmost, to convey an idea of\ntheir minute dimensions; and time, with them, moves on lazy pinions.\n\"Come,\" cries the queen,\n\n Come now, a roundel and a fairy song,\n Then for the third part of a minute hence:\n Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;\n Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings,\n To make my small elves coats.\n\nAnd when enamoured of Bottom, she directs her Elves that they should\n\n Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;\n Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,\n With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries.\n The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,\n And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,\n And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes;\n To have my love to bed, and to arise\n And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,\n To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes.\n\nPuck goes \"swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow;\" he says, \"he'll\nput a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes;\" and \"We,\" says\nOberon--\n\n We the globe can compass soon,\n Swifter than the wandering moon.\n\nThey are either not mortal, or their date of life is indeterminately\nlong; they are of a nature superior to man, and speak with contempt of\nhuman follies. By night they revel beneath the light of the moon and\nstars, retiring at the approach of \"Aurora's harbinger,\"[391] but not\ncompulsively like ghosts and \"damned spirits.\"\n\n But we (says Oberon) are spirits of another sort;\n I with the morning's love have oft made sport,\n And like a forester the groves may tread,\n Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,\n Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,\n Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.\n\nIn the Merry Wives of Windsor, we are introduced to mock-fairies,\nmodelled, of course, after the real ones, but with such additions as\nthe poet's fancy deemed itself authorised to adopt.\n\nAct IV., Scene IV., Mrs. Page, after communicating to Mrs. Ford her\nplan of making the fat knight disguise himself as the ghost of Herne\nthe hunter, adds--\n\n Nan Page, my daughter, and my little son,\n And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress\n Like urchins, ouphes,[392] and fairies, green and white,\n With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,\n And rattles in their hands.\n\n * * * * *\n\n Then let them all encircle him about,\n And, _fairy-like_, _to-pinch_[393] the unclean knight,\n And ask him why that hour of fairy revel\n In their so sacred paths he dares to tread\n In shape profane.\n\nAnd\n\n My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies,\n Finely attired in a robe of white.\n\nIn Act V., Scene V., the plot being all arranged, the Fairy rout\nappears, headed by Sir Hugh, as a Satyr, by ancient Pistol as\nHobgoblin, and by Dame Quickly.\n\n _Quick._ Fairies black, grey, green, and white,\n You moonshine revellers and shades of night,\n You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,[394]\n Attend your office and your quality.\n Crier Hob-goblin, make the fairy O-yes.\n\n _Pist._ Elves, list your names! silence, you airy toys!\n _Cricket_, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap;\n _Where fires thou findest unraked, and hearths unswept,\n There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:\n Our radiant queen, hates sluts and sluttery_.\n\n _Fals._ They are fairies; _he that speaks to them shall die_.\n I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye.\n\n _Pist._ Where's Bead?--Go you, and where you find a maid\n That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,\n Raise up the organs of her fantasy,\n Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;\n But those as sleep and think not on their sins,\n Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins.\n\n _Quick._ About, about,\n Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out;\n _Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room_,\n That it may stand till the perpetual doom,\n In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit;\n Worthy the owner, and the owner it.\n The several chairs of order look you scour\n With juice of balm and every precious flower;\n Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,\n With loyal blazon evermore be blest;\n _And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing_,\n Like to the Garter's compass, _in a ring:\n The expressure that it bears green let it be,\n More fertile-fresh than all the field to see_;\n And \"Hony soit qui mal y pense\" write,\n In emerald tufts, flowers, purple, blue, and white;\n Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,\n Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee:\n Fairies use flowers for their charactery.\n Away--disperse!--but, till 'tis one o'clock,\n Our dance of custom, round about the oak\n Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.\n\n _Eva._ Pray you, lock hand in hand, yourselves in order set,\n And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,\n To guide our measure round about the tree;\n But stay, I smell a man of middle earth.[395]\n\n _Fal._ Heaven defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest\n He transform me to a piece of cheese.\n\n _Pist._ Vile worm! thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.\n\n _Quick._ With trial fire touch we his finger-end:\n If he be chaste the flame will back descend,\n And turn him to no pain; but if he start,\n It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.\n\n _Pist._ A trial, come.\n\n _Eva._ Come, will this wood take fire?\n\n _Fal._ Oh, oh, oh!\n\n _Quick._ Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire:\n About him, fairies, sing a scornful rime;\n And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.\n\nIn Romeo and Juliet the lively and gallant Mercutio mentions a fairy\npersonage, who has since attained to great celebrity, and completely\ndethroned Titania, we mean Queen Mab,[396] a dame of credit and renown\nin Fa\u00ebry.\n\n\"I dreamed a dream to-night,\" says Romeo.\n\n\"O then,\" says Mercutio:--\n\n O then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.\n She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes,\n In shape no bigger than an agate-stone\n On the forefinger of an alderman,\n Drawn with a team of little atomies,\n Over men's noses as they lie asleep:\n Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;\n The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;\n The traces, of the smallest spider's web;\n The collars of the moonshine's watery beams:\n Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film:\n Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat,\n Not half so big as a round little worm\n Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:\n Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,\n Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,\n Time out of mind the fairies' coachmakers.\n\n * * * * *\n\n This is that very Mab\n _That plats the manes of horses in the night;\n And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,\n Which once untangled, much misfortune bode.\n This is the hag,[397] when maids lie on their backs,\n That presses them_.\n\nIn an exquisite and well-known passage of the Tempest, higher and more\nawful powers are ascribed to the Elves: Prospero declares that by\ntheir aid he has \"bedimmed the noon-tide sun;\" called forth the winds\nand thunder; set roaring war \"'twixt the green sea and the azured\nvault;\" shaken promontories, and plucked up pines and cedars. He thus\ninvokes them:--\n\n Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;[398]\n And ye, that on the sands with printless foot\n Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,\n When he comes back; you demi-puppets that\n _By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make,\n Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime\n Is to make midnight-mushrooms_, that rejoice\n To hear the solemn curfew.\n\nThe other dramas of Shakspeare present a few more characteristic\ntraits of the Fairies, which should not be omitted.\n\n Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes\n Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,\n This bird of dawning singeth all night long;\n And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad;\n The nights are wholesome; then no planet strikes,\n _No fairy takes_,[399] no witch hath power to charm,\n So hallow'd and so gracious is that time.\n _Hamlet_, Act. i. sc. 1.\n\nKing Henry IV. wishes it could be proved,\n\n _That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged\n In cradle-clothes our children where they lay_,\n And called mine--Percy, his--Plantagenet!\n\nThe old shepherd in the Winter's Tale, when he finds Perdita, exclaims,\n\n It was told me, I should be rich, by the fairies: this is some\n changeling.\n\nAnd when his son tells him it is gold that is within the\n\"bearing-cloth,\" he says,\n\n This is fairy-gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. We are lucky, boy,\n and _to be so still requires nothing but secresy_.[400]\n\nIn Cymbeline, the innocent Imogen commits herself to sleep with these\nwords:--\n\n To your protection I commit me, gods!\n _From fairies and the tempters of the night,\n Guard me_, beseech ye!\n\nAnd when the two brothers see her in their cave, one cries--\n\n But that it eats our victuals, I should think\n Here were a fairy.\n\nAnd thinking her to be dead, Guiderius declares--\n\n If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;\n With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,\n And worms will not come to thee.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Maydes Metamorphosis of Lylie was acted in 1600, the year the\noldest edition we possess of the Midsummer Night's Dream was printed.\nIn Act II. of this piece, Mopso, Joculo, and Frisio are on the stage,\nand \"Enter the Fairies singing and dancing.\"\n\n By the moon we sport and play,\n With the night begins our day;\n As we dance the dew doth fall--\n Trip it, little urchins all,\n Lightly as the little bee,\n Two by two, and three by three;\n And about go we, and about go we.\n\n _Jo._ What mawmets are these?\n\n _Fris._ O they be the faieries that haunt these woods.\n\n _Mop._ O we shall be pinched most cruelly!\n\n _1st Fai._ Will you have any music, sir?\n\n _2d Fai._ Will you have any fine music?\n\n _3d Fai._ Most dainty music?\n\n _Mop._ We must set a face on it now; there is no flying.\n No, sir, we very much thank you.\n\n _1st Fai._ O but you shall, sir.\n\n _Fris._ No, I pray you, save your labour.\n\n _2d Fai._ O, sir! it shall not cost you a penny.\n\n _Jo._ Where be your fiddles?\n\n _3d Fai._ You shall have most dainty instruments, sir?\n\n _Mop._ I pray you, what might I call you?\n\n _1st Fai._ My name is Penny.\n\n _Mop._ I am sorry I cannot purse you.\n\n _Fris._ I pray you, sir, what might I call you?\n\n _2d Fai._ My name is Cricket.\n\n _Fris._ I would I were a chimney for your sake.\n\n _Jo._ I pray you, you pretty little fellow, what's your name?\n\n _3d Fai._ My name is little little Prick.\n\n _Jo._ Little little Prick? O you are a dangerous faierie!\n I care not whose hand I were in, so I were out of yours.\n\n _1st Fai._ I do come about the coppes.\n Leaping upon flowers' toppes;\n Then I get upon a fly,\n She carries me about the sky,\n And trip and go.\n\n _2d Fai._ When a dew-drop falleth down,\n And doth light upon my crown.\n Then I shake my head and skip,\n And about I trip.\n\n _3d Fai._ When I feel a girl asleep,\n Underneath her frock I peep,\n There to sport, and there I play,\n Then I bite her like a flea,\n And about I skip.\n\n _Jo._ I thought where I should have you.\n\n _1st Fai._ Will't please you dance, sir?\n\n _Jo._ Indeed, sir, I cannot handle my legs.\n\n _2d Fai._ O you must needs dance and sing,\n Which if you refuse to do,\n We will pinch you black and blue;\n And about we go.\n\nThey all dance in a ring, and sing as followeth:--\n\n Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,\n Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;\n Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,\n All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.\n\n Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,\n Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;\n Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,\n All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.\n\n We have danced round about, in a fine ring a,\n We have danced lustily, and thus we sing a,\n All about, in and out, over this green a,\n To and fro, trip and go, to our brave queen a.\n\nThe next poet, in point of time, who employs the Fairies, is worthy,\nlong-slandered, and maligned Ben Jonson. His beautiful entertainment\nof the Satyr was presented in 1603, to Anne, queen of James I. and\nprince Henry, at Althorpe, the seat of Lord Spenser, on their way from\nEdinburgh to London. As the queen and prince entered the park, a Satyr\ncame forth from a \"little spinet\" or copse, and having gazed the\n\"Queen and the Prince in the face\" with admiration, again retired into\nthe thicket; then \"there came tripping up the lawn a bevy of Fairies\nattending on Mab, their queen, who, falling into an artificial ring,\nbegan to dance a round while their mistress spake as followeth:\"\n\n _Mab._ Hail and welcome, worthiest queen!\n Joy had never perfect been,\n To the nymphs that haunt this green,\n Had they not this evening seen.\n _Now they print it on the ground\n With their feet, in figures round_;\n Marks that will be ever found\n To remember this glad stound.\n\n _Satyr_ (_peeping out of the bush_).\n Trust her not, you bonnibell,\n She will forty leasings tell;\n I do know her pranks right well.\n\n _Mab._ Satyr, we must have a spell,\n For your tongue it runs too fleet.\n\n _Sat._ Not so nimbly as your feet,\n When about the cream-bowls sweet\n You and all your elves do meet.\n\n(_Here he came hopping forth, and mixing himself with the Fairies,\nskipped in, out, and about their circle, while they made many offers\nto catch him._)\n\n _This is Mab, the mistress Fairy,\n That doth nightly rob the dairy;\n And can hurt or help the churning\n As she please_, without discerning.\n\n _1st Fai._ Pug, you will anon take warning.\n\n _Sat._ _She that pinches country wenches,\n If they rub not clean their benches,\n And, with sharper nail, remembers\n When they rake not up their embers;\n But if so they chance to feast her,\n In a shoe she drops a tester._\n\n _2d Fai._ Shall we strip the skipping jester?\n\n _Sat._ _This is she that empties cradles,\n Takes out children, puts in ladles_;\n Trains forth midwives in their slumber,\n With a sieve the holes to number,\n And then leads them from her burrows,\n Home through ponds and water-furrows.[401]\n\n _1st Fai._ Shall not all this mocking stir us?\n\n _Sat._ She can start our Franklin's daughters\n In her sleep with shouts and laughters;\n And on sweet St. Anna's[402] night\n Feed them with a promised sight,\n Some of husbands, some of lovers,\n Which an empty dream discovers.\n\n _1st Fai._ Satyr, vengeance near you hovers.\n\nAt length Mab is provoked, and she cries out,\n\n Fairies, pinch him black and blue.\n Now you have him make him rue.\n\n _Sat._ O hold, mistress Mab, I sue!\n\nMab, when about to retire, bestows a jewel on the Queen, and concludes\nwith,\n\n _Utter not, we you implore,\n Who did give it, nor wherefore._\n And whenever you restore\n Yourself to us you shall have more.\n Highest, happiest queen, farewell,\n But, beware you do not tell.\n\nThe splendid Masque of Oberon, presented in 1610, introduces the Fays\nin union with the Satyrs, Sylvans, and the rural deities of classic\nantiquity; but the Fay is here, as one of them says, not\n\n The coarse and country fairy,\n That doth haunt the hearth and dairy;\n\nit is Oberon, the prince of Fairy-land, who, at the crowing of the\ncock, advances in a magnificent chariot drawn by white bears, attended\nby Knights and Fays. As the car advances, the Satyrs begin to leap and\njump, and a Sylvan thus speaks:--\n\n Give place, and silence; you were rude too late--\n This is a night of greatness and of state;\n Not to be mixed with light and skipping sport--\n A night of homage to the British court,\n And ceremony due to Arthur's chair,\n From our bright master, Oberon the Fair,\n Who with these knights, attendants here preserved\n In Fairy-land, for good they have deserved\n Of yond' high throne, are come of right to pay\n Their annual vows, and all their glories lay\n At 's feet.\n\nAnother Sylvan says,\n\n Stand forth, bright faies and elves, and tune your lay\n Unto his name; then let your nimble feet\n Tread subtile circles, that may always meet\n In point to him.\n\nIn the Sad Shepherd, Alken says,\n\n There in the stocks of trees white fays[403] do dwell,\n And span-long elves that dance about a pool,\n With each a little changeling in their arms!\n\nThe Masque of Love Restored presents us \"Robin Good-fellow, he that\nsweeps the hearth and the house clean, riddles for the country maids,\nand does all their other drudgery, while they are at hot-cockles,\" and\nhe appears therefore with his _broom_ and his _canles_.\n\nIn Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess we read of\n\n A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks\n The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds,\n By the pale moonshine; dipping oftentimes\n Their stolen children, so to make them free\n From dying flesh and dull mortality.\n\nAnd in the Little French Lawyer (iii. 1), one says, \"You walk like\nRobin Goodfellow all the house over, and every man afraid of you.\"\n\nIn Randolph's Pastoral of Amyntas, or the Impossible Dowry, a \"knavish\nboy,\" called Dorylas, makes a fool of a \"fantastique sheapherd,\"\nJocastus, by pretending to be Oberon, king of Fairy. In Act i., Scene\n3, Jocastus' brother, Mopsus, \"a foolish augur,\" thus addresses him:--\n\n _Mop._ Jocastus, I love Thestylis abominably,\n The mouth of my affection waters at her.\n\n _Jo._ Be wary, Mopsus, learn of me to scorn\n The mortals; choose a better match: go love\n Some fairy lady! Princely Oberon\n Shall stand thy friend, and beauteous Mab, his queen,\n Give thee a maid of honour.\n\n _Mop._ How, Jocastus?\n Marry a puppet? Wed a mote i' the sun?\n Go look a wife in nutshells? Woo a gnat,\n That's nothing but a voice? No, no, Jocastus,\n I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis:\n A fig for fairies!\n\nThestylis enters, and while she and Mopsus converse, Jocastus muses.\nAt length he exclaims,\n\n _Jo._ It cannot choose but strangely please his highness.\n\n _The._ What are you studying of Jocastus, ha?\n\n _Jo._ A rare device; a masque to entertain\n His Grace of Fairy with.\n\n _The._ A masque! What is't?\n\n _Jo._ An anti-masque of fleas, which I have taught\n To dance corrantos on a spider's thread.\n\n * * * * *\n\n And then a jig of pismires\n Is excellent.\n\n _Enter_ DORYLAS. _He salutes_ MOPSUS, _and then_\n\n _Dor._ Like health unto the president of the jigs.\n I hope King Oberon and his joyall Mab\n Are well.\n\n _Jo._ They are. I never saw their Graces\n Eat such a meal before.\n\n _Dor._ E'en much good do't them!\n\n _Jo._ They're rid a hunting.\n\n _Dor._ Hare or deer, my lord?\n\n _Jo._ Neither. A brace of snails of the first head.\n\n\n ACT I.--SCENE 6.\n\n _Jo._ Is it not a brave sight, Dorylas? Can the mortals\n Caper so nimbly?\n\n _Dor._ Verily they cannot.\n\n _Jo._ Does not King Oberon bear a stately presence?\n Mab is a beauteous empress.\n\n _Dor._ Yet you kissed her\n With admirable courtship.\n\n _Jo._ I do think\n There will be of Jocastus' brood in Fairy.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _The._ But what estate shall he assure upon me?\n\n _Jo._ A royal jointure, all in Fairy land.\n\n * * * * *\n\n Dorylas knows it.\n A curious park--\n\n _Dor._ Paled round about with pickteeth.\n\n _Jo._ Besides a house made all of mother-of-pearl,\n An ivory tennis-court.\n\n _Dor._ A nutmeg parlour.\n\n _Jo._ A sapphire dairy-room.\n\n _Dor._ A ginger hall.\n\n _Jo._ Chambers of agate.\n\n _Dor._ Kitchens all of crystal.\n\n _Am._ O admirable! This it is for certain.\n\n _Jo._ The jacks are gold.\n\n _Dor._ The spits are Spanish needles.\n\n _Jo._ Then there be walks--\n\n _Dor._ Of amber.\n\n _Jo._ Curious orchards--\n\n _Dor._ That bear as well in winter as in summer.\n\n _Jo._ 'Bove all, the fish-ponds, every pond is full--\n\n _Dor._ Of nectar. Will this please you! Every grove\n Stored with delightful birds.\n\n\n ACT III.--SCENE 2.\n\n _Dorylas says_,\n\n Have at Jocastus' orchard! Dainty apples,\n How lovely they look! Why these are Dorylas' sweetmeats.\n Now must I be the princely Oberon,\n And in a royal humour with the rest\n Of royal fairies attendant, go in state\n To rob an orchard. I have hid my robes\n On purpose in a hollow tree.\n\n\n ACT III.--SCENE 4.\n\n _Dorylas with a bevy of Fairies._\n\n _Dor._ How like you now, my Grace? Is not my countenance\n Royal and full of majesty? Walk not I\n Like the young prince of pygmies? Ha, my knaves,\n We'll fill our pockets. Look, look yonder, elves;\n Would not yon apples tempt a better conscience\n Than any we have, to rob an orchard? Ha!\n Fairies, like nymphs with child, must have the things\n They long for. You sing here a fairy catch\n In that strange tongue I taught you, while ourself\n Do climb the trees. Thus princely Oberon\n Ascends his throne of state.\n\n _Elves._ Nos beata Fauni proles,\n Quibus non est magna moles,\n Quamvis Lunam incolamus.\n Hortos s\u00e6pe frequentamus.\n\n Furto cuncta magis bella,\n Furto dulcior puella,\n Furto omnia decora,\n Furto poma dulciora.\n\n Cum mortales lecto jacent,\n Nobis poma noctu placent;\n Illa tamen sunt ingrata\n Nisi furto sint parata.\n\nJocastus and his man Bromius come upon the Elves while plundering the\norchard: the latter is for employing his cudgel on the occasion, but\nJocastus is overwhelmed by the condescension of the princely Oberon in\ncoming to his orchard, when\n\n His Grace had orchards of his own more precious\n Than mortals can have any.\n\nThe Elves, by his master's permission, pinch Bromius, singing,\n\n Quoniam per te violamur,\n Ungues hic experiamur;\n Statim dices tibi datam\n Cutem valde variatam.\n\nFinally, when the coast is clear, Oberon cries,\n\n So we are got clean off; come, noble peers\n Of Fairy, come, attend our royal Grace.\n Let's go and share our fruit with our queen Mab\n And the other dairy-maids; where of this theme\n We will discourse amidst our cakes and cream.\n\n Cum tot poma habeamus,\n Triumphos l\u00e6ti jam canamus;\n Faunos ego credam ortos,\n Tantum ut frequentent hortos.\n\n I domum, Oberon, ad illas,\n Qu\u00e6 nos manent nunc, ancillas,\n Quarum osculemur sinum,\n Inter poma lac et vinum.\n\nIn the old play of Fuimus Troes are the following lines:[404]\n\n Fairies small,\n Two foot tall,\n With caps red\n On their head,\n Danse around\n On the ground.\n\nThe pastoral poets also employed the Fairy Mythology. Had they used it\nexclusively, giving up the Nymphs, Satyrs, and all the rural rout of\nantiquity, and joined with it faithful pictures of the scenery England\nthen presented, with just delineations of the manners and character of\nthe peasantry, the pastoral poetry of that age would have been as\nunrivalled as its drama. But a blind admiration of classic models, and\na fondness for allegory, were the besetting sins of the poets. They\nhave, however, left a few gems in this way.\n\nBritannia's Pastorals furnish the following passages:[405]\n\n Near to this wood there lay a pleasant mead,\n Where fairies often did their measures tread,\n Which in the meadows made such circles green,\n As if with garlands it had crowned been;\n Or like the circle where the signs we track,\n And learned shepherds call 't the Zodiac;\n Within one of these rounds was to be seen\n A hillock rise, where oft the fairy-queen\n At twilight sate, and did command her elves\n To pinch those maids that had not swept their shelves;\n And, further, if, by maiden's oversight,\n Within doors water was not brought at night,\n Or if they spread no table, set no bread,\n They should have nips from toe unto the head;\n And for the maid who had perform'd each thing,\n She in the water-pail bade leave a ring.\n _Song 2._\n\n Or of the faiery troops which nimbly play,\n And by the springs dance out the summer's day,\n Teaching the little birds to build their nests,\n And in their singing how to keepen rests.\n _Song 4._\n\n As men by fairies led fallen in a dream.\n _Ibid._\n\nIn his Shepherd's Pipe, also, Brown thus speaks of the Fairies:--\n\n Many times he hath been seen\n With the fairies on the green,\n And to them his pipe did sound\n While they danced in a round.\n Mickle solace they would make him,\n And at midnight often wake him\n And convey him from his room\n To a field of yellow-broom;\n Or into the meadows where\n Mints perfume the gentle air,\n And where Flora spreads her treasure;\n There they would begin their measure.\n If it chanced night's sable shrouds\n Muffled Cynthia up in clouds,\n Safely home they then would see him,\n And from brakes and quagmires free him.\n\nBut Drayton is the poet after Shakespeare for whom the Fairies had the\ngreatest attractions. Even in the Polyolbion he does not neglect them.\nIn Song xxi., Ringdale, in Cambridgeshire, says,\n\n For in my very midst there is a swelling ground\n About which Ceres' nymphs dance many a wanton round;\n The frisking fairy there, as on the light air borne,\n Oft run at barley-break upon the cars of corn;\n And catching drops of dew in their lascivious chases,\n Do cast the liquid pearl in one another's faces.\n\nAnd in Song iv., he had spoken of\n\n The feasts that underground the fa\u00ebry did him (Arthur) make,\n And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake.\n\nNymphidia is a delicious piece of airy and fanciful invention. The\ndescription of Oberon's palace in the air, Mab's amours with the\ngentle Pigwiggin, the mad freaks of the jealous Oberon, the pygmy\nOrlando, the mutual artifices of Puck and the Fairy maids of honour,\nHop, Mop, Pip, Trip, and Co., and the furious combat of Oberon and the\ndoughty Pigwiggin, mounted on their earwig chargers--present\naltogether an unequalled fancy-piece, set in the very best and most\nappropriate frame of metre.\n\nIt contains, moreover, several traits of traditionary Fairy lore, such\nas in these lines:--\n\n Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes\n Of little frisking elves and apes,\n To earth do make their wanton skapes\n As hope of pastime hastes them;\n Which maids think on the hearth they see,\n When fires well near consumed be,\n There dancing hays by two and three,\n Just as their fancy casts them.[406]\n\n These make our girls their sluttery rue,\n By pinching them both black and blue,\n And put a penny in their shoe.\n The house for cleanly sweeping;\n And in their courses make that round,\n In meadows and in marshes found,\n Of them so call'd the fairy ground,\n Of which they have the keeping.\n\n These, when a child haps to be got,\n That after proves an idiot,\n When folk perceive it thriveth not,\n The fault therein to smother,\n Some silly, doating, brainless calf,\n That understands things by the half,\n Says that the fairy left this aulf,\n And took away the other.\n\nAnd in these:--\n\n Scarce set on shore but therewithal\n He meeteth Puck, whom most men call\n Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall\n With words from frenzy spoken;\n \"Ho! ho!\" quoth Puck, \"God save your Grace!\n Who drest you in this piteous case?\n He thus that spoiled my sovereign's face,\n I would his neck were broken.\n\n This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt.\n Still walking like a ragged colt,\n And oft out of a bush doth bolt,\n Of purpose to deceive us;\n And leading us, makes us to stray\n Long winter nights out of the way;\n And when we stick in mire and clay,\n He doth with laughter leave us.\n\nIn his Poet's Elysium there is some beautiful Fairy poetry, which we do\nnot recollect to have seen noticed any where. This work is divided into\nten Nymphals, or pastoral dialogues. The Poet's Elysium is, we are told,\na paradise upon earth, inhabited by Poets, Nymphs, and the Muses.\n\n The poet's paradise this is,\n To which but few can come,\n The Muses' only bower of bliss,\n Their dear Elysium.\n\nIn the eighth Nymphal,\n\n A nymph is married to a fay,\n Great preparations for the day,\n All rites of nuptials they recite you\n To the bridal, and invite you.\n\nThe dialogue commences between the nymphs Mertilla and Claia:--\n\n _M._ But will our Tita wed this fay?\n\n _C._ Yes, and to-morrow is the day.\n\n _M._ But why should she bestow herself\n Upon this dwarfish fairy elf?\n\n _C._ Why, by her smallness, you may find\n That she is of the fairy kind;\n And therefore apt to choose her make\n Whence she did her beginning take;\n Besides he's deft and wondrous airy,\n And of the noblest of the fairy,[407]\n Chief of the Crickets,[408] of much fame,\n In Fairy a most ancient name.\n\nThe nymphs now proceed to describe the bridal array of Tita: her\njewels are to be dew-drops; her head-dress the \"yellows in the\nfull-blown rose;\" her gown\n\n Of pansy, pink, and primrose leaves,\n Most curiously laid on in threaves;\n\nher train the \"cast slough of a snake;\" her canopy composed of \"moons\nfrom the peacock's tail,\" and \"feathers from the pheasant's head;\"\n\n Mix'd with the plume (of so high price),\n The precious bird of paradise;\n\nand it shall be\n\n Borne o'er our head (by our inquiry)\n By elfs, the fittest of the fairy.\n\nHer buskins of the \"dainty shell\" of the lady-cow. The musicians are\nto be the nightingale, lark, thrush, and other songsters of the grove.\n\n But for still music, we will keep\n The wren and titmouse, which to sleep\n Shall sing the bride when she's alone,\n The rest into their chambers gone;\n And like those upon ropes that walk\n On gossamer from stalk to stalk,\n The tripping fairy tricks shall play\n The evening of the wedding day.\n\nFinally, the bride-bed is to be of roses; the curtains, tester, and\nall, of the \"flower imperial;\" the fringe hung with harebells; the\npillows of lilies, \"with down stuft of the butterfly;\"\n\n For our Tita is to-day,\n To be married to a fay.\n\nIn Nymphal iii.,\n\n The fairies are hopping,\n The small flowers cropping,\n And with dew dropping,\n Skip thorow the greaves.\n\n At barley-break they play\n Merrily all the day:\n At night themselves they lay\n Upon the soft leaves.\n\nAnd in Nymphal vi. the forester says,\n\n The dryads, hamadryads, the satyrs, and the fawns,\n Oft play at hide-and-seek before me on the lawns;\n The frisking fairy oft, when horned Cynthia shines,\n Before me as I walk dance wanton matachines.\n\nHerrick is generally regarded as the Fairy-poet, _par excellence_;\nbut, in our opinion, without sufficient reason, for Drayton's Fairy\npieces are much superior to his. Indeed Herrick's Fairy-poetry is by\nno means his best; and we doubt if he has anything to exceed in that\nway, or perhaps equal, the light and fanciful King Oberon's Apparel of\nSmith.[409]\n\nMilton disdained not to sing\n\n How fa\u00ebry Mab the junkets eat.\n She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said;\n And he, by _friar's_ lantern led,[410]\n Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat\n To earn his _cream bowl duly set_,\n When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,\n His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn\n That ten day-labourers could not end;\n Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,\n And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,\n Basks at the fire his hairy strength,\n And, crop-full, out of doors he flings,\n Ere the first cock his matin rings.\n\nRegardless of Mr. Gifford's sneer at \"those who may undertake the\nunprofitable drudgery of tracing out the property of every word, and\nphrase, and idea in Milton,\"[411] we will venture to trace a little\nhere, and beg the reader to compare this passage with one quoted above\nfrom Harsenet, and to say if the resemblance be accidental. The truth\nis, Milton, reared in London, probably knew the popular superstitions\nchiefly or altogether from books; and almost every idea in this\npassage may be found in books that he must have read.\n\nIn the hands of Dryden the Elves of Chaucer lose their indefiniteness.\nIn the opening of the Wife of Bath her Tale,\n\n The king of elves and _little_ fairy queen\n Gamboled on heaths and danced on every green.\n\nAnd\n\n In vain the dairy now with mint is dressed,\n The dairy-maid expects no fairy guest\n To skim the bowls, and after pay the feast.\n She sighs, and shakes her empty shoes in vain,\n No silver penny to reward her pain.\n\nIn the Flower and the Leaf, unauthorised by the old bard, he makes the\nknights and dames, the servants of the Daisy and of the Agnus Castus,\nFairies, subject, like the Italian Fate, to \"cruel Demogorgon.\"\n\nPope took equal liberties with his original, as may be seen by a\ncomparison of the following verses with those quoted above:--\n\n About this spring, if ancient fame say true,\n The dapper elves their moonlight sports pursue:\n Their pigmy king and little fairy queen\n In circling dances gamboled on the green,\n While tuneful sprites a merry concert made,\n And airy music warbled through the shade.\n _January and May_, 459.\n\n It so befel, in that fair morning tide,\n The fairies sported on the garden's side,\n And in the midst their monarch and his bride.\n So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round,\n The knight so nimbly o'er the greensward bound,\n That scarce they bent the flowers or touch'd the ground.\n The dances ended, all the fairy train\n For pinks and daisies search'd the flowery plain.[412]\n _Ibid._, 617.\n\nWith the Kensington Garden[413] of Tickell, Pope's contemporary, our\nFairy-poetry may be said to have terminated.[414] Collins, Beattie,\nand a few other poets of the last century make occasional allusions to\nit, and some attempts to revive it have been made in the present\ncentury. But vain are such efforts, the belief is gone, and divested\nof it such poetry can produce no effect. The Fairies have shared the\nfate of the gods of ancient Hellas.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[317] The Anglo-Saxon Dweorg, Dworh, and the English Dwarf, do not\nseem ever to have had any other sense than that of the Latin _nanus_.\n\n[318] As quoted by Picart in his Notes on William of Newbridge. We\ncould not find it in the Collection of Histories, etc., by Mart\u00e8ne and\nDurand,--the only place where, to our knowledge, this chronicler's\nworks are printed.\n\n[319] _Guilielmi Neubrigensis Historia, sive Chronica Rerum\nAnglicarum._ Oxon. 1719, lib. i. c. 27.\n\n[320] See above, p. 109.\n\n[321] Otia Imperialia _apud Leibnitz Scriptores rerum Brunsvicarum_,\nvol. i. p. 981.\n\n[322] Vice calicis.\n\n[323] Otia Imperialia _apud Leibnitz Scriptores rerum Brunsvicarum_,\nvol. i. p. 980.\n\n[324] There is, as far as we are aware, no vestige of these names\nremaining in either the French or English language, and we cannot\nconceive how the Latin names of sea-gods came to be applied to the\nGotho-German Kobolds, etc.\n\n[325] Dimidium _pollicis_. Should we not read _pedis_?\n\n[326] Otia Imperialia _apud Leibnitz Scriptores rerum Brunsvicarum_,\nvol. i. p. 980.\n\n[327] Can this name be connected with that of Grendel, the malignant\nspirit in Be\u00f3wulf?\n\n[328] Edited for the Percy Society by J. P. Collyer, Esq., 1841. Mr.\nCollyer says there is little doubt but that this work was printed\nbefore 1588, or even 1584. We think this is true only of the First\nPart; for the Second, which is of a different texture, must have been\nadded some time after tobacco had come into common use in England: see\nthe verses in p. 34.\n\n[329] Mr. Collyer does not seem to have recollected that Huon de\nBordeaux had been translated by Lord Berners; see above, p. 56.\n\n[330] It is, according to this authority the man-fairy Gunn that\nsteals children and leaves changelings.\n\n[331] Discoverie of Witchcrafte, iv. ch. 10.\n\n[332] R. Scot, Discoverie of Witchcrafte, ii. ch. 4.\n\n[333] _Ib._ vii. 15.\n\n[334] This appears to us to be rather a display of the author's\nlearning than an actual enumeration of the objects of popular terror;\nfor the maids hardly talked of Satyrs, Pans, etc. For Bull-beggar, see\np. 316; for Urchin, p. 319. _Hag_ is the Anglo-Saxon [Old English:\nh\u00e6geise], German _hexe_, \"witche,\" and hence the Nightmare (see p.\n332) which was ascribed to witches; we still say _Hag-ridden_. Calcar\nand Sporn (spurs?) may be the same, from the idea of riding: the\nFrench call the Nightmare, _Cauchemare_, from _Caucher_, _calcare_.\nKit-wi-the-Canstick is Jack-with-the-Lanthorn. The Man in the Oak is\nprobably Puck, \"Turn your cloakes, quoth hee, for Pucke is busy in\nthese oakes.\"--Iter Boreale. The Hell-wain is perhaps the Death-coach,\nconnected with Northern and German superstitions, and the Fire-drake\nan Ignis Fatuus. Boneless may have been some impalpable spectre; the\nother terms seem to be mere appellations of Puck.\n\n[335] Anat. of Mel. p. 47.\n\n[336] Chap. xx. p. 134. Lond. 1604.\n\n[337] This is, we apprehend, an egg at Easter or on Good Friday.\n_Housle_ is the Anglo-Saxon [Old English: husel]; Goth. _hunsl_,\nsacrifice or offering, and thence the Eucharist.\n\n[338] Terrors of the Night, 1594.\n\n[339] Hutchinson, History of Cumberland, vol. i. p. 269.\n\n[340] As quoted by Thoms in his Essay on Popular Songs, in the\nAthen\u00e6um for 1847.\n\n[341] Morgan, Ph\u0153nix Britannicus, Lond. 1732.\n\n[342] Pandemonium, p. 207. Lond. 1684.\n\n[343] Aubrey, Natural History of Surrey, iii 366, _ap._ Ritson, Fairy\nTales, p. 166.\n\n[344] The Local Historian's Table-Book, by M. A. Richardson, iii. 239.\nNewcastle-upon-Tyne, 1846.\n\n[345] Bourne, Antiquitates Vulgares, 1725.\n\n[346] Quoted by Brand in his Popular Antiquities, an enlarged edition\nof Bourne's work.\n\n[347] This word Pixy, is evidently Pucksy, the endearing diminutive\n_sy_ being added to Puck, like Betsy, Nancy, Dixie. So Mrs. Trimmer in\nher Fabulous Histories--which we read with wonderful pleasure in our\nchildhood, and would recommend to our young readers--calls her\nhen-robins Pecksy and Flapsy. Pisgy is only Pixy transposed. Mrs. Bray\nderives Pixy from Pygmy. At Truro, in Cornwall, as Mr. Thoms informs\nus, the _moths_, which some regard as departed souls, others as\nfairies, are called _Pisgies_. He observes the curious, but surely\ncasual, resemblance between this and the Greek \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7, which is both\nsoul and moth. Grimm (p. 430) tells us from an old glossary, that the\ncaterpillar was named in Germany, _Alba_, i. e. _Elbe_, and that the\nAlp often takes the form of a butterfly.\n\n[348] _Whip says he_, as Mrs. Bray conjectures.\n\n[349] Brand, Popular Antiquities, ii. 513. Bohn's edit.\n\n[350] Given in the Literary Gazette for 1825. No. 430.\n\n[351] Brand, Popular Antiquities, ii. 503. Bohn's edit.\n\n[352] The _Elfbore_ of Scotland, where it is likewise ascribed to the\nfairies, Jamieson, _s. v._ The same opinion prevails in Denmark, where\nit is said that any one who looks through it will see things he would\nnot otherwise have known: see Thiele, ii. 18.\n\n[353] The Anglo-Saxon _l\u01fdan_, _la\u00e9can_, to play.\n\n[354] We have abridged this legend from a well-written letter in the\nLiterary Gazette, No. 430 (1825), the writer of which says, he knew\nthe house in which it was said to have occurred. He also says he\nremembered an old tailor, who said the horn was often pitched at the\nhead of himself and his apprentice, when in the North-country fashion\nthey went to work at the farm-house. Its identity with other legends\nwill be at once perceived.\n\n[355] And true no doubt it is, _i. e._ the impression made on her\nimagination was as strong as if the objects had been actually before\nher. The narrator is the same person who told the preceding Boggart\nstory.\n\n[356] Fairy Tales, pp. 24, 56.\n\n[357] In Northumberland the common people call a certain fungous\nexcrescence, sometimes found about the roots of old trees,\nFairy-butter. After great rains and in a certain degree of\nputrefaction, it is reduced to a consistency, which, together with its\ncolour, makes it not unlike butter, and hence the name. Brand, Popular\nAntiquities, ii. 492, Bohn's edit.\n\nThe Menyn Tylna T\u00eag or Fairy-butter of Wales, we are told in the same\nplace, is a substance found at a great depth in cavities of\nlimestone-rocks when sinking for lead-ore.\n\n[358] Comp. Milton, L'Allegro, 105 _seq._\n\n[359] Richardson, Table-Book, iii. 45; see above, p. 297.\n\n[360] This word, as we may see, is spelt _faries_ in the following\nlegends; so we may suppose that _fairy_ is pronounced _farry_ in the\nNorth, which has a curious coincidence with _Peri_: see above, p. 15.\n\n[361] Probably pronounced _Poke_, as still in Worcestershire. Our\nancestors frequently used _ou_, or _oo_ for the long _o_ while they\nexpressed the sound of _oo_ by _o_ followed by _e_, as _rote_ root,\n_coke_ cook, _more_ moor, _pole_ pool.\n\n[362] Passus xvii. _v._ 11,323 _seq._ ed. 1842. Comp. _vv._ 8363,\n9300, 10,902.\n\n[363] Mr. Todd is right, in reading _pouke_ for _ponke_, an evident\ntypographic error: wrong in saying, \"He is the Fairy, Robin\nGood-fellow, known by the name of Puck.\" Robin is the \"hob-goblin\"\nmentioned two lines after.\n\n[364] We know nothing of the Oriental origin of Puck, and cannot give\nour full assent to the character of our ancestry, as expressed in the\nremaining part of Mr. Gifford's note: \"but a fiend engendered in the\nmoody minds, and rude and gloomy fancies of the barbarous invaders of\nthe North.\" It is full time to have done with describing the old\nGothic race as savages.\n\n[365] _Der Putz w\u00fcrde uns \u00fcber berg und th\u00e4ler tragen._ To frighten\nchildren they say _Der Butz kommt!_ see Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 474.\n\n[366] The former made by adding the Anglo-Saxon and English _el_,\n_le_; the latter by adding the English _art_: see p. 318.\n\n[367] By Sir F. Palgrave, from whose article in the Quarterly Review,\nwe have derived many of the terms named above. He adds that the\nAnglo-Saxon _p\u00e6can_ is to deceive, seduce; the Low-Saxon _picken_ to\ngambol; _pickeln_ to play the fool; _pukra_ in Icelandic to make a\nmurmuring noise, to steal secretly; and _pukke_ in Danish to scold. He\nfurther adds the Swedish _poika_ boy, the Anglo-Saxon and Swedish\n_piga_ and Danish _pige_ girl. If, however, Pouke is connected with\nthe Sclavonic Bog, these at the most can be only derivations from it.\nBy the way _boy_ itself seems to be one of these terms; the\nAnglo-Saxon _piga_ was probably pronounced _piya_, and _a_ is a\nmasculine termination in that language.\n\n[368] See above, p. 291. In Low German, however, the Kobold is called\nBullmann, Bullermann, Bullerkater, from _bullen_, _bullern_, to knock:\nsee Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 473.\n\n[369] Essay on the Ignis Fatuus, quoted by Thoms.\n\n[370]\n\n And you whose pastime\n Is to make midnight mushrooms.--_Tempest_, v. 1.\n\n\n[371] Jack-o'-the-lanthorn, Will-o'-the-wisp. In Worcestershire they\ncall it Hob-and-his-lanthorn, and Hobany's- or Hobredy's-lanthorn.\nAllies, _ut sup._\n\n[372] Knight of the Burning Pestle: see above, p. 309.\n\n[373] _Ard_ is the German _hart_, and is, like it, depreciatory. It is\nnot an Anglo-Saxon termination, but from the Anglo-Saxon [Old English:\ndoll], _dull_, we have _dullard_. May not _haggard_ be _hawk-ard_, and\nthe French _hagard_ be derived from it, and not the reverse?\n\n[374] For in Anglo-Saxon _\u00e1ttorcoppe_ (_Poison-head?_) is spider, and\nfrom _\u00e1ttorcoppe-web_, by the usual aph\u0153resis of the two first syllables\nwe put _coppe-web_, cobweb. May not the same have been the case with\n_lob_? and may not the nasty _bug_ be in a similar manner connected with\nPuck? As _dvergsnat_ is in Swedish a cobweb, one might be tempted to\nsuppose that this last, for which no good etymon has been offered, was\n_lob-web_; but the true etymon is _cop-web_, from its usual site.\n\n Upon the _cop_ right of his nose he hedde\n A wert.--Chaucer, _Cant. Tales_, _v._ 556.\n\n\n[375] Deut. Mythol. p. 492.\n\n[376] See _France_. _In_ is a mere termination, perhaps, like _on_, a\ndiminutive, as in _Catin_ Kate, _Robin_ Bob. _Lutin_ was also spelt\n_Luyton_: see p. 42.\n\n[377] The two lines which follow\n\n Fro the nightes mare the wit\u00e8 Paternoster!\n Where wonest thou Seint Peter's suster?\n\nare rather perplexing. We would explain them thus. Bergerac, as quoted\nby Brand (Pop. Antiq. i. 312. Bohn's edit.) makes a magician say \"I\nteach the shepherds the wolf's paternoster,\" _i. e._ one that keeps\noff the wolf. _Wite_ may then be _i. q. wight_, and _wight\npaternoster_ be a safeguard against the wights, and we would read the\nverse thus: \"Fro the nightes mare the wite paternoster\" _sc. blisse\nit_ or _us_. St. Peter's _suster_, _i. e._ wife (see I Cor. ix. 5) may\nhave been canonised in the popular creed, and held to be potent\nagainst evil beings. The term _suster_ was used probably to obviate\nthe scandal of supposing the first Pope to have been a married man.\nThis charm is given at greater length and with some variations by\nCartwright in his Ordinary, Act iii. sc. 1.\n\n[378] He derives it from the French _oursin_, but the Ang.-Sax. name\nof the hedgehog is [Old English: erscen].\n\n[379] Athen\u00e6um, Oct. 9, 1847.\n\n[380] Hist. of England, i. 478, 8vo edit.\n\n[381] Deut. Mythol. p. 419.\n\n[382] Layamon's Brut, etc., by Sir Frederick Madden.\n\n[383] Tales and Popular Fictions, ch. viii. We do not wonder that this\nshould have eluded previous observation, but it is really surprising\nthat we should have been the first to observe the resemblance between\nAriosto's tale of Giocondo and the introductory tale of the Thousand\nand One Nights. It is also strange that no one should have noticed the\nsimilarity between Ossian's Carthon and the tale of Soohr\u00e2b in the\nSh\u00e2h-n\u00e2meh.\n\n[384] Both here and lower down we would take _fa\u00ebrie_ in its first\nsense.\n\n[385] _Thrope_, _thorpe_, or _dorp_, is a village, the German _dorf_;\nDutch _dorp_; we may still find it in the names of places, as\nAlthorpe. _Dorp_ occurs frequently in Drayton's Polyolbion; it is also\nused by Dryden, Hind and Panther, _v._ 1905.\n\n[386] _Undermeles_ i. e. _undertide_ (p 51), aftermeal, afternoon.\n\n[387] This is the third sense of _Fa\u00ebrie_. In the next passage it is\ndoubtful whether it be the second or third sense; we think the latter.\n\n[388]\n\n This wife which is of _fa\u00ebrie_,\n Of such a childe delivered is,\n Fro kind\u00e8 which stante all amis.\n GOWER, _Legende of Constance_.\n\n\n[389] The derivation of Oberon has been already given (p. 208). The\nShakspearean commentators have not thought fit to inform us why the\npoet designates the Fairy-queen, Titania. It, however, presents no\ndifficulty. It was the belief of those days that the Fairies were the\nsame as the classic Nymphs, the attendants of Diana: \"That fourth kind\nof spritis,\" says King James, \"quhilk be the gentilis was called\nDiana, and her wandering court, and amongst us called the _Phairie_.\"\nThe Fairy-queen was therefore the same as Diana, whom Ovid (Met. iii.\n173) styles Titania; Chaucer, as we have seen, calls her Proserpina.\n\n[390]\n\n 'Twas I that led you through the painted meads,\n Where the light Fairies danced upon the flowers,\n Hanging on every leaf an orient pearl.\n _Wisdom of Dr. Dodypoll, 1600. Steevens._\n\nMen of fashion, in that age, wore earrings.\n\n[391]\n\n And the yellow-skirted Fayes\n Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze.\n MILTON, _Ode on the Nativity_, 235.\n\n\n[392] _Ouph_, Steevens complacently tells us, in the Teutonic\nlanguage, is a fairy; if by Teutonic he means the German, and we know\nof no other, he merely showed his ignorance. Ouph is the same as _oaf_\n(formerly spelt _aulf_), and is probably to be pronounced in the same\nmanner. It is formed from _elf_ by the usual change of _l_ into _u_.\n\n[393] _i. e._ Pinch severely. The Ang.-Sax. [Old English: to] joined\nto a verb or part. answers to the German _zu_ or _zer_. [Old English:\nto-brecan] is to break to pieces, [Old English: to-drifan] to drive\nasunder, scatter. Verbs of this kind occur in the Vision of Piers\nPloughman, in Chaucer and elsewhere. The part. is often preceded by\n_all_, in the sense of the German _ganz_, quite, with which some\nignorantly join the _to_ as _all-to ruffled_ in Comus, 380, instead of\n_all to-ruffled_. In Golding's Ovid (p. 15) we meet \"With rugged head\nas white as down, and garments _all to-torn_;\" in Judges ix. 53, \"and\n_all to-brake_ his skull.\" See also Faerie Queene, iv. 7, 8; v. 8, 4,\n43, 44; 9, 10.\n\n[394] After all the commentators have written, this line is still nearly\nunintelligible to us. It may relate to the supposed origin of the\nfairies. For _orphan_, Warburton conjectured _ouphen_, from _ouph_.\n\n[395] The Anglo-Saxon [Old English: Midan eard] or [Old English:\ngeard]; and is it not also plainly the Midgard of the Edda?\n\n[396] The origin of Mab is very uncertain; it may be a contraction of\nHabundia, see below _France_. \"Mab,\" says Voss, one of the German\ntranslators of Shakspeare, \"is not the Fairy-queen, the same with\nTitania, as some, misled by the word _queen_, have thought. That word\nin old English, as in Danish, designates the female sex.\" He might\nhave added the Ang.-Sax. [Old English: c\u00feen] woman, whence both\n_queen_ and _quean_. Voss is perhaps right and _elf-queen_ may have\nbeen used in the same manner as the Danish _Elle-quinde_, _Elle-kone_\nfor the female Elf. We find Phaer (see above, p. 11) using\n_Fairy-queen_, as a translation for _Nympha_.\n\n[397] _i. e._, Night-mare. \"Many times,\" says Gull the fairy, \"I get\non men and women, and so lie on their stomachs, that I cause them\ngreat pain; for which they call me by the name of Hagge or\nNight-mare.\" _Merry Pranks_, etc. p. 42.\n\n[398]\n\n Aur\u00e6que et venti, montesque, amnesque, lacusque,\n D\u00eeque omnes nemorum, d\u00eeque omnes noctis, adeste.\n _Ovid, Met._ l. vii. 198.\n\n Ye ayres and winds, ye _elves_ of hills, of brooks, of woods, alone,\n Of standing lakes, and of the night--approach ye everich one.\n GOLDING.\n\nGolding seems to have regarded, by chance or with knowledge, the Elves\nas a higher species than the Fairies. Misled by the word _elves_,\nShakspeare makes sad confusion of classic and Gothic mythology.\n\n[399] _Take_ signifies here, to strike, to injure.\n\n And there he blasts the tree and _takes_ the cattle.\n _Merry Wives of Windsor_, iv. 4.\n\n Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken.\n SURREY, _Poems_, p. 13, Ald. edit.\n\nIn our old poetry _take_ also signifies, to give.\n\n[400]\n\n But not a word of it,--'tis fairies' treasure,\n Which but revealed brings on the blabber's ruin.\n MASSINGER, _Fatal Dowry_, Act iv. sc. 1.\n\n A prince's secrets are like fairy favours,\n Wholesome if kept, but poison if discovered.\n _Honest Man's Fortune._\n\n\n[401] We do not recollect having met with any account of this prank;\nbut Jonson is usually so correct, that we may be certain it was a part\nof the popular belief.\n\n[402] Whalley was certainly right in proposing to read Agnes. This\nceremony is, we believe, still practised in the north of England on\nSt. Agnes' night. See Brand, i. 34.\n\n[403] Shakespeare gives different colours to the Fairies; and in some\nplaces they are still thought to be white. See p. 306.\n\n[404] Act i. sc. 5. R. Dodsley's Old Plays, vii. p. 394. We quote this\nas the first notice we have met of the red caps of the fairies.\n\n[405] Brown, their author, was a native of Devon, the Pixy region;\nhence their accordance with the Pixy legends given above.\n\n[406] This is perhaps the dancing on the hearth of the fairy-ladies to\nwhich Milton alludes: see above, p. 42. \"Doth not the warm zeal of an\nEnglish-man's devotion make them maintain and defend the social hearth\nas the sanctuary and chief place of residence of the tutelary lares\nand household gods, and the only court where the _lady-fairies convene\nto dance and revel_?\"--Paradoxical Assertions, etc. 1664, quoted by\nBrand, ii. p. 504.\n\n[407] The reader will observe that the third sense of Fairy is the\nmost usual one in Drayton. It occurs in its second sense two lines\nfurther on, twice in Nymphidia, and in the following passage of his\nthird Eclogue,\n\n For learned Colin (Spenser) lays his pipes to gage,\n And is to _Fayrie_ gone a pilgrimage,\n The more our moan.\n\n\n[408] Mr. Chalmers does not seem to have known that the Crickets were\nfamily of note in Fairy. Shakspeare (_Merry Wives of Windsor_)\nmentions a Fairy named Cricket; and no hint of Shakspeare's was lost\nupon Drayton.\n\n[409] In the Musarum Delici\u00e6.\n\n[410] This is a palpable mistake of the poet's. The Friar (see above,\np. 291) is the celebrated Friar Rush, who haunted houses, not fields,\nand was never the same with Jack-o'-the-Lanthorn. It was probably the\nname Rush, which suggested _rushlight_, that caused Milton's error. He\nis the Br\u00fcder Rausch of Germany, the Broder Ruus of Denmark. His name\nis either as Grimm thinks, _noise_, or as Wolf (Von Bruodor Rauschen,\np. xxviii.) deems _drunkenness_, our old word, _rouse_. Sir Walter\nScott in a note on Marmion, says also \"Friar Rush, _alias_\nWill-o'-the-Wisp. He was also a sort of Robin Goodfellow and\nJack-o'-Lanthorn,\" which is making precious confusion. Reginald Scot\nmore correctly describes him as being \"for all the world such another\nfellow as this Hudgin,\" _i. e._ H\u00f6deken: see above, p. 255.\n\n[411] Ben Jonson's Works, vol. ii. p. 499. We shall never cease to\nregret that the state to which literature has come in this country\nalmost precludes even a hope of our ever being able to publish our\nmeditated edition of Milton's poems for which we have been collecting\nmaterials these five and twenty years. It would have been very\ndifferent from Todd's. [Published in 1859.]\n\n[412] Evidently drawn from Dryden's Flower and Leaf.\n\n[413] We meet here for the last time with Fairy in its collective\nsense, or rather, perhaps, as the country:\n\n All Fairy shouted with a general voice\n\n[414] In Mr Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, will be\nfound a good deal of Fairy poetry, for which we have not had space in\nthis work.\n\n\n\n\n SCOTTISH LOWLANDS.\n\n When from their hilly dens, at midnight hour,\n Forth rush the airy elves in mimic state,\n And o'er the moonlight heath with swiftness scour,\n In glittering arms the little horsemen shine.\n ERSKINE.\n\n\nThe Scottish Fairies scarcely differ in any essential point from those\nof England. Like them they are divided into the rural and the\ndomestic. Their attire is green, their residence the interior of the\nhills. They appear more attached than their neighbours to the\nmonarchical form of government, for the Fairy king and queen, who seem\nin England to have been known only by the poets, were recognised by\nlaw in Caledonia, and have at all times held a place in the popular\ncreed. They would appear also to be more mischievously inclined than\nthe Southrons, and less addicted to the practice of dancing. They\nhave, however, had the advantage of not being treated with contempt\nand neglect by their human countrymen, and may well be proud of the\nattention shown them by the brightest genius of which their country\ncan boast. There has also been long due from them an acknowledgment of\nthe distinction conferred on them by the editor of the Nithsdale and\nGalloway Song,[415] for the very fanciful manner in which he has\ndescribed their attributes and acts.\n\nThe Scottish Fairies have never been taken by the poets for their\nheroes or machinery, a circumstance probably to be attributed to the\nsterner character of Scottish religion. We cannot, therefore, as in\nEngland, make a distinction between popular and poetic fairies.\n\nThe earliest notice we have met with of the Fairies is in Montgomery's\nFlyting against Polwart, where he says,\n\n In the hinder end of harvest, at All-hallowe'en,\n When our _good neighbours_[416] dois ride, if I read right,\n Some buckled on a beenwand, and some on a been,\n Ay trottand in troops from the twilight;\n Some saidled on a she-ape all graithed in green,\n Some hobland on a hempstalk hovand to the sight;\n The king of Phairie and his court, with the elf-queen,\n With many elfish incubus, was ridand that night.\n\nElf-land was the name of the realm ruled by the king of Phairie. King\nJames[417] speaks of him and his queen, and \"of sic a jolie court and\ntraine as they had; how they had a teinde and a dewtie, as it were, of\nall guidis; how they naturally raid and yeid, eat and drank, and did\nall other actions lyke natural men and women. I think,\" concludes the\nmonarch, \"it is lyker Virgilis _Campi Elysii_ nor anything that ought\nto be believed by Christianis.\" And one of the interlocutors in his\ndialogue asks how it was that witches have gone to death confessing\nthat they had been \"transported with the Phairie to such and such a\nhill, which, opening, they went in, and there saw a faire queene, who,\nbeing now lighter, gave them a stone which had sundry virtues.\"\n\nAccording to Mr. Cromek, who, however, rather sedulously keeps their\ndarker attributes out of view, and paints everything relating to them\n_couleur de rose_, the Lowland Fairies are of small stature, but\nfinely proportioned; of a fair complexion, with long yellow hair\nhanging over their shoulders, and gathered above their heads with\ncombs of gold. They wear a mantle of green cloth, inlaid with wild\nflowers; green pantaloons, buttoned with bobs of silk; and silver\nshoon. They carry quivers of \"adder-slough,\" and bows made of the ribs\nof a man buried where _three lairds' lands meet_; their arrows are\nmade of bog-reed, tipped with white flints, and dipped in the dew of\nhemlock; they ride on steeds whose hoofs \"would not dash the dew from\nthe cup of a harebell.\" With their arrows they shoot the cattle of\nthose who offend them; the wound is imperceptible to common eyes, but\nthere are gifted personages who can discern and cure it.[418]\n\nIn their intercourse with mankind they are frequently kind and generous.\nA young man of Nithsdale, when out on a love affair, heard most\ndelicious music, far surpassing the utterance of 'any mortal mixture of\nearth's mould.' Courageously advancing to the spot whence the sound\nappeared to proceed, he suddenly found himself the spectator of a\nFairy-banquet. A green table with feet of gold, was laid across a small\nrivulet, and supplied with the finest of bread and the richest of wines.\nThe music proceeded from instruments formed of reeds and stalks of corn.\nHe was invited to partake in the dance, and presented with a cup of\nwine. He was allowed to depart in safety, and ever after possessed the\ngift of second sight. He said he saw there several of his former\nacquaintances, who were become members of the Fairy society.\n\nWe give the following legend on account of its great similarity to a\nSwiss tradition already quoted:--\n\nTwo lads were ploughing in a field, in the middle of which was an old\nthorn-tree, a trysting place of the Fairy-folk. One of them described a\ncircle round the thorn, within which the plough should not go. They were\nsurprised, on ending the furrow, to behold a green table placed there,\nheaped up with excellent bread and cheese, and even wine. The lad who\nhad drawn the circle sat down without hesitation, ate and drank\nheartily, saying, \"Fair fa' the hands whilk gie.\" His companion whipped\non the horses, refusing to partake of the Fairy-food. The other, said\nMr. Cromek's informant, \"thrave like a breckan,\" and was a proverb for\nwisdom, and an oracle for country knowledge ever after.[419]\n\nThe Fairies lend and borrow, and it is counted _uncanny_ to refuse them.\nA young woman was one day sifting meal warm from the mill, when a nicely\ndressed beautiful little woman came to her with a bowl of antique form,\nand requested the loan of as much meal as would fill it. Her request was\ncomplied with, and in a week she returned to make repayment. She set\ndown the bowl and breathed over it, saying, \"Be never toom.\" The woman\nlived to a great age, but never saw the bottom of the bowl.\n\nAnother woman was returning late one night from a gossiping. A pretty\nlittle boy came up to her and said, \"Coupe yere dish-water farther\nfrae yere door-step, it pits out our fire.\" She complied with this\nreasonable request, and prospered ever after.\n\n\n _The Fairies' Nurse._\n\nThe Fairies have a great fondness for getting their babes suckled by\ncomely, healthy young women. A fine young woman of Nithsdale was one\nday spinning and rocking her first-born child. A pretty little lady in\na green mantle, and bearing a beautiful babe, came into the cottage\nand said, \"Gie my bonny thing a suck.\" The young woman did so, and the\nlady left her babe and disappeared, saying, \"Nurse kin' and ne'er\nwant.\" The young woman nursed the two children, and was astonished to\nfind every morning, when she awoke, rich clothes for the children, and\nfood of a most delicious flavour. Tradition says this food tasted\nlike wheaten-bread, mixed with wine and honey.\n\nWhen summer came, the Fairy lady came to see her child. She was\ndelighted to see how it had thriven, and, taking it in her arms,\ndesired the nurse to follow her. They passed through some scroggy\nwoods skirting the side of a beautiful green hill, which they ascended\nhalf way. A door opened on the sunny side--they went in, and the sod\nclosed after them. The Fairy then dropped three drops of a precious\nliquid on her companion's left eyelid, and she beheld a most delicious\ncountry, whose fields were yellow with ripening corn, watered by\n_looping burnies_, and bordered by trees laden with fruit. She was\npresented with webs of the finest cloth, and with boxes of precious\nointments. The Fairy then moistened her right eye with a green fluid,\nand bid her look. She looked, and saw several of her friends and\nacquaintances at work, reaping the corn and gathering the fruit.\n\"This,\" said the Fairy, \"is the punishment of evil deeds!\" She then\npassed her hand over the woman's eye, and restored it to its natural\npower. Leading her to the porch at which she had entered, she\ndismissed her; but the woman had secured the wonderful salve. From\nthis time she possessed the faculty of discerning the Fairy people as\nthey went about invisibly; till one day, happening to meet the\nFairy-lady, she attempted to shake hands with her. \"What ee d'ye see\nme wi'?\" whispered she. \"Wi' them baith,\" said the woman. The Fairy\nbreathed on her eyes, and the salve lost its efficacy, and could never\nmore endow her eyes with their preternatural power.[420]\n\n\n _The Fairy Rade._\n\nThe _Fairy Rade_, or procession, was a matter of great importance. It\ntook place on the coming in of summer, and the peasantry, by using the\nprecaution of placing a branch of rowan over their door, might safely\ngaze on the cavalcade, as with music sounding, bridles ringing, and\nvoices mingling, it pursued its way from place to place. An old woman of\nNithsdale gave the following description of one of these processions:\n\n\"In the night afore Roodmass I had trysted with a neebor lass a Scots\nmile frae hame to talk anent buying braws i' the fair. We had nae\nsutten lang aneath the haw-buss till we heard the loud laugh of fowk\nriding, wi' the jingling o' bridles, and the clanking o' hoofs. We\nbanged up, thinking they wad ride owre us. We kent nae but it was\ndrunken fowk ridin' to the fair i' the forenight. We glowred roun' and\nroun', and sune saw it was the _Fairie-fowks Rade_. We cowred down\ntill they passed by. A beam o' light was dancing owre them mair bonnie\nthan moonshine: they were a' wee wee fowk wi' green scarfs on, but ane\nthat rade foremost, and that ane was a good deal larger than the lave\nwi' bonnie lang hair, bun' about wi' a strap whilk glinted like stars.\nThey rade on braw wee white naigs, wi' unco lang swooping tails, an'\nmanes hung wi' whustles that the win' played on. This an' their tongue\nwhen they sang was like the soun' o' a far awa psalm. Marion an' me\nwas in a brade lea fiel', where they came by us; a high hedge o'\nhaw-trees keepit them frae gaun through Johnnie Corrie's corn, but\nthey lap a' owre it like sparrows, and gallopt into a green know\nbeyont it. We gaed i' the morning to look at the treddit corn; but the\nfient a hoof mark was there, nor a blade broken.\"\n\n\n _The Changeling._\n\nBut the Fairies of Scotland were not, even according to Mr. Cromek,\nuniformly benevolent. Woman and child abstraction was by no means\nuncommon with them, and the substitutes they provided were, in\ngeneral, but little attractive.\n\nA fine child at Caerlaveroc, in Nithsdale, was observed on the second\nday after its birth, and before it was baptised, to have become quite\nill-favoured and deformed. Its yelling every night deprived the whole\nfamily of rest; it bit and tore its mother's breasts, and would lie\nstill neither in the cradle nor the arms. The mother being one day\nobliged to go from home, left it in charge of the servant girl. The\npoor lass was sitting bemoaning herself--\"Were it nae for thy girning\nface, I would knock the big, winnow the corn, and grun the\nmeal.\"--\"Lowse the cradle-band,\" said the child, \"and tent the\nneighbours, and I'll work yere work.\" Up he started--the wind\narose--the corn was chopped--the outlyers were foddered--the hand-mill\nmoved around, as by instinct--and the knocking-mill did its work with\namazing rapidity. The lass and child then rested and diverted\nthemselves, till, on the approach of the mistress, it was restored to\nthe cradle, and renewed its cries. The girl took the first opportunity\nof telling the adventure to her mistress. \"What'll we do with the wee\ndiel?\" said she. \"I'll work it a pirn,\" replied the lass. At midnight\nthe chimney-top was covered up, and every chink and cranny stopped.\nThe fire was blown till it was glowing hot, and the maid speedily\nundressed the child, and tossed him on the burning coals. He shrieked\nand yelled in the most dreadful manner, and in an instant the Fairies\nwere heard moaning on every side, and rattling at the windows, door,\nand chimney. \"In the name of God bring back the bairn,\" cried the\nlass. The window flew up, the real child was laid on the mother's lap,\nand the _wee diel_ flew up the chimney laughing.\n\n\n _Departure of the Fairies._\n\nOn a Sabbath morning, all the inmates of a little hamlet had gone to\nchurch, except a herd-boy, and a little girl, his sister, who were\nlounging beside one of the cottages, when just as the shadow of the\ngarden-dial had fallen on the line of noon, they saw a long cavalcade\nascending out of the ravine, through the wooded hollow. It winded\namong the knolls and bushes, and turning round the northern gable of\nthe cottage, beside which the sole spectators of the scene were\nstationed, began to ascend the eminence towards the south. The horses\nwere shaggy diminutive things, speckled dun and grey; the riders\nstunted, misgrown, ugly creatures, attired in antique jerkins of\nplaid, long grey clokes, and little red caps, from under which their\nwild uncombed locks shot out over their cheeks and foreheads. The boy\nand his sister stood gazing in utter dismay and astonishment, as rider\nafter rider, each more uncouth and dwarfish than the other which had\npreceded it, passed the cottage and disappeared among the brushwood,\nwhich at that period covered the hill, until at length the entire\nrout, except the last rider, who lingered a few yards behind the\nothers, had gone by. \"What are you, little manie? and where are ye\ngoing?\" inquired the boy, his curiosity getting the better of his\nfears and his prudence. \"Not of the race of Adam,\" said the creature,\nturning for a moment in its saddle, \"the people of peace shall never\nmore be seen in Scotland.\"[421]\n\n\n _The Brownie._\n\nThe Nis, Kobold, or Goblin, appears in Scotland under the name of\nBrownie.[422] Brownie is a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage,\ncovered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and\nhood. His residence is the hollow of an old tree, a ruined castle, or\nthe abode of man. He is attached to particular families, with whom he\nhas been known to reside, even for centuries, threshing the corn,\ncleaning the house, and doing everything done by his northern and\nEnglish brethren. He is, to a certain degree, disinterested; like many\ngreat personages, he is shocked at anything approaching to the name of a\nbribe or _douceur_, yet, like them, allows his scruples to be overcome\nif the thing be done in a genteel, delicate, and secret way. Thus, offer\nBrownie a piece of bread, a cup of drink, or a new coat and hood, and he\nflouted at it, and perhaps, in his huff, quitted the place for ever; but\nleave a nice bowl of cream, and some fresh honeycomb, in a snug private\ncorner, and they soon disappeared, though Brownie, it was to be\nsupposed, never knew anything of them.\n\nA good woman had just made a web of linsey-woolsey, and, prompted by\nher good nature, had manufactured from it a snug mantle and hood for\nher little Brownie. Not content with laying the gift in one of his\nfavourite spots, she indiscreetly called to tell him it was there.\nThis was too direct, and Brownie quitted the place, crying,\n\n A new mantle and a new hood;\n Poor Brownie! ye'll ne'er do mair gude!\n\nAnother version of this legend says, that the gudeman of a farm-house\nin the parish of Glendevon having left out some clothes one night for\nBrownie, he was heard to depart, saying,\n\n Gie Brownie coat, gie Brownie sark,\n Ye'se get nae mair o' Brownie's wark![423]\n\nAt Leithin-hall, in Dumfrieshire, a Brownie had dwelt, as he himself\ndeclared, for three hundred years. He used to show himself but once to\neach master; to other persons he rarely discovered more than his hand.\nOne master was greatly beloved by Brownie, who on his death bemoaned\nhim exceedingly, even abstaining from food for many successive days.\nThe heir returning from foreign parts to take possession of the\nestate, Brownie appeared to do him homage, but the Laird, offended at\nhis mean, starved appearance, ordered him meat and drink, and new\nlivery. Brownie departed, loudly crying,\n\n Ca', cuttee, ca'!\n A' the luck of Leithin Ha'\n Gangs wi' me to Bodsbeck Ha'.\n\nIn a few years Leithin Ha' was in ruins, and \"bonnie Bodsbeck\"\nflourishing beneath the care of Brownie.\n\nOthers say that it was the gudeman of Bodsbeck that offended the\nBrownie by leaving out for him a mess of bread and milk, and that he\nwent away, saying,\n\n Ca, Brownie, ca',\n A' the luck of Bodsbeck awa to Leithenha'.\n\nBrownie was not without some roguery in his composition. Two lasses\nhaving made a fine bowlful of buttered brose, had taken it into the\nbyre to sup in the dark. In their haste they brought but one spoon,\nso, placing the bowl between them, they supped by turns. \"I hae got\nbut three sups,\" cried the one, \"and it's a' dune.\"--\"It's a' dune,\nindeed,\" cried the other.--\"Ha, ha, ha!\" cried a third voice, \"Brownie\nhas got the maist o' it.\"--And Brownie it was who had placed himself\nbetween them, and gotten two sups for their one.\n\nThe following story will remind the reader of Hinzelmann. A Brownie\nonce lived with Maxwell, Laird of Dalswinton, and was particularly\nattached to the Laird's daughter, the comeliest lass in all the holms\nof Nithsdale. In all her love affairs Brownie was her confidant and\nassistant; when she was married, it was Brownie who undressed her for\nthe bridal bed; and when a mother's pains first seized her, and a\nservant, who was ordered to go fetch the _cannie wife_, who lived on\nthe other side of the Nith, was slow in getting himself ready,\nBrownie, though it was one of dark December's stormy nights, and the\nwind was howling through the trees, wrapped his lady's fur cloak about\nhim, mounted the servant's horse, and dashed through the waves of the\nfoaming Nith. He went to the cannie wife, got her up behind him, and,\nto her terror and dismay, plunged again into the torrent. \"Ride nae by\nthe auld pool,\" said she, \"lest we suld meet wi' Brownie.\" \"Fear nae,\ndame,\" replied he, \"ye've met a' the Brownies ye will meet.\" He set\nher down at the hall steps, and went to the stable. There finding the\nlad, whose embassy he had discharged, but drawing on his boots, he\ntook off the bridle, and by its vigorous application instilled into\nthe memory of the loitering loon the importance of dispatch. This was\njust at the time of the Reformation, and a zealous minister advised\nthe Laird to have him baptised. The Laird consented, and the worthy\nminister hid himself in the barn. When Brownie was beginning his\nnight's work, the man of God flung the holy water in his face,\nrepeating at the same time the form of baptism. The terrified Brownie\ngave a yell of dismay, and disappeared for ever.\n\nAnother name by which the domestic spirit was known in some parts of\nScotland was Shellycoat, of which the origin is uncertain.[424]\n\n * * * * *\n\nScotland has also its water-spirit, called Kelpie, who in some respects\ncorresponds with the Neck of the northern nations. \"Every lake,\" says\nGraham,[425] \"has its _Kelpie_, or Water-horse, often seen by the\nshepherd, as he sat in a summer's evening upon the brow of a rock,\ndashing along the surface of the deep, or browsing on the pasture-ground\nupon its verge. Often did this malignant genius of the waters allure\nwomen and children to his subaqueous haunts, there to be immediately\ndevoured. Often did he also swell the torrent or lake beyond its usual\nlimits, to overwhelm the hapless traveller in the flood.\"[426]\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe have now gone through nearly the whole of the Gotho-German race,\nand everywhere have found their fairy system the same--a proof, we\nconceive, of the truth of the position of its being deeply founded in\nthe religious system originally common to the whole race. We now\nproceed to another, and, perhaps, an older European family, the Celts.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[415] Mr. Cromek. There was, we believe, some false dealing on the\npart of Allan Cunningham toward this gentleman, such as palming on him\nhis own verses as traditionary ones. But the legends are genuine.\n\n[416] This answers to the _Deen\u00e8 M\u00e2h_, Good People, of the Highlands\nand Ireland. An old Scottish name, we may add, for a fairy seems to\nhave been Bogle, akin to the English Pouke, Puck, Puckle; but\ndiffering from the Boggart. Thus Gawain Douglas says,\n\n Of _Brownyis_ and of _Boggles_ full is this Beuk.\n\n\n[417] Daemonologie, B. III. c. 5.\n\n[418] These elf-arrows are triangular pieces of flint, supposed to have\nbeen the heads of the arrows used by the aborigines. Though more\nplentiful in Scotland they are also found in England and Ireland, and\nwere there also attached to the fairies, and the wounds were also only\nto be discerned by gifted eyes. In an Anglo-Saxon poem, there occur the\nwords [Old English: \u00e6sa gescot] and [Old English: \u00fdlfa gescot], _i. e._\narrow of the Gods, and arrow of the Elves. Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 22.\n\n[419] \"It was till lately believed by the ploughmen of Clydesdale,\nthat if they repeated the rhyme\n\n Fairy, fairy, bake me a bannock and roast me a collop,\n And I'll gie ye a spurtle off my gadend!\n\nthree several times on turning their cattle at the terminations of\nridges, they would find the said fare prepared for them on reaching the\nend of the fourth furrow.\"--Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 33.\n\n[420] See above, pp. 302, 311. Graham also relates this legend in his\nPicturesque Sketches of Perthshire.\n\n[421] Hugh Miller, The Old Red Sandstone, p. 251. We are happy to have\nan opportunity of expressing the high feelings of respect and esteem\nwhich we entertain for this extraordinary man. Born in the lowest rank\nof society, and commencing life as a workman in a stone-quarry, he\nhas, by the mere force of natural genius, become not only a most able\ngeologist but an elegant writer, and a sound and discerning critic.\nScotland seems to stand alone in producing such men.\n\n[422] He is named as we have seen (p. 351) by Gawain Douglas. King\nJames says of him \"The spirit called Brownie appeared like a rough\nman, and haunted divers houses without doing any evill, but doing, as\nit were, necessarie turns up and down the house; yet some are so\nblinded as to believe that their house was all the sonsier, as they\ncalled it, that such spirits resorted there.\"\n\n[423] Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 33.\n\n[424] Grimm (Deut. Mythol., p. 479) says it is the German Schellenrock,\n_i. e._, Bell-coat, from his coat being hung with bells like those of\nthe fools. A _P\u016bck_ he says, once served in a convent in Mecklenburg,\nfor thirty years, in kitchen, and stable, and the only reward he asked\nwas \"tunicam de diversis coloribus et _tintinnabulis_ plenam.\"\n\n[425] Sketches of Perthshire, p. 245.\n\n[426] In what precedes, we have chiefly followed Mr. Cromek. Those\nanxious for further information will meet it in the Minstrelsy of the\nScottish Border, and other works.\n\n\n\n\n CELTS AND CYMRY.\n\n There every herd by sad experience knows,\n How winged with fate their elf-shot arrows fly;\n When the sick ewe her summer-food foregoes,\n Or, stretched on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie.\n COLLINS.\n\n\nUnder the former of these appellations we include the inhabitants of\nIreland, the Highlands of Scotland, and the Isle of Man; under the\nlatter, the people of Wales and Brittany. It is, not, however, by any\nmeans meant to be asserted that there is in any of these places to be\nfound a purely Celtic or Cymric population. The more powerful\nGotho-German race has, every where that they have encountered them,\nbeaten the Celts and Cymry, and intermingled with them, influencing\ntheir manners, language, and religion.\n\nOur knowledge of the original religion of this race is very limited,\nchiefly confined to what the Roman writers have transmitted to us, and\nthe remaining poems of the Welsh bards. Its character appears to have\nbeen massive, simple, and sublime, and less given to personification\nthan those of the more eastern nations. The wild and the plastic\npowers of nature never seem in it to have assumed the semblance of\nhuge giants and ingenious dwarfs.\n\nYet in the popular creed of all these tribes, we meet at the present day\nbeings exactly corresponding to the Dwarfs and Fairies of the\nGotho-German nations. Of these beings there is no mention in any\nworks--such as the Welsh Poems, and Mabinogion, the Poems of Ossian, or\nthe different Irish poems and romances--which can by any possibility lay\nclaim to an antiquity anterior to the conquests of the Northmen. Is it\nnot then a reasonable supposition that the Picts, Saxons, and other sons\nof the North, brought with them their Dwarfs and Kobolds, and\ncommunicated the knowledge of, and belief in, them to their Celtic and\nCymric subjects and neighbours? Proceeding on this theory, we have\nplaced the Celts and Cymry next to and after the Gotho-German nations,\nthough they are perhaps their precursors in Europe.\n\n\n\n\n IRELAND.\n\n Like him, the Sprite,\n Whom maids by night\n Oft meet in glen that's haunted.\n MOORE.\n\n\nWe commence our survey of the lands of Celts and Cymry with Ireland,\nas being the first in point of importance, but still more as being the\nland of our birth. It is pleasing to us, now in the autumn of our\nlife, to return in imagination to where we passed its spring--its most\nhappy spring. As we read and meditate, its mountains and its vales,\nits verdant fields and lucid streams, objects on which we probably\nnever again shall gaze, rise up in their primal freshness and beauty\nbefore us, and we are once more present, buoyant with youth, in the\nscenes where we first heard the fairy-legends of which we are now to\ntreat. Even the forms of the individual peasants who are associated\nwith them in our memory, rise as it were from their humble\nresting-places and appear before us, again awaking our sympathies;\nfor, we will boldly assert it, the Irish peasantry, with all their\nfaults, gain a faster hold on the affections than the peasantry of any\nother country. We speak, however, particularly of them as they were in\nour county and in our younger days; for we fear that they are somewhat\nchanged, and not for the better. But our present business is with the\nIrish fairies rather than with the Irish people.\n\nThe fairies of Ireland can hardly be said to differ in any respect\nfrom those of England and Scotland. Like them they are of diminutive\nsize, rarely exceeding two feet in height; they live also in society,\ntheir ordinary abode being the interior of the mounds, called in\nIrish, Raths (_R\u00e2hs_), in English, Moats, the construction of which\nis, by the peasantry, ascribed to the Danes from whom, it might thence\nperhaps be inferred, the Irish got their fairies direct and not _vi\u00e2_\nEngland. From these abodes they are at times seen to issue mounted on\ndiminutive steeds, in order to take at night the diversion of the\nchase. Their usual attire is green with red caps.[427] They are fond\nof music, but we do not in general hear much of their dancing, perhaps\nbecause on account of the infrequency of thunder, the fairy-rings are\nless numerous in Ireland than elsewhere. Though the fairies steal\nchildren and strike people with paralysis and other ailments (which is\ncalled being _fairy-struck_), and shoot their elf-arrows at the\ncattle, they are in general kind to those for whom they have\ncontracted a liking, and often render them essential service in time\nof need. They can make themselves visible and invisible, and assume\nany forms they please. The pretty tiny conical mushrooms which grow so\nabundantly in Ireland are called Fairy-mushrooms; a kind of nice\nregularly-formed grass is named Fairy-flax, and the bells of the\nfoxglove called in some places Fairy-bells, are also said to have some\nconnexion with the Little People.\n\nThe popular belief in Ireland also is, that the Fairies are a portion of\nthe fallen angels, who, being less guilty than the rest, were not driven\nto hell, but were suffered to dwell on earth. They are supposed to be\nvery uneasy respecting their condition after the final judgement.\n\nThe only names by which they are known in those parts of Ireland in\nwhich the English language is spoken are, Fairies, the Good\nPeople,[428] and the Gentry, these last terms being placatory, like\nthe Greek Eumenides. When, for example, the peasant sees a cloud of\ndust sweeping along the road, he raises his hat and says, \"God speed\nyou, gentlemen!\" for it is the popular belief that it is in these\ncloudy vehicles that the Good People journey from one place to\nanother.[429] The Irish language has several names for the fairies;\nall however are forms or derivations of the word _Shia_,[430] the\nproper meaning of which seems to be Spirit. The most usual name\nemployed by the Munster peasantry is _Shifra_; we are not acquainted\nwith the fairy-belief and terminology of the inhabitants of Connemara\nand the other wilds of Connaught.[431]\n\nMost of the traits and legends of the Irish fairies are contained in\nthe Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland, compiled by\nMr. Crofton Croker. As we ourselves aided in that work we must inform\nthe reader that our contributions, both in text and notes, contain\nonly Leinster ideas and traditions, for that was the only province\nwith which we were acquainted. We must make the further confession,\nthat some of the more poetic traits which MM. Grimm, in the\nIntroduction to their translation of this work, give as characteristic\nof the Irish fairies, owe their origin to the fancy of the writers,\nwho were, in many cases, more anxious to produce amusing tales than to\ntransmit legends faithfully.\n\nThe Legend of Knockshegowna (_Hill of the Fairy-calf_) the first given\nin that work, relates how the fairies used to torment the cattle and\nherdsmen for intruding on one of their favourite places of resort\nwhich was on this hill. The fairy-queen, it says, having failed in her\nattempts to daunt a drunken piper who had undertaken the charge of the\ncattle, at last turned herself into a calf, and, with the piper on her\nback, jumped over the Shannon, ten miles off, and back again. Pleased\nwith his courage, she agreed to abandon the hill for the future.\n\nThe Legend of Knock-Grafton tells how a little hunchback, while\nsitting to rest at nightfall at the side of a Rath or Moat, heard the\nfairies within singing over and over again, _Da Luan, Da Mart!_\n(_i.e._, Monday, Tuesday!) and added, weary with the monotony, _Agus\nda Cadin!_ (_i.e._, and Wednesday!) The fairies were so delighted with\nthis addition to their song that they brought him into the Moat,\nentertained him, and finally freed him from the incumbrance of his\nhump. Another hunchback hearing the story went to the Moat to try if\nhe could meet with the same good fortune. He heard the fairies singing\nthe amended version of the song, and, anxious to contribute, without\nwaiting for a pause or attending to the rhythm or melody, he added\n_Agus da Hena!_ (_i.e._, and Friday.)[432] His reward was, being\ncarried into the Moat, and having his predecessor's hump placed on his\nback in addition to his own.[433]\n\nIn the story named the Priest's Supper, a fisherman, at the request of\nthe fairies, asks a priest who had stopt at his house, whether they\nwould be saved or not at the last day. The priest desired him to tell\nthem to come themselves and put the question to him, but this they\ndeclined doing, and the question remained undecided.\n\nThe next three stories are of changelings. The Young Piper, one of our\nown contributions, will be found in the Appendix. The Changeling has\nnothing peculiar in it; but the Brewery of Eggshells is one which we\nfind in many places, even in Brittany and Auvergne. In the present\nversion, the mother puts down eggshells to boil, and to the enquiry of\nthe changeling she tells him that she is brewing them, and clapping\nhis hands he says, \"Well! I'm fifteen hundred years in the world, and\nI never saw a brewery of eggshells before!\"\n\nIn the Capture of Bridget Purcel, a girl is struck with a little\nswitch between the shoulders, by something in the form of a little\nchild that came suddenly behind her, and she pined away and died.\n\nThe Legend of Bottle Hill gives the origin of that name, which was as\nfollows. A poor man was driving his only cow to Cork to sell her. As\nhe was going over that hill he was suddenly joined by a\nstrange-looking little old man with a pale withered face and red eyes,\nto whom he was eventually induced to give his cow in exchange for a\nbottle, and both cow and purchaser then disappeared. When the poor man\ncame home he followed the directions of the stranger, and spreading a\ncloth on the table, and placing the bottle on the ground, he said,\n\"Bottle, do your duty!\" and immediately two little beings rose out of\nit, and having covered the table with food in gold and silver dishes,\nwent down again into the bottle and vanished. By selling these he got\na good deal of money and became rich for one in his station. The\nsecret of his bottle however transpired, and his landlord induced him\nto sell it to him. But his prosperity vanished with it, and he was\nagain reduced to one cow, and obliged to drive her to Cork for sale.\nAs he journeyed over the same hill he met the same old man, and sold\nhim the cow for another bottle. Having made the usual preparations, he\nlaid it on the ground and said, \"Bottle, do your duty!\" but instead of\nthe tiny little lads with their gold and silver dishes, there jumped\nup out of it two huge fellows with cudgels, who fell to belabouring\nthe whole family. When they had done and were gone back into the\nbottle, the owner of it, without saying a word, put it under his coat\nand went to his landlord, who happened to have a great deal of company\nwith him, and sent in word that he was come with another bottle to\nsell. He was at once admitted, the bottle did its duty, and the men\nwith cudgels laid about them on all present, and never ceased till the\noriginal wealth-giving bottle was restored. He now grew richer than\never, and his son married his landlord's daughter, but when the old\nman and his wife died, the servants, it is recorded, fighting at their\nwake, broke the two bottles.[434]\n\nThe Confessions of Tom Bourke, as it contains a faithful transcript of\nthe words and ideas of that personage, is perhaps the most valuable\nportion of the work. From this we learn that in Munster the fairies are,\nlike the people themselves, divided into _factions_. Thus we are told\nthat, on the occasion of the death of Bourke's mother, the two parties\nfought for three continuous nights, to decide whether she should be\nburied with her own or her husband's _people_ (_i. e._ family). Bourke\nalso had sat for hours looking at two parties of the Good People playing\nat the popular game of hurling, in a meadow at the opposite side of the\nriver, with their coats and waistcoats off, and white handkerchiefs on\nthe heads of one, and red on these of the other party.\n\nA man whom Tom knew was returning one evening from a fair, a little\nelevated of course, when he met a _berrin_ (_i. e._ funeral), which he\njoined, as is the custom; but, to his surprise, there was no one there\nthat he knew except one man, and _he_ had been dead for some years.\nWhen the _berrin_ was over, they gathered round a piper, and began to\ndance in the churchyard. Davy longed to be among them, and the man\nthat he knew came up to him, and bid him take out a partner, but on no\naccount to give her the usual kiss. He accordingly took out the\n_purtiest girl in the ring_, and danced a jig with her, to the\nadmiration of the whole company; but at the end he forgot the warning,\nand complied with the custom of kissing one's partner. All at once\neverything vanished; and when Davy awoke nest morning, he found\nhimself lying among the tombstones.\n\nAnother man, also a little in liquor, was returning one night from a\n_berrin_. The moon was shining bright, and from the other side of the\nriver came the sounds of merriment, and the notes of a bagpipe. Taking\noff his shoes and stockings, he waded across the river, and there he\nfound a great crowd of people dancing on the Inch[435] on the other\nside. He mingled with them without being observed, and he longed to\njoin in the dance; for he had no mean opinion of his own skill. He did\nso, but found that it was not to be compared to theirs, they were so\nlight and agile. He was going away quite in despair, when a little old\nman, who was looking on with marks of displeasure in his face, came up\nto him, and telling him he was his friend, and his father's friend,\nbade him go into the ring and call for a lilt. He complied, and all\nwere amazed at his dancing; he then got a table and danced on it, and\nfinally he span round and round on a trencher. When he had done, they\nwanted him to dance again; but he refused with a great oath, and\ninstantly he found himself lying on the Inch with only a white cow\ngrazing beside him. On going home, he got a shivering and a fever. He\nwas for many days out of his mind, and recovered slowly; but ever\nafter he had great skill in fairy matters. The dancers, it turned out,\nhad belonged to a different faction, and the old man who gave him his\nskill to that to which he himself was attached.\n\nIn these genuine confessions it is very remarkable that the Good People\nare never represented as of a diminutive size; while in every story that\nwe ever heard of them in Leinster, they were of pygmy stature. The\nfollowing account of their mode of entering houses in Ulster gives them\ndimensions approaching to those of Titania's 'small elves.'\n\nA Fairy, the most agile, we may suppose, of the party, is selected,\nwho contrives to get up to the keyhole of the door, carrying with him\na piece of thread or twine. With this he descends on the inside, where\nhe fastens it firmly to the floor, or some part of the furniture.\nThose without then 'haul taut and belay,' and when it is fast they\nprepare to march along this their perilous Es-Sirat, leading to the\nparadise of pantry or parlour, in this order. First steps up the\nFairy-piper, and in measured pace pursues his adventurous route,\nplaying might and main an invigorating elfin-march, or other\nspirit-stirring air; then one by one the rest of the train mount the\ncord and follow his steps. Like the old Romans, in their triumphal\nprocessions, they pass beneath the lofty arch of the keyhole, and move\ndown along the other side. Lightly, one by one, they then jump down on\nthe floor, to hold their revels or accomplish their thefts.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe have never heard of any being, in the parts of Ireland with which\nwe are acquainted, answering to the Boggart, Brownie, or Nis. A\nfarmer's family still, we believe, living in the county of Wicklow,\nused to assert that in their grandfather's time they never had any\ntrouble about washing up plates and dishes; for they had only to leave\nthem collected in a certain part of the house for the Good People,\nwho would come in and wash and clean them, and in the morning\neverything would be clean and in its proper place.\n\nYet in the county of Cork it would seem that the Cluricaun, of which we\nshall presently speak, used to enact the part of Nis or Boggart. Mr.\nCroker tells a story of a little being, which he calls a Cluricaun, that\nhaunted the cellar of a Mr. Macarthy, and in a note on this tale he\ngives the contents of a letter informing him of another ycleped Little\nWildbean, that haunted the house of a Quaker gentleman named Harris, and\nwhich is precisely the Nis or Boggart. This Wildbean, who kept to the\ncellar, would, if one of the servants through negligence left the\nbeer-barrel running, wedge himself into the cock and stop it, till some\none came to turn it. His dinner used to be left for him in the cellar,\nand the cook having, one Friday, left him nothing but part of a herring\nand some cold potatoes, she was at midnight dragged out of her bed, and\ndown the cellar-stairs, and so much bruised that she kept her bed for\nthree weeks. In order at last to get rid of him, Mr. Harris resolved to\nremove, being told that if he went beyond a running stream the Cluricaun\ncould not follow him. The last cart, filled with empty barrels and such\nlike, was just moving off, when from the bung-hole of one of them\nWildbean cried out, \"Here, master! here we go all together!\" \"What!\"\nsaid Mr. Harris, \"dost thou go also?\" \"Yes, to be sure, master. Here we\ngo, all together!\" \"In that case, friend,\" replied Mr. Harris, \"let the\ncarts be unloaded; we are just as well where we are.\" It is added, that\n\"Mr. Harris died soon after, but it is said the Cluricaun still haunts\nthe Harris family.\"\n\nIn another of these Fairy Legends, Teigue of the Lee, who haunted the\nhouse of a Mr. Pratt, in the county of Cork, bears a strong\nresemblance to the Hinzelmann of Germany. To the story, which is\nexceedingly well told by a member of the society of Friends, now no\nmore, also the narrator of the Legend of Bottle-hill, Mr. Croker has\nin his notes added some curious particulars.\n\nA being named the Fear Dearg (_i. e._ Red Man) is also known in Munster.\nA tale named The Lucky Guest, which Mr. Croker gives as taken down\n_verbatim_ from the mouth of the narrator by Mr. M'Clise, the artist,\ngives the fullest account of this being. A girl related that, when she\nwas quite a child, one night, during a storm of wind and rain, a\nknocking was heard at the door of her father's cabin, and a voice like\nthat of a feeble old man craving admission. On the door's being opened,\nthere came in a little old man, about two feet and a half high, with a\nred sugar-loaf hat and a long scarlet coat, reaching down nearly to the\nground, his hair was long and grey, and his face yellow and wrinkled. He\nwent over to the fire (which the family had quitted in their fear), sat\ndown and dried his clothes, and began smoking a pipe which he found\nthere. The family went to bed, and in the morning he was gone. In about\na month after he began to come regularly every night about eleven\no'clock. The signal which he gave was thrusting a hairy arm through a\nhole in the door, which was then opened, and the family retired to bed,\nleaving him the room to himself. If they did not open the door, some\naccident was sure to happen next day to themselves or their cattle. On\nthe whole, however, his visits brought good luck, and the family\nprospered, till the landlord put them out of their farm, and they never\nsaw the Fear Dearg more.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs far as our knowledge extends, there is no being in the Irish rivers\nanswering to the Nix or Kelpie; but on the sea coast the people\nbelieve in beings of the same kind as the Mermen and Mermaids. The\nIrish name is Merrow,[436] and legends are told of them similar to\nthose of other countries. Thus the Lady of Gollerus resembles the\nMermaid-wife and others which we have already related. Instead,\nhowever, of an entire dress, it is a kind of cap, named _Cohuleen\nDriuth_, without which she cannot return to her subaqueous abode.\nOther legends tell of matrimonial unions formed by mortals with these\nsea-ladies, from which some families in the south claim a descent. The\nLord of Dunkerron, so beautifully told in verse by Mr. Croker, relates\nthe unfortunate termination of a marine amour of one of the O'Sullivan\nfamily. The Soul-cages alone contains the adventures of a Mermau.\n\nThe Irish Pooka[437] ([Irish Uncial: puca]) is plainly the English\nPouke, Puck, and would seem, like it, to denote an evil spirit. The\nnotions respecting it are very vague. A boy in the mountains near\nKillarney told Mr. Croker that \"old people used to say that the Pookas\nwere very numerous in the times long ago. They were wicked-minded,\nblack-looking, bad things, that would come in the _form of wild colts_,\nwith chains hanging about them. They did great hurt to benighted\ntravellers.\" Here we plainly have the English Puck; but it is remarkable\nthat the boy should speak of Pookas in the plural number. In Leinster,\nit was always _the_, not _a_ Pooka, that we heard named. When the\nblackberries begin to decay, and the seeds to appear, the children are\ntold not to eat them any longer, as _the_ Pooka has dirtied on them.\n\nThe celebrated fall of the Liffey, near Ballymore Eustace, is named\nPool-a-Phooka, or The Pooka's Hole. Near Macroom, in the county of Cork,\nare the ruins of a castle built on a rock, named Carrig-a-Phooka, or The\nPooka's Rock. There is an old castle not far from Dublin, called Puck's\nCastle, and a townland in the county of Kildare is named Puckstown. The\ncommon expression _play the Puck_ is the same as _play the deuce_, _play\nthe Devil_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe most remarkable of the Fairy-tribe in Ireland, and one which is\npeculiar to the country, is the Leprechaun.[438] This is a being in\nthe form of an old man, dressed as he is described in one of the\nfollowing tales. He is by profession a maker of brogues; he resorts in\ngeneral only to secret and retired places, where he is discovered by\nthe sounds which he makes hammering his brogues. He is rich, like\ncurmudgeons of his sort, and it is only by the most violent threats\nof doing him some bodily harm, that he can be made to show the place\nwhere his treasure lies; but if the person who has caught him can be\ninduced (a thing that always happens, by the way) to take his eyes off\nhim, he vanishes, and with him the prospect of wealth. The only\ninstance of more than one Leprechaun being seen at a time is that\nwhich occurs in one of the following tales, which was related by an\nold woman, to the writer's sister and early companion, now no more.\n\nYet the Leprechaun, though, as we said, peculiar to Ireland, seems\nindebted to England, at least, for his name. In Irish, as we have\nseen, he is called _Lobaircin_, and it would not be easy to write the\nEnglish Lubberkin more accurately with Irish letters and Irish sounds.\nLeprechaun is evidently a corruption of that word.[439] In the time of\nElizabeth and James, the word Lubrican was used in England to indicate\nsome kind of spirit. Thus Drayton gives as a part of Nymphidia's\ninvocation of Proserpina:\n\n By the mandrake's dreadful groans;\n By the Lubrican's sad moans;\n By the noise of dead men's bones\n In charnel-house rattling.\n\nThat this was the Leprechaun is, we think, clear; for in the Honest\nWhore of Decker and Middleton, the following words are used of an\nIrish footman:\n\n As for your Irish Lubrican, that spirit\n Whom by preposterous charms thy lust has raised.\n Part II. i. 1.[440]\n\nWe thus have the Leprechaun as a well-known Irish fairy, though his\ncharacter was not understood, in the sixteenth century.\n\nThe two following tales we ourselves heard from the peasantry of\nKildare in our boyhood:[441]\n\n\n\n _Clever Tom and the Leprechaun._\n\nOliver Tom Fwich-(i.e. Fitz)pathrick, as people used to call him, was\nthe eldest son o' a comfortable farmer, who lived nigh hand to\nMorristown-Lattin, not far from the Liffey. Tom was jist turned o'\nnine-an'-twinty, whin he met wid the follyin' advinthur, an' he was as\ncliver, clane, tight, good-lukin' a boy as any in the whole county\nKildare. One fine day in harvist (it was a holiday) Tom was takin' a\nramble by himsilf thro' the land, an' wint sauntherin' along the sunny\nside uv a hidge, an' thinkin' in himsilf, whare id be the grate harm\nif people, instid uv idlin' an' goin' about doin' nothin' at all, war\nto shake out the hay, an' bind and stook th' oats that was lyin' an\nthe ledge, 'specially as the weather was raither brokin uv late, whin\nall uv a suddint he h'ard a clackin' sort o' n'ise jist a little way\nfornint him, in the hidge. \"Dear me,\" said Tom, \"but isn't it now\nraaly surprisin' to hear the stonechatters singin' so late in the\nsaison.\" So Tom stole an, goin' on the tips o' his toes to thry iv he\ncud git a sight o' what was makin' the n'ise, to see iv he was right\nin his guess. The n'ise stopt; but as Tom luked sharp thro' the\nbushes, what did he see in a neuk o' the hidge but a brown pitcher\nthat might hould about a gallon an' a haff o' liquor; an' bye and bye\nhe seen a little wee deeny dawny bit iv an ould man, wid a little\nmotty iv a cocked hat stuck an the top iv his head, an' a deeshy\ndaushy leather apron hangin' down afore him, an' he pulled out a\nlittle wooden stool, an' stud up upon it, and dipped a little piggen\ninto the pitcher, an' tuk out the full av it, an' put it beside the\nstool, an' thin sot down undher the pitcher, an' begun to work at\nputtin' a heelpiece an a bit iv a brogue jist fittin' fur himsilf.\n\n\"Well, by the powers!\" said Tom to himsilf, \"I aften hard tell o' the\nLeprechauns, an', to tell God's thruth, I nivir rightly believed in\nthim, but here's won o' thim in right airnest; if I go knowin'ly to\nwork, I'm a med man. They say a body must nivir take their eyes aff o'\nthim, or they'll escape.\"\n\nTom now stole an a little farther, wid his eye fixed an the little man\njist as a cat does wid a mouse, or, as we read in books, the rattlesnake\ndoes wid the birds he wants to inchant. So, whin he got up quite close\nto him, \"God bless your work, honest man,\" sez Tom. The little man\nraised up his head, an' \"Thank you kindly,\" sez he. \"I wundher you'd be\nworkin' an the holiday,\" sez Tom. \"That's my own business, an' none of\nyour's,\" was the reply, short enough. \"Well, may be, thin, you'd be\ncivil enough to tell us, what you've got in the pitcher there,\" sez Tom.\n\"Aye, will I, wid pleasure,\" sez he: \"it's good beer.\" \"Beer!\" sez Tom:\n\"Blud an' turf, man, whare did ye git it?\" \"Whare did I git it, is it?\nwhy I med it to be shure; an' what do ye think I med it av?\" \"Divil a\none o' me knows,\" sez Tom, \"but av malt, I 'spose; what ilse?\" \"'Tis\nthere you're out; I med it av haith.\" \"Av haith!\" sez Tom, burstin' out\nlaughin'. \"Shure you don't take me to be sich an omedhaun as to b'lieve\nthat?\" \"Do as ye plase,\" sez he, \"but what I tell ye is the raal thruth.\nDid ye nivir hear tell o' the Danes?\" \"To be shure I did,\" sez Tom,\n\"warn't thim the chaps we gev such a lickin' whin they thought to take\nDerry frum huz?\" \"Hem,\" sez the little man dhryly, \"is that all ye know\nabout the matther?\" \"Well, but about thim Danes,\" sez Tom. \"Why all th'\nabout thim is,\" said he, \"is that whin they war here they taught huz to\nmake beer out o' the haith, an' the saicret's in my family ivir sense.\"\n\"Will ye giv a body a taste o' yer beer to thry?\" sez Tom. \"I'll tell ye\nwhat it is, young man, it id be fitther fur ye to be lukin' afther yer\nfather's propirty thi'n to be botherin' dacint, quite people wid yer\nfoolish questions. There, now, while you're idlin' away yer time here,\nthere's the cows hav' bruk into th' oats, an' are knockin' the corn all\nabout.\"\n\nTom was taken so by surprise wid this, that he was jist an the very\npoint o' turnin' round, whin he recollicted himsilf. So, afeard that\nthe like might happin agin, he med a grab at the Leprechaun, an' cotch\nhim up in his hand, but in his hurry he ovirset the pitcher, and spilt\nall the beer, so that he couldn't git a taste uv it to tell what sort\nit was. He thin swore what he wouldn't do to him iv he didn't show him\nwhare his money was. Tom luked so wicked, an' so bloody-minded, that\nthe little man was quite frightened. \"So,\" sez he, \"come along wid me\na couple o' fields aff, an' I'll show ye a crock o' gould.\" So they\nwint, an' Tom held the Leprechaun fast in his hand, an' nivir tuk his\neyes frum aff uv him, though they had to crass hidges an' ditches, an'\na cruked bit uv a bog (fur the Leprechaun seemed, out o' pure\nmischief, to pick out the hardest and most conthrairy way), till at\nlast they come to a grate field all full o' _bolyawn buies_,[442] an'\nthe Leprechaun pointed to a big bolyawn, an' sez he, \"Dig undher that\nbolyawn, an' you'll git a crock chuck full o' goulden guineas.\"\n\nTom, in his hurry, had nivir minded the bringin' a fack[443] wid him,\nso he thought to run home and fetch one, an' that he might know the\nplace agin, he tuk aff one o' his red garthers, and tied it round the\nbolyawn. \"I s'pose,\" sez the Leprechaun, very civilly, \"ye've no\nfurther occashin fur me?\" \"No,\" sez Tom, \"ye may go away now, if ye\nlike, and God speed ye, an' may good luck attind ye whareivir ye go.\"\n\"Well, good bye to ye, Tom Fwichpathrick,\" sed the Leprechaun, \"an'\nmuch good may do ye wid what ye'll git.\"\n\nSo Tom run fur the bare life, till he come home, an' got a fack, an'\nthin away wid him as hard as he could pilt back to the field o'\nbolyawns; but whin he got there, lo an' behould, not a bolyawn in the\nfield, but had a red garther, the very idintical model o' his own,\ntied about it; an' as to diggin' up the whole field, that was all\nnonsinse, fur there was more nor twinty good Irish acres in it. So Tom\ncome home agin wid his fack an his shouldher, a little cooler nor he\nwint; and many's the hearty curse he gev the Leprechaun ivry time he\nthought o' the nate turn he sarved him.[444]\n\n\n\n _The Leprechaun in the Garden._\n\nThere's a sort o' people that every body must have met wid sumtime or\nanother. I mane thim people that purtinds not to b'lieve in things\nthat in their hearts they _do_ b'lieve in, an' are mortially afeard o'\ntoo. Now Failey[445] Mooney was one o' these. Failey (iv any o' yez\nknew him) was a rollockin', rattlin', divil-may-care sort ov a chap\nlike--but that's neither here nor there; he was always talkin' one\nnonsinse or another; an' among the rest o' his fooleries, he purtinded\nnot to b'lieve in the fairies, the Leprechauns, an' the Poocas, an' he\nevin sumtimes had the impedince to purtind to doubt o' ghosts, that\nevery body b'lieves in, at any rate. Yit sum people used to wink an'\nluk knowin' whin Failey was gostherin', fur it was obsarved that he\nwas mighty shy o' crassin' the foord o' Ahnamoe afther nightfall; an'\nthat whin onst he was ridin' past the ould church o' Tipper in the\ndark, tho' he'd got enough o' pottheen into him to make any man stout,\nhe med the horse trot so that there was no keepin' up wid him, an'\niv'ry now an' thin he'd throw a sharp luk-out ovir his lift shouldher.\n\nWell, one night there was a parcel o' the neighbours sittin' dhrinkin'\nan' talkin' at Larry Reilly's public-house, an' Failey was one o' the\nparty. He was, as usual, gittin' an wid his nonsinse an' baldherdash\nabout the fairies, an' swearin' that he didn't b'lieve there was any\nlive things, barrin' min an' bastes, an' birds and fishes, an' sich\nlike things as a body cud see, an' he wint on talkin' in so profane a\nway o' the good people, that som o' the company grew timid an' begun\nto crass thimsilves, not knowin' what might happin', whin an ould\nwoman called Mary Hogan wid a long blue cloak about her, that was\nsittin' in the chimbly corner smokin' her pipe widout takin' the laste\nshare in the conversation, tuk the pipe out o' her mouth, an' threw\nthe ashes out o' it, an' spit in the fire, an' turnin' round, luked\nFailey straight in the face. \"An' so you don't b'lieve there's sich\nthings as Leprechauns, don't ye?\" sed she.\n\nWell, Failey luked rayther daunted, but howsumdivir he sed nothin'.\n\"Why, thin, upon my throth, an' it well becomes the likes o' ye, an'\nthat's nothin' but a bit uv a gossoon, to take upon yer to purtind not\nto b'lieve what yer father, an' yer father's father, an' his father\nafore him, nivir med the laste doubt uv. But to make the matther\nshort, seein' 's b'lievin' they say, an' I, that might be yer\ngran'mother, tell ye there is sich things as Leprechauns, an' what's\nmore, that I mysilf seen one o' thim,--there's fur ye, now!\"\n\nAll the people in the room luked quite surprised at this, an' crowded\nup to the fireplace to listen to her. Failey thried to laugh, but it\nwouldn't do, nobody minded him.\n\n\"I remimber,\" sed she, \"some time afther I married the honest man,\nthat's now dead and gone, it was by the same token jist a little afore\nI lay in o' my first child (an' that's many a long day ago), I was\nsittin', as I sed, out in our little bit o' a gardin, wid my knittin'\nin my hand, watchin' sum bees we had that war goin' to swarm. It was a\nfine sunshiny day about the middle o' June, an' the bees war hummin'\nand flyin' backwards an' forwards frum the hives, an' the birds war\nchirpin' an' hoppin' an the bushes, an' the buttherflies war flyin'\nabout an' sittin' an the flowers, an' ev'ry thing smelt so fresh an'\nso sweet, an' I felt so happy, that I hardly knew whare I was. Well,\nall uv a suddint, I heard among sum rows of banes we had in a corner\no' the gardin, a n'ise that wint tick tack, tick tack, jist fur all\nthe world as iv a brogue-maker was puttin' an the heel uv a pump. 'The\nLord presarve us,' sed I to mysilf, 'what in the world can that be?'\nSo I laid down my knittin', an' got up, an' stole ovir to the banes,\nan' nivir believe me iv I didn't see, sittin' right forenint me, in\nthe very middle of thim, a bit of an ould man, not a quarther so big\nas a new-born child, wid a little cocked hat an his head, an' a dudeen\nin his mouth, smokin' away; an' a plain, ould-fashioned,\ndhrab-coloured coat, wid big brass buttons upon it, an his back, an' a\npair o' massy silver buckles in his shoes, that a'most covered his\nfeet they war so big, an' he workin' away as hard as ivir he could,\nheelin' a little pair o' pumps. The instant minnit I clapt my two eyes\nupon him I knew him to be a Leprechaun, an' as I was stout an'\nfoolhardy, sez I to him 'God save ye honist man! that's hard work\nye're at this hot day.' He luked up in my face quite vexed like; so\nwid that I med a run at him an' cotch hould o' him in my hand, an'\naxed him whare was his purse o' money! 'Money?' sed he, 'money\n_annagh_! an' whare on airth id a poor little ould crathur like mysilf\ngit money?' 'Come, come,' sed I, 'none o' yer thricks upon\nthravellers; doesn't every body know that Leprechauns, like ye, are\nall as rich as the divil himsilf.' So I pulled out a knife I'd in my\npocket, an' put on as wicked a face as ivir I could (an' in throth,\nthat was no aisy matther fur me thin, fur I was as comely an'\ngood-humoured a lukin' girl as you'd see frum this to Ballitore)--an'\nswore by this and by that, if he didn't instantly gi' me his purse, or\nshow me a pot o' goold, I'd cut the nose aff his face. Well, to be\nshure, the little man did luk so frightened at hearin' these words,\nthat I a'most found it in my heart to pity the poor little crathur.\n'Thin,' sed he, 'come wid me jist a couple o' fields aff, an' I'll\nshow ye whare I keep my money.' So I wint, still houldin' him fast in\nmy hand, an' keepin' my eyes fixed upon him, whin all o' a suddint I\nh'ard a whiz-z behind me. 'There! there!' cries he, 'there's yer bees\nall swarmin' an' goin' aff wid thimsilves like blazes.' I, like a fool\nas I was, turned my head round, an' whin I seen nothin' at all, an'\nluked back at the Leprechaun, an' found nothin' at all at all in my\nhand--fur whin I had the ill luck to take my eyes aff him, ye see, he\nslipped out o' my fingers jist as iv he was med o' fog or smoke, an'\nthe sarra the fut he iver come nigh my garden agin.\"\n\n\n _The Three Leprechauns._\n\nMrs. L. having heard that Molly Toole, an old woman who held a few\nacres of land from Mr. L., had seen Leprechauns, resolved to visit\nher, and learn the truth from her own lips. Accordingly, one Sunday,\nafter church, she made her appearance at Molly's residence, which\nwas--no very common thing--extremely neat and comfortable. As she\nentered, every thing looked gay and cheerful. The sun shone bright in\nthrough the door on the earthen floor. Molly was seated at the far\nside of the fire in her arm-chair; her daughter Mary, the prettiest\ngirl on the lands, was looking to the dinner that was boiling; and her\nson Mickey, a young man of about two-and-twenty, was standing lolling\nwith his back against the dresser.\n\nThe arrival of the mistress disturbed the stillness that had hitherto\nprevailed. Mary, who was a great favourite, hastened to the door to meet\nher, and shake hands with her. Molly herself had nearly got to the\nmiddle of the floor when the mistress met her, and Mickey modestly staid\nwhere he was till he should catch her attention. \"O then, musha! but\nisn't it a glad sight for my ould eyes to see your own silf undher my\nroof? Mary, what ails you, girl? and why don't you go into the room and\nfetch out a good chair for the misthress to sit down upon and rest\nherself?\" \"'Deed faith, mother, I'm so glad I don't know what I'm doin'.\nSure you know I didn't see the misthress since she cum down afore.\"\n\nMickey now caught Mrs. L.'s eye, and she asked him how he did. \"By\nGorra, bravely, ma'am, thank you,\" said he, giving himself a wriggle,\nwhile his two hands and the small of his back rested on the edge of\nthe dresser.\n\n\"Now, Mary, stir yourself, alanna,\" said the old woman, \"and get out\nthe bread and butther. Sure you know the misthress can't but be hungry\nafther her walk.\"--\"O, never mind it, Molly; it's too much\ntrouble.\"--\"Throuble, indeed! it's as nice butther, ma'am, as iver\nyou put a tooth in; and it was Mary herself that med it.\"--\"O, then I\nmust taste it.\"\n\nA nice half griddle of whole-meal bread and a print of fresh butter\nwere now produced, and Molly helped the mistress with her own hands.\nAs she was eating, Mary kept looking in her face, and at last said,\n\"Ah then, mother, doesn't the misthress luk mighty well? Upon my\nfaikins, ma'am, I never seen you luking half so handsome.\"--\"Well! and\nwhy wouldn't she luk well? And niver will she luk betther nor be\nbetther nor I wish her.\"--\"Well, Molly, I think I may return the\ncompliment, for Mary is prettier than ever; and as for yourself, I\nreally believe it's young again you're growing.\"--\"Why, God be\nthanked, ma'am, I'm stout and hearty; and though I say it mysilf,\nthere's not an ould woman in the county can stir about betther nor me,\nand I'm up ivery mornin' at the peep of day, and rout them all up out\nof their beds. Don't I?\" said she, looking at Mary.--\"Faith, and sure\nyou do, mother,\" replied Mickey; \"and before the peep of day, too; for\nyou have no marcy in you at all at all.\"--\"Ah, in my young days,\"\ncontinued the old woman, \"people woren't slugabeds; out airly, home\nlate--that was the way wid thim.\"--\"And usedn't people to see\nLeprechauns in thim days, mother?\" said Mickey, laughing.--\"Hould your\ntongue, you saucy cub, you,\" cried Molly; \"what do you know about\nthim?\"--\"Leprechauns?\" said Mrs. L., gladly catching at the\nopportunity; \"did people really, Molly, see Leprechauns in your young\ndays?\"--\"Yes, indeed, ma'am; some people say they did,\" replied Molly,\nvery composedly.--\"O com' now, mother,\" cried Mickey, \"don't think to\nbe goin' it upon us that away; you know you seen thim one time\nyoursilf, and you hadn't the gumption in you to cotch thim, and git\ntheir crocks of gould from thim.\"--\"Now, Molly, is that really true\nthat you saw the Leprechauns?\"--\"'Deed, and did I, ma'am; but this\nboy's always laughin' at me about thim, and that makes me rather shy\nin talkin' o' thim.\"--\"Well, Molly, _I_ won't laugh at you; so, come,\ntell me how you saw them.\"\n\n\"Well, ma'am, you see it was whin I was jist about the age of Mary,\nthere. I was comin' home late one Monday evenin' from the market; for\nmy aunt Kitty, God be marciful to her! would keep me to take a cup of\ntay. It was in the summer time, you see, ma'am, much about the middle\nof June, an' it was through the fields I come. Well, ma'am, as I was\nsayin', it was late in the evenin', that is, the sun was near goin'\ndown, an' the light was straight in my eyes, an' I come along through\nthe bog-meadow; for it was shortly afther I was married to him that's\ngone, an' we wor livin' in this very house you're in now; an' thin\nwhin I come to the castle-field--the pathway you know, ma'am, goes\nright through the middle uv it--an' it was thin as fine a field of\nwhate, jist shot out, as you'd wish to luk at; an' it was a purty\nsight to see it wavin' so beautifully wid every air of wind that was\ngoin' over it, dancin' like to the music of a thrush, that was singin'\ndown below in the hidge.[446] Well, ma'am, I crasst over the style\nthat's there yit, and wint along fair and aisy, till I was near about\nthe middle o' the field, whin somethin' med me cast my eyes to the\nground, a little before me; an' thin I saw, as sure as I'm sittin'\nhere, no less nor three o' the Leprechauns, all bundled together like\nso miny tailyors, in the middle o' the path before me. They worn't\nhammerin' their pumps, nor makin' any kind of n'ise whatever; but\nthere they wor, the three little fellows, wid their cocked hats upon\nthim, an' their legs gothered up undher thim, workin' away at their\nthrade as hard as may be. If you wor only to see, ma'am, how fast\ntheir little ilbows wint as they pulled out their inds! Well, every\none o' thim had his eye cocked upon me, an' their eyes wor as bright\nas the eye of a frog, an' I cudn't stir one step from the spot for\nthe life o' me. So I turned my head round, and prayed to the Lord in\nhis marcy to deliver me from thim, and when I wint to luk at thim\nagin, ma'am, not a sight o' thim was to be seen: they wor gone like a\ndhrame.\"--\"But, Molly, why did you not catch them?\"--\"I was afeard,\nma'am, that's the thruth uv it; but maybe I was as well widout thim. I\nniver h'ard tell of a Leprechaun yit that wasn't too many for any one\nthat cotch him.\"--\"Well, and Molly, do you think there are any\nLeprechauns now?\"--\"It's my belief, ma'am, they're all gone out of the\ncountry, cliver and clane, along wid the Fairies; for I niver hear\ntell o' thim now at all.\"\n\nMrs. L. having now attained her object, after a little more talk with\nthe good old woman, took her leave, attended by Mary, who would see\nher a piece of the way home. And Mary being asked what she thought of\nthe Leprechauns, confessed her inability to give a decided opinion:\nher mother, she knew, was incapable of telling a lie, and yet she had\nher doubts if there ever were such things as Leprechauns.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following tale of a Cluricaun, related by the writer of the Legend\nof Bottle Hill, is of a peculiar character. We have never heard\nanything similar of a Leprechaun.\n\n\n _The Little Shoe._\n\n\"Now tell me, Molly,\" said Mr. Coote to Molly Cogan, as he met her on\nthe road one day, close to one of the old gateways of Kilmallock, \"did\nyou ever hear of the Cluricaun?\"--\"Is it the Cluricaun? Why, thin, to\nbe shure; aften an' aften. Many's the time I h'ard my father, rest his\nsowl! tell about 'em over and over agin.\"--\"But did you ever see one,\nMolly--did you ever see one yourself?\"--\"Och! no, I niver seen one in\nmy life; but my gran'father, that's my father's father, you know, he\nseen one, one time, an' cotch him too.\"--\"Caught him! Oh! Molly, tell\nme how was that.\"\n\n\"Why, thin, I'll tell ye. My gran'father, you see, was out there above\nin the bog, dhrawin' home turf, an' the poor ould mare was tir't\nafther her day's work, an' the ould man wint out to the stable to look\nafther her, an' to see if she was aitin' her hay; an' whin he come to\nthe stable door there, my dear, he h'ard sumthin' hammerin',\nhammerin', hammerin', jist for all the wurld like a shoemaker makin' a\nshoe, and whis'lin' all the time the purtiest chune he iver h'ard in\nhis whole life afore. Well, my gran'father he thought it was the\nCluricaun, an' he sed to himsilf, sez he, 'I'll ketch you, if I can,\nan' thin I'll have money enough always.' So he opened the door very\nquitely, an' didn't make a taste o' n'ise in the wurld, an' luked all\nabout, but the niver a bit o' the little man cud he see anywhare, but\nhe h'ard his hammerin' and whis'lin', an' so he luked and luked, till\nat last he seen the little fellow; an' whare was he, do ye think, but\nin the girth undher the mare; an' there he was, wid his little bit ov\nan apron an him, an' his hammer in his hand, an' a little red\nnight-cap an his head, an' he makin' a shoe; an he was so busy wid his\nwork, an' was hammerin' an' whis'lin' so loud, that he niver minded my\ngran'father, till he cotch him fast in his hand. 'Faix, I have ye\nnow,' says he, 'an' I'll niver let ye go till I git yer purse--that's\nwhat I won't; so give it here at onst to me, now.' 'Stop, stop,' says\nthe Cluricaun; 'stop, stop,' says he, 'till I get it for ye.' So my\ngran'father, like a fool, ye see, opened his hand a little, an' the\nlittle weeny chap jumped away laughin', an' he niver seen him any\nmore, an' the divil a bit o' the purse did he git; only the Cluricaun\nleft his little shoe that he was makin'. An' my gran'father was mad\nenough wid himself for lettin' him go; but he had the shoe all his\nlife, an' my own mother tould me she aftin seen it, an' had it in her\nhand; an' 'twas the purtiest little shoe she ivir seen.\"--\"An' did you\nsee it yourself, Molly?\"--\"Oh! no, my dear, 'twas lost long afore I\nwas born; but my mother tould me aftin an' aftin enough.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[427] Mr. Croker says, that according to the Munster peasantry the\nordinary attire of the Fairy is a black hat, green coat, white\nstockings, and red shoes.\n\n[428] In Irish as in Erse, [Irish Uncial: daine mai\u1e6b] (_deen\u00e8 m\u00e2h_).\n\n[429] See above, p. 26.\n\n[430] They are [Irish Uncial: sia] (_shia_), [Irish Uncial: sia\u1e03ra]\n(_shifra_), [Irish Uncial: siacaire] (_shic\u00e2r\u00e8_), [Irish Uncial: si\u0121]\n(_shee_), [Irish Uncial: si\u0121e] (_shee\u00e8_), [Irish Uncial:\nsi\u0121ib](_sheeidh_) all denoting, spirit, fairy. The term [Irish Uncial:\nsi\u0121] also signifies a hag, and a hillock, and as an adjective,\nspiritual.\n\n[431] We never heard a fairy-legend from any of the Connaught-men with\nwhom we conversed in our boyhood. Their tales were all of\nFinn-mac-Cool and his heroes.\n\n[432] In Irish, [Irish Uncial: dia aoine] (_dhia een\u00e8_). We are\ninclined to think that he must have added, [Irish Uncial: dia\ndardaoin, dia aoine] (_dhia dhardheen, dhia een\u00e8_), _i.e._ Thursday,\nFriday; for we can see no reason for omitting Thursday.\n\n[433] See below, _Brittany_ and _Spain_, in both of which the legend\nis more perfect; but it is impossible to say which is the original.\nParnell's pleasing Fairy Tale is probably formed on this Irish\nversion, yet it agrees more with the Breton legend.\n\n[434] This story may remind one of the Wonderful Lamp, and others.\nThere is something of the same kind in the Pentamerone.\n\n[435] _Inis_, pronounced sometimes _Inch_, (like the Hebrew _Ee_ (\u05d0\u05d9)\nand the Indian _Dsib_) is either island or coast, bank of sea or river.\nThe Ang.-Sax. [Old English: ig] (_ee_) seems to have had the same extent\nof signification, hence Chelsea, Battersea, etc., which never could have\nbeen islands. Perhaps [Old English: \u00feeordig] (_worthy_, _worth_) was\nsimilar, as _werd_, _werth_, in German is an island.\n\n[436] Mr. Croker says this is _moruach_, sea-maid; the only word we\nfind in O'Reilly is [Irish Uncial: muiri\u1e41mgea\u010b] (_m\u00farirgach_). We have\nmet no term answering to _merman_.\n\n[437] It is a rule of the Irish language, that the initial consonant of\nan oblique case, or of a word _in regimine_, becomes aspirated; thus\n_Pooka_ (nom.), _na Phooka_ (gen.), _mac_ son, _a mhic_ (_vic_) my son.\n\n[438] In Irish [Irish Uncial: lobaircin] (_lub\u00e1rkin_); the Ulster name\nis Logheryman, in Irish [Irish Uncial: lo\u010barman] (_lucharman_). For\nthe Cork term Cluricaun, the Kerry Luricaun and the Tipperary\nLurigadaun, we have found no equivalents in the Irish dictionaries.\nThe short _o_ in Irish, we may observe, is pronounced as in French and\nSpanish, _i. e._ as _u_ in _but_, _cut_; _ai_ nearly as _a_ in _fall_.\nIt may be added, on account of the following tales, that in Kildare\nand the adjoining counties the short English _u_, in _but_, _cut_,\netc., is invariably pronounced as in _pull_, _full_, while this _u_,\nis pronounced as that in _but_, _cut_.\n\n[439] The Ulster _Lucharman_ also has such an English look, that we\nshould be tempted to derive it from the Ang.-Sax. _l\u00e1can_, _l\u01fdcan_, to\nplay. Loki _L\u00f6jemand_, or Loki Playman, is a name of the Eddaic deity\nLoki in the Danish ballads.\n\n[440] In the place of the Witch of Edmonton usually quoted with this,\n_Lubrick_ is plainly the Latin _lubricus_.\n\n[441] It will be observed that these, as well as the Young Piper in\nthe Appendix, are related in the character of a peasant. This was in\naccordance with a frame that was proposed for the Fairy Legends, but\nwhich proved too difficult of execution to be adopted.\n\n[442] Lit. Yellow-stick, the ragwort or ragweed, which grows to a\ngreat size in Ireland.\n\n[443] A kind of spade with but one step, used in Leinster.\n\n[444] All that is said in this legend about the beer is a pure fiction,\nfor we never heard of a Leprechaun drinking or smoking. It is, however,\na tradition of the peasantry, that the Danes used to make beer of the\nheath. It was a Protestant farmer in the county of Cavan, that showed\nsuch knowledge of the siege of Derry; the Catholic gardener who told us\nthis story, knew far better. It is also the popular belief that the\nDanes keep up their claim on Ireland, and that a Danish father, when\nmarrying his daughter, gives her a portion in Ireland.\n\n[445] _i. e._ Felix. On account of the Romish custom of naming after\nSaints, Felix, Thadd\u00e6us, Terence, Augustine, etc., are common names\namong the peasantry.\n\n[446] In our Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 16, we noticed the\ncoincidence between this and a passage in an Arabic author. We did not\nthen recollect the following verses of Milton,\n\n The willows and the hazle copses green\n Shall now no more be seen\n Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.\n _Lycidas_, 42.\n\nThe simile of the moon among the stars in the same place, we have since\nfound in the Nibelungen Lied (st. 285), and in some of our old poets,\nand Hammer says (Sehirin i. note 7), that it occurs even to satiety in\nOriental poetry. In like manner Camoens' simile of the mirror, mentioned\nin the same place, occurs in Poliziano's Stanze i. 64.\n\n\n\n\n SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.\n\n Huar Prownie coad agus curochd,\n Agus cha dian Prownie opar tullidh.\n\n Brownie has got a cowl and coat,\n And never more will work a jot.\n STEWART.\n\n\nColonies of Gothic Fairies, it would appear, early established\nthemselves in the Highlands, and almost every Lowland, German, and\nScandinavian Fairy or Dwarf-tale will there find its fellow. The\nGaelic Fairies are very handsome in their persons; their usual attire\nis green. They dance and sing, lend and borrow, and they make cloth\nand shoes in an amazingly short space of time. They make their _raids_\nupon the low country, and carry off women and children; they fetch\nmidwives to assist at the birth of their children, and mortals have\nspent a night at the fairy revels, and next morning found that the\nnight had extended a hundred years. Highland fairies also take the\ndiversion of the chase. \"One Highlander,\" says Mc.Culloch,[447] \"in\npassing a mountain, hears the tramp of horses, the music of the horn,\nand the cheering of the huntsmen; when suddenly a gallant crew of\nthirteen fairy hunters, dressed in green, sweep by him, the silver\nbosses of their bridles jingling in the night breeze.\"\n\nThe Gael call the Fairies Daoine Shi',[448] (_Dheen\u00e8 Shee_) and their\nhabitations Shians, or Tomhans. These are a sort of turrets, resembling\nmasses of rock or hillocks. By day they are indistinguishable, but at\nnight they are frequently lit up with great splendour.\n\nBrownie, too, 'shows his honest face' in the Highlands; and the\nmischievous water-Kelpie also appears in his equine form, and seeks to\ndecoy unwary persons to mount him, that he may plunge with his rider\ninto the neighbouring loch or river.\n\nThe Highlanders have nearly the same ideas as their Shetland\nneighbours, respecting the seals.\n\nThe following legends will illustrate what we have stated.[449]\n\n\n _The Fairy's Inquiry._\n\nA clergyman was returning home one night after visiting a sick member\nof his congregation. His way led by a lake, and as he proceeded he was\nsurprised to hear most melodious strains of music. He sat down to\nlisten. The music seemed to approach coming over the lake accompanied\nby a light. At length he discerned a man walking on the water,\nattended by a number of little beings, some bearing lights, others\nmusical instruments. At the beach the man dismissed his attendants,\nand then walking up to the minister saluted him courteously. He was a\nlittle grey-headed old man, dressed in rather an unusual garb. The\nminister having returned his salute begged of him to come and sit\nbeside him. He complied with the request, and on being asked who he\nwas, replied that he was one of the Daoine Shi. He added that he and\nthey had originally been angels, but having been seduced into revolt\nby Satan, they had been cast down to earth where they were to dwell\ntill the day of doom. His object now was, to ascertain from the\nminister what would be their condition after that awful day. The\nminister then questioned him on the articles of faith; but as his\nanswers did not prove satisfactory, and as in repeating the Lord's\nPrayer, he persisted in saying _wert_ instead of _art in heaven_, he\ndid not feel himself justified in holding out any hopes to him. The\nfairy then gave a cry of despair and flung himself into the loch, and\nthe minister resumed his journey.\n\n\n _The Young Man in the Shian._\n\nA farmer named Macgillivray, one time removed from the neighbourhood\nof Cairngorm in Strathspey to the forest of Glenavon, in which the\nfairies are said to reside. Late one night, as two of his sons, Donald\nand Rory, were in search of some of his sheep that had strayed, they\nsaw lights streaming from the crevices of a fairy turret which in the\nday time had only the appearance of a rock. They drew nigh to it, and\nthere they heard jigs and reels played inside in the most exquisite\nmanner. Rory was so fascinated that he proposed that they should enter\nand take part in the dance. Donald did all he could to dissuade him,\nbut in vain. He jumped into the Shian, and plunged at once into the\nwhirling movements of its inhabitants. Donald was in great perplexity,\nfor he feared to enter the Shian. All he could do therefore was to put\nhis mouth to one of the crevices, and calling, as the custom was,\nthree times on his brother, entreating him in the most moving terms,\nto come away and return home. But his entreaties were unheeded and he\nwas obliged to return alone.\n\nEvery means now was resorted to for the recovery of Rory, but to no\npurpose. His family gave him up for lost, when a _Duin Glichd_ or Wise\nman, told Donald to go to the place where he had lost his brother, a\nyear and a day from the time, and placing in his garments a\nrowan-cross, to enter the Shian boldly, and claim him in the divine\nname, and if he would not come voluntarily, to seize him and drag him\nout; for the fairies would have no power to prevent him. After some\nhesitation Donald assented. At the appointed time he approached the\nShian at midnight. It was full of revelry, and the merry dance was\ngoing on as before. Donald had his terrors no doubt, but they gave\nway to his fraternal affection. He entered and found Rory in the midst\nof a Highland Fling, and running up to him, seized him by the collar,\nrepeating the words dictated by the Wise man. Rory agreed to go\nprovided he would let him finish his dance; for he had not been, he\nassured him, more than half an hour in the place, but Donald was\ninexorable, and took him home to his parents. Rory would never have\nbelieved that his half-hour had been a twelvemonth, \"did not the\ncalves grown now into stots, and the new-born babes now toddling about\nthe house, at length convince him that in his single reel he had\ndanced for a twelvemonth and a day.\"\n\n\n _The Two Fiddlers._\n\nNearly three hundred years ago, there dwelt in Strathspey two fiddlers,\ngreatly renowned in their art. One Christmas they resolved to go try\ntheir fortune in Inverness. On arriving in that town they took lodgings,\nand as was the custom at that time, hired the bellman to go round\nannouncing their arrival, their qualifications, their fame, and their\nterms. Soon after they were visited by a venerable-looking grey-haired\nold man, who not only found no fault with, but actually offered to\ndouble their terms if they would go with him. They agreed, and he led\nthem out of the town, and brought them to a very strange-looking\ndwelling which seemed to them to be very like a Shian. The money,\nhowever, and the entreaties of their guide induced them to enter it, and\ntheir musical talents were instantly put into requisition, and the\ndancing was such as in their lives they had never witnessed.\n\nWhen morning came they took their leave highly gratified with the\nliberal treatment they had received. It surprised them greatly to find\nthat it was out of a hill and not a house that they issued, and when\nthey came to the town, they could not recognise any place or person,\nevery thing seemed so altered. While they and the townspeople were in\nmutual amazement, there came up a very old man, who on hearing their\nstory, said: \"You are then the two men who lodged with my\ngreat-grandfather, and whom Thomas Rimer, it was supposed, decoyed to\nTomnafurach. Your friends were greatly grieved on your account, but it\nis a hundred years ago, and your names are now no longer known.\" It\nwas the Sabbath day and the bells were tolling; the fiddlers, deeply\npenetrated with awe at what had occurred, entered the church to join\nin the offices of religion. They sat in silent meditation while the\nbell continued ringing, but the moment that the minister commenced the\nservice they crumbled away into dust.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Labour._\n\nMany years ago there dwelt in Strathspey a midwife of great repute.\nOne night just as she was going to bed, she heard a loud knocking at\nthe door, and on opening it she saw there a man and a grey horse,\n_both out of breath_. The rider requested her to jump up behind him\nand come away to assist a lady who was in great danger. He would not\neven consent to her stopping to change her dress, as it would cause\ndelay. She mounted and away they went at full speed. On the way she\ntried to learn from the rider whither she was going, but all she could\nget from him was, that she would be well paid. At length he let out\nthat it was to a fairy-lady he was taking her. Nothing daunted,\nhowever, she went on, and on reaching the Shian, she found that her\nservices were really very much needed. She succeeded in bringing a\nfine boy to the light, which caused so much joy, that the fairies\ndesired her to ask what she would, and if it was in their power, it\nshould be granted. Her desire was that success might attend herself\nand her posterity in all similar operations. The gift was conferred\nand it continued, it was said, with her great-grandson, at the time\nthe collector of these legends wrote.\n\n\n _The Fairy borrowing Oatmeal._\n\nA fairy came one day from one of the turrets of Craig-ail-naic to the\nwife of one of the tenants in Delnabo, and asked her to lend her a\nfirlot of oatmeal for food for her family, promising to repay it soon,\nas she was every moment expecting an ample supply. The woman complied\nwith this request, and after, as was the custom of the country, having\nregaled her with bread, cheese, and whiskey, she went, as was usual,\nto see her a part of the way home. When they had reached the summit of\nan eminence near the town, the _B\u00e9anshi_ told her she might take her\nmeal home again as she was now abundantly supplied. The woman did as\ndesired, and as she went along she beheld the corn-kiln of an adjacent\nfarm all in a blaze.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Gift._\n\nA farmer in Strathspey was one day engaged in sowing one of his fields\nand singing at his work. A fairy damsel of great beauty came up to him\nand requested him to sing for her a favourite old Gaelic song named\n_Nighan Donne na Bual_. He complied, and she then asked him to give\nher some of his corn. At this he demurred a little and wished to know\nwhat she would give him in return. She replied with a significant look\nthat his seed would never fail him. He then gave to her liberally and\nshe departed. He went on sowing, and when he had finished a large\nfield, he found that his bag was as full and as heavy as when he\nbegan. He then sowed another field of the same size, with the same\nresult, and satisfied with his day's work, he threw the bag on his\nshoulder and went home. Just as he was entering the barn-door he was\nmet by his wife, a foolish talkative body with a tongue as long, and a\nhead as empty as the church bell, who, struck with the appearance of\nthe bag after a day's sowing, began to ask him about it. Instantly it\nbecame quite empty. \"I'll be the death of you, you foolish woman,\"\nroared out the farmer; \"if it were not for your idle talk, that bag\nwas worth its weight in gold.\"\n\n\n _The Stolen Ox._\n\nThe tacksman (_i. e._ tenant) of the farm of Auchriachan in Strathavon,\nwhile searching one day for his goats on a hill in Glenlivat, found\nhimself suddenly enveloped in a dense fog. It continued till night came\non when he began to give himself up to despair. Suddenly he beheld a\nlight at no great distance. He hastened toward it, and found that it\nproceeded from a strange-looking edifice. The door was open, and he\nentered, but great was his surprise to meet there a woman whose funeral\nhe had lately attended. From her he learned that this was an abode of\nthe fairies for whom she kept house, and his only chance of safety, she\nsaid, was in being concealed from them; for which purpose she hid him in\na corner of the apartment. Presently in came a troop of fairies, and\nbegan calling out for food. An old dry-looking fellow then reminded them\nof the miserly, as he styled him, tacksman of Auchriachan, and how he\ncheated them out of their lawful share of his property, by using some\ncharms taught him by his old grandmother. \"He is now from home,\" said\nhe, \"in search of our allies,[450] his goats, and his family have\nneglected to use the charm, so come let us have his favourite ox for\nsupper.\" The speaker was Thomas Rimer, and the plan was adopted with\nacclamation. \"But what are we to do for bread?\" cried one. \"We'll have\nAuchriachan's new baked bread,\" replied Thomas; \"his wife forgot to\ncross the first bannock.\"[451] So said, so done. The ox was brought in\nand slaughtered before the eyes of his master, whom, while the fairies\nwere employed about their cooking, his friend gave an opportunity of\nmaking his escape.\n\nThe mist had now cleared away and the moon was shining. Auchriachan\ntherefore soon reached his home. His wife instantly produced a basket\nof new-baked bannocks with milk and urged him to eat. But his mind was\nrunning on his ox, and his first question was, who had served the\ncattle that night. He then asked the son who had done it if he had\nused the charm, and he owned he had forgotten it. \"Alas! alas!\" cried\nhe, \"my favourite ox is no more.\" \"How can that be?\" said one of the\nsons, \"I saw him alive and well not two hours ago.\" \"It was nothing\nbut a fairy stock,\" cried the father. \"Bring him out here.\" The poor\nox was led forth, and the farmer, after abusing it and those that sent\nit, felled it to the ground. The carcase was flung down the brae at\nthe back of the house, and the bread was sent after it, and there they\nboth lay untouched, for it was observed that neither cat nor dog would\nput a tooth in either of them.\n\n\n _The Stolen Lady._\n\nJohn Roy, who lived in Glenbroun, in the parish of Abernethy, being out\none night on the hills in search of his cattle, met a troop of fairies,\nwho seemed to have got a prize of some sort or other. Recollecting that\nthe fairies are obliged to exchange whatever they may have with any one\nwho offers them anything, however low in value, for it, he flung his\nbonnet to them, crying _Shuis slo slumus sheen_ (_i. e._, mine is yours\nand yours is mine). The fairies dropped their booty, which proved to be\na Sassenach (English) lady whom the dwellers of the Shian of Coir-laggac\nhad carried away from her own country, leaving a stock in her place\nwhich, of course, died and was buried. John brought her home, and she\nlived for many years in his house. \"It happened, however, in the course\nof time,\" said the Gaelic narrator, \"that the _new king_ found it\nnecessary to make the great roads through these countries by means of\nsoldiers, for the purpose of letting coaches and carriages pass to the\nnorthern cities; and those soldiers had officers and commanders in the\nsame way as our fighting army have now. Those soldiers were never great\nfavourites in these countries, particularly during the time that our\nkings were alive; and consequently it was no easy matter for them,\neither officers or men, to procure for themselves comfortable quarters.\"\nBut John Roy would not keep up the national animosity to the _cottan\ndearg_ (red-coats), and he offered a residence in his house to a _Saxon_\ncaptain and his son. When there they could not take their eyes off the\nEnglish lady, and the son remarked to his father what a strong likeness\nshe bore to his deceased mother. The father replied that he too had been\nstruck with the resemblance, and said he could almost fancy she _was_\nhis wife. He then mentioned her name and those of some persons connected\nwith them. The lady by these words at once recognised her husband and\nson, and honest John Roy had the satisfaction of reuniting the\nlong-separated husband and wife, and receiving their most grateful\nacknowledgments.[452]\n\n\n _The Changeling._\n\nA couple of Strathspey lads who dealt in whiskey that never paid duty,\nwhich they used to purchase in Glenlivat, and sell at Badenoch and Fort\nWilliam, were one night laying in stock at Glenlivat when they heard the\nchild in the cradle give a piercing cry, just as if it had been shot.\nThe mother, of course, blessed it, and the Strathspey lads took no\nfurther notice, and soon after set out with their goods. They had not\ngone far when they found a fine healthy child lying all alone on the\nroad-side, which they soon recognised as that of their friend. They saw\nat once how the thing was. The fairies had taken away the real child and\nleft a stock, but, owing to the pious ejaculation of the mother, they\nhad been forced to drop it. As the urgency of their business did not\npermit them to return, they took the child with them, and kept it till\nthe next time they had occasion to visit Glenlivat. On their arrival\nthey said nothing about the child, which they kept concealed. In the\ncourse of conversation, the mother took occasion to remark that the\ndisease which had attacked the child the last time they were there had\nnever left it, and she had now little hopes of its recovery. As if to\nconfirm her statement, it continued uttering most piteous cries. To end\nthe matter at once, the lads produced the real child healthy and hearty,\nand told how they had found it. An exchange was at once effected, and\nthey forthwith proceeded to dispose of their new charge. For this\npurpose they got an old _creel_ to put him in and some straw to light\nunder it. Seeing the serious turn matters were likely to take, he\nresolved not to await the trial, but flew up the _smoke-hole_, and when\nat the top he cried out that things would have gone very differently\nwith them had it not been for the arrival of their guests.\n\n\n _The Wounded Seal._\n\nThere once dwelt on the northern coast, not far from Taigh Jan Crot\nCallow (_John o' Groat's House_), a man who gained his living by\nfishing. He was particularly devoted to the killing of the seals, in\nwhich he had great success. One evening just as he had returned home\nfrom his usual occupation, he was called upon by a man on horseback who\nwas an utter stranger to him, but who said that he was come on the part\nof a person who wished to make a large purchase of seal-skins from him,\nand wanted to see him for that purpose that very evening. He therefore\ndesired him to get up behind him and come away without any delay. Urged\nby the hope of profit he consented, and away they went with such speed\nthat the wind which was in their backs seemed to be in their faces. At\nlength they reached the verge of a stupendous precipice overhanging the\nsea, where his guide bade him alight, as they were now at the end of\ntheir journey. \"But where,\" says he, \"is the person you spoke of?\"\n\"You'll see him presently,\" said the guide, and, catching hold of him,\nhe plunged with him into the sea. They went down and down, till at last\nthey came to a door which led into a range of apartments inhabited by\nseals, and the man to his amazement now saw that he himself was become\none of these animals. They seemed all in low spirits, but they spoke\nkindly to him, and assured him of his safety. His guide now produced a\nhuge _gully_ or _joctaleg_, at sight of which, thinking his life was to\nbe taken away, he began to cry for mercy. \"Did you ever see this knife\nbefore?\" said the guide. He looked at it and saw it was his own, which\nhe had that very day stuck into a seal who had made his escape with it\nsticking in him. He did not, therefore, attempt to deny that it had been\nhis property. \"Well,\" said the guide, \"that seal was my father. He now\nlies dangerously ill, and as it is only you that can cure him, I have\nbrought you hither.\" He then led him into an inner room, where the old\nseal lay suffering grievously from a cut in his hind quarters. He was\nthen desired to lay his hand on the wound, at which it instantly healed,\nand the patient arose hale and sound. All now was joy and festivity in\nthe abode of the seals, and the guide, turning to the seal-hunter, said,\n\"I will now take you back to your family, but you must first take a\nsolemn oath never again to kill a seal as long as you live.\" Hard as the\ncondition was, he cheerfully accepted it. His guide then laid hold on\nhim, and they rose up, up, till they reached the surface of the sea, and\nlanded at the cliff. He breathed on him and they resumed the human form.\nThey then mounted the horse and sped away like lightning till they\nreached the fisherman's house. At parting his companion left with him\nsuch a present as made him think light of giving over his seal-hunting.\n\n\n _The Brownies._\n\nTwo Brownies, man and woman, were attached to the ancient family of\nTullochgorm, in Strathspey. The former was named Brownie-Clod, from a\nhabit he had of flinging clods at passers-by; the latter was called\nMaug Vuluchd (_i.e._, Hairy Mag), on account of her great quantity of\nhair. She was a capital housekeeper, and used invisibly to lay out the\ntable in the neatest and handiest manner. Whatever was called for came\nas if floating through the air. She kept a very strict hand over the\nmaids, with whom she was no great favourite, as she reported their\nneglect of duty to their mistress. Brownie-Clod was not so pawky, and\nhe was constantly overreached by the servants, with whom he used to\nmake contracts. He, however, was too able for them on one occasion. He\nhad agreed with two of them to do their whole winter's threshing for\nthem, on condition of getting in return an old coat and a Kilmarnock\nhood to which he had taken a fancy. He wrought away manfully, and they\nhad nothing to do but lie at their ease on the straw and look on. But\nbefore the term was expired they laid the coat and hood for him in\nthe barn. The moment Brownie laid his eyes upon them he struck work,\nusing the words prefixed to this section of our volume.\n\nMartyn describes the Brownie of the Western Isles as a _tall man_, and\nhe tells a story of his invisibly directing a person, at Sir Norman\nM'Leod's, who was playing at draughts, where to place his men.\n\n\n _The Urisk._\n\nThere is also in the Highlands a rough hairy spirit, called the Urisk.\nThe following legend will display his nature and character:\n\nTo the very great annoyance of a Highland miller, and to the injury of\nthe machinery, his mill, he found, used to be set to work at night\nwhen there was nothing in it to grind. One of his men offered to sit\nup, and try to discover who it was that did it; and, having kindled a\ngood turf-fire, sat by it to watch. Sleep, however, overcame him, and\nwhen he awoke about midnight, he saw sitting opposite him a rough\nshaggy being. Nothing daunted, he demanded his name, and was told that\nit was Urisk. The stranger, in return, asked the man his name, who\nreplied that it was Myself. The conversation here ended, and Urisk\nsoon fell fast asleep. The man then tossed a panful of hot ashes into\nhis shaggy lap, which set his hair all on fire. In an agony, and\nscreaming with the pain, he ran to the door, and in a loud yelling\ntone several of his brethren were heard to cry out, \"What's the matter\nwith you?\" \"Oh! he set me on fire!\" \"Who?\" \"Myself!\" \"Then put it out\nyourself,\" was the reply.[453]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[447] Account of the Highlands, etc. iv. 358.\n\n[448] _Men of Peace_, perhaps the _Stille-folk_, Still-people, or\nrather, merely Fairy- or Spirit-people. See above p. 364.\n\n[449] See Stewart, The Popular Superstitions of the Highlanders.\nEdinburgh, 1823. As Mr. Stewart's mode of narrating is not the very\nbest, we have taken the liberty of re-writing and abridging the legends.\n\n[450] \"The goats are supposed to be upon a very good understanding\nwith the fairies, and possessed of more cunning and knowledge than\ntheir appearance bespeaks.\"--_Stewart_: see _Wales_.\n\n[451] See above, p. 305.\n\n[452] There is a similar legend in Scandinavia. As a smith was at work\nin his forge late one evening, he heard great wailing out on the road,\nand by the light of the red-hot iron that he was hammering, he saw a\nwoman whom a Troll was driving along, bawling at her \"A little more! a\nlittle more!\" He ran out, put the red-hot iron between them, and thus\ndelivered her from the power of the Troll (see p. 108). He led her\ninto his house and that night she was delivered of twins. In the\nmorning he waited on her husband, who he supposed must be in great\naffliction at the loss of his wife. But to his surprise he saw there,\nin bed, a woman the very image of her he had saved from the Troll.\nKnowing at once what she must be, he raised an axe he had in his hand,\nand cleft her skull. The matter was soon explained to the satisfaction\nof the husband, who gladly received his real wife and her\ntwins.--Thiele, i. 88. _Oral._\n\n[453] Told, without naming his authority, by the late W. S. Rose, in\nthe Quarterly Review for 1825.\n\n\n\n\n ISLE OF MAN.\n\n Mona once hid from those that search the main,\n Where thousand elfin shapes abide.\n COLLINS.\n\n\nThe Isle of Man, peopled by Celts, and early and frequently visited and\ncolonised by the Northmen, has also its Fairies, which differ little\nfrom those of the greater islands between which it lies. An English\ngentleman, named Waldron, who resided in the island in the early part of\nthe last century, was curious about its Fairy-lore, and he has recorded\na number of the legends which he heard.[454] His book, indeed, has been\nthe chief source whence Ritson, Sir Walter Scott,[455] and others, have\ndrawn their illustrations of English Fairy-lore in general, and the\nsubsequent inquiries of Mr. Train have enabled him to add but very\nlittle to it. We will here relate some of these legends:\n\nThe great peculiarity of the Manks Fairies, according to Mr. Waldron, is\ntheir fondness for riding, and this not on little steeds of their own,\nor on the small breed of the country, but on the large English and Irish\nhorses, which are brought over and kept by the gentry. Nothing, it was\nsaid, was more common than to find in the morning horses covered with\nfoam and sweat, and tired to death, which had been shut up at night in\nthe stable. One gentleman assured Mr. Waldron that three or four of his\nbest horses had been killed with these nocturnal exercises.\n\nThey called them the Good People, and said that their reason for\ndwelling in the hills and woods was, their dislike of the vices of\ntowns. Hence the houses which they deigned to visit were thought to be\nblest. In these houses, a tub or pail of clean water was always left\nfor them to bathe in. Good, however, as they were, they used to change\nchildren. Mr. Waldron saw one of these changelings; it was nearly six\nyears old, but was unable to walk or even stand, or move its limbs.\nIts complexion was delicate, and it had the finest hair in the world.\nIt never cried or spoke, and it ate scarcely anything; it rarely\nsmiled, but if any one called it _Fairy-elf_, it would frown and\nalmost look them through. Its mother, who was poor, was often obliged\nto go out for whole days a-charing, and leave it by itself, and when\nthe neighbours would look in on it through the window, they always saw\nit laughing and in great delight, whence they judged that it had\nagreeable company with it, more especially as let it be left ever so\ndirty, the mother on her return found it with a clean face, and its\nhair nicely combed out.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Chapman._\n\nA man being desirous of disposing of a horse he had at that time no\ngreat occasion for, and riding him to market for that purpose, was\naccosted in passing over the mountains by a little man in a plain\ndress, who asked him if he would sell his horse. \"'Tis the design I am\ngoing on,\" replied he: on which the other desired to know the price.\n\"Eight pounds,\" said he. \"No,\" returned the purchaser, \"I will give no\nmore than seven, which if you will take, here is your money.\" The\nowner thinking he had bid pretty fair, agreed with him, and the money\nbeing told out, the one dismounted and the other got on the back of\nthe horse, which he had no sooner done than both beast and rider sunk\ninto the earth immediately, leaving the person who had made the\nbargain in the utmost terror and consternation. As soon as he had a\nlittle recovered himself, he went directly to the parson of the\nparish, and related what had passed, desiring he would give his\nopinion whether he ought to make use of the money he had received or\nnot. To which he replied, that as he had made a fair bargain, and no\nway circumvented nor endeavoured to circumvent the buyer, he saw no\nreason to believe, in case it was an evil spirit, it could have any\npower over him. On this assurance, he went home well satisfied, and\nnothing afterwards happened to give him any disquiet concerning this\naffair. This was told to Waldron by the person to whom it happened.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Banquet._\n\nA man one time was led by invisible musicians for several miles\ntogether, and not being able to resist the harmony, followed till it\nconducted him to a large common, where were a great number of little\npeople sitting round a table, and eating and drinking in a very jovial\nmanner. Among them were some faces whom he thought he had formerly seen,\nbut forbore taking any notice, or they of him, till the little people\noffering him drink, one of them, whose features seemed not unknown to\nhim, plucked him by the coat, and forbade him whatever he did to taste\nanything he saw before him, \"For if you do,\" added he, \"you will be as I\nam, and return no more to your family.\" The poor man was much\naffrighted, but resolved to obey the injunction. Accordingly, a large\nsilver cup, filled with some sort of liquor, being put into his hand, he\nfound an opportunity to throw what it contained on the ground. Soon\nafter, the music ceasing, all the company disappeared, leaving the cup\nin his hand, and he returned home, though much wearied and fatigued. He\nwent the next day, and communicated to the minister of the parish all\nthat had happened, and asked his advice, how he should dispose of the\ncup, to which the parson replied, he could not do better than to devote\nit to the service of the church, and this very cup, they say, is that\nwhich is now used for the consecrated wine in Kirk Merlugh.\n\n\n _The Fairies' Christening._\n\nA woman related that being great with child, and expecting every\nmoment the good hour, as she lay awake one night in her bed, she saw\nseven or eight little women come into her chamber, one of whom had an\ninfant in her arms. They were followed by a man of the same size with\nthemselves, but in the habit of a minister. One of them went to the\npail, and finding no water in it, cried out to the others, what must\nthey do to christen the child? On which they replied it should be done\nin beer. With that the seeming parson took the child in his arms, and\nperformed the ceremony of baptism, dipping his head into a great tub\nof strong beer, which the woman had brewed the day before to be ready\nfor her lying-in. She said they baptised the infant by the name of\nJoan, which made her know she was pregnant of a girl, as it proved a\nfew days after when she was delivered. She added, that it was common\nfor the fairies to make a mock christening when any person was near\nher time, and that, according to what child, male or female, they\nbrought, such should the woman bring into the world.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Whipping._\n\nA woman who lived about two miles distant from Ballasalli, and used to\nserve Mr. Waldron's family with butter, made him once very merry with\na story she told him of her daughter, a girl of about ten years old,\nwho being sent over the fields to the town for a pennyworth of tobacco\nfor her father, was on the top of a mountain surrounded by a great\nnumber of little men, who would not suffer her to pass any farther.\nSome of them said she should go with them, and accordingly laid hold\nof her; but one, seeming more pitiful, desired they would let her\nalone, which they refusing, there ensued a quarrel, and the person who\ntook her part fought bravely in her defence. This so incensed the\nothers, that to be revenged on her for being the cause, two or three\nof them seized her, and pulling up her clothes, whipped her heartily;\nafter which, it seems, they had no farther power over her, and she ran\nhome directly telling what had befallen her, and showing her buttocks,\non which were the prints of several small hands. Several of the\ntown's-people went with her to the mountain; and she conducting them\nto the spot, the little antagonists were gone, but had left behind\nthem proofs, as the good woman said, that what the girl had informed\nthem was true, for there was a great deal of blood to be seen on the\nstones. This did she aver with all the solemnity possible.\n\n\n _The Fairy-Hunt._\n\nA young sailor coming off a long voyage, though it was late at night,\nchose to land rather than lie another night in the vessel. Being\npermitted to do so, he was set on shore at Douglas. It happened to be\na fine moonlight night, and very dry, being a small frost; he\ntherefore forbore going into any house to refresh himself, but made\nthe best of his way to the house of a sister he had at Kirk-Merlugh.\nAs he was going over a pretty high mountain, he heard the noise of\nhorses, the halloo of a huntsman, and the finest horn in the world. He\nwas a little surprised that any one pursued those kinds of sports in\nthe night; but he had not time for much reflection before they all\npassed by him so near, that he was able to count what number there was\nof them, which he said was thirteen, and that they were all dressed in\ngreen, and gallantly mounted. He was so well pleased with the sight,\nthat he would gladly have followed could he have kept pace with them.\nHe crossed the footway, however, that he might see them again, which\nhe did more than once, and lost not the sound of the horn for some\nmiles. At length being arrived at his sister's, he tells her the\nstory, who presently clapped her hands for joy that he was come home\nsafe; \"for,\" said she, \"those you saw were _fairies_, and 'tis well\nthey did not take you away with them.\"\n\n\n _The Fiddler and the Fairy._\n\nA fiddler having agreed with a person, who was a stranger, for so much\nmoney, to play to some company he should bring him to, all the twelve\ndays of Christmas, and received earnest for it, saw his new master\nvanish into the earth the moment he had made the bargain. Nothing\ncould be more terrified than was the poor fiddler. He found he had\nentered himself into the Devil's service, and looked on himself as\nalready damned; but having recourse to a clergyman, he received some\nhope. He ordered him, however, as he had taken earnest, to go when he\nshould be called, but that whatever tunes should be called for, to\nplay none but psalms. On the day appointed the same person appeared,\nwith whom he went, but with what inward reluctance it is easy to\nguess; and punctually obeying the minister's directions, the company\nto whom he played were so angry, that they all vanished at once,\nleaving him at the top of a high hill, and so bruised and hurt, though\nhe was not sensible when or from what hand he received the blows, that\nhe got not home without the utmost difficulty.\n\n\n _The Phynnodderee._\n\nThe Phynnodderee, or Hairy-one, is a Manks spirit of the same kind with\nthe Brownie or the Kobold. He is said to have been a fairy who was\nexpelled from the fairy society. The cause was, he courted a pretty\nManks maid who lived in a bower beneath _the blue tree_ of Glen Aldyn,\nand therefore was absent from the Fairy court during the _Re-hollys\nvooar yn ouyr_, or harvest-moon, being engaged dancing in the merry glen\nof Rushen. He is condemned to remain in the Isle of Man till doomsday,\nin a wild form, covered with long shaggy hair, whence his name.\n\nHe is very kind and obliging to the people, sometimes driving home the\nsheep, or cutting and gathering the hay, if he sees a storm coming on.\nOn one of these occasions, a farmer having expressed his displeasure\nwith him for not having cut the grass close enough to the ground, he let\nhim cut it himself the next year; but he went after him stubbing up the\nroots so fast, that it was with difficulty that the farmer could escape\nhaving his legs cut off. For several years no one would venture to mow\nthat meadow; at length a soldier undertook it, and by beginning in the\ncentre of the field, and cutting round, as if on the edge of a circle,\nkeeping one eye on the scythe, and looking out for the Phynnodderee with\nthe other, he succeeded in cutting the grass in safety.\n\nA gentleman having resolved to build a large house on his property, at a\nplace called Sholt-e-will, near the foot of Snafield mountain, caused\nthe stones to be quarried on the beach. There was one large block of\nwhite stone which he was very anxious to have, but all the men in the\nparish could not move it. To their surprise, the Phynnodderee in the\ncourse of one night conveyed all the stones that had been quarried, the\ngreat white one included, up to the proposed site, and the white stone\nis there still to be seen. The gentleman, to reward the Phynnodderee,\ncaused some clothes to be left for him in one of his usual haunts. When\nhe saw them, he lifted them up one by one, saying in Manks:\n\n Bayrm da'n choine, dy doogh da'n choine,\n Cooat da'n dreeym, dy doogh da'n dreeym,\n Breechyn da'n toyn, dy doogh da'n toyn,\n Agh my she lhiat ooiley, shoh cha nee lhiat Glen reagh Rushen.\n\n Cap for the head, alas, poor head!\n Coat for the back, alas, poor back!\n Breeches for the breech, alas, poor breech!\n If these be all thine, thine cannot be the merry glen of Rushen.\n\nAnd he departed with a melancholy wail, and has never been seen since.\nThe old people say, \"There has not been a merry world since he lost\nhis ground.\"[456]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[454] Description of the Isle of Man. London, 1731.\n\n[455] In his Essay on Fairies in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish\nBorder, and in the notes on Peveril of the Peak.\n\n[456] Train, Account of the Isle of Man, ii. p. 148.\n\n\n\n\n WALES.\n\n It was the Druid's presage, who had long\n In Geirionydd's[457] airy temple marked\n The songs that from the Gwyllion[458] rose, of eve\n The children, in the bosom of the lakes.\n TALIESIN.\n\n\nThe oldest account we have met with of Welsh Fairies is in the\nItinerary of Giraldus Cambrensis, who, in the year 1188, accompanied\nArchbishop Baldwin in his tour through Wales, undertaken for the\npurpose of exciting the zeal of the people to take part in the crusade\nthen in contemplation.\n\nGiraldus, who was an attentive observer of nature and of mankind, has\nin this work given many beautiful descriptions of scenery, and\nvaluable traits of manners. He is liberal of legends of saints, but\nsuch was the taste of his age. Among his narratives, however, he gives\nthe two following, which show that there was a belief in South Wales\nin beings similar to the Fairies and Hobgoblins of England.\n\n\n _Tale of Elidurus._\n\nA short time before our days, a circumstance worthy of note occurred\nin these parts, which Elidurus, a priest, most strenuously affirmed\nhad befallen himself. When he was a youth of twelve years,--since, as\nSolomon says, \"The root of learning is bitter, although the fruit is\nsweet,\"--and was following his literary pursuits, in order to avoid\nthe discipline and frequent stripes inflicted on him by his preceptor,\nhe ran away, and concealed himself under the hollow bank of a river;\nand, after fasting in that situation for two days, two little men of\npygmy stature appeared to him, saying, \"If you will come with us, we\nwill lead you into a country full of delights and sports.\" Assenting,\nand rising up, he followed his guides through a path, at first\nsubterraneous and dark, into a most beautiful country, adorned with\nrivers and meadows, woods and plains, but obscure, and not illuminated\nwith the full light of the sun. All the days were cloudy, and the\nnights extremely dark, on account of the absence of the moon and\nstars. The boy was brought before the king, and introduced to him in\nthe presence of the court; when, having examined him for a long time,\nhe delivered him to his son, who was then a boy. These men were of the\nsmallest stature, but very well proportioned for their size. They were\nall fair-haired, with luxuriant hair falling over their shoulders,\nlike that of women. They had horses proportioned to themselves, of the\nsize of greyhounds. They neither ate flesh nor fish, but lived on milk\ndiet, made up into messes with saffron. They never took an oath, for\nthey detested nothing so much as lies. As often as they returned from\nour upper hemisphere, they reprobated our ambition, infidelities, and\ninconstancies. They had no religious worship, being only, as it seems,\nstrict lovers and reverers of truth.\n\nThe boy frequently returned to our hemisphere, sometimes by the way he\nhad first gone, sometimes by another; at first in company with others,\nand afterwards alone, and confided his secret only to his mother,\ndeclaring to her the manners, nature, and state of that people. Being\ndesired by her to bring a present of gold, with which that region\nabounded, he stole, while at play with the king's son, the golden ball\nwith which he used to divert himself, and brought it to his mother in\ngreat haste; and when he reached the door of his father's house, but\nnot unpursued, and was entering it in a great hurry, his foot stumbled\non the threshold, and, falling down into the room where his mother was\nsitting, the two Pygmies seized the ball, which had dropped from his\nhand, and departed, spitting at and deriding the boy. On recovering\nfrom his fall, confounded with shame, and execrating the evil counsel\nof his mother, he returned by the usual track to the subterraneous\nroad, but found no appearance of any passage, though he searched for\nit on the banks of the river for nearly the space of a year. Having\nbeen brought back by his friends and mother, and restored to his right\nway of thinking and his literary pursuits, he attained in process of\ntime the rank of priesthood. Whenever David the Second, bishop of St.\nDavid's, talked to him in his advanced state of life concerning this\nevent, he could never relate the particulars without shedding tears.\n\nHe had also a knowledge of the language of that nation, and used to\nrecite words of it he had readily acquired in his younger days. These\nwords, which the bishop often repeated to me, were very conformable to\nthe Greek idiom. When they asked for water, they said, _Udor udorum_,\nwhich signifies \"Bring water;\" for Udor, in their language, as well as\nin the Greek, signifies water; and Dwr also, in the British language,\nsignifies water. When they want salt, they say, _Halgein udorum_,\n\"Bring salt.\" Salt is called \u1f01\u03bb\u03c2 in Greek, and Halen in British; for\nthat language, from the length of time which the Britons (then called\nTrojans, and afterwards Britons from Brito, their leader) remained in\nGreece after the destruction of Troy, became, in many instances,\nsimilar to the Greek.[459]\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"If,\" says the learned archdeacon, \"a scrupulous inquirer should ask\nmy opinion of the relation here inserted, I answer, with Augustine,\n'admiranda fore divina miracula non disputatione discutienda;' nor do\nI, by denial, place bounds to the Divine power; nor, by affirming\ninsolently, extend that power which cannot be extended. But on such\noccasions I always call to mind that saying of Hieronymus: \"Multa,\"\nsays he, 'incredibilia reperies et non verisimilia, qu\u00e6 nihilominus\ntamen vera sunt.' These, and any such that might occur, I should\nplace, according to Augustine's opinion, among those things which are\nneither to be strongly affirmed nor denied.\"\n\nDavid Powel, who edited this work in 1585, thinks that this legend is\nwritten in imitation of the relation of Eros the Armenian, in Plato,\nor taken from Polo's account of the garden of the Old Man of the\nMountain.[460]\n\n * * * * *\n\nAgain Giraldus writes,--\"In these parts of Penbroch it has happed, in\nour times, that unclean spirits have conversed with mankind, not indeed\nvisibly, but sensibly; for they manifested their presence at first in\nthe house of one Stephen Wiriet, and some time after of William Not, by\nthrowing dirt and such things as rather indicate an intention of mockery\nand injury. In the house of William, the spirit used to make rents and\nholes in both linen and woollen garments, to the frequent loss of both\nhost and guest, from which injury no care and no bolts could protect\nthem. In the house of Stephen, which was still more extraordinary, the\nspirit used to converse with people; and when they taunted him, which\nthey frequently did out of sport, he used to charge them openly with\nthose actions of theirs, from their birth, which they least wished to be\nheard or known by others. If you ask the cause and reason of this\nmatter, I do not take on me to assign it; only this, that it, as is\nsaid, used to be the sign of a sudden change, either from poverty to\nriches, or rather from riches to desolation and poverty, as it was found\nto be a little after with both of these. But this I think worthy of\nremark, that places cannot be freed from illusions of this kind by the\nsprinkling of holy water, not merely of the ordinary, but even of the\ngreat kind; nor by the aid of any ecclesiastical sacrament. Nay, the\npriests themselves, when coming in with devotion, and fortified as well\nwith the cross as with holy water, were forthwith among the first\ndefiled by the dirt thrown at them. From which it would appear that both\nsacramentals and sacraments defend from hurtful, not harmless things,\nand from injury, not from illusion.\"[461]\n\n\n\n _The Tylwyth Teg._\n\nIn the mountains near Brecknock, says Davies,[462] there is a small\nlake, to which tradition assigns some of the properties of the fabled\nAvernus. I recollect a Mabinogi, or mythologic tale, respecting this\npiece of water, which runs thus:--\n\nIn ancient times a door in a rock near this lake was found open upon a\ncertain day every year. I think it was May-day. Those who had the\ncuriosity and resolution to enter were conducted by a secret passage,\nwhich terminated in a small island in the centre of the lake. Here the\nvisitors were surprised with the prospect of a most enchanting garden\nstored with the choicest fruits and flowers, and inhabited by the\nTylwyth T\u00eag, or Fair Family, a kind of Fairies, whose beauty could be\nequalled only by the courtesy and affability which they exhibited to\nthose who pleased them. They gathered fruit and flowers for each of\ntheir guests, entertained them with the most exquisite music, disclosed\nto them many secrets of futurity, and invited them to stay as long as\nthey should find their situation agreeable. But the island was secret,\nand nothing of its produce must be carried away. The whole of this scene\nwas invisible to those who stood without the margin of the lake. Only an\nindistinct mass was seen in the middle; and it was observed that no bird\nwould fly over the water, and that a soft strain of music at times\nbreathed with rapturous sweetness in the breeze of the morning.\n\nIt happened upon one of these annual visits that a sacrilegious\nwretch, when he was about to leave the garden, put a flower, with\nwhich he had been presented, in his pocket; but the theft boded him no\ngood. As soon as he had touched unhallowed ground the flower vanished\nand he lost his senses. Of this injury the Fair Family took no notice\nat the time. They dismissed their guests with their accustomed\ncourtesy, and the door was closed as usual. But their resentment ran\nhigh. For though, as the tale goes, the Tylwyth T\u00eag and their garden\nundoubtedly occupy the spot to this day, though the birds still keep\nat a respectful distance from the lake, and some broken strains of\nmusic are still heard at times, yet the door which led to the island\nhas never re-opened, and from the date of this sacrilegious act the\nCymry have been unfortunate.\n\nSome time after this, an adventurous person attempted to draw off the\nwater, in order to discover its contents, when a terrific form arose\nfrom the midst of the lake, commanding him to desist, or otherwise he\nwould drown the country.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThese Tylwyth T\u00eag are, as we see, regarded as Fairies, but we think\nimproperly; for diminutive size is an attribute of the Fairies in all\nparts of the British Isles, and Mr. Owen (in his Welsh Dictionary, _s.\nv._) expressly says that such is not the case with these beings.\n\n\n _The Spirit of the Van._\n\nAmong the mountains of Carmarthen, lies a beautiful and romantic piece\nof water, named The Van Pools. Tradition relates, that after midnight,\non New Tear's Eve, there appears on this lake a being named The Spirit\nof the Van. She is dressed in a white robe, bound by a golden girdle;\nher hair is long and golden, her face is pale and melancholy; she sits\nin a golden boat, and manages a golden oar.\n\nMany years ago there lived in the vicinity of this lake a young\nfarmer, who having heard much of the beauty of this spirit, conceived\na most ardent desire to behold her, and be satisfied of the truth. On\nthe last night of the year, he therefore went to the edge of the lake,\nwhich lay calm and bright beneath the rays of the full moon, and\nwaited anxiously for the first hour of the New Year. It came, and then\nhe beheld the object of his wishes gracefully guiding her golden\ngondola to and fro over the lake. The moon at length sank behind the\nmountains, the stars grew dim at the approach of dawn, and the fair\nspirit was on the point of vanishing, when, unable to restrain\nhimself, he called aloud to her to stay and be his wife; but with a\nfaint cry she faded from his view. Night after night he now might be\nseen pacing the shores of the lake, but all in vain. His farm was\nneglected, his person wasted away, and gloom and melancholy were\nimpressed on his features. At length he confided his secret to one of\nthe mountain-sages, whose counsel was--a Welsh one, by the way--to\nassail the fair spirit with gifts of cheese and bread! The counsel was\nfollowed; and on Midsummer Eve the enamoured swain went down to the\nlake, and let fall into it a large cheese and a loaf of bread. But all\nwas vain; no spirit rose. Still he fancied that the spot where he had\nlast seen her shone with more than wonted brightness, and that a\nmusical sound vibrated among the rocks. Encouraged by these signs, he\nnight after night threw in loaves and cheeses, but still no spirit\ncame. At length New Year's Eve returned. He dressed himself in his\nbest, took his largest cheese and seven of his whitest loaves, and\nrepaired to the lake. At the turn of midnight, he dropped them slowly\none by one into the water, and then remained in silent expectation.\nThe moon was hid behind a cloud, but by the faint light she gave, he\nsaw the magic skiff appear, and direct its course for where he stood.\nIts owner stepped ashore, and hearkened to the young man's vows, and\nconsented to become his wife. She brought with her as her dower flocks\nand herds, and other rural wealth. One charge she gave him, never to\nstrike her, for the third time he should do so she would vanish.\n\nThey married, and were happy. After three or four years they were\ninvited to a christening, and to the surprise of all present, in the\nmidst of the ceremony, the spirit burst into tears. Her husband gave\nan angry glance, and asked her why she thus made a fool of herself?\nShe replied, \"The poor babe is entering in a world of sin and sorrow,\nand misery lies before it; why should I rejoice?\" He gave her a push.\nShe warned him that he had struck her once. Again they were, after\nsome time, invited to attend the funeral of that very child. The\nspirit now laughed, and danced, and sang. Her husband's wrath was\nexcited, and he asked her why she thus made a fool of herself? \"The\nbabe,\" she said, \"has left a world of sin and sorrow, and escaped the\nmisery that was before it, and is gone to be good and happy for ever\nand ever. Why, then, should I weep?\" He gave her a push from him, and\nagain she warned him. Still they lived happily as before. At length\nthey were invited to a wedding, where the bride was young and fair,\nthe husband a withered old miser. In the midst of the festivity, the\nspirit burst into a copious flood of tears, and to her husband's angry\ndemand of why she thus made a fool of herself, she replied in the\nhearing of all, \"Because summer and winter cannot agree. Youth is\nwedded to age for paltry gold. I see misery here, and tenfold misery\nhereafter, to be the lot of both. It is the devil's compact.\"\nForgetful of her warnings, the husband now thrust her from him with\nreal anger. She looked at him tenderly and reproachfully, and said,\n\"You have struck me for the third and last time. Farewell!\"\n\nSo saying, she left the place. He rushed out after her, and just\nreached his home in time to see her speeding to the lake, followed by\nall her flocks and herds. He pursued her, but in vain; his eyes never\nmore beheld her.[463]\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs far as we have been able to learn, the belief in Fairies is\nconfined in Wales to the southern counties of Glamorgan, Carmarthen,\nand Pembroke, the parts into which the Saxons had penetrated farthest,\nand where they of course had exercised most influence. In these\ncounties the popular belief in these beings is by no means yet\nextinct, and their attributes in the creed of the Welsh peasants are\nsimilar to those of their British and Irish kindred.\n\nThe usual name given to the fairies in these parts of Wales, is Y Dynon\nBach T\u00eag, i. e. _The Little Fair People_. Ellyll, in the plural\nEllyllon, also signifies an Elf, from which word, indeed, it may have\nbeen derived. The bells of the Digitalis or fox-glove are called Menyg\nEllylon, or the Elves'-gloves; in Ireland, also, they are connected with\nthe fairies. The toadstools or poisonous mushrooms are named Bwyd\nEllyllon, or Elves'-food. Perhaps, however, it is not the large ugly\ntoadstools that are so named, but those pretty small delicate fungi,\nwith their conical heads, which are named Fairy-mushrooms in Ireland,\nwhere they grow so plentifully. Finally, there was formerly in the park\nof Sir Robert Vaughan a celebrated old oak-tree, named Crwben-yr-Ellyll,\nor The Elf's Hollow-tree. The popular belief respecting these Ellyllon\nis, that they are the souls of the ancient Druids, who, being too good\nfor relegation to Hell, and too evil for re-admittance to Heaven, are\npermitted to wander among men upon earth till the last day, when they\nalso will enter on a higher state of being.[464]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe legends of which we will now proceed to give a specimen, were\ncollected and published in the latter half of the eighteenth century,\nby a Welsh clergyman, who seems to have entertained no doubt whatever\nof the truth of the adventures contained in them.[465]\n\nThe two daughters of a respectable farmer in the parish of Bedwellty\nwere one day out hay-making with their man and maid servant and a\ncouple of their neighbours, when on a hill, about quarter of a mile\ndistant, they saw a large flock of sheep. Soon after, they saw them\ngoing up to a place half a mile off, and then going out of their sight\nas if they vanished in the air. About half-an-hour before sunset, they\nsaw them again, but not all alike; for some saw them like sheep, some\nlike greyhounds, some like swine, and some like naked infants. They\nappeared in the shade of the mountain between them and the sun, and\nthe first sight was as if they rose out of the earth. \"This was a\nnotable appearance of the fairies, seen by credible witnesses. The\nsons of infidelity are very unreasonable not to believe the\ntestimonies of so many witnesses of the being of spirits.\"\n\nE. T. going home by night over Bedwellty Mountains, saw the fairies on\neach side of him. Some of them were dancing. He also heard the sound\nof a bugle-horn, as if people were hunting. He began to grow afraid,\nbut recollecting to have heard that if, on seeing the fairies, you\ndraw out your knife, they will vanish, he did so, and saw them no\nmore. \"This the old gentleman sincerely related to me. He was a sober\nman, and of the strictest veracity.\"\n\nA young man having gone early one morning to a barn to feed oxen, when\nhe had done, lay down on the hay to rest. As he lay he heard the sound\nof music approaching the barn, and presently came in a large company,\nwearing striped clothes (some more gay than others), and commenced\ndancing to their music. He lay quite still, thinking to escape their\nnotice; but a woman, better dressed than the others, came up to him\nwith a striped cushion, with a tassel at each corner, and put it under\nhis head. Some time after, a cock was heard to crow, which seemed\neither to surprise or displease them, and they hastily drew the\ncushion from under his head, and went away.\n\nP. W., \"an honest virtuous woman,\" related that one time, when she was\na little girl on her way to school, she saw the fairies dancing under\na crab-tree. As they appeared to be children of her own size, and had\nsmall pleasant music, she went and joined in their exercise, and then\ntook them to dance in an empty barn. This she continued to do for\nthree or four years. As she never could hear the sound of their feet,\nshe always took off her shoes, supposing noise to be displeasing to\nthem. They were of small stature, looked rather old, and wore blue and\ngreen aprons. Her grandfather, who kept school in the parish-church,\nused, when going home from it late in the evening, to see the fairies\ndancing under an oak, within two or three fields of the church.\n\nThe learned writer gives finally a letter to himself, from a \"pious\nyoung gentleman\" of Denbighshire, dated March 24, 1772, in which he\ninforms him, that about fifteen years before, as himself, his sister,\nand two other little girls were playing at noon of a summer's day in a\nfield, they saw a company of dancers, about seventy yards from them.\nOwing to the rapidity of their whirling motions, they could not count\nthem, but guessed them at fifteen or sixteen. They were in red, like\nsoldiers, with red handkerchiefs spotted with yellow, on their heads.\nAs they were gazing and wondering at them, one of the dancers came\nrunning towards them. The children, in a fright, made for an adjacent\nstile. The girls got over, but the boy was near being caught, and on\nlooking back when over, he saw the red man stretching his arms after\nhim over the stile, which it would seem he had not the power to cross.\nWhen they came to the house, which was close at hand, they gave the\nalarm, and people went out to search the fields, but could see\nnothing. The little man was very grim-looking, with a copper-coloured\nface. His running-pace was rather slow, but he took great strides for\none of his size.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following legends were collected in 1827, in the Vale of Neath, in\nGlamorganshire, by a lady with whom we became acquainted when\ntravelling through North Wales, in the preceding autumn.[466]\n\nAn old woman assured our fair friend, that she one time, many years\nbefore, saw the fairies to the number of some hundreds. They were very\nsmall, were mounted on little white horses, not bigger than dogs, and\nrode four a-breast. It was almost dusk at the time, and they were not a\nquarter of a mile from her. Another old woman said that her father had\noften seen the fairies riding in the air on little white horses, but he\nnever saw them come down on the ground. He also used to hear their music\nin the air. She had heard, too, of a man who had been five-and-twenty\nyears with the fairies, and thought he had been away only five minutes.\n\n\n _Rhys at the Fairy-Dance._\n\nRhys and Llewellyn, two farmer's servants, who had been all day\ncarrying lime for their master, were driving in the twilight their\nmountain ponies before them, returning home from their work. On\nreaching a little plain, Rhys called to his companion to stop and\nlisten to the music, saying it was a tune to which he had danced a\nhundred times, and must go and have a dance now. He bade him go on\nwith the horses, and he would soon overtake him. Llewellyn could hear\nnothing, and began to remonstrate; but away sprang Rhys, and he called\nafter him in vain. He went home, put up the ponies, ate his supper,\nand went to bed, thinking that Rhys had only made a pretext for going\nto the ale-house. But when morning came, and still no sign of Rhys, he\ntold his master what had occurred. Search was then made everywhere,\nbut no Rhys could be found. Suspicion now fell upon Llewellyn of\nhaving murdered him, and he was thrown into prison, though there was\nno evidence against him. A farmer, however, skilled in fairy-matters,\nhaving an idea of how things might have been, proposed that himself\nand some others should accompany Llewellyn to the place where he\nparted with Rhys. On coming to it, they found it green as the mountain\nash. \"Hush!\" cried Llewellyn, \"I hear music, I hear sweet harps.\" We\nall listened, says the narrator, for I was one of them, but could hear\nnothing. \"Put your foot on mine, David,\" said he to me (his own foot\nwas at the time on the outward edge of the fairy-ring). I did so, and\nso did we all, one after another, and then we heard the sound of many\nharps, and saw within a circle, about twenty feet across, great\nnumbers of little people, of the size of children of three or four\nyears old, dancing round and round. Among them we saw Rhys, and\nLlewellyn catching him by the smock-frock, as he came by him, pulled\nhim out of the circle. \"Where are the horses? where are the horses?\"\ncried he. \"Horses, indeed!\" said Llewellyn. Rhys urged him to go home,\nand let him finish his dance, in which he averred he had not been\nengaged more than five minutes. It was by main force they took him\nfrom the place. He still asserted he had been only five minutes away,\nand could give no account of the people he had been with. He became\nmelancholy, took to his bed, and soon after died. \"The morning after,\"\nsays the narrator, \"we went to look at the place, and we found the\nedge of the ring quite red, as if trodden down, and I could see the\nmarks of little heels, about the size of my thumb-nail.\"\n\n\n _Gitto Bach._\n\nGitto Bach,[467] who was a fine boy, used often to ramble to the top of\nthe mountain to look after his father's sheep. On his return, he would\nshow his brothers and sisters pieces of remarkably white paper, like\ncrown-pieces, with letters stamped upon them, which he said were given\nhim by the little children with whom he used to play on the mountain.\nOne day he did not return, and during two whole years no account could\nbe got of him, and the other children were beginning to go up the\nmountain, and bring back some of those white crown-pieces. At length,\none morning, as their mother opened the door, she saw Gitto sitting on\nthe threshold, with a bundle under his arm. He was dressed, and looked\nexactly as when she last had seen him. To her inquiry of where he had\nbeen for so long a time, he replied that it was only the day before he\nhad left her; and he bade her look at the pretty clothes the little\nchildren on the mountain had given him for dancing with them to the\nmusic of their harps. The dress in the bundle was of very white paper,\nwithout seam or sewing. The prudent mother committed it to the flames.\n\n\"This,\" said the narrator, \"made me more anxious than ever to see the\nfairies,\" and his wish was gratified by a gipsy, who directed him to\nfind a four-leaved clover, and put it with nine grains of wheat on the\nleaf of a book which she gave him. She then desired him to meet her\nnext night by moonlight on the top of Craig y Dinis. She there washed\nhis eyes with the contents of a phial which she had, and he instantly\nsaw thousands of fairies, all in white, dancing to the sounds of\nnumerous harps. They then placed themselves on the edge of the hill,\nand sitting down and putting their hands round their knees, they\ntumbled down one after another, rolling head-over-heels till they\ndisappeared in the valley.\n\nAnother old man, who was present at the preceding narration, averred\nthat he had often seen the fairies at waterfalls; particularly at that\nof Sewyd yr Rhyd in Cwm Pergwm, Vale of Neath, where a road runs\nbetween the fall and the rock. As he stood behind the fall, they\nappeared in all the colours of the rainbow, and their music mingled\nwith the noise of the water. They then retired into a cavern, which\nthey had made in the rock, and, after enjoying themselves there,\nascended the rock, and went off through the mountains, the sounds of\ntheir harps dying away as they receded.\n\n\n _The Fairies Banished._\n\nOne of those old farm-houses, where the kitchen and cow-house are on\nthe same floor, with only a low partition between them, was haunted by\nthe fairies. If the family were at their meals in the kitchen, _they_\nwere racketing in the cow-house, and if the people were engaged about\nthe cows, the fairies were making a riot in the kitchen. One day, when\na parcel of reapers were at their harvest-dinner in the kitchen, the\nelves, who were laughing and dancing above, threw down such a quantity\nof dust and dirt as quite spoiled the dinner. While the mistress of\nthe house was in perplexity about it, there came in an old woman, who,\non hearing the case, said she could provide a remedy. She then told\nher in a whisper to ask six of the reapers to dinner next day in the\nhearing of the fairies, and only to make as much pudding as could be\nboiled in an egg-shell. She did as directed, and when the fairies saw\nthat a dinner for six men was put down to boil in an egg-shell, there\nwas great stir and noise in the cow-house, and at length one angry\nvoice was heard to say, \"We have lived long in this world; we were\nborn just after the earth was made, and before the acorn was planted,\nand yet we never saw a harvest-dinner dressed in an egg-shell! There\nmust be something wrong in this house, and we will stop here no\nlonger.\" They went away and never returned.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe fairies are said to take away children, and leave changelings.[468]\nThey also give pieces of money, one of which is found every day in the\nsame place as long as the finder keeps his good fortune a secret. One\npeculiarity of the Cambrian fairies is, that every Friday night they\ncomb the goats' beards \"to make them decent for Sunday.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe hear not of Brownies or Kobolds in the Welsh houses now, but Puck\nused to haunt Wales as well as Ireland. His Welsh name, Pwcca, is the\nsame as his Irish one. In Brecon there is Cwm Pwcca, or Puck's Glen,\nand though an iron-foundry has in a great measure scared him from it,\nyet he occasionally makes his appearance. As a man was returning one\nnight from his work, he saw a light before him, and thought he\ndiscerned some one that carried it. Supposing it to be one of his\nfellow-workmen with a lanthorn, he quickened his pace to come up with\nhim, wondering all the while how so short a man as he appeared to be\ncould get over the ground so fast. He also fancied he was not going\nthe right way, but still thought that he who had the light must know\nbest. At last, he came up with him, and found himself on the very\nedge of one of the precipices of Cwm Pwcca, down which another step\nwould have carried him. The Pwcca, for it was he, sprang over the\nglen, turned round, held the light above his head, and then with a\nloud laugh put it out and vanished.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[457] A lake, on whose banks Taliesin resided.\n\n[458] These Mr. Davies thinks correspond to the Gallicen\u00e6 of Mela: see\n_Brittany_.\n\n[459] Giraldus Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambri\u00e6, l. i. c. 8, translated\nby Sir R. C. Hoare.\n\n[460] Very likely indeed that Elidurus, or Giraldus either, should\nknow any thing of Plato or of Marco Polo, especially as the latter was\nnot yet born!\n\n[461] Book i. chap. 12.\n\n[462] Mythology and Rites of the British Druids.\n\n[463] Abridged from \"A Day at the Van Pools;\" MS. of Miss Beale, the\nauthor of \"Poems\" and of \"The Vale of the Towey,\" a most delightful\nvolume. We have since received from our gifted friend the following\nadditional information. \"Since writing this letter, I have heard a new\nversion of the last part of the Spirit of the Van. The third offence\nis said to be, that she and her husband were _ploughing_; he guiding\nthe plough, and she driving the horses. The horses went wrong, and the\nhusband took up something and threw it at them, which struck her. She\nseized the plough and went off, followed by the flocks and herds she\nhad brought with her to Van Pool, where they all vanished, and the\n_mark of the ploughshare_ is shown on the mountain at this present\nday. She left her children behind her, who became famous as doctors.\nJones was their name, and they lived at a place called Muddfi. In them\nwas said to have originated the tradition of the seventh son, or\nSeptimus, being born for the healing art; as for many generations,\nseven sons were regularly born in each family, the seventh of whom\nbecame the doctor, and wonderful in his profession. It is said even\nnow, that the Jones of Muddfi are, or were, until very recently,\nclever doctors.\"--A. B. A somewhat different version of this legend is\ngiven by Mr. Croker, iii. 256.\n\n[464] For the chief part of our knowledge respecting the fairy lore of\nWales we are indebted to the third or supplemental volume of the Fairy\nLegends, in which Mr. Croker, with the aid of Dr. Owen Pugh and other\nWelsh scholars, has given a fuller account of the superstitions of the\npeople of the Principality, than is, we believe, to be found any where\nelse.\n\n[465] A Relation of Apparitions of Spirits in the County of Monmouth and\nthe Principality of Wales, by the Rev. Edward Jones of the Tiarch.--For\nour extracts from this work we are indebted to Mr. Croker.\n\n[466] The lady's name was Williams. The legends were originally intended\nfor the present work, but circumstances caused them to appear in the\nsupplemental volume of the Irish Fairy Legends. We have abridged them.\n\n[467] Gitto is the dim. of Griffith: _bach_ (_beg_ Ir.) is little.\n\n[468] See _Brittany_.\n\n\n\n\n BRITTANY.\n\n Mut unt este noble Barun\n Cil de Bretaine li Bretun.\n MARIE DE FRANCE.\n\n Thise old\u00e8 gentil Bretons in hir dayes\n Of diverse \u00e1ventur\u00e8s maden layes.\n CHAUCER.\n\n\nBrittany, the ancient Armorica, retains perhaps as unmixed a\npopulation as any part of Western Europe. Its language has been,\nhowever, like the Welsh and the Celtic dialects, greatly affected by\nthe Latin and Teutonic. The ancient intercourse kept up with Wales and\nCornwall by the Bretons, who were in a great measure colonists from\nthese parts of Britain, caused the traditions and poetry of the latter\nto be current and familiar in Little Britain, as that country was then\ncalled. To poetry and music, indeed, the whole Celto-Cymric race seem\nto have been strongly addicted; and, independently of the materials\nwhich Brittany may have supplied for the history of Geoffrey of\nMonmouth, many other true or romantic adventures were narrated by the\nBreton poets in their Lais. Several of these Lais were translated into\nFrench verse in the thirteenth century by a poetess named Marie de\nFrance, resident at the court of the English monarchs of the house of\nPlantagenet, to one of whom, probably Henry the Third, her Lais are\ndedicated.[469] This circumstance may account for the Lais being\nbetter known in England than in France. The only manuscript containing\nany number of them is in the Harleian Library; for those of France\ncontain but five Lais. The Lai du Fresne was translated into English;\nand from the Lai de Lanval and Lai de Graelent--which last by the way\nis not in the Harleian Collection--Chestre made his Launfal Miles, or\nSir Launfal. Chaucer perhaps took the concluding circumstance of his\nDream from the Lai de Eliduc.\n\nIn some of these Lais we meet with what may be regarded as Fairy\nmachinery. The word F\u00e9e, indeed, occurs only once;[470] but in the\nLais de Gugemer, de Lanval, d'Ywenec, and de Graelent, personages are\nto be met with differing in nothing from the Fays of Romance, and who,\nlike them, appear to be human beings endowed with superior powers.\n\nThe origin of the Breton Korrigan, as they are called, has been\nsought, and not improbably, in the Gallicen\u00e6[471] or ancient Gaul, of\nwhom Pomponius Mela thus writes:--\"Sena,[472] in the British sea,\nopposite the Ofismician coast, is remarkable for an oracle of the\nGallic God. Its priestesses, holy in perpetual virginity, are said to\nbe _nine_ in number. They are called Gallicen\u00e6, and are thought to be\nendowed with singular powers, so as to raise by their charms the winds\nand seas, _to turn themselves into what animals they will_, to cure\nwounds and diseases incurable by others, to know and predict the\nfuture; but this they do only to navigators who go thither purposely\nto consult them.\"[473]\n\nWe have here certainly all the attributes of the Damoiselles of the\nLais of Marie de France. The doe whom Gugemer wounds speaks with a\nhuman voice. The lady who loved Lanval took him away into an island,\nand Graelent and his mistress crossed a deep and broad river to arrive\nat her country, which perhaps was also an island in the original\nBreton Lai. The part most difficult of explanation is the secret\nmanner in which these dames used to visit their lovers; but perhaps\nthe key is to be found in the Lai d'Ywenec, of which, chiefly on that\naccount, we give an analysis. The hero of that Lai differs not in\npoint of power from these ladies, and as he is a real man, with the\npower of assuming at will the shape of a bird, so it is likely they\nwere real women, and that it was in the bird-shape they entered the\nchambers of their lovers. Graelent's mistress says to him,[474]\n\n I shall love you trewely;\n But one thing I forbid straitl\u00fd,\n You must not utter a word ap\u00e9rte\n Which might our love make discov\u00e9rte.\n I will give unto you richl\u00fd,\n Gold and silver, clothes, and fee.\n Much love shall be between us two--\n Night and day I'll go to you:\n You'll see me come to you alw\u00e1y--\n With me laugh and talk you may.\n You shall no comrade have to see,\n Or who shall know my privacy,\n\n * * * * *\n\n Take care now that you do not boast\n Of things by which I may be lost.\n\nThe lady says to Lanval,\n\n When you would speak to me of ought--\n You must in no place form the thought\n Where no one could meet his amie\n Without reproach and villainie--\n I will be presently with you,\n All your commands ready to do;\n No one but you will me see,\n Or hear the words that come from me.\n\nShe also had previously imposed on the knight the obligation of secresy.\n\nAs a further proof of the identity of the Korrigan and the Gallicen\u00e6,\nit may be remarked, that in the evidently very ancient Breton poem,\nAr-Rannou, or The Series, we meet the following passage:--\"There are\n_nine_ Korrigen, who dance, with flowers in their hair, and robes of\nwhite wool, around the fountain, by the light of the full moon.\"[475]\n\n\n _Lai D'ywenec._\n\n I have in thought and purpose too,\n Of Ywenec to tellen you--\n Of whom he born was, his sire's fame,\n How first he to his mother came.\n He who did beget Ywenec\n Y-cleped was Eudemarec.\n\nThere formerly lived in Britain a man who was rich and old. He was Avoez\nor governor of Caerwent on the Doglas, and lord of the surrounding\ncountry. Desirous of having an heir to his estates, he espoused a maiden\n\"courteous and sage, and passing fair.\" She was given to him because he\nwas rich, and loved by him for her beauty. Why should I say more, but\nthat her match was not to be found between Lincoln and Ireland? \"Great\nsin did they who gave her him,\" adds the poet.\n\nOn account of her rare beauty, the jealous husband now turned all his\nthoughts to keeping her safe. To this end he shut her up in his tower,\nin a large room, to which no one had access but himself and his\nsister, an old widow, without whose permission the young wife was\nforbidden to speak to any even of her female attendants. In this tower\nthe suspicious husband immured his lovely bride for seven years,\nduring which time they had no children, nor did she ever leave her\nconfinement on any account. She had neither chamberlain nor huissier\nto light the tapers in her chamber when she would retire, and the poor\nlady passed her time weeping, sighing, and lamenting; and from grief\nand neglect of herself losing all her beauty.\n\n The month of April was entering,\n When every bird begins to sing;\n Her lord arose at early day,\n And to the wood he takes his way.\n\nBefore he set out he called up the old dame to fasten the door after\nhim. This done, she took her psalter and retired to another room to\nchant it. The imprisoned lady awoke in tears, seeing the brightness of\nthe sun, and thus began her moan:\n\n Alas! said she, why born was I?\n Right grievous is my destiny:\n In this tow\u00e9re imprisoned,\n I ne'er shall leave it till I'm dead.\n\nShe marvels at the unreasonable jealousy of her old husband, curses\nher parents, and all concerned in giving her to a man not only so\nunamiable, but who was of so tough a constitution that the chance of\nhis dying seemed infinitely remote.\n\n When baptised he was to be,\n In hell's rivere deep dipt was he;\n Hard are his sinews, hard each vein,\n And lively blood they all contain.\n Oft have I heard the people tell,\n That in this country there befell\n Adventures in the days of yore,\n That did to joy grieved hearts restore;\n Knights met with damsels, fair and gent,\n In all things unto their tal\u00e9nt;\n And dames met lovers courteo\u00fas,\n Handsome, and brave, and generous;\n So that they never blamed were,\n For save themselves none saw them e'er.[476]\n If this may be, or ever was,\n Or any it befallen has,\n May God, who hath all might and power,\n My wish perform for me this hour.\n\nScarcely had she uttered this pious wish, when she perceived the\nshadow of a large bird at a narrow window. The bird now flew into the\nroom. He had jesses on his legs, and appeared to be a goss-hawk.[477]\nHe placed himself before the lady, and in a few minutes after became a\nhandsome gentle knight. The lady was terrified at the sight, and\ncovered her head; but the knight was courteous, and addressed her,\n\n Lady, said he, be not thus stirred;\n A goss-hawk is a gentle bird.\n If my secr\u00e9te should be obscure,\n Attend, and I will you assure;\n Maketh now of me your lov\u00e9re,\n For that it is I am come here.\n Long have I loved you and admired,\n And in my heart have much desired;\n I ne'er have loved save you alone,\n And save you never shall love none;\n But I could never come to you,\n Nor from own countrie iss\u00fae,\n If you had not required me:\n Your lover now I may well be.\n\nThe lady was now re-assured: she uncovered her head, and told the\nknight she would accept him as her _Dru_, if she were satisfied that\nhe believed in God. On this head, he assures her,\n\n I in the Cr\u00e9ator believe,\n Who did from misery us relieve,\n In which us Adam our sire put,\n By eating of that bitter fruit:\n He is, and was, and ever he\n To sinners life and light will be.\n\nAnd to put the matter out of all doubt, he directs her to feign\nsickness, and send for the chaplain, when he undertakes to assume her\nform, and receive the holy Sacrament. The dame does accordingly; and the\nold woman, after many objections, at length sends for the chaplain.\n\n And he with all due speed did hie,\n And brought the Corpus Domini.\n The knight received the holy sign,\n And from the chalice drank the wine:[478]\n The chaplain then his way is gone--\n The old dame shut the doors anon.\n\nThe scruples of the lady being now entirely removed, she grants _le\ndon d'amoureuse merci_, and the bliss of the lovers is complete. At\nlength the knight takes his leave, and in reply to the lady's\nquestion, of when she should see him again, he tells her that she has\nonly to wish for him, and the wish will be fulfilled by his\nappearance;[479] but he warns her to beware of the old woman, who will\nclosely watch her, assuring her at the same time that a discovery will\nbe his certain death.\n\nThe lady now bids adieu to all sadness and melancholy, and gradually\nregains all her former beauty. She desires no longer to leave her tower;\nfor, night or day, she has only to express a wish, and her knight is\nwith her. The old lord marvels greatly at this sudden change, and begins\nto distrust the fidelity of his sister. On revealing his suspicions, her\nreplies fully satisfy him on that head, and they concert between them\nhow to watch the young wife, and to discover her secret. After an\ninterval of three days, the old lord tells his wife that the king has\nsent for him, and that he must attend him, but will soon return. He sets\nout, and the old woman having closed the door as usual after him, gets\nbehind a curtain to watch. The lady now wishes for her lover, and\ninstantly he is with her, and they continue together till it is time to\nrise. He then departs, leaving the spy, who had seen how he came and\nwent, terrified at the strange metamorphosis.\n\nWhen the husband, who was at no great distance, came home, his spy\ninformed him of the strange affair. Greatly grieved and incensed at\nthis, he began to meditate the destruction of his rival. He\naccordingly got four pikes made, with steel-heads so sharp that\n\n No razor under heaven's sheen\n Was ever yet so sharp and keen.\n\nThese he set at the window through which the knight was used to enter.\nNext day he feigns to go to the chase, the old woman returns to her bed\nto sleep, and the lady anxiously expects \"him whom she loveth loyally,\"\n\n And says that he may come safel\u00fd,\n And with her at all leisure be.\n\nSo said, so done: the bird was at the window; but alas! too eager for\ncaution, he overlooked the pikes, and, flying against them, was mortally\nwounded. Still he entered the chamber and threw himself on the bed,\nwhich his blood soon filled, and thus addressed his distracted mistress:\n\n He said unto her--\"My sweet friend,\n For you my life comes to an end;\n I often told you 't would be so,\n That your fair cheer would work us woe.\"\n When she heard this she swooned away,\n And long time there for dead she lay;\n Her gently to herself he brought,\n And said, that grief availeth nought;\n That she by him a son would bear,\n Valiant and wise, and debonair;\n He would dispel her sorrows all.\n Ywenec she should him call.\n He would\u00e8 vengeance for their sake\n Upon their trait'rous enemy take.[480]\n\n\nExhausted with loss of blood, he can stay no longer. He departs; and\nthe lady, uttering loud cries of woe, leaps after him, unapparelled as\nshe is, out of the window, which was twenty feet from the ground, and\npursues him by the traces of his blood.\n\n Along his path strayed the dame,\n Until unto a hill she came.[481]\n Into this hill one entrance led;\n It with the blood was all sprinkl\u00e9d.\n Before her she can nothing see;\n Whereat she thinketh full surel\u00fd\n Her lover thither is gone in.\n She entereth with mickle teen;\n Within it light ne found she none;\n Thorow it still she goeth on,\n Until she from the hill iss\u00faed\n In a fair meadow, rich and good.\n With blood she stained found the grass,\n At which she much dismayed was;\n The trace lay of it on the ground.\n Quite near she there a city found;\n With walls it was enclosed all.--\n There was not house, nor tower, nor hall,\n That did not seem of silver fair:\n The Mandevent[482] right wealthy are.\n Before the town lay marshes rude,\n The forest, and wild solitude.\n On the other side, toward the donj\u00f3n,\n The water all around did run;\n And here the shipp\u00e8s did ent\u00e9r,\n More thann\u00e8 three hundr\u00e9d they were.\n The lower gate wide open lay;\n Therein the lady took her way,\n Stil following the blood, that fell\n The town\u00e8 thorow to the cast\u00e9l.\n Unto her spak\u00e9 there no one,\n Ne man nor woman found she none.\n She to the palace came; with blood\n The steps she found were all embrued;\n She entered then a low chamb\u00e9re;\n A knight she found fast sleeping there;\n She knew him not--she passed on--\n To a larger chamber came anon;\n A bed, and nothing more, there found,\n A knight was on it sleeping sound.\n Still farther passed on the dame;\n Unto the third chamb\u00e9re she came,\n Where she gan find her lover's bed.\n The posts were gold enamelled;\n I could not price the clothes aright:\n The chandeliers and tapers bright,\n Which night and day burned constantly,\n Were worth the gold of a citee.\n\nShe finds her lover at the point of death.\n\nAt seeing his wretched state the unhappy lady swoons again. The\nexpiring knight endeavours to console her; and, foretelling his own\ndeath on that day, directs her to depart, lest his people in their\ngrief should ill treat her as the cause of his death. She, however,\nprotests that she will stay and die with him, as, if she returns, her\nhusband will put her to death. The knight repeats his consolations,\nand gives her a ring, which, while she wears, her husband will retain\nno remembrance of what relates to her. At the same time he gives her\nhis sword, which she is to keep safely and to give to her son when\ngrown up and become a valiant knight. He says, she then\n\n Unto a festival will go;\n Her lord will thither wend also;\n Unto an abbey they will come,\n Where they will see a stately tomb,\n Will learn the story of the dead,\n And how he was there buried.\n There thou the sword shalt to him reach,\n And all the \u00e1dventure then teach,\n How he was born, who was his sire;\n His deeds enough will then admire.\n\nHe then gave her a dress of fine silk, and insisted on her departure.\nShe is with difficulty induced to leave him, and is hardly half a\nleague from the place when she hears the bells tolling, and the cries\nof grief of the people for the death of their lord. She faints four\ntimes, but at length recovering retraces her steps, and returns to her\ntower. Her husband makes no inquiry, and gives her no farther\nuneasiness. She bare a son, as Eudemarec had foretold, and named him\nYwenec. As he grew up, there was not his peer in the kingdom for\nbeauty, valour, and generosity.\n\nAfter Ywenec had been dubbed a knight, his supposed father was\nsummoned to attend the feast of St. Aaron at Carlion. He went,\naccompanied by his wife and Ywenec. On their way, they stopped at a\nrich abbey, where they were received with the utmost hospitality. Next\nday, when they asked to depart, the abbot entreated them to stay a\nlittle longer till he should show them the rest of the abbey. They\nconsented, and after dinner,\n\n On entering the chapter-room,\n They found a large and stately tomb,\n Covered with rich tapestry,\n Bordered with gold embroidery.\n At head and feet and sides there were\n Twenty tapers burning clear;\n Of fine gold were the chandeliers;\n Of amethyst were the cens\u00e9res,\n With which they incensed alw\u00e1y,\n For great hono\u00far, this tomb each day.\n\nThe curiosity of the visitors was excited by the sight of this\nmagnificent tomb, and they learned, on inquiry, that therein lay one\nof the noblest and most valiant knights that had ever lived. He had\nbeen king of that country, and had been slain at Caerwent for the love\nof a lady, leaving a vacancy in the throne which had never been since\nfilled, it being reserved, according to his last commands, for his son\nby that lady.\n\nWhen the Dame heard this, she called aloud to her son,\n\n \"Fair son, you now have heard,\" she said,\n \"That God hath us to this place led.\n It is your father here doth lie,\n Whom this old man slew wrongfully.\"\n\nShe then gave him the sword she had kept so long, relating the whole\nstory to him. At the conclusion she fainted on the tomb, and expired.\nFilled with rage and grief, Ywenec at one blow struck off the head of\nthe old man, and avenged both his father and mother. The lady was\nburied in the coffin with him whom she had loved, and the people\njoyfully acknowledged Ywenec as king of the country.\n\n Long time after maden they,\n Who heard this \u00e1dventure, a Lay\n Of the grief and the dolo\u00far\n That for love these did endure.\n\nThere are still to be seen in Brittany the rock, the cavern, the\nfountain, the hole, the valley, etc., of the F\u00e9es.\n\nThe forest of Brezeliande, near Quintin, was, in the twelfth and\nthirteenth centuries, regarded as the chief seat of Breton wonders. It\ncontained the tomb of Merlin. Robert de Wace, hearing of the wonders of\nthis forest, visited it; but, by his own account, to little purpose.\n\n La allai je merveilles querre (_chercher_),\n Vis la for\u00eat et vis la terre;\n Merveilles quis (_cherchai_) mais ne trovai,\n Fol m'en revins, fol y allai;\n Fol y allai, fol m'en revins,\n Folie quis, por fol me tins.[483]\n\nThere were also the Fountain of Berenton and the Pe (_block_, or\n_steps_) Merveilleux.\n\n En Bretagne ce treuve-on\n Une Fontaine et un Perron;\n Quant on gette l'iaue (_eau_) dessus\n Si vente et tonne et repluit jus (_\u00e0 bas_).\n\nHuon de M\u00e9ry was more fortunate than Wace. He sprinkled the Perron\nfrom the golden basin which hung from the oak that shaded it, and\nbeheld all the marvels.[484]\n\n * * * * *\n\nSuch is the result of our inquiries respecting the Fairy system of\nthe \"old\u00e8 gentil Bretons.\" Owing to the praiseworthy labours of a\nBreton gentleman of the present day,[485] we are enabled to give the\nfollowing account of it as it actually prevails in Brittany.\n\nOur author divides the Breton fairies into two classes,--the Fays\n(_F\u00e9es_) and the Dwarfs (_Nains_); of which the Breton name seems to be\nKorrig or Korrigan, and Korr or Korred.[486] The former he identifies,\nas we have seen, very plausibly, with the Gallicen\u00e6 of Mela; for he says\nthat the ancient Welsh bards declare that they reverenced a being of the\nfemale sex named Korid-gwen, _i. e._ Korid-woman, to whom they assigned\n_nine_ virgins as attendants. To this being Taliesin gives a magic vase,\nthe edges of which are adorned with pearl, and it contains the wondrous\nwater of bardic genius and of universal knowledge.\n\nThe Korrigan, our authority further states, can predict the future,\nassume any form they please, move from place to place with the\nrapidity of thought, cure maladies by the aid of charms which they\ncommunicate to their favourites. Their size is said not to exceed two\nfeet, but their proportions are most exact; and they have long flowing\nhair, which they comb out with great care. Their only dress is a long\nwhite veil, which they wind round their body. Seen at night, or in the\ndusk of the evening, their beauty is great; but in the daylight their\neyes appear red, their hair white, and their faces wrinkled; hence\nthey rarely let themselves be seen by day. They are fond of music, and\nhave fine voices, but are not much given to dancing. Their favourite\nhaunts are the springs, by which they sit and comb their hair. They\nare said to celebrate there every returning spring a great nocturnal\nfestival. On the sod at its brink is spread a table-cloth white as the\ndriven snow, covered with the most delicious viands. In the centre is\na crystal cup, which emits such light that there is no need of lamps.\nAt the end of the banquet a cup goes round filled with a liquor, one\ndrop of which would make one as wise as God himself. At the approach\nof a mortal the whole vanishes.\n\nLike fairies in general the Korrigan steal children, against which the\nremedy usually employed is, to place the child under the protection of\nthe Virgin, by putting a rosary or a scapulary about its neck. They\nare also fond of uniting themselves with handsome young men to\nregenerate, as the peasants say, their accursed race. The general\nbelief respecting them is, that they were great princesses who, having\nrefused to embrace Christianity when it was preached in Armorica by\nthe Apostles, were struck by the curse of God. Hence it is that they\nare said to be animated by a violent hatred of religion and the\nclergy. The sight of a _soutane_, or the sound of a bell, puts them to\nflight; but the object of greatest abhorrence to them is the Holy\nVirgin. The last trait to be noticed of these beings is, that, like\nsimilar beings in other countries, their breath is deadly.\n\nThe reader must have observed the strong resemblance which the Korrigan\nbear to the Elle-maids of Scandinavia. In like manner the Korred are\nvery similar to the Trolls.[487] These are usually represented as short\nand stumpy with shaggy hair, dark wrinkled faces, little deep-set eyes,\nbut bright as carbuncles. Their voice is cracked and hollow: their hands\nhave claws like a cat's; their feet are horny like those of a goat. They\nare expert smiths and coiners; they are said to have great treasures in\nthe _dolmen_[488] in which they dwell, and of which they are regarded as\nthe builders. They dance around them by night, and wo to the belated\npeasant who, passing by, is forced to join in their roundel; he usually\ndies of exhaustion. Wednesday is their holiday; the first Wednesday in\nMay their annual festival, which they celebrate with dancing, singing,\nand music. They have the same aversion to holy things as the Korrigan;\nlike them, too, they can fortell events to come. The Korrid is always\nfurnished with a large leathern purse, which is said to be full of gold;\nbut if any one succeeds in getting it from him, he finds nothing in it\nbut hair and a pair of scissors.\n\nThe Bretons also believe in Mermaids; they name them Morgan\n(_sea-women_) and Morverc'h (_sea-daughters_), and say that they draw\ndown to their palaces of gold and crystal at the bottom of the sea or\nof ponds, those who venture imprudently too near the edge of the\nwater. Like the mermaids they sing and comb their golden hair. In one\nof the ballads we read, \"Fisher, hast thou seen the mermaid combing\nher hair, yellow as gold, by the noontide sun, at the edge of the\nwater?\" \"I have seen the fair mermaid. I have also heard her singing;\nher songs were plaintive as the waves.\"[489]\n\nIn M. Villemarqu\u00e9's collection there are three ballads relating to the\nKorrigan and Korred. The following is a faithful translation of the\nfirst of them in the exact measure of the original. All the Breton\npoetry is rimed, very frequently in triads or tercets.\n\n\n _Lord Nann and the Korrigan._\n\n The Lord Nann and his bride so fair\n In early youth united were,\n In early youth divided were.\n\n The lady lay-in yesternight\n Of twins, their skin as snow was white,\n A boy and girl, that glad his sight.\n\n \"What doth thy heart desire, loved one,\n For giving me so fair a son?\n Say, and at once it shall be done.\n\n \"A woodcock from the pool of the glyn,\n Or roebuck from the forest green?\"\n\n \"The roebuck's flesh is savoury,\n But for it thou to the wood should'st hie.\"\n\n Lord Nann when he these words did hear,\n He forthwith grasped his oaken spear,\n\n And vaulting on his coal-black steed\n Unto the green-wood hied with speed.\n\n When he unto the wood drew nigh,\n A fair white doe he there did spy,\n\n And after her such chase he made,\n The ground it shook beneath their tread.\n\n And after her such chase made he,\n From his brows the water copiously\n\n And from his horse's sides ran down.\n The evening had now come on,\n\n And he came where a streamlet flowed\n Fast by a Korrigan's abode;\n\n And grassy turf spread all around.\n To quench his thirst he sprang to ground.\n\n The Korrig at her fount sat there\n A-combing of her long fair hair.\n\n She combed it with a comb of gold--\n These ladies ne'er are poor, we're told.\n\n \"Rash man,\" cried she, \"how dost thou dare\n To come disturb my waters fair!\n\n \"Thou shalt unto me plight thy fay,\n Or seven years thou shalt waste away,\n Or thou shalt die ere the third day.\"\n\n \"To thee my faith plight will I ne'er,\n For I am married now a year.\n\n \"I shall not surely waste away,\n Nor shall I die ere the third day;\n\n \"I shall not die within three days,\n But when it unto God shall please.\"--\n\n \"Good mother, mine, if you love me,\n See that my bed made ready be,\n For I have ta'en a malady.\n\n \"Let not one word to my wife be told;\n In three days I shall lie in the mould,\n A Korrigan has thus foretold.\"\n\n And when three days were past and gone,\n The young wife asked this question,--\n\n \"My mother-in-law, now tell me why\n The bells all ring thus constantly?\n\n \"And why the priests a low mass sing,\n All clad in white, as the bells ring?\"\n\n \"Last night a poor man died whom we\n A lodging gave through charity.\"\n\n \"My mother-in-law, tell me, I pray,\n My Lord Nann whither is he gone away?\"\n\n \"My daughter, to the town he's gone,\n To see thee he will come anon.\"\n\n \"Good mother-in-law, to church to fare,\n Shall I my red or blue gown wear?\"\n\n \"The custom now is, daughter dear,\n At church always in black to appear.\"\n\n As they crossed o'er the churchyard-wall,\n On her husband's grave her eye did fall.\n\n \"Who is now dead of our family,\n That thus fresh dug our ground I see?\"\n\n \"Alas! my child, the truth can I\n Not hide: thy husband there doth lie.\"\n\n On her two knees herself she cast\n And rose no more, she breathed her last.\n\n It was a marvel to see, men say,\n The night that followed the day,\n The lady in earth by her lord lay,\n\n To see two oak-trees themselves rear\n From the new-made grave into the air;\n\n And on their branches two doves white,\n Who there were hopping gay and light;\n\n Which sang when rose the morning-ray\n And then toward heaven sped away.\n\nThis ballad is very remarkable. Its similarity to that of Sir Olof, so\ncelebrated in Scandinavia, and of which we have already given two\nvariations out of fifteen, must strike every one; in its concluding\nstanzas also it resembles other Scandinavian and English ballads. On\nthe other hand, the White Doe and the Korrigan at the fount remind us\nof the Lais of Marie de France. Our opinion on the whole is, that the\nballad belongs to Scandinavia, whence it was brought at an early\nperiod--by the Normans, we might say only for its Christian air in\nboth countries--and naturalised in the usual manner. It is rather\nstrange that there is neither an English nor a Scottish version of it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe next lay, which is entirely composed in tercets, is the story of a\nchangeling. In order to recover her own child the mother is advised by\nthe Virgin, to whom she has prayed, to prepare a meal for ten\nfarm-servants in an egg-shell, which will make the Korrid speak, and\nshe is then to whip him well till he cries, and when he does so he\nwill be taken away. The woman does as directed: the Korr asks what she\nis about: she tells him: \"For ten, dear mother, in an eggshell! I have\nseen the egg before I saw the white hen. I have seen the acorn before\nI saw the tree: I have seen the acorn and I have seen the shoot: I\nhave seen the oak in the wood of Br\u00e9zal, but never saw I such a thing\nas this.\" \"Thou hast seen too many things, my son,\" replied she, and\nbegan to whip him, when one came crying, \"Don't beat him, give him\nback to me; I have not done yours any injury. He is king in our\ncountry.\" When the woman went home she found her own child sleeping\nsweetly in the cradle. He opened his eyes and said, \"Ah! mother, I\nhave been a long time asleep!\"\n\nAmong the Welsh legends above related, that of the Fairies Banished\nhas some resemblance to this; but M. Villemarqu\u00e9 says that he was told\na changeling-story by the Glamorgan peasantry, precisely the same as\nthe Breton legend. In it the changeling is heard muttering to himself\nin a cracked voice, \"I have seen the acorn before I saw the oak: I\nhave seen the egg before I saw the white hen: I have never seen the\nlike of this.\" It is remarkable that these words form a rimed triad or\ntercet nearly the same with that in the Breton ballad,[490] whence M.\nVillemarqu\u00e9 is led to suspect that the legend is anterior to the\nseventh century, the epoch of the separation of the Britons of Wales\nand Armorica. But as changelings seem to have come from the North, we\ncannot consent to receive this theory. He also quotes from Geoffrey of\nMonmouth's Life of Merlin, \"There is in this forest,\" said Merlin the\nWild, \"an oak laden with years: I saw it when it was beginning to grow\n... I saw the acorn whence it rose, germinate and become a twig ... I\nhave then lived a long time.\" This would, in our opinion, tend to show\nthat this was an ordinary formula in the British language.\n\nThe third and last of those ballads tells, and not without humour, how\nPaskou-Hir, _i. e._, Long-Paskou, the tailor, one Friday evening,\nentered the abode of the Korred, and there dug up and carried home a\nconcealed treasure. They pursued him, and came into the court-yard\ndancing with might and main, and singing,--\n\n Dilun, dimeurs, dimerc'her\n Ha diriaou, ha digwener.\n\n Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,\n And Thursday, and Friday.\n\nFinding the door secured[491] they mount the roof and break a hole\nthrough which they get in, and resume their dance on the floor, still\nsinging, Monday, Tuesday, etc., and calling on the tailor to come and\njoin them and they would teach him a dance that would crack his\nback-bone, and they end by telling him that the money of the Korr is\ngood for nothing.\n\nAnother version says, that it was a baker who stole the treasure, and,\nmore cunning than the tailor, he strewed the floor of his house with\nhot ashes and cinders on which the Korred burned their feet. This made\nthem scamper off, but before they went they smashed all his crockery\nand earthenware. Their words were, \"In Iannik-ann-Trevou's house we\nburnt our horny feet and made a fine mess of his crockery.\"\n\nThe following legend will explain the song of the Korred.\n\n\n _The Dance and Song of the Korred._\n\nThe valley of Goel was a celebrated haunt of the Korred.[492] It was\nthought dangerous to pass through it at night lest one should be forced\nto join in their dances, and thus perhaps lose his life. One evening,\nhowever, a peasant and his wife thoughtlessly did so, and they soon\nfound themselves enveloped by the dancing sprites, who kept singing--\n\n Lez y, Lez hon,\n Bas an arer zo gant hon;\n Lez on, Lez y,\n Bas an arer zo gant y.\n\n Let him go, let him go,\n For he has the wand of the plough;\n Let her go, let her go,\n For she has the wand of the plough.\n\nIt seems the man had in his hand the _fourche_, or short stick, which\nis used as a plough-paddle in Brittany, and this was a protection, for\nthe dancers made way for them to go out of the ring.\n\nWhen this became known, many persons having fortified themselves with\na _fourche_, gratified their curiosity by witnessing the dance of the\nKorred. Among the rest were two tailors, Peric and Jean, who, being\nmerry fellows, dared each other to join in the dance. They drew lots,\nand the lot fell upon Peric, a humpbacked red-haired, but bold stout\nlittle fellow. He went up to the Korred and asked permission to take\nshare in their dance. They granted it, and all went whirling round and\nround, singing\n\n Dilun, Dimeurs, Dimerc'her.\n\n Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.\n\nPeric, weary of the monotony, when there was a slight pause at the\nlast word, added\n\n Ha Diriaou, ha Digwener.\n\n And Thursday and Friday.\n\n_Mat! mat!_ (good! good!) cried they, and gathering round him, they\noffered him his choice of beauty, rank, or riches. He laughed, and\nonly asked them to remove his hump and change the colour of his hair.\nThey forthwith took hold of him and tossed him up into the air,\nthrowing him from hand to hand till at last he lighted on his feet\nwith a flat back and fine long black hair.\n\nWhen Jean saw and heard of the change he resolved to try what _he_\ncould get from the potent Korred, so a few evenings after he went and\nwas admitted to the dance, which now went to the words as enlarged by\nPeric. To make his addition he shouted out,\n\n Ha Disadarn, ha Disul.\n\n And Saturday and Sunday.\n\n\"What more? what more?\" cried the Korred, but he only went on\nrepeating the words. They then asked him what he would have, and he\nreplied riches. They tossed him up, and kept bandying him about till\nhe cried for mercy, and on coming to the ground, he found he had got\nPeric's hump and red hair.\n\nIt seems that the Korred were condemned to this continual dancing,\nwhich was never to cease till a mortal should join in their dance, and\nafter naming all the days of the week, should add, _Ha cetu chu er\nsizun_, \"And now the week is ended.\" They punished Jean for coming so\nnear the end and then disappointing them.[493]\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe add the following circumstances from other authorities:\n\nAt Carnac, near Quiberon, says M. de Cambry, in the department of\nMorbihan, on the sea-shore, is the Temple of Carnac, called in Breton\n\"Ti Goriquet\" (_House of the Gorics_), one of the most remarkable\nCeltic monuments extant. It is composed of more than four thousand\nlarge stones, standing erect in an arid plain, where neither tree nor\nshrub is to be seen, and not even a pebble is to be found in the soil\non which they stand. If the inhabitants are asked concerning this\nwonderful monument, they say it is an old camp of C\u00e6sar's, an army\nturned into stone, or that it is the work of the Crions or Gorics.\nThese they describe as little men between two and three feet high, who\ncarried these enormous masses on their hands; for, though little, they\nare stronger than giants. Every night they dance around the stones;\nand woe betide the traveller who approaches within their reach! he is\nforced to join in the dance, where he is whirled about till,\nbreathless and exhausted, he falls down, amidst the peals of laughter\nof the Crions. All vanish with the break of day.[494]\n\nIn the ruins of Tresmalouen dwell the Courils.[495] They are of a\nmalignant disposition, but great lovers of dancing. At night they sport\naround the Druidical monuments. The unfortunate shepherd that approaches\nthem must dance their rounds with them till cock-crow; and the instances\nare not few of persons thus ensnared who have been found next morning\ndead with exhaustion and fatigue. Woe also to the ill-fated maiden who\ndraws near the Couril dance! nine months after, the family counts one\nmember more. Yet so great is the power and cunning of these Dwarfs, that\nthe young stranger bears no resemblance to them, but they impart to it\nthe features of some lad of the village.\n\nA number of little men, not more than a foot high, dwell under the\ncastle of Morlaix. They live in holes in the ground, whither they may\noften be seen going, and beating on basins. They possess great\ntreasures, which they sometimes bring out; and if any one pass by at\nthe time, allow him to take one handful, but no more. Should any one\nattempt to fill his pockets, the money vanishes, and he is instantly\nassailed by a shower of boxes in the ear from invisible hands.\n\nThe Bretons also say that there are spirits who silently skim the\nmilk-pans in the dairies. They likewise speak of Sand Yan y Tad (_St.\nJohn and Father_), who carry five lights at their finger-ends, which\nthey make spin round and round like a wheel.[496]\n\nThere is a species of malignant beings, called Night-washers (_Eur\ncunnerez noz_), who appear on the banks of streams, and call on the\npassers-by to aid them to wash the linen of the dead. If any one\nrefuses, they drag him into the water and break his arms.\n\nAbout Morlaix the people are afraid of evil beings they call Teurst.\nOne of these, called Teursapouliet, appears in the likeness of some\ndomestic animal.[497] In the district of Vannes is a colossal spirit\ncalled Teus,[498] or Bugelnoz, who appears clothed in white between\nmidnight and two in the morning. His office is to rescue victims from\nthe Devil. He spreads his mantle over them, and they are secure. The\nDevil comes over the ocean; but, unable to endure the look of the good\nspirit, he sinks down again, and, the object of the spirit\naccomplished, he vanishes.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[469] Po\u00e9sies de Marie de France, par De Roquefort. Paris, 1820. If any\none should suspect that these are not genuine translations from the\nBreton, his doubts will be dispelled by reading the original of the Lai\ndu Laustic in the Barzan-Breiz (i. 24) presently to be noticed.\n\n[470] See above, p. 21.\n\n[471] The Bas-Breton _Korrigan_ or _Korrigwen_ differs, as we may see,\nbut little from _Gallican_. Strabo (i. p. 304) says that Demeter and\n_Kora_ were worshipped in an island in these parts.\n\n[472] Sena is supposed to be L'Isle des Saints, nearly opposite Brest.\n\n[473] Pomp. Mela, iii. 6.\n\n[474] It might seem hardly necessary to inform the reader that these\nverses and those that follow, are our own translations, from Marie de\nFrance. Yet some have taken them for old English verses.\n\n[475]\n\n E korole nao c'horrigan,\n Bleunvek ho bleo, gwisket gloan,\n Kelc'h ar feunteun, d'al loar-gann.\n VILLEMARQU\u00c9, _Barzan-Breiz_, i. 8.\n\nThe _c'h_ expresses the guttural.\n\n[476] This manifestly alludes to Lanval or Graelent, or similar stories.\n\n[477] It follows, in M. de Roquefort's edition,\n\n \"Deci ne muez fu ou d\u00e9sis.\"\n\nOf which we can make no sense, and the French translation gives no\naid. In the Harleian MS. it is\n\n \"De cine muez fu ou de sis,\"\n\nwhich is more intelligible.\n\n[478] This tends to prove that this is a translation from the Breton;\nfor Innocent III., in whose pontificate the cup was first refused to\nthe laity, died in 1216, when Henry III., to whom Marie is supposed to\nhave dedicated her Lais, was a child.\n\n[479] The same was the case with the W\u00fcnschelweib (_Wish-woman_) of\nGerman romance.\n\n Swenne du ein\u00east w\u00fcnschest n\u00e2ch mir,\n S\u00f4 bin ich endel\u00eechen b\u00ee d\u00edr,\n\nsays the lady to the Staufenberger. She adds,\n\n W\u00e2r ich wil d\u00e2 bin ich,\n Den Wunsch h\u00e2t mir Got gegeben.\n\nHe finds it to be true,\n\n Er w\u00fbnschte nach der frouwen s\u00een,\n B\u00ee \u00eem s\u00f4 war diu sch\u00f6ne s\u00een.\n GRIMM, _Deut. Mythol._, p. 391.\n\n\n[480] In the Sh\u00e2h-n\u00e2meh, Siyawush, when he foresees his own death by\nthe treachery of Afrasi\u00e2b, tells his wife Ferengis, the daughter of\nthat monarch, that she will bear a son whom she is to name Ky Khosroo,\nand who will avenge the death of his father: see G\u00f6rres, Heldenbuch\nvon Iran, ii. 32.\n\n[481]\n\n Desi k'a une hoge vint:\n En cele hoge ot une entree.\n\nM. de Roquefort, in his Glossaire de la Langue Romaine, correctly\nrenders _hoge_ by _colline_. In his translation of this Lai he renders\nit by _cabane_, not, perhaps, understanding how a hill could be\npervious. The story, however, of Prince Ahmed, and the romance of\nOrfeo and Heurodis (see above, p. 52), are good authority on this\npoint: see also above, pp. 405, 408.\n\n[482] In the Harleian MS. Mandement. M. de Roquefort confesses his total\nignorance of this people; we follow his example. May it not, however, be\nconnected with _manant_, and merely signify people, inhabitants?\n\n[483] Roman de Roux, _v._ ii. 234.\n\n[484] See Roquefort, Suppl\u00e9ment au Glossaire de la Langue Romaine _s.\nv._ Perron.\n\n[485] Barzan-Breiz, Chants Populaires de la Bretagne, recueilles et\npubli\u00e9s par Th. Hersart de la Villemarqu\u00e9. Paris, 1846. This is a most\nvaluable work and deserving to take its place with the Ballads of\nScotland, Scandinavia, and Servia, to none of which is it inferior. To\nthe credit of France the edition which we use is the fourth. How\ndifferent would the fate of such a work be in this country!\n\n[486] We make this distinction, because in the ballads in which the\npersonage is a Fay, the word used is Korrigan or Korrig, while in that\nin which the Dwarfs are actors, the words are Korr and Korred. But the\ntruth is, they are all but different forms of Korr. They are all the\nsame, singular and plural. The Breton changes its first consonant like\nthe Irish: see p. 371. We also meet with Crion, Goric, Couril, as\nnames of these beings, but they are only forms of those given above.\n\n[487] Hence we may infer that they came originally from Scandinavia,\ncommunicated most probably by the Normans.\n\n[488] Stone-tables. They are called by the same name in Devon and\nCornwall; in Irish their appellation is Cromleach.\n\n[489] Barzan-Breiz., i. xlix. 69.\n\n[490]\n\n WELSH. BRETON.\n\n Gweliz mez ken gwelet derven, Gweliz vi ken guelet iar wenn,\n Gweliz vi ken gwelet iar wenn, Gweliz mez ken gwelet gwezen.\n Erioez ne wiliz evelhenn. Gweliz mez ha gweliz gwial,\n Gweliz derven e Koat Brezal,\n Biskoaz na weliz kemend all.\n\n[491] The tailor cries \"Shut the door! Here are the little _Duz_ of\nthe night\" (_Setu ann Duzigou nouz_), and St. Augustine (De Civ. Dei,\nc. xxiii.) speaks of \"Daemones quos _Duscios_ Galli nuncupant.\" It may\nremind us of our own word _Deuce_.\n\n[492] In the original the word is Korrigan, but see above, p. 431.\n\n[493] From an article signed H--Y in a cheap publication called Tracts\nfor the People. The writer says he heard it in the neighbourhood of\nthe Vale of Goel, and it has every appearance of being genuine.\nVillemarqu\u00e9 (i. 61) mentions the last circumstance as to the end of\nthe penance of the Korred.\n\n[494] Monumens Celtiques, p. 2. An old sailor told M. de Cambry, that\none of these stones covers an immense treasure, and that these\nthousands of them have been set up the better to conceal it. He added\nthat a calculation, the key to which was to be found in the Tower of\nLondon, would alone indicate the spot where the treasure lies.\n\n[495] For what follows we are indebted to the MS. communication of Dr.\nW. Grimm. He quotes as his authority the _Zeitung der Gesellschafter_\nfor 1826.\n\n[496] The former seems to be a house spirit, the _Goblin_, _Follet_,\nor _Lutin_ of the north of France; the latter is apparently the _Ignis\nFatuus_.\n\n[497] So the Yorkshire Bar-guest.\n\n[498] See above, p. 438.\n\n\n\n\n SOUTHERN EUROPE.\n\n O faretrate Ninfe, o agresti Pani,\n O Satiri e Silvani, o Fauni e Driadi,\n Najadi ed Amadriadi, e Semidee,\n Oreadi, e Napee, or siete sole.\n SANAZZARO.\n\n\nUnder the title of Southern Europe, we comprise Greece and those nations\nwhose languages are derived from the Latin; Italy, Spain, and France. Of\nthe Fairy-system, if there ever was one, of Portugal we have met with\nnothing, at least in the works of Camoens, Bernardes, and Lobo.\n\nThe reader will, in this part of our work, find little corresponding\nto the Gothic Dwarfs who have hitherto been our companions. The only\none of our former acquaintances that will attend us is honest\nHob-goblin, Brownie, Kobold, Nis, or however else he may style\nhimself. And it is very remarkable that we shall meet with him only in\nthose places where the Northmen, the Visigoths or other Scandinavian\ntribes settled. Whence perhaps it might be concluded that they brought\nhim with them to the South of Europe.\n\n\n\n\n GREECE.\n\n \u1f69\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u039d\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b1\n \u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c3\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd. EURIPIDES.\n\n Like a tender Nymph\n Within the dewy caves.\n\n\nThe Grecian mythology, like its kindred systems, abounded in\npersonifications.[499] Modified by scenery so beautiful, rich, and\nvarious as Hellas presented, it in general assigned the supposed\nintelligences who presided over the various parts of external nature\nmore pleasing attributes than they elsewhere enjoyed. They were mostly\nconceived to be of the female sex, and were denominated Nymphs, a word\noriginally signifying a new-married woman.\n\nWhether it be owing to soil, climate, or to an original disposition of\nmind and its organ, the Greeks have above all other people possessed a\nperception of beauty of form, and a fondness for representing it. The\nNymphs of various kinds were therefore always presented to the\nimagination, in the perfection of female youth and beauty. Under the\nvarious appellations of Oreades, Dryades, Na\u00efdes, Limniades, Nereides,\nthey dwelt in mountains, trees, springs, lakes, the sea, where, in\ncaverns and grottos, they passed a life whose occupations resembled\nthose of females of human race. The Wood-nymphs were the companions\nand attendants of the huntress goddess Artemis; the Sea-nymphs averted\nshipwreck from pious navigators; and the Spring- and River-nymphs\npoured forth fruitfulness on the earth. All of them were honoured with\nprayer and sacrifice; and all of them occasionally 'mingled in love'\nwith favoured mortals.\n\nIn the Homeric poems, the most ancient portion of Grecian literature,\nwe meet the various classes of Nymphs. In the Odyssey, they are the\nattendants of Calypso, herself a goddess and a nymph. Of the female\nattendants of Circe, the potent daughter of Helios, also designated as\na goddess and a nymph, it is said,\n\n They spring from fountains and from sacred groves,\n And holy streams that flow into the sea.\n\nYet these nymphs are of divine nature, and when Zeus, the father of\nthe gods, calls together his council,\n\n None of the streams, save Ocean, stayed away,\n Nor of the Nymphs, who dwell in beauteous groves,\n And springs of streams, and verdant grassy slades.\n\nThe good Eum\u00e6us prays to the Nymphs to speed the return of his master,\nreminding them of the numerous sacrifices Ulysses had offered to them.\nIn another part of the poem, their sacred cave is thus described:--\n\n But at the harbour's head a long-leafed olive\n Grows, and near to it lies a lovely cave,\n Dusky and sacred to the Nymphs, whom men\n Call Na\u00efdes. In it large craters lie,\n And two-eared pitchers, all of stone, and there\n Bees build their combs. In it, too, are long looms\n Of stone, and there the Nymphs do weave their robes,\n Sea-purple, wondrous to behold. Aye-flowing\n Waters are there; two entrances it hath;\n That to the north is pervious unto men;\n That to the south more sacred is, and there\n Men enter not, but 'tis the Immortals' path.\n\nYet though thus exalted in rank, the Homeric Nymphs frequently\n'blessed the bed' of heroes; and many a warrior who fought before Troy\ncould boast descent from a Na\u00efs or a Nereis.\n\nThe sweet, gentle, pious, Ocean-nymphs, who in the Prometheus of\n\u00c6schylus appear as the consolers and advisers of its dignified hero,\nseem to hold a nearly similar relation with man to the supernal gods.\nBeholding the misery inflicted on Prometheus by the power of Zeus,\nthey cry,--\n\n May never the all-ruling\n Zeus set his rival power\n Against my thoughts;\n Nor may I ever fail\n The gods, with holy feasts\n Of sacrifices, drawing near,\n Beside the ceaseless stream\n Of father Oc\u00eban:\n Nor may I err in words;\n But this abide with me\n And never fade away.\n\nOne of the most interesting species of Nymphs is the Dryads, or\nHamadryads, those personifications of the vegetable life of plants. In\nthe Homeric hymn to Aphrodit\u00e8, we find the following full and accurate\ndescription of them. Aphrodit\u00e8, when she informs Anchises of her\npregnancy, and her shame to have it known among the gods, says of the\nchild:--\n\n But him, when first he sees the sun's clear light,\n The Nymphs shall rear, the mountain-haunting Nymphs,\n Deep-bosomed, who on this mountain great\n And holy dwell, who neither goddesses\n Nor women are. Their life is long; they eat\n Ambrosial food, and with the deathless frame\n The beauteous dance. With them, in the recess\n Of lovely caves, well-spying Argos-slayer\n And the Sileni mix in love. Straight pines\n Or oaks high-headed spring with them upon\n The earth man-feeding, soon as they are born;\n Trees fair and flourishing; on the high hills\n Lofty they stand; the Deathless' sacred grove\n Men call them, and with iron never cut.\n But when the fate of death is drawing near,\n First wither on the earth the beauteous trees,\n The bark around them wastes, the branches fall,\n And the Nymph's soul at the same moment leaves\n The sun's fair light.\n\nThey possessed power to reward and punish these who prolonged or\nabridged the existence of their associate-tree. In the Argonautics of\nApollonius Rhodius, Phineus thus explains to the heroes the cause of\nthe poverty of Per\u00e6bius:--\n\n But he was paying the penalty laid on\n His father's crime; for one time, cutting trees\n Alone among the hills, he spurned the prayer\n Of the Hamadryas Nymph, who, weeping sore,\n With earnest words besought him not to cut\n The trunk of an oak tree, which, with herself\n Coeval, had endured for many a year.\n But, in the pride of youth, he foolishly\n Cut it; and to him and to his race the Nymph\n Gave ever after a lot profitless.\n\nThe Scholiast gives on this passage the following tale from Charon of\nLampsacus:\n\nA man, named Rh\u0153cus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall to the\nground, ordered his slaves to prop it. The Nymph, who had been on the\npoint of perishing with the tree, came to him and expressed her\ngratitude to him for having saved her life, and at the same time desired\nhim to ask what reward he would. Rh\u0153cus then requested her to permit\nhim to be her lover, and the Nymph acceded to his wishes. She at the\nsame time charged him strictly to avoid the society of every other\nwoman, and told him that a bee should be her messenger. One time the bee\nhappened to come to Rh\u0153cus as he was playing at draughts, and he made a\nrough reply. This so incensed the Nymph that she deprived him of sight.\n\nSimilar was the fate of the Sicilian Daphnis.[500] A Na\u00efs loved him\nand forbade him to hold intercourse with any other woman under pain of\nloss of sight. Long he abstained, though tempted by the fairest maids\nof Sicily. At length a princess contrived to intoxicate him: he broke\nhis vow, and the threatened penalty was inflicted.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[499] See our Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, where (p. 237)\nmost of what follows will be found, with notes.\n\n[500] Parthenius Erotica, chap. xxix.\n\n\n\n\n ITALY.\n\n Faune Nympharum fugientum amator,\n Per meos fines et aprica rura\n Lenis incedas, abeasque parvis\n \u00c6quus alumnis.\n HORATIUS.\n\n\nUnfortunately for our knowledge of the ancient Italian mythology, the\nballad-poetry of Rome is irrecoverably lost. A similar fate has\nbefallen the literature of Etruria, Umbria, and other parts of the\npeninsula. The powerful influence exercised by Grecian genius over the\nconquerors of the Grecian states utterly annihilated all that was\nnational and domestic in literature. Not but that Latin poetry abounds\nin mythologic matter; but it is the mythology of Greece, not of Italy;\nand the reader of Virgil and Ovid will observe with surprise how\nlittle of what he meets in their works is Italian.\n\nSo much however of the population of ancient Italy, particularly of\nLatium, was Pelasgian, that it is natural to suppose a great\nsimilarity between the religious systems of Latium and Hellas. The\nLatins do not, however, appear to have believed in choirs of Nymphs.\nThose we read of, such as Egeria, Anna Perenna, Juturna, are all\nsolitary, all dwellers of fountains, streams, and lakes. The Italian\nDiana did not, like the Grecian Artemis, speed over the mountains\nattended by a train of buskined nymphs. No Dryads sought to avert the\nfate of their kindred trees--no Nereides sported on the waves.\n\nDwarfish deities they had none. We are indeed told of the Lars,\nparticularly the rural Lars, as answering to the Gothic Dwarfs; but no\nproofs are offered except the diminutive size of their statues. This\nwe hold to amount to nothing. Are we to suppose the following lines of\nPlautus to have been delivered by an \"eyas?\"\n\n Lest any marvel who I am, I shall\n Briefly declare it. I am the family Lar\n Of this house whence you see me coming out.\n 'Tis many years now that I keep and guard\n This family; both father and grandsire\n Of him that has it now, I aye protected.\n Now his grandsire intrusted me a treasure\n Of gold, that I, unknown to all, should keep it.\n\n * * * * *\n\n He has one daughter, who, each day with wine\n Or incense, or with something, worships me.\n She gives me crowns, and I in recompense\n Have now made Euclio find the treasure out,\n That if he will, he may more readily\n Get her a match.[501]\n\nThe Lars were a portion of the Etrurian religion. The Etruscan word\nLar signifies Lord, with which it has a curious but casual\nresemblance.[502] The Lars were regarded, like the Grecian heroes, as\nbeing the souls of men who, after death, still hovered about their\nformer abodes, averting dangers from, and bestowing blessings on, the\ninhabitants. They differed from the Penates, who were, properly\nspeaking, Gods, beings of a higher nature, personifications of\nnatural powers, the givers of abundance and wealth.\n\nThe old Italians, it appears, believed in a being, we know not of what\nsize, called an Incubo, that watched over treasure. \"But what they say\nI know not,\" says Petronius,[503] \"but I have heard how he snatched\nthe cap of an Incubo and found a treasure.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nRespecting the Fairy mythology of the modern Italians, what we have\nbeen able to collect is very little.\n\nThe people of Naples, we are told,[504] believe in a being very much\nresembling the Incubo, whom they call the Monaciello, or Little Monk.\nThey describe him as a short, thick kind of little man, dressed in the\nlong garments of a monk, with a broad-brimmed hat. He appears to\npeople in the dead of the night, and beckons to them to follow him. If\nthey have courage to do so, he leads them to some place where treasure\nis concealed. Several are said to have made sudden fortunes through\nhim. In the Neapolitan story-book, named the Pentamerone, of which we\nshall presently give an account, we meet with a Monaciello of a very\ndifferent character from this guardian of hidden treasure.\n\nIn the second tale of the first day of that work, when the prince in\nthe night heard the noise made by the Fairy in his room, \"he thought\nit was some chamber-boy coming to lighten his purse for him, or some\nMonaciello to pull the clothes off him.\" And in the seventh tale of\nthe third day of the same collection, when Corvetto had hidden himself\nunder the Ogre's[505] bed to steal his quilt, \"he began to pull quite\ngently, when the Ogre awoke, and bid his wife not to pull the clothes\nthat way, or she'd strip him, and he would get his death of cold.\"\n\"Why, it's you that are stripping me,\" replied the Ogress, \"and you\nhave not left a stitch on me.\" \"Where the devil is the quilt?\" says\nthe Ogre; and putting his hand to the ground, he happened to touch the\nface of Corvetto, and immediately began to shout out, \"The Monaciello,\nthe Monaciello, hola! candles! run, run!\" Corvetto, meanwhile, got off\nwith his prize through the window.[506]\n\nIt is quite clear that the Monaciello is the same kind of being as the\nHouse-spirit of the Gotho-German nations. He seems to belong\npeculiarly to Naples, for we have not heard of him in any other part\nof Italy. Now we are to recollect that this was the very place in\nwhich the Normans settled, and so he may be their Nis or Kobold;[507]\nor, as he is so very like the Spanish Duende, he may be that being\nintroduced by the Aragonese, who seem to have exercised so much\ninfluence over the language and manners of the people of Naples.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe belief in Mermaids also prevailed in modern Italy. In the reign of\nRoger, king of Sicily, a young man happening to be bathing in the sea\nlate in the evening, perceived that something was following him.\nSupposing it to be one of his companions, he caught it by the hair,\nand dragged it on shore. But finding it to be a maiden of great beauty\nand of most perfect form, he threw his cloak about her, and took her\nhome, where she continued with him till they had a son. There was one\nthing however which greatly grieved him, which was the reflection that\nso beautiful a form should be dumb, for he had never heard her speak.\nOne day he was reproached by one of his companions, who said that it\nwas a spectre, and not a real woman, that he had at home: being both\nangry and terrified, he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, and\nurged her with vehemence to tell him who or what she was, threatening\nif she did not do so, to kill the child before her eyes. The spirit\nonly saying, that he had lost a good wife by forcing her to speak,\ninstantly vanished, leaving her son behind. A few years after, as the\nboy was playing on the sea-shore with his companions, the spirit his\nmother dragged him into the sea, where he was drowned.[508]\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe now come to the Fate of romance and tale.\n\nThe earliest notice that we can recollect to have seen of these potent\nladies is in the Orlando Innamorato, where we meet the celebrated Fata\nMorgana, who would at first appear to be, as a personification of\nFortune, a being of a higher order.\n\n Ivi \u00e8 una fata nomata Morgana,\n Che a le genti diverse dona l'oro;\n Quanto e per tutto il mondo or se ne spande\n Convien che ad essa prima si dimande.\n L. I. c. xxv. st. 5. ed. 1831.\n\nBut we afterwards find her in her proper station, subject, with the\nFate and Witches, to the redoubtable Demogorgon.[509] When Orlando, on\ndelivering Zilante from her, makes her swear by that awful power, the\npoet says:\n\n Sopra ogni fata \u00e8 quel Demogorgone\n (Non so se mai l'odiste raccontare)\n E giudica tra loro e fa ragione,\n E quel che piace a lui pu\u00f2 di lor fare.\n La notte si cavalea ad un montone,\n Travarca le montagne e passa il mare,\n E _strigie_, e _fate_, e fantasime vane\n Batte con serpi vive ogni dimane.\n\n Se le ritrova la dimane al mondo,\n Perch\u00e8 non ponno al giorno comparire,\n Tanto le batte al colpo furibondo\n Che volentier vorrien poter morire.\n Or le incatena gi\u00f9 nel mar profondo,\n Or sopra il vento scalze la fa gire,\n Or per il fuoco dietro a s\u00e8 le mena;\n A cui d\u00e0 questa, a cui quell' altra pena.\n L. II. c. xiii. st. 27, 28.\n\nAccording to Ariosto,[510] Demogorgon has a splendid temple palace in\nthe Himalaya mountains, whither every fifth year the Fate are all\nsummoned to appear before him, and give an account of their actions.\nThey travel through the air in various strange conveyances, and it is\nno easy matter to distinguish between their convention and a Sabbath\nof the Witches.\n\nWe meet with another Fata in Bojardo,[511] the beautiful Silvanella, who\nraised a tomb over Narcissus, and then dissolved away into a fountain.\n\nWhen Brandamarte opens the magnificent tomb and kisses the hideous\nserpent that thrusts out its head, it gradually becomes a beautiful\nmaiden.\n\n Questa era Febosilla quella fata,\n Che edificato avea l'alto palaccio\n E'l bel giardino e quella sepoltura,\n Ove un gran tempo \u00e8 stata in pena dura.\n\n Perch\u00e8 una fata non pu\u00f2 morir mai,\n Sin che non giunge il giorno del giudizio,\n Ma ben ne la sua forma dura assai,\n Mill' anni o pi\u00f9, s\u00ec come io aggio indizio.\n Poi (siccome di questa io vi contai\n Qual fabbricato avea il bell' edifizio)\n In serpe si tramuta e stavvi tanto\n Che di baciarla alcun si doni il vanto.\n L. II. c. xxvi. st. 14, 15\n\nThe other Fate who appear in this poem are Le Fate Nera and Bianca,\nthe protectresses of Guidone and Aquilante; the Fata della Fonte, from\nwhom Mandricardo obtains the arms of Hector, and finally Alcina, the\nsister of Morgana, who carries off Astolfo. Dragontina and Falerina,\nthe owners of such splendid gardens, may also have been Fate, though\nthey are not called so by the poet.\n\nAlcina re-appears in great splendour in the Orlando Furioso, where\nshe is given a sister named Logistilla, and both, like Morgana in the\npreceding poem, are in a great measure allegorical. We also obtain\nthere a glimpse of the White and Black Fate. The Maga Manto of Dante\nbecomes here a Fata, and we meet her in the form of a serpent; to\naccount for which she says,\n\n Nascemmo ad un punto che d' ogni altro male\n Siamo capaci fuor che della morte.\n Ma giunta \u00e8 con questo essere immortale\n Condizion non men del morir forte;\n Ch' ogni settimo giorno ognuna \u00e8 certa\n Che la sua forma in biscia si converta.\n C. xliii. st. 98.\n\nElsewhere (x. 52) the poet tells us that\n\n Morir non puote alcuna fata mai\n Fin che il Sol gira, o il ciel non muta stilo.\n\nIn the Amadigi of Bernardo Tasso the Fate appear for the last time in\nItalian poetry;[512] but in greater number, and, we may say, greater\nsplendour than elsewhere. There are two classes of them, the beneficent\nand protective, and the seductive and injurious. The terms Maga and\nIncantatrice, as well as Fata, are applied to them all indifferently.\nThe good Fairy-ladies are Urganda, termed _La savia_ and _La\nsconosciuta_,[513] the guardian of Amadigi, and the fair Oriana; Silvana\nor Silvanella who stands in a similar relation to Alidoro; Lucina, also\nnamed La Donna del Lago, another protectress of Alidoro and of his\nlady-love, the fair warrior Mirinda, sister of Amadigi; Eufrosina, the\nsister of Lucina; Argea, called La Reina della Fate, the protectress of\nFloridante, to whom, after making him undergo various trials, she gives\nher daughter Filidora in marriage; finally, Argea's sister Filidea. The\nFate whose character resembles that of Alcina are Morganetta, Nivetta,\nand Carvilia, the three daughters of Morgana. Beside these then are two\nFate of neutral character, Dragontina, who formed a palace, temple and\ngardens, in which, at the desire of her father, she enchanted a young\nprince and his wife; and Montana, who, to avenge the fate of her lover,\nslain by Alidoro, enchanted that warrior in a temple which she had\nraised to the memory of the fallen.[514]\n\n Ma veggiam ch' io non stessi troppo a bada\n Con queste Alcine e Morgane.\n\nThe earliest collections of European Fairy-tales in prose belong to\nItaly. In 1550, Straparola, a native of Caravaggio, in the Milanese,\npublished at Venice his Notti Piacevoli, a collection of tales, jokes,\nand riddles, of which several, and those the best, are Fairy-tales.\nThese were translated into French in 1560-76, and seem to have been the\norigin of the so well known Contes des Fe\u00e9s. Perrault's Puss in Boots\n(_Le Chat Bott\u00e9_,) and the Princess Fairstar (_Belle Etoile_,) and many\nothers of Madame D'Aulnoy's, who borrowed largely from the Notti\nPiacevoli, are to be found in Straparola. In 1637, eighty-seven years\nafter the Notti Piacevoli appeared at Naples, and in the Neapolitan\ndialect, the Pentamerone, the best collection of Fairy-tales ever\nwritten.[515] The author, Giambattista Basile,[516] had spent his youth\nin Candia, and then passed several years rambling through Italy. He\nseems to have carefully treasured up all the tales he heard, and he\nwrote and published them, under the feigned name of Gian Alesio\nAbbatutis, in his native dialect, not long before his death.\n\nIn the Tales and Popular Fictions we gave some translations from the\nNotti Piacevoli, the only ones in English, and they will probably\nremain such, as the work is not one likely ever to be translated. In\nthe same work we gave two from the Pentamerone, and three (the Dragon,\nGagliuso, and the Goatface) in the former edition of the present work.\nMost certainly we were the first to render any of these curious tales\ninto English, and we look back with a mixture of pleasure and surprise\nat our success in the unaided struggle with an idiom so different from\nthe classic Italian.[517] We fancied that we had been the first to\nmake translations from it into any language, but we afterwards learned\nthat of the two tales in our other work, the one, Peruonto, had been\ntranslated into French (probably by the Abb\u00e9 Galiani) for the Cabinet\ndes F\u00e9es, the other, the Serpent into German, by M. Grimm.[518] Of\nlate, this most original work has been brought within the reach of\nordinary readers by two translations, the one in German by Felix\nLiebrecht, who has given the work complete with few omissions; the\nother in English by Mr. J. E. Taylor, who has made a selection of\nthirty tales, and these most carefully expurgated, in order that\nagreeably to its second title, it might form a book of amusement even\nfor children--a most difficult task, and in which his success has been\nfar greater than might have been anticipated. All our own translations\nhave been incorporated in it, and we can safely refer to it those who\nwish to know the real character and nature of the Pentamerone.\n\nWhatever name Basile might give his book it is quite plain that he\nnever could have meant it merely for children. The language alone is\nproof enough on that head. It is, besides, full of learned allusions\nand of keen satire, so that it could only be understood and relished\nby grown persons, for whose amusement it was apparently designed; and\nits tales are surely not much more extravagant than some of those in\nAriosto and the other romantic poets. It in fact never was a child's\nbook like the Contes de ma M\u00e8re l' Oie. It has now become very scarce;\nwe could not at Naples meet with a copy of it, or even with any one\nwho had read it.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[501] Aulularia, Prologue.\n\n[502] See our Mythology of Greece and Italy, p. 543; and our Ovid's\nFasti, Excursus iv.\n\n[503] Satyricon, ch. 38. _Sunt qui eundem_ (Hercules) _Incubonem esse\nvelint_. Schol. Hor. Sat. ii. 6, 13.\n\n[504] Viessieux, Italy and the Italians, vol. i. pp. 161, 162.\n\n[505] _L'huorco_, the Orco of Bojardo and Ariosto, probably derived\nfrom the Latin Orcus: see Mythol. of Greece and Italy, p. 527. In this\nderivation we find that we had been anticipated by Minucci in his\nnotes on the Malmantile Racquistato, c. ii. st. 50.\n\nIn a work, from which we have derived some information (Lettres sur les\nContes des F\u00e9es, Paris, 1826), considerable pains are taken, we think to\nlittle purpose, to deduce the French Ogre from the O\u00efgours, a Tartar\ntribe, who with the other tribes of that people invaded Europe in the\ntwelfth century. In the Glossaire de la Langue Romaine, Ogre is\nexplained by Hongrois. Any one, however, that reads the Pentamerone will\nsee that the ugly, cruel, man-eating Huorco is plainly an Ogre; and\nthose expert at the _tours de passe passe_ of etymology will be at no\nloss to deduce Ogre from Orco. See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 223.\n\n[506] In another of these tales, it is said of a young man, who, on\nbreaking open a cask, found a beautiful maiden in it, that he stood\nfor a while _comme o chillo che ha visto lo Monaciello_.\n\n[507] See Tales and Popular Fictions, chap. ix. p. 269; see also\n_Spain_ and _France_.\n\n[508] Vincentius apud Kornmann, _de Miraculis Vivorum_.\n\n[509] This being, unknown to classic mythology, is first mentioned by\nLactantius. It was probably from Boccaccio's Genealogia Deorum that\nBojardo got his knowledge of him.\n\n[510] I Cinque Canti, c. i. st. l. _seq._\n\n[511] Lib. II. xvii. 56, _seq._\n\n[512] There is, however, a Maga or Fata named Falsirena in the Adone\nof Marini.\n\n[513] La Sabia and La Desconocida of the original romance, which Tasse\nfollows very closely in everything relating to Amadis and Oriana.\n\n[514] Few of our readers, we presume, are acquainted with this poem, and\nthey will perhaps be surprised to learn that it is, after the Furioso,\nthe most beautiful romantic poem in the Italian language, graceful and\nsweet almost to excess. It is strange that it should be neglected in\nItaly also. One cause may be its length (One Hundred Cantos), another\nthe constant and inartificial breaking off of the stories, and perhaps\nthe chief one, its serious moral tone so different from that of Ariosto.\nIt might be styled The Legend of Constancy, for the love of its heroes\nand heroines is proof against all temptations. Mr. Panizzi's charge of\nabounding in scandalous stories, is not correct, for it is in reality\nmore delicate than even the Faerie Queene. Ginguen\u00e9, who admired it,\nappreciates it far more justly.\n\n[515] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 183. The Pentamerone we may\nobserve, was not a title given to it by the author; in like manner the\nonly title Fielding gave his great work was The History of a Foundling.\n\n[516] He was brother to Adriana and uncle to Leonora Baroni, the\nladies whose musical talents Milton celebrates.\n\n[517] Ex. gr. Fiume is _shiume_; Fiore, _shiure_; Piaggia, _chiaja_;\nPiombo, _chiummo_; Biondo, _ghiunno_. There are likewise numerous\nHispanicisms. Thus _gaiola_ in Gagliuso which we all rendered\n_coffin_, is the Spanish _jaula_, cage, and the meaning apparently is\nthat he would have the cat stuffed and put in a glass-case; in like\nmanner calling the eyes suns (as in _na bellezza a doje sole_) occurs\nin the plays of Calderon.\n\n[518] In the Taschenbuch f\u00fcr altdeutscher Zeit und Kunst, 1816.\n\n\n\n\n SPAIN.\n\n Duendecillo, duendecillo,\n Quien quiera que seas \u00f3 fueras,\n El dinero que t\u00fa das\n En lo que mandares vuelve.\n CALDERON, _La Dama Duende_.\n\n\nWhen we inquired after the fairy-system of Spain, we were told that\nthere was no such thing, for that the Inquisition had long since\neradicated all such ideas. Most certainly we would not willingly be\nregarded as partisans of the Holy Office, yet still we must express our\ndoubt of the truth of this charge. In Se\u00f1or Llorente's work, as far as\nwe can recollect, there is no account of prosecutions for Duende-heresy;\nand even to the Holy Office we should give its due. Still, with all our\ndiligence, our collection of Iberian fairy-lore is extremely scanty.\n\nOur earliest authority for Spain, as for other countries, is the\ncelebrated marshall of Champagne, Gervase of Tilbury, who thus\nrelates:--\n\n\n _The Daughter of Peter De Cabinam._\n\nIn the bishoprick of Gerunda (_i. e._ Gerona), and the province of\nCatalonia, stands a mountain which the natives call Convagum. It is\nvery steep, and on its summit is a lake of dark water, so deep that\nit cannot be fathomed. The abode of the Demons is in this lake; and if\na stone, or anything else, be thrown into it, there rises from it an\nawful tempest.\n\nNot far from this mountain, in a village named Junchera, lived a man\nnamed Peter de Cabinam, who being one day annoyed by the crying of his\nlittle girl, wished in his anger that the Demons might fetch her away.\nThe child instantly vanished--snatched away by invisible hands--and was\nseen no more. Time passed on; and it was seven years after this event,\nwhen a man belonging to the village, as he was one day rambling about\nthe foot of the mountain, met a man weeping bitterly, and bewailing his\nhard fate. On inquiry, he said that he had now been seven years in the\nmountain under the power of the Demons, who employed him as a beast of\nburden. He added, that there was also a girl in the mountain, the\ndaughter of Peter de Cabinam of Junchera, a servant like himself; but\nthat they were tired of her, and would restore her to her father if he\ncame to claim her. When this information came to Peter de Cabinam, he\nforthwith ascended the mountain, and going to the edge of the lake, he\nbesought the Demons to give him back his child. Like a sudden gust of\nwind she came, tall in stature, but wasted and dirty, her eyes rolling\nwildly, and her speech inarticulate. The father, not knowing what to do\nwith her, applied to the Bishop of Gerunda, who took this opportunity of\nedifying his people by exhibiting the girl to them, and warning them\nagainst the danger of wishing that the Demons had their children. Some\ntime after the man also was released, and from him the people learned\nthat at the bottom of the lake there was a large palace, with a wide\ngate, to which palace the Demons repaired from all parts of the world,\nand which no one could enter but themselves, and those they brought\nthither.[519]\n\n\n _Origin of the House of Haro._\n\nAs Don Diego Lopez, lord of Biscay, was one day lying in wait for the\nwild boar, he heard the voice of a woman who was singing. On looking\naround, he beheld on the summit of a rock a damsel, exceedingly\nbeautiful, and richly attired. Smitten with her charms, he proffered\nher his hand. In reply, she assured him that she was of high descent,\nbut frankly accepted his proffered hand; making, however, one\ncondition--he was never to pronounce a holy name. Tradition says that\nthe fair bride had only one defect, which was, that one of her feet\nwas like that of a goat. Diego Lopez, however, loved her well, and she\nbore him two children, a daughter, and a son named Iniguez Guerra.\n\nNow it happened one day, as they were sitting at dinner, that the lord\nof Biscay threw a bone to the dogs, and a mastiff and a spaniel\nquarrelled about it, and the spaniel griped the mastiff by the throat,\nand throttled him. \"Holy Mary!\" exclaimed Don Diego, \"who ever saw the\nlike?\" Instantly the lady caught hold of the hands of her children;\nDiego seized and held the boy, but the mother glided through the air\nwith the daughter, and sought again the mountains whence she had come.\nDiego remained alone with his son; and some years after, when he\ninvaded the lands of the Moors, he was made captive by them, and led\nto Toledo. Iniguez Guerra, who was now grown up, was greatly grieved\nat the captivity of his father, and the men of the land told him that\nhis only hope was to find his mother, and obtain her aid. Iniguez made\nno delay; he rode alone to the well-known mountains, and when he\nreached them, behold! his fairy-mother stood there before him on the\nsummit of a rock. \"Come unto me,\" said she, \"for well do I know thy\nerrand.\" And she called to her Pardalo, the horse that ran without a\nrider in the mountains, and she put a bridle into his mouth, and bade\nIniguez mount him, and told him that he must not give him either food\nor water, or unsaddle or unbridle him, or put shoes upon his feet, and\nthat in one day the demon-steed would carry him to Toledo. And Iniguez\nobeyed the injunctions of his mother, and succeeded in liberating his\nfather; but his mother never returned.[520]\n\nIn the large collection of Spanish ballads named El Romancero\nCastellano, the only one that treats of fairy-lore is the following,\nwhich tells of the enchantment of the King of Castille's daughter by\nseven fairies,[521] for a period of seven years. It is of the same\ncharacter as the fairy-tales of France and Italy.\n\n\n _La Infantine._\n\n \u00c1 cazar va el caballero,\n \u00c1 cazar como solia.--\n Los perros lleva cansados,\n El falcon perdido avia.\n\n Arrimarase \u00e1 un roble,\n Alto es \u00e1 maravilla,\n En un ramo mas alto\n Viera estar una Infantina.\n\n Cabellos de su cabeza\n Todo aquel roble cobrian;\n \"No te espantes, caballero\n Ni tengas tama\u00f1a grima.\n\n \"Hija soy del buen rey\n Y de la reina de Castilla;\n Siete fadas me fadaron,[522]\n En brazos de una ama mia,\n\n \"Que andase los siete a\u00f1os\n Sola en esta montina.[523]\n Hoy se cumplan los a\u00f1os\n O ma\u00f1ana, en aquel dia.\n\n \"Por Dios te ruego, caballero\n Llevesme en tu compa\u00f1ia,\n Si quisieres por muger,\n Si no sea por amiga.\"\n\n \"Espereis me vos, se\u00f1ora,\n Esta ma\u00f1ana, aquel dia;\n Ir\u00e9 yo tomar consejo\n De una madre que tenia.\"\n\n La ni\u00f1a le respondiera,\n Y estas palabras, decia:\n \"O mal haya el caballero\n Que sola deja la ni\u00f1a!\"\n\n El se va \u00e1 tomar consejo,\n Y ella queda en la montina.\n Aconsej\u00f3le su madre\n Que la tomase por amiga.\n\n Quando volvi\u00f3 el caballero\n No la hallara en la montina.\n Vi\u00f3 la que la llevaban,\n Com muy grande caballeria.\n\n El caballero, que lo ha visto,\n En el suelo se caia.\n Desque en si hubo tornado\n Estas palabras decia:\n\n \"Caballero que tal pierde\n Muy grandes penas merecia.\n Yo mismo ser\u00e9 el alcalde,\n Yo me ser\u00e9 la justicia,\n Que me cortan pies y manos,\n Y me arrastran por la villa.\"[524]\n\n\n _Pepito el Corcovado._\n\nPepito el Corcovado,[525] a gay lively little hunchback, used to gain\nhis living by his voice and his guitar; for he was a general favourite,\nand was in constant request at weddings and other festivities. He was\ngoing home one night from one of these festive occasions, being under\nengagement for another in the morning, and, as it was in the celebrated\nSierra Morena, he contrived to lose his way. After trying in vain to\nfind it, he wrapped his cloak about him, and lay down for the night at\nthe foot of a cork-tree. He had hardly, however, gone to sleep, when he\nwas awakened by the sound of a number of little voices singing to an old\nair with which he was well acquainted,\n\n Lunes y Martes y Miercoles tres\n\nover and over again. Deeming this to be imperfect, he struck in, adding,\n\n Jueves y Viernes y Sabado seis.\n\nThe little folk were quite delighted, and for hours the mountain rang\nwith\n\n Lunes y Martes y Miercoles tres,\n Jueves y Viernes y Sabado seis.\n\n Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday three,\n Thursday and Friday and Saturday, six.\n\n\nThey finally crowded round Pepito, and bade him ask what he would for\nhaving completed their song so beautifully. After a little\nconsideration, he begged to have his hump removed. So said so done, he\nwas in an instant one of the straightest men in all Spain. On his\nreturn home, every one was amazed at the transformation. The story\nsoon got wind, and another hunchback, named Cirillo, but unlike\nPepito, as crooked in temper as in person, having learned from him\nwhere the scene of his adventure lay, resolved to proceed thither and\ntry his luck. He accordingly reached the spot, sat under the\ncork-tree, and saw and heard all that Pepito had heard and seen. He\nresolved also to add to the song, and he struck in with \"Y Domingo\nsiete\" (_and Sunday seven_); but whether it was the breach of rhythm,\nor the mention of the Lord's Day that gave offence, he was instantly\nassailed with a shower of blows or pinches, and to make his calamity\nthe greater, Pepito's hump was added to his own.[526]\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe thus may see that there are beings in Spain also answering to the\nvarious classes of Fairies. But none of these have obtained the same\ndegree of reputation as the House-spirit, whose Spanish name is Duende\nor Trasgo. In Torquemada's Spanish Mandeville, as the old English\nversion of it is named, there is a section devoted to the Duende, in\nwhich some of his feats, such as pelting people with stones, clay, and\nsuch like, are noticed, and in the last century the learned Father\nFeijoo wrote an essay on Duendes,[527] _i.e._ on House-spirits; for he\nsays little of the proper Spanish Duende, and his examples are H\u00f6diken\nand the Kobolds, of which he had read in Agricola and other writers.\nOn the whole, perhaps, the best account of the Duende will be found in\nCalderon's spritely comedy, named La Dama Duende.\n\nIn this piece, when Cosme, who pretends that he had seen the Duende\nwhen he put out his candle, is asked by his master what he was like,\nhe replies:\n\n Era un fraile\n Tama\u00f1ito, y tenia puesto\n Un cucurucho tama\u00f1o;\n Que por estas se\u00f1as creo\n Que era duende capuchino.\n\nThis _cucurucho_ was a long conical hat without a brim worn by the\nclergy in general, and not by the Capuchins alone. A little before,\nCosme, when seeking to avert the appearance of the Duende, recites the\nfollowing lines, which have the appearance of being formed from some\npopular charm against the House-spirit:\n\n Se\u00f1ora dama duende,\n Duelase de mi;\n Que soy ni\u00f1o y solo,\n Y nunca en tal me v\u00ed.\n\nIn De Solis' very amusing comedy of Un Bobo hace Ciento, Do\u00f1a Ana\nmakes the following extremely pretty application of the popular idea\nof the Duende:\n\n Yo soy, don Luis, una dama\n Que no conozco este duende\n Del amor, si no es por fama.\n\nIn another of his plays (_El Amor al Uso_), a lady says:\n\n Amor es duende importuno\n Que al mundo asombrando trae;\n Todos dicen que le ay,\n Y no le ha visto ninguno.\n\nThe lines from Calderon prefixed to this section of our work, show\nthat money given by the Duende was as unsubstantial as fairy-money in\ngeneral. This is confirmed by Don Quixote, who tells his rather\ncovetous squire, that \"los tesoros de los caballeros andantes son,\ncomo los de los Duendes, aparentes y falsos.\"\n\nThe Spaniards seem also to agree with the people of other countries in\nregarding the Fairies as being fallen angels. One of their most\ncelebrated poets thus expresses himself:\n\n Disputase por hombres entendidos\n Si fu\u00e9 de _los caidos_ este duende.\n\nSome Spanish etymologists say that Duende is a contraction of _Due\u00f1o\nde casa_; others, that it comes from the Arabic _D\u00fbar_, (dwelling) the\nterm used for the Arab camps on the north-coast of Africa. To us it\nappears more probable that the Visigoths brought their ancient popular\ncreed with them to Spain[528] also, and that as Duerg became Drac in\nProvence, it was converted into Duende in Spain.[529] It is further\nnot quite impossible that Duerg may be also the original of Trasgo, a\nword for which we believe no etymon has been proposed.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[519] Otia Imperialia, p. 982. The Demons must have been some kind of\nfairies: see above, p. 4.\n\n[520] Related by Sir Francis Palgrave, but without giving any\nauthority, in the Quarterly Review, vol. xxii. See _France_.\n\n[521] In Don Quixote (part i. chap. 50) we read of \"los siete\ncastillos de las siete Fadas\" beneath the lake of boiling pitch, and\nof the fair princess who was enchanted in one of them.\n\n[522] _Fada_ is certainly the elided part. of this verb, for the Latin\nmode of elision (see above p. 7.) was retained in Spanish as well as\nItalian. Thus _quedo_, _junto_, _harto_, _marchito_, _vacio_,\n_enjuto_, _violento_, &c., come from _quedar_, _juntar_, _hartar_, &c.\nAs the Spanish, following the Latin, also frequently uses the past as\na present participle, as _un hombre atrevido_, \"a daring man;\" and the\nsame appears to take place in Italian, as _un huomo accorto_,\n_saputo_, _avveduto_, _dispietato_; and even in French, as _un homme\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chi_, _d\u00e9sesp\u00e9r\u00e9_; may we not say that _fada_, _fata_, _f\u00e9e_, is\nenchant_ing_ rather than enchant_ed_?\n\n[523] _Montina_ is a small wood.\n\n[524] Romancero Castellano por Depping, ii. p. 198, 2nd edit. A\ntranslation of this romance will be found in Thoms's Lays and Legends\nof Spain.\n\n[525] _i. e._ Joey the Hunchback. Pepito is the dim. of Pepe, _i. e._\nJos\u00e9, Joseph.\n\n[526] See Thoms's Lays and Legends of Spain, p. 83. It was related, he\nsays, to a friend of his by the late Sir John Malcolm, who had heard it\nin Spain. It is also briefly related (probably on the same authority) in\nthe Quarterly Review, vol. xxii. (see above pp. 364, 438). Redi, in his\nLetters, gives another form of it, in which the scene is at Benevento,\nthe agents are witches, and the hump is taken off, _senza verun suo\ndolor_, with a saw of butter. _Y Domingo siete_ is, we are told, a\ncommon phrase when any thing is said or done _mal \u00e0 propos_.\n\n[527] Teatro Critico, tom. ii. His object is to disprove their\nexistence, and he very justly says that the Duende was usually a knavish\nservant who had his own reasons for making a noise and disturbing the\nfamily. This theory will also explain the Duende-tales of Torquemada.\n\n[528] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 269.\n\n[529] The change of _r_ and _n_ is not without examples. Thus we have\n\u03b1\u03c1\u03b3\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd and _argentum_; _water_, English; _vand_, Danish; _vatn_,\nSwedish. _Cristofero_ is _Cristofano_ in Tuscan; _homine_, _nomine_,\n_sanguine_, are _hombre_, _nombre_, _sangre_, Spanish. In _Duerg_ when\n_r_ became _n_, euphony changed _g_ to _d_, or _vice vers\u00e2_. The\nchanges words undergo when the derivation is certain, are often\ncurious. _Alguacil_, Spanish, is _El-wezeer_ Arab, as _Azucena_\nSpanish, _Cecem_ Portuguese (white-lily) is _S\u00fbsan_ Arab; _Guancia_\n(cheek) Italian, is _Wange_ German; \u039d\u03b1\u03c5\u03c0\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 has become _L\u00e9panto_. It\nmight not be safe to assert that the Persian _gurk_ and our _wolf_ are\nthe same, and yet the letters in them taken in order are all\ncommutable. Our _God be with you_ has shrunk to _Goodbye_, and the\nSpanish _Vuestra merced_ to _Usted_, pr. _Ust\u00e9_. There must, by the\nway, some time or other, have been an intimate connexion between Spain\nand England, so many of our familiar words seem to have a Spanish\norigin. Thus _ninny_ is from _ni\u00f1o_; _booby_ from _bobo_; _pucker_\nfrom _puchero_; _launch_ (a boat) from _lancha_; and perhaps _monkey_\n(if not from _mannikin_) from _mono_, _monico_. We pronounce our\n_colonel_ like the Spanish _coronel_.\n\n\n\n\n FRANCE.\n\n Pourquoi faut-il s'\u00e9merveiller\n Que la raison la mieux sens\u00e9e,\n Lasse souvent de veiller,\n Par des contes d'ogre et de f\u00e9e\n Ingenieusement berc\u00e9e,\n Prenne plaisir \u00e0 sommeiller?\n PERRAULT.\n\nThe Fairy mythology of France may be divided, as respects its locality,\ninto two parts, that of Northern and that of Southern France, the Langue\nd'Oil and the Langue d'Oc. We will commence with the latter, as adjacent\nto Spain. Of its mythology, Gervase of Tilbury, who resided in the\nkingdom of Arles, has left us some interesting particulars, and other\nauthorities enable us to trace it down to the present day. Speaking of\nthe inhabitants of Arles, Gervase thus expresses himself:\n\n\"They also commonly assert, that the Dracs assume the human form, and\ncome early into the public market-place without any one being thereby\ndisturbed. These, they say, have their abode in the caverns of rivers,\nand occasionally, floating along the stream in the form of gold rings or\ncups, entice women or boys who are bathing on the banks of the river;\nfor, while they endeavour to grasp what they see, they are suddenly\nseized and dragged down to the bottom: and this, they say, happens to\nnone more than to suckling women, who are taken by the Dracs to rear\ntheir unlucky offspring; and sometimes, after they have spent seven\nyears there, they return to our hemisphere. These women say that they\nlived with the Dracs and their wives in ample palaces, in the caverns\nand banks of rivers. We have ourselves seen one of these women, who was\ntaken away while washing clothes on the banks of the Rhone. A wooden\nbowl floated along by her, and, in endeavouring to catch it, having got\nout into the deep water, she was carried down by a Drac, and made nurse\nto his son below the water. She returned uninjured, and was hardly\nrecognised by her husband and friends after seven years' absence.\n\n\"After her return she related very wonderful things, such as that the\nDracs lived on people they had carried off, and turned themselves into\nhuman forms; and she said that one day, when the Drac gave her an\neel-pasty to eat, she happened to put her fingers, that were greasy\nwith the fat, to one of her eyes and one side of her face, and she\nimmediately became endowed with most clear and distinct vision under\nthe water. When the third year of her time was expired, and she had\nreturned to her family, she very early one morning met the Drac in the\nmarket-place of Beaucaire. She knew him at once, and saluting him,\ninquired about the health of her mistress and the child. To this the\nDrac replied, 'Harkye,' said he, 'with which eye do you see me?' She\npointed to the eye she had touched with the fat: the Drac immediately\nthrust his finger into it, and he was no longer visible to any\none.\"[530]\n\n * * * * *\n\nRespecting the Dracs, Gervase farther adds:\n\n\"There is also on the banks of the Rhone, under a guardhouse, at the\nNorth-gate of the city of Arles, a great pool of the river.... In\nthese deep places, they say that the Dracs are often seen of bright\nnights, in the shape of men. A few years ago there was, for three\nsuccessive days, openly heard the following words in the place outside\nthe gate of the city, which I have mentioned, while the figure as it\nwere of a man ran along the bank: 'The hour is passed, and the man\ndoes not come.' On the third day, about the ninth hour, while that\nfigure of a man raised his voice higher than usual, a young man ran\nsimply to the bank, plunged in, and was swallowed up; and the voice\nwas heard no more.\"\n\nThe word Drac is apparently derived from Draco; but we are inclined to\nsee its origin in the Northern _Duerg_. We must recollect that the\nVisigoths long occupied Provence and Languedoc. It is, we apprehend,\nstill in use. _Fa le Drac_, in Proven\u00e7al, signifies _Faire le\ndiable_.[531] Goudelin, a Proven\u00e7al poet of the seventeenth century,\nbegins his Castel en l'Ayre with these lines:\n\n Belomen qu' yeu _far\u00e9 le Drac_\n Se jamay trobi dins un sac\n Cinc \u00f4 si\u00e9s milante pistolos\n Espessos como de redolos.\n\nThe following curious narrative also occurs in Gervase's work, and\nmight seem to belong to Provence:--\n\n\"Seamen tell that one time as a ship was sailing in the Mediterranean\nsea, which sea we call ours, she was surrounded by an immense number of\nporpoises (_delphinos_), and that when an active young man, one of the\ncrew, had wounded one of them with a weapon, and all the rest of them\nhad rapidly sought the bottom, a sudden and awful tempest enveloped the\nship. While the sailors were in doubt of their lives, lo! one in the\nform of a knight came borne on a steed on the sea, and demanded that,\nfor the salvation of all the rest, the person who had wounded the\nporpoise should be delivered up to him. The sailors were in an agony\nbetween their own danger and their aversion to expose their comrade to\ndeath, which seemed to them to be most cruel, and they thought it\ninfamous to consult their own safety at the expense of the life of\nanother. At last the man himself, deeming it better that all should be\nsaved at the cost of one, as they were guiltless, than that such a\nnumber of people should run the risk of destruction on account of his\nfolly, and lest by defending him they should become guilty, devoted\nhimself to the death he merited, and voluntarily mounted the horse\nbehind the rider, who went over the firm water, taking his road along it\nas if it had been the solid land. In a short time he reached a distant\nregion, where he found lying in a magnificent bed the knight whom he had\nwounded the day before as a porpoise. He was directed by his guide to\npull out the weapon which was sticking in the wound, and when he had\ndone so, _the guilty right hand gave aid to the wound_. This being done,\nthe sailor was speedily brought back to the ship, and restored to his\ncompanions. Hence it is, that from that time forth sailors have ceased\nto hunt the porpoises.\"[532]\n\nGervase also describes the Kobold, or House-spirit, the Esprit Follet,\nor Goblin of the North of France.\n\n\"There are,\" says he, \"other demons, commonly called Follets, who\ninhabit the houses of simple country people, and can be kept away\nneither by water nor exorcisms; and as they are not seen, they pelt\npeople as they are going in at the door with stones, sticks, and\ndomestic utensils. Their words are heard like those of men, but their\nform does not appear. I remember to have met several wonderful stories\nof them in the Vita Abbreviata, et Miraculis beatissimi Antonii.\"[533]\n\nElsewhere[534] he speaks of the beings which he says are called Lami\u00e6,\nwho, he relates, are used to enter houses suddenly, ransack the jars\nand tubs, pots and pitchers, take the children out of the cradles,\nlight lamps or candles, and sometimes oppress those who are sleeping.\n\nEither Gervase mistook, or the Fadas of the south of France were\nregarded as beings different from mankind. The former is, perhaps, the\nmore likely supposition. He thus speaks of them: \"This, indeed, we\nknow to be proved every day by men who are beyond all exception; that\nwe have heard of some who were lovers of phantoms of this kind,[535]\nwhich they call Fadas; and when they married other women, they died\nbefore consummating the marriage. We have seen most of them live in\ngreat temporal felicity, who when they withdrew themselves from the\nembraces of these Fadas, or discovered the secret, lost not only their\ntemporal prosperity, but even the comfort of wretched life.\"[536]\n\n\"In the legend of St. Armentaire, composed about 1300, by Raymond, a\ngentleman of Provence, we read of the F\u00e9e Esterelle, and of the\nsacrifices to her, who used to give barren women beverages to drink,\nto make them fruitful; and of a stone called _La Lauza de la Fada;_\nthat is the Fairy-stone on which they used to sacrifice to her.\"[537]\n\nEven at the present day the belief in the Fadas seems to linger in\nProvence and the adjoining districts.\n\n\"On the night of the 31st of December,\" says Du Mege,[538] the \"F\u00e9es\n(_Hadas_) enter the dwellings of their worshipers. They bear good-luck\nin their right, ill-luck in their left-hand. Care has been taken to\nprepare for them in a clean retired room, such a repast as is suited\nto them. The doors and windows are left open; a white cloth is laid on\na table with a loaf, a knife, a vessel full of water or wine, and a\ncup. A lighted candle or wax taper is set in the centre of the table.\nIt is the general belief that those who present them with the best\nfood may expect all kinds of prosperity for their property and their\nfamily; while those who acquit themselves grudgingly of their duty\ntoward the F\u00e9es, or who neglect to make preparations worthy of these\ndivinities, may expect the greatest misfortunes.\"\n\nFrom the following passage of the Roman de Guillaume au Court-Nez it\nwould appear that three was the number of the Hadas.\n\n Coustume avoient les gens, par v\u00e9ritez,\n Et _en Provence_ et en autres regnez.\n Tables m\u00e9toient et si\u00e9ges ordenez,\n Et sur la table iij blans pains bul\u00e9tez,\n Iij poz de vins et iij h\u00e9nez de l\u00e8s\n Et par eneoste iert li enf\u00e8s posez.[539]\n\nSome years ago a lady, named Marie Aycard, published a volume named\n\"Ballades et Chants populaires de la Provence,\" two of which seem to be\nfounded on popular legends. She names the one La F\u00e9e aux Cheveux Verts,\nand in it relates the story of a young mariner of Marseilles who was in\nthe habit of rowing out to sea by himself in the evening. On one of\nthese occasions he felt himself drawn down by an invisible power, and on\nreaching the bottom found himself at the gate of a splendid palace,\nwhere he was received by a most beautiful fairy, only her hair was\ngreen. She at once told him her love, to which he responded as she\nwished, and after detaining him some time she dismissed him, giving him\ntwo fishes, that he might account for his absence by saying that he had\nbeen fishing. The same invisible power brought him back to his boat, and\nhe reached home at sunrise. The size and form of his fishes, such as had\nnever been seen, excited general wonder; but he feared the fairy too\nmuch to reveal his secret. An invincible attraction still drew him to\nthe submarine palace, but at last he saw a maiden whose charms, in his\neyes, eclipsed those of the fairy. He now fled the sea-shore, but every\ntime he approached his mistress he received an invisible blow, and he\ncontinually was haunted by threatening voices. At length he felt an\nirresistible desire to go out again to sea. When there he was drawn down\nas before to the palace, but the fairy now was changed, and saying, \"You\nhave betrayed me--you shall die,\" she caused him to be devoured by the\nsea-monsters. But other accounts say that she kept him with her till age\nhad furrowed his brow with wrinkles, and then sent him back to poverty\non earth.\n\nThe other legend named Le Lutin tells how seven little boys,\nregardless of the warnings of their old grandmother, would go out at\nnight on various affairs. As they went along a pretty little black\nhorse came up to them, and they all were induced to mount on his back.\nWhen they met any of their playmates they invited them also to mount,\nand the back of the little horse, stretched so that at last he had on\nhim not less than thirty little boys. He then made with all speed for\nthe sea, and plunging into it with them they were all drowned.[540]\n\nPassing to Auvergne we find Gregory of Tours in the sixth century thus\nrelating an event which happened in his youth. A man was going one\nmorning to the forest, and he took the precaution to have his\nbreakfast, which he was taking with him, blessed before he set out.\nComing to the river, before it was yet day, he drove his bullock-cart\ninto the ferry-boat (_in ponte qui super navem est_), and when he was\nabout half-way over he heard a voice saying, \"Down with him! down with\nhim! be quick!\" (_Merge, merge, ne moreris!_) to which another\nreplied, \"I should have done it without your telling me if something\nholy did not prevent me; for I would have you to know that he is\nfortified with the priest's blessing, so that I cannot hurt him.\"[541]\n\nMiss Costello[542] heard in Auvergne a story of a changeling, which the\nmother, by the direction of the Cur\u00e9, took to the market-place, where\nshe whipped it well, till its mother, La F\u00e9e du Grand Cascade, brought\nher back her own child. She also relates at great length a legend which\nshe styles La Blonde de la Roche, in which a young lady, instructed by\nher nurse, learns to change her form, and thus become a companion of the\nF\u00e9es, who are beings of tiny dimensions. Afterwards, when she is\nmarried, they take away her children, but she manages to recover them.\n\n\"La Tioul de las Fadas is within five and a half leagues of St. Flour,\nat Pirols, a village of Haute Auvergne. It is composed of six large\nrude stones, covered by a seventh, larger and more massive than the\nrest; it is twelve feet long, and eight and a half wide. The tradition\nrelates that a F\u00e9e who was fond of keeping her sheep on the spot\noccupied by this monument, resolved to shelter herself from the wind\nand rain. For this purpose she went far, very far, (_bien loin, bien\nloin_) in search of such masses of granite, as six yoke of oxen could\nnot move, and she gave them the form of a little house. She carried,\nit is said, the largest and heaviest of them on the top of her\nspindle, and so little was she incommoded by the weight of it, that\nshe continued to spin all the way.\"[543]\n\nThe following legend is traditional in P\u00e9rigord:--\n\nEmbosomed in the forest of the canton of La Double, near the road\nleading from P\u00e9rigueux to Rib\u00e9rac, is a monument named Roque Brun. It\nconsists of four enormous rocks placed two and two, so as to form an\nalley ten feet long and six wide. A fifth rock, higher and thicker\nthan the others, closes this space on the west. The whole is covered\nby a huge mass of rock, at least twelve feet by seven, and from three\nto four feet thick. There can be no doubt of its being the work of\nman, and it is remarkable that the stone composing it is different\nfrom that of the soil on which it stands.[544] The tradition of the\ncanton, however, is, that many thousand years ago there was a F\u00e9e who\nwas the sovereign of the whole country, and having lost her husband in\na battle fought in this very place she resolved to bury him on the\nspot. She therefore called six of her pages, and ordered them to\nfetch, each one of these stones, and to place them in the order which\nthey still maintain. They instantly obeyed, and they carried and\narranged the huge masses as easily as if they had been only\nrose-leaves. When the tomb was completed, the Fairy ascended it, and\nturning to the east, she thrice cursed, in a voice of thunder, whoever\nshould henceforth dare even to touch this monument of her royal\nspouse. Many an instance is still recorded by the peasantry of those\nwho dared and were punished.[545]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Fairy-lore of the North of France, at least of Normandy, is, as\nwas to be expected, similar to that of the other portions of the\nGotho-German race. We meet it in the _f\u00e9es_ or fairies, and the\n_lutins_ or _gobelins_, which answer to the Kobolds, Nisses, and such\nlike of those nations.[546]\n\nThe F\u00e9es are small and handsome in person; they are fond of dancing\nin the night-time, and in their dances which are circular they form\nthe _Cercles des F\u00e9es_, or fairy-rings. If any one approaches their\ndance, he is irresistibly impelled to take part in it. He is admitted\nwith the greatest courtesy; but as the whirling movement increases,\nand goes faster and faster, his head becomes giddy, and he falls to\nthe ground utterly exhausted. Sometimes the _f\u00e9es_ amuse themselves by\nflinging him up to a great height in the air, and, if not killed by\nthe fall, he is found next morning full of bruises. These little\nbeings, it is also said, haunt solitary springs, where they wash their\nlinen, which they then dry by way of preference on the Druidic stones,\nif at hand, and lay up in the hollows of rocks or barrows, thence\nnamed _Chambres_ or _Grottes des F\u00e9es_. But, further, it is said of\nthem, like the _Lutins_, they select particular farms to which they\nresort at night, and there making use of horses, harness and utensils\nof all kinds, they employ themselves at various kinds of work, of\nwhich, however, no traces remain in the morning. They are fond of\nmounting and galloping the horses; their seat is on the neck, and they\ntie together locks of the mane to form stirrups. Their presence,\nhowever, always brings luck, the cattle thrive where they are, the\nutensils of which they have made use, if broken are mended and made as\ngood as new. They are altogether most kind and obliging, and have been\nknown to give cakes to those to whom they have taken a fancy.\n\nThe F\u00e9es of Normandy are, like others, guilty of child-changing. A\ncountrywoman as she was one day carrying her child on her arm met a F\u00e9e\nsimilarly engaged, who proposed an exchange. But she would not consent,\neven though, she said, the F\u00e9e's babe were _nine times finer than her\nown_. A few days after, having left her child in the house when she went\nto work in the fields, it appeared to her on her return that it had been\nchanged. She immediately consulted a neighbour, who to put the matter to\nthe proof, broke a dozen eggs and ranged the shells before the child,\nwho instantly began to cry out, _Oh! what a number of cream-pots! Oh!\nwhat a number of cream-pots!_ The matter was now beyond doubt, and the\nneighbour next advised to make it cry lustily in order to bring its real\nmother to it. This also succeeded; the F\u00e9e came imploring them to spare\nher child, and the real one should be restored.\n\nThere is another kind of F\u00e9es known in Normandy by the name of _Dames\nBlanches_, or White Ladies, who are of a less benevolent character.\nThese lurk in narrow places, such as ravines, fords and bridges, where\npassengers cannot well avoid them, and there seek to attract their\nattention. The Dame Blanche sometimes requires him whom she thus meets\nto join her in a dance, or to hand her over a plank. If he does so she\nmakes him many courtesies, and then vanishes. One of these ladies\nnamed La Dame d'Aprigny, used to appear in a winding narrow ravine\nwhich occupied the place of the present Rue Saint Quentin at Bayeux,\nwhere, by her involved dances, she prevented any one from passing. She\nmeantime held out her hand, inviting him to join her, and if he did so\nshe dismissed him after a round or two; but if he drew back, she\nseized him and flung him into one of the ditches which were full of\nbriars and thorns. Another Dame Blanche took her station on a narrow\nwooden bridge over the Dive, in the district of Falaise, named the\nPont d'Angot. She sat on it and would not allow any one to pass unless\nhe went on his knees to her; if he refused, the F\u00e9e gave him over to\nthe _lutins_, the cats, owls, and other beings which, under her sway,\nhaunt the place, by whom he was cruelly tormented.\n\nNear the village of Puys, half a league to the north-east of Dieppe,\nthere is a high plateau, surrounded on all sides by large\nentrenchments, except that over the sea, where the cliffs render it\ninaccessible. It is named _La Cit\u00e9 de Limes_ or _La Camp de C\u00e9sar_ or\nsimply _Le Catel_ or _Castel_. Tradition tells that the F\u00e9es used to\nhold a fair there, at which all sorts of magic articles from their\nsecret stores were offered for sale, and the most courteous entreaties\nand blandishments were employed to induce those who frequented it to\nbecome purchasers. But the moment any one did so, and stretched forth\nhis hand to take the article he had selected, the perfidious F\u00e9es\nseized him and hurled him down the cliffs.\n\nSuch are the accounts of the F\u00e9es still current in Normandy. To these\nwe may add that of Dame Abonde or Habonde, current in the middle ages.\nWilliam of Auvergne, bishop of Paris, who died in the year 1248, thus\nwrites:--\n\n\"Sunt et ali\u00e6 ludificationes malignorum spiritorum quas faciunt\ninterdum in nemoribus et locis am\u0153nis, et frondosis arboribus, ubi\napparent in similitudine _puellarum_ aut _matronarum_ ornatu muliebri\net _candido_; interdum etiam _in stabulis, cum luminaribus cereis, ex\nquibus apparent distillationes in comis et collis equorum et com\u00e6\nipsorum diligenter tricat\u0153_; et audies eos, qui talia se vidisse\nfatentur, dicentes veram ceram esse qu\u00e6 de luminaribus hujusmodi\nstillaverat. De illis vero substantiis qu\u00e6 apparent in domibus quas\n_dominas nocturnas_ et _principem_ earum vocant _Dominam Abundiam_ pro\neo quod domibus, quas frequentant, abundantiam bonorum temporalium\npr\u00e6stare putantur non aliter tibi sentiendum est neque aliter quam\nquemadmodum de illis audivisti. Quapropter eo usque invaluit stultitia\nhominum et insania vetularum ut vasa vini et receptacula ciborum\ndiscooperta relinquant, et omnino nec obstruent neque claudant eis\nnoctibus quibus ad domos suos eas credunt adventuras; ea de causa\nvidelicet ut cibos et potus quasi paratos inveniant, et eos absque\ndifficultate apparitionis pro beneplacito sumant.\"[547]\n\nDame Abonde is also mentioned in the same century in the celebrated\nRoman de la Rose as follows:--\n\n Qui les cine sens ainsine de\u00e7oit\n Par les fantosmes qu'il re\u00e7oit,\n Dont maintes gens par lor folie\n Cuident estre par nuit estries (_all\u00e9s_)\n _Errans_ avecques _Dame Habonde_.\n Et dient que par tout le monde\n Si tiers enfant de nacion (_naissance_)\n Sunt de ceste condicion,\n Qu'ils vont trois fois en la semaine,\n Li cum destin\u00e9e les maine (_m\u00e8ne_),\n Et par tous ces ostex (_h\u00f4tels_) se boutent,\n Ne eles ne barres ne redoutent.\n Ains sen entrent par les fendaces (_fentes_)\n Par chatieres et par crevaces.\n Et se partent des cors les ames\n Et vont avec les _bonnes dames_\n Par leur foraius et par maisons.\n Et le preuvent par tiex (_ces_) raisons:\n Que les diversit\u00e9s veues\n Ne sont pas eu lor liz (_lits_) venues,\n Ains (_anzi_ It.) sunt lor ames que laborent\n Et par le monde ainsinc sen corent.[548]\n\nIn these places we find that Abundia is a queen or ruler over a band\nof what we may call fairies, who enter houses at night, feast there,\ntwist the horses' manes, etc. This may remind us at once of\nShakespeare's Queen Mab, whom, though only acquainted with Habundia\nthrough a passage in Heywood,[549] we conjectured to have derived her\nname from that of this French dame.[550] Chaucer, by the way, always\nspells _habundance_ with an _h_, which may have become _m_ as it does\n_n_ in Numps from Humphrey; so Edward makes Ned, Oliver Noll, etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Lutin or Gobelin[551] of Normandy hardly differs in any respect\nfrom the domestic spirit of Scandinavia and Germany. He is fond of\nchildren and horses; and if the proverb\n\n Ou il y a belle fille et bon vin\n L\u00e0 aussi hante le lutin\n\nlie not, of young maidens also. He caresses the children, and gives\nthem nice things to eat, but he also whips and pinches them if\nnaughty.[552] He takes great care of the horses, gallops them at\ntimes, and _lutines_ their manes, _i.e._, _elfs_ or plaits and twists\nthem in an inexplicable manner. So fond, indeed, is he of this\namusement, that it is related that when one time two young girls fell\nasleep in a stable, he _lutined_ their hair in such a way that they\nhad to cut it all off. Sometimes the Lutin takes the form of a young\nvillager, and struts about with great complacency. On such occasions\nit is necessary to call him Bon Gar\u00e7on, a thing the Norman peasant\nnever neglects to do. At other times he appears under the form of a\nhorse ready bridled and saddled. If any peasant, weary after his day's\nwork, is induced to mount him in order to ride home, he begins to kick\nand fling and rear and bound, and ends by jerking him into a marsh or\na ditch full of water. When he takes this form he is called Le Cheval\nBayard, probably after the famous steed of the Paladin Rinaldo.\n\nThe following tradition of \"_Le Lutin, ou le F\u00e9 amoureux_,\" is related\nin the neighbourhood of Argentan:--\n\nA F\u00e9 was fond of a pretty young _paysanne_, and used to come every\nevening when she was spinning at her fireside, and take his seat on a\nstool opposite to her, and keep gazing on her fair face. The\nungrateful object of this respectful attention, however, told her\nhusband the whole story, and in his jealous mood he resolved to have\nhis revenge of the amorous Lutin. Accordingly, he heated the girdel\n(_galeti\u00e8re_) red-hot, and placed it on the seat which he used to\noccupy, and then dressing himself in his wife's clothes, he sat in her\nplace, and began to spin as well as he could. The F\u00e9 came as usual,\nand instantly perceived the change. \"Where,\" said he, \"is La-belle\nbelle of yesterday evening, who draws, draws, and keeps always\ntwirling, while you, you turn, turn, and never twirl?\" He, however,\nwent and took his usual seat, but immediately jumped up, screaming\nwith pain. His companions, who were at hand, inquired the cause. \"I am\nburnt,\" cried he. \"Who burned you?\" cried they. \"Myself,\" replied he;\nfor this the woman had told him was her husband's name. At this they\nmocked at him and went away.[553]\n\nThe best way, it is said, to banish a Lutin who haunts a house, is to\nscatter flax-seed in the room that he most frequents. His love of\nneatness and regularity will not allow him to let it lie there, and he\nsoon gets tired of picking it up, and so he goes away.\n\nA Lutin, named the Nain Rouge, haunts the coast of Normandy. He is\nkind in his way to the fishermen, and often gives them valuable aid;\nbut he punishes those who do not treat him with proper respect. Two\nfishermen who lived near Dieppe, were going one day to Pollet. On\ntheir way they found a little boy sitting on the road-side; they asked\nhim what he was doing there. \"I am resting myself,\" said he, \"for I am\ngoing to Berneville\" (a village within a league of Pollet.) They\ninvited him to join company; he agreed, and amused them greatly with\nhis tricks as they went along. At last, when they came to a pond near\nBerneville, the malicious urchin caught up one of them, and flung him,\nlike a shuttlecock, up into the air over it; but, to his great\ndisappointment, he saw him land safe and sound at the other side.\n\"Thank your patron-Saint,\" cried he, with his cracked voice, \"for\nputting it into your mind to take some holy water when you were\ngetting up this morning. But for that you'd have got a nice dip.\"[554]\n\nA parcel of children were playing on the strand at Pollet, when Le\nPetit Homme Rouge came by. They began to make game of him, and he\ninstantly commenced pelting them with stones at such a rate that they\nfound it necessary to seek refuge in a fishing-boat, where, for the\nspace of an hour, as they crouched under the hatches, they heard the\nshower of stones falling so that they were sure the boat must be\nburied under them. At length the noise ceased, and when they ventured\nto peep out, not a stone was to be seen.\n\nThere is also in Normandy a kind of spirits called Lubins, which take\nthe form of wolves, and enter the churchyards under the guidance of a\nchief, who is quite black. They are very timorous, and at the least\nnoise they fly, crying \"_Robert est mort! Robert est mort!_\" People\nsay of a timorous man, \"_Il a peur de Lubins!_\"[555]\n\nA belief in F\u00e9es, similar to those which we have denominated Fairies of\nRomance, seems to have prevailed all over France during the middle ages.\n\nThe great Bertrand Duguesclin married a lady named Tiphaine, \"extraite\nde noble lign\u00e9e,\" says his old biographer; \"laquelle avoit environ\nvingt-quatre ans, ne onques n'avoit \u00e9t\u00e9 mari\u00e9e et \u00e9stoit bonne et\nsage, et moult experte aux arts d'astronomie; aucuns disoient qu'elle\n\u00e9stoit _fa\u00e9e_ mais non \u00e9stoit, mais \u00e9stoit ainsi inspir\u00e9e et de la\nGrace de Dieu.\"\n\nOne of the chief articles of accusation against the heroic and\nunfortunate Maid of Orleans, was \"Que souvent alloit \u00e0 une belle\nfontaine au pais de Lorraine, laquelle elle nommoit _bonne fontaine\naux F\u00e9es_ nostre Seigneur, et en icelui lieu tous ceulx de pays quand\nils avoient fiebvre ils alloient pour recouvrer garison, et la alloit\nsouvent la dite Jehanne la Pucelle, sous un grand arbre qui la\nfontaine ombroit, et s'apparurent \u00e0 elle St. Katerine et St.\nMarguerite.\"[556] She was also asked \"Si elle s\u00e7ait rien de _ceux qui\nvont avecq les F\u00e9es_?\"[557]\n\nOf these F\u00e9es the most celebrated is Melusina, who was married to the\nCount of Lusignan. Toward the end of the fourteenth century, Jean\nd'Arras collected the traditions relating to her, and composed what he\ncalled her \"Chronicle.\" Stephen, a Dominican of the house of Lusignan,\ntook up the history written by Jean D'Arras, gave it consistency, and\ncast such splendour about his heroine, that several noble houses were\nambitious of showing a descent from her. Those of Luxembourg and Rohan\neven falsified their genealogies for that purpose; and the house of\nSassenage, though it might claim its descent from a monarch, preferred\nMelusina, and to gratify them it was feigned that when she quitted\nLusignan she retired to the grot of Sassenage, in Dauphiny.\n\nThe following is a slight sketch of the story of the fair Melusina.[558]\n\n Ange par la figure, et serpent par le rest\n DE LILLE.\n\n\n\n _Legend of Melusina._\n\nElinas, king of Albania, to divert his grief for the death of his\nwife, amused himself with hunting. One day, at the chase, he went to a\nfountain to quench his thirst: as he approached it he heard the voice\nof a woman singing, and on coming to it he found there the beautiful\nFay Pressina.\n\nAfter some time the Fay bestowed her hand upon him, on the condition\nthat he should never visit her at the time of her lying-in. She had\nthree daughters at a birth: Melusina, Melior, and Palatina. Nathas,\nthe king's son by a former wife, hastened to convey the joyful tidings\nto his father, who, without reflection, flew to the chamber of the\nqueen, and entered as she was bathing her daughters. Pressina, on\nseeing him, cried out that he had broken his word, and she must\ndepart; and taking up her three daughters, she disappeared.\n\nShe retired to the Lost Island;[559] so called because it was only by\nchance any, even those who had repeatedly visited it, could find it.\nHere she reared her children, taking them every morning to a high\nmountain, whence Albania might be seen, and telling them that but for\ntheir father's breach of promise they might have lived happily in the\ndistant land which they beheld. When they were fifteen years of age,\nMelusina asked her mother particularly of what their father had been\nguilty. On being informed of it, she conceived the design of being\nrevenged on him. Engaging her sisters to join in her plans, they set\nout for Albania: arrived there, they took the king and all his wealth,\nand, by a charm, inclosed him in a high mountain, called Brandelois.\nOn telling their mother what they had done, she, to punish them for\nthe unnatural action, condemned Melusina to become every Saturday a\nserpent, from the waist downwards, till she should meet a man who\nwould marry her under the condition of never seeing her on a Saturday,\nand should keep his promise. She inflicted other judgements on her two\nsisters, less severe in proportion to their guilt. Melusina now went\nroaming through the world in search of the man who was to deliver her.\nShe passed through the Black Forest, and that of Ardennes, and at last\nshe arrived in the forest of Colombiers, in Poitou, where all the Fays\nof the neighbourhood came before her, telling her they had been\nwaiting for her to reign in that place.\n\nRaymond having accidentally killed the count, his uncle, by the\nglancing aside of his boar-spear, was wandering by night in the forest\nof Colombiers. He arrived at a fountain that rose at the foot of a\nhigh rock. This fountain was called by the people the Fountain of\nThirst, or the Fountain of the Fays,[560] on account of the many\nmarvellous things which had happened at it. At the time, when Raymond\narrived at the fountain, three ladies were diverting themselves there\nby the light of the moon, the principal of whom was Melusina. Her\nbeauty and her amiable manners quickly won his love: she soothed him,\nconcealed the deed he had done, and married him, he promising on his\noath never to desire to see her on a Saturday. She assured him that a\nbreach of his oath would for ever deprive him of her whom he so much\nloved, and be followed by the unhappiness of both for life. Out of her\ngreat wealth, she built for him, in the neighbourhood of the Fountain\nof Thirst, where he first saw her, the castle of Lusignan. She also\nbuilt La Rochelle, Cloitre Malliers, Mersent, and other places.\n\nBut destiny, that would have Melusina single, was incensed against her.\nThe marriage was made unhappy by the deformity of the children born of\none that was enchanted; but still Raymond's love for the beauty that\nravished both heart and eyes remained unshaken. Destiny now renewed her\nattacks. Raymond's cousin had excited him to jealousy and to secret\nconcealment, by malicious suggestions of the purport of the Saturday\nretirement of the countess. He hid himself; and then saw how the lovely\nform of Melusina ended below in a snake, gray and sky-blue, mixed with\nwhite. But it was not horror that seized him at the sight, it was\ninfinite anguish at the reflection that through his breach of faith he\nmight lose his lovely wife for ever. Yet this misfortune had not\nspeedily come on him, were it not that his son, Geoffroi with the\ntooth,[561] had burned his brother Freimund, who would stay in the abbey\nof Malliers, with the abbot and a hundred monks. At which the afflicted\nfather, count Raymond, when his wife Melusina was entering his closet to\ncomfort him, broke out into these words against her, before all the\ncourtiers who attended her:--\"Out of my sight, thou pernicious snake and\nodious serpent! thou contaminator of my race!\"\n\nMelusina's former anxiety was now verified, and the evil that had lain\nso long in ambush had now fearfully sprung on him and her. At these\nreproaches she fainted away; and when at length she revived, full of the\nprofoundest grief, she declared to him that she must now depart from\nhim, and, in obedience to a decree of destiny, fleet about the earth in\npain and suffering, as a spectre, until the day of doom; and that only\nwhen one of her race was to die at Lusignan would she become visible.\n\nHer words at parting were these:\n\n\"But one thing will I say unto thee before I part, that thou, and\nthose who for more than a hundred years shall succeed thee, shall know\nthat whenever I am seen to hover over the fair castle of Lusignan,\nthen will it be certain that in that very year the castle will get a\nnew lord; and though people may not perceive me in the air, yet they\nwill see me by the Fountain of Thirst; and thus shall it be so long as\nthe castle stands in honour and flourishing--especially on the Friday\nbefore the lord of the castle shall die.\" Immediately, with wailing\nand loud lamentation, she left the castle of Lusignan,[562] and has\never since existed as a spectre of the night. Raymond died as a hermit\non Monserrat.\n\nThe president de Boissieu says,[563] that she chose for her retreat\none of the mountains of Sassenage, near Grenoble, on account of\ncertain vats that are there, and to which she communicated a virtue\nwhich makes them, at this day, one of the seven wonders of Dauphin\u00e9.\nThey are two in number, of great beauty, and so admirably cut in the\nrock, that it is easy to see they are not the work of unaided nature.\nThe virtue which Melusina communicated to them was, that of\nannouncing, by the water they contain, the abundance or scantiness of\nthe crops. When there is to be an abundant harvest, it rises over the\nedges, and overflows; in middling years, the vats are but half full;\nand when the crops are to fail, they are quite dry. One of these vats\nis consecrated to corn, the other to wine.\n\nThe popular belief was strong in France that she used to appear on\nwhat was called the tower of Melusina as often as any of the lords of\nthe race of Lusignan was to die; and that when the family was extinct,\nand the castle had fallen to the crown, she was seen whenever a king\nof France was to depart this life. M\u00e9zeray informs us that he was\nassured of the truth of the appearance of Melusina on this tower\nprevious to the death of a Lusignan, or a king of France, by people of\nreputation, and who were not by any means credulous. She appeared in a\nmourning dress, and continued for a long time to utter the most\nheart-piercing lamentation.\n\nThe following passage occurs in Brant\u00f4me's Eloge of the Duke of\nMontpensier, who in 1574 destroyed Lusignan, and several other\nretreats of the Huguenots:\n\n\"I heard, more than forty years ago, an old veteran say, that when the\nEmperor Charles V. came to France, they brought him by Lusignan for\nthe sake of the recreation of hunting the deer, which were there in\ngreat abundance in fine old parks of France; that he was never tired\nadmiring and praising the beauty, the size, and the chef d'\u0153uvre of\nthat house, built, which is more, by such a lady, of whom he made them\ntell him several fabulous tales, which are there quite common, even to\nthe good old women who washed their linen at the fountain, whom Queen\nCatherine of Medicis, mother to the king, would also question and\nlisten to. Some told her that they used sometimes to see her come to\nthe fountain to bathe in it, in the form of a most beautiful woman,\nand in the dress of a widow. Others said that they used to see her,\nbut very rarely, and that on Saturday evening, (for in that state she\ndid not let herself be seen,) bathing, half her body being that of a\nvery beautiful lady, the other half ending in a snake: others, that\nshe used to appear a-top of the great tower in a very beautiful form,\nand as a snake. Some said, that when any great disaster was to come on\nthe kingdom, or a change of reign, or a death, or misfortune among her\nrelatives, who were the greatest people of France, and were kings,\nthat three days before she was heard to cry, with a cry most shrill\nand terrible, three times.\n\n\"This is held to be perfectly true. Several persons of that place, who\nhave heard it, are positive of it, and hand it from father to son; and\nsay that, even when the siege came on, many soldiers and men of honour\nwho were there affirmed it. But it was when the order was given to\nthrow down and destroy her castles that she uttered her loudest cries\nand wails. This is perfectly true, according to the saying of people\nof honour. Since then she has not been heard. Some old wives, however,\nsay she has appeared to them, but very rarely.\"\n\nJean d'Arras declares that Serville, who defended the castle of Lusignan\nfor the English against the Duke of Berri, swore to that prince, upon\nhis faith and honour, \"that, three days before the surrender of the\nfortress, there entered into his chamber, though the doors were shut, a\nlarge serpent, enamelled with white and blue, which came and struck its\ntail several times against the feet of the bed where he was lying with\nhis wife, who was not at all frightened at it, though he was very much\nso; and that when he seized his sword, the serpent changed all at once\ninto a woman, and said to him, _How, Serville, you who have been at so\nmany sieges and battles, are you afraid! Know that I am the mistress of\nthis castle, which I have built, and that you must surrender it very\nsoon._ When she had ended these words she resumed her serpent-shape, and\nglided away so swiftly that he could not perceive her.\" The author adds,\nthat the prince told him that other credible people had sworn to him\nthat they too had seen her at the same time in other places in the\nneighbourhood, and in the same form.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe old castle of Pirou, on the coast of the Cotentin, in Lower\nNormandy, likewise owes its origin to the F\u00e9es.[564] These were the\ndaughters of a great lord of the country, who was a celebrated\nmagician. They built the castle long before the time of the invasions\nof the Northmen, and dwelt there in peace and unity. But when these\npirates began to make their descents on the coast, the F\u00e9es, fearing\ntheir violence, changed themselves into wild geese, and thus set them\nat defiance. They did not, however, altogether abandon their castle;\nfor the elders of the place assert that every year, on the first of\nMarch, a flock of wild geese returns to take possession of the nests\nthey had hollowed out for themselves in its walls. It was also said\nthat when a male child was born to the illustrious house of Pirou, the\nmales of these geese, displaying their finest grey plumage, strutted\nabout on the pavement in the courts of the castle; while, if it was a\ngirl, the females, in plumage whiter than snow, took precedence then\nover the males. If the new-born maiden was to be a nun, it was\nremarked that one of them did not join with the rest, but kept alone\nin a corner, eating little, and deeply sighing.\n\nThe following traditions are attached to the castles of Argouges and\nR\u00e2nes, in Normandy:--[565]\n\nOne of the lords of Argouges, when out hunting one day, met a bevy of\ntwenty ladies of rare beauty, all mounted on palfreys white as the\ndriven snow. One of them appeared to be their queen, and the lord of\nArgouges became all at once so deeply enamoured of her, that he\noffered on the spot to marry her. This lady was _f\u00e9e_; she had for a\nlong time past secretly protected the Sire d'Argouges, and even caused\nhim to come off victorious in a combat with a terrible giant. As she\nloved the object of her care, she willingly accepted his troth, but\nunder the express condition that he should never pronounce in her\npresence the name of Death. So light a condition caused no\ndifficulty; the marriage took place under the happiest auspices, and\nlovely children crowned their union. The fatal word was never heard,\nand their happiness seemed without alloy. It came to pass, however,\none day at length, that the wedded pair were preparing to give their\npresence at a tournament. The lady was long at her toilet, and her\nhusband waited for her with impatience. At length she made her\nappearance. \"Fair dame,\" said he, when he saw her, \"you would be a\ngood person to send to fetch Death; for you take long enough to\nperform what you are about.\"[566] Hardly had he pronounced the fatal\nword when, uttering a piercing cry, as if actually struck by death,\nthe F\u00e9e lady disappeared, leaving the mark of her hand on the gate.\nShe comes every night clad in a white robe, and wanders round and\nround the castle, uttering deep and continuous groans, amid which may\nbe heard, in funereal notes, _Death! Death!_[567]\n\nThe same legend, as we have said, adheres to the castle of R\u00e2nes,\nwhere, however, it was on the top of a tower that the F\u00e9e vanished,\nleaving, like Melusina, the mark of her foot on the battlements, where\nit is still to be seen.\n\nIn explication of the former legend, M. Pluque observes, that at the\nsiege of Bayeux by Henry I., in 1106, Robert d'Argouges vanquished in\nsingle combat a German of huge stature; and that the crest of the\nhouse of Argouges is Faith, under the form of a woman naked to the\nwaist, seated in a bark, with the motto, or war-cry, _A la F\u00e9!_ (i. e.\n_\u00e0 la foi!_) which the people pronounce _A la F\u00e9e!_\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo far the genuine French F\u00e9es. On the revival of learning they appear\nto have fallen into neglect, till the memory of them was awakened by\nthe appearance of the translation of the Italian tales of Straparola,\nmany of which seem to have become current among the people; and in the\nend of the seventeenth century, the Contes des F\u00e9es of Perrault,\nMadame d'Aulnoy, and their imitators and successors, gave them vogue\nthroughout Europe. These tales are too well known to our readers to\nrequire us to make any observations on them.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[530] _Otia Imperialia_, p. 987: see above p. 302 _et alib_.\n\n[531] Like the Irish _Play the Puck_, above, p. 371.\n\n[532] _Otia Imper._ p. 981: see above, p. 394. It does not appear that\nthe abode of these porpoise-knights was beneath the water.\n\n[533] _Otia Imper._ p. 897. See above p. 407. Orthone, the\nHouse-spirit, who, according to Froissart, attended the Lord of\nCorasse, in Gascony, resembled Hinzelmann in many points.\n\n[534] Ibid.\n\n[535] _Hujusmodi larvarum._ He classes the Fadas with Sylvans and Pans.\n\n[536] P. 989. Speaking of the wonderful horse of Giraldus de\nCabreriis; Gervase says, _Si Fadus erat, i. e._ says Leibnitz,\nincantatus, ut _Fad\u00e6, Fat\u00e6, F\u00e9es_.\n\n[537] Cambry, Monumens Celtiques, p. 342. The author says, that\nEsterelle, as well as all the Fairies, was the moon. This we very much\ndoubt. He derives her name from the Breton _Escler_, Brightness,\nLauza, from _Lac'h_ (Irish _Cloch_), a flat stone.\n\n[538] Monuments religieux des Volces Tectosages, _ap._ Mlle. Bosquet,\nNormandie, etc., p. 92: see above, pp. 161, 342.\n\n[539] See Leroux de Lincy, _ap._ Mlle. Bosquet, p. 93, who adds \"In\nLower Normandy, in the arrondissement of Bayeux, they never neglect\nlaying a table for the protecting genius of the babe about to be born;\"\nsee our note on Virg. Buc. iv. 63. In a collection of decrees of\nCouncils made by Burchard of Worms, who died in 1024, we read as\nfollows: \"Fecisti, ut quaedam mulieres in quibusdam temporibus anni\nfacere solent, ut in domo tua _mensam praepares_ et tuos cibos et potum\ncum _tribus cultellis_ supra mensam poneres, ut si venissent _tres illae\nsorores_ quas antiqua posteritas et antiqua stultitia Parcas nominavit,\nibi reficirentur ... ut credens illas quas tu dieis esse sorores tibi\nposse aut hic aut in futuro prodesse?\" GRIMM. _Deut. Mythol. Anhang_, p.\nxxxviii., where we are also told that these Parc\u00e6 could give a man at\nhis birth the power of becoming a Werwolf. All this, however, does not\nprove that they were the origin of the _F\u00e9es_: see above, p. 6.\n\n[540] This may remind us of the Neck or Kelpie above, p. 162. It seems\nconfirmatory of our theory respecting the Visigoths, p. 466.\n\n[541] Greg. Tur. De Glor. Confess. ch. xxxi., _ap._ Grimm. p. 466.\n\n[542] Pilgrimage to Auvergne, ii. p. 294, _seq._\n\n[543] Cambry, Monuments Celtiques, p. 232.\n\n[544] It is evidently a _cromleach_. What is said of the nature of the\nstones is also true of Stonehenge.\n\n[545] Lettres de Madame S. \u00e0 sa Fille. P\u00e9rigueux, 1830: by M. Jouannet\nof Bordeaux.\n\n[546] See Mlle. Bosquet, La Normandie Romanesque et Merveilleuse, and\nthe works there quoted by this learned and ingenious lady. What\nfollows is so extremely like what we have seen above of the Korrigan\nof the adjacent Brittany, that we hope she has been careful not to\ntransfer any of their traits to her F\u00e9es.\n\n[547] Opera i. 1036; Paris, 1674, _ap._ Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 263.\n\n[548] _Ap._ Grimm, _ut sup._ Douce (Ill. of Shak. i. 382) was, we\nbelieve, the first who directed attention to Abundia. He quotes from\nan old _fabliau_:\n\n Ceste richesse nus abonde,\n Nos l'avons de par Dame Abonde.\n\n\n[549]\n\n One kind of these the Italians Fat\u00e6 name;\n F\u00e9e the French; we Sybils; and the same\n Other White Nymphs; and those that have them seen,\n Night Ladies some, of which Habundia queen.\n _Hierarchie_, viii. p. 507.\n\n\n[550] Mr. Thoms prefers a derivation from the Cymric, _Mab_, boy, child.\n\n[551] There is no satisfactory derivation of _Lutin_, for we cannot\nregard as such Grimm's _\u00e0 luctu_. _Gobelin_, _Goblin_, or _Goubelin_,\nis evidently the same as _Kobold_. _Follet_ (from _fol_, _fou_) and\n_Farfadet_, are other names. Both _Gobelin_ and _Lutin_ were in use in\nthe 11th century. Orderic Vitalis, speaking of the demon whom St.\nTaurin drove out of the temple of Diana, says, _Hunc vulgus Gobelinum\nappellat_, and Wace (Roman de Rou, _v_ 9715) says of the familiar of\nbishop Mauger who excommunicated the Conqueror\n\n _Ne sei s'esteit lutin ou non._\n\n\n[552] Mothers also threaten their children with him. _Le gobelin vous\nmangera, le gobelin vous emportera._ P\u00c8RE L'ABB\u00c9, _Etymologie_, i. p.\n262.\n\n[553] In another French tale a man to deceive a F\u00e9e, put on his wife's\nclothes and was minding the child, but she said as she came in, \"Non,\ntu ne point la belle d'hier au soir, tu ne files, ni ne vogues, ni ton\nfuseau ne t'enveloppes,\" and to punish him she turned some apples that\nwere roasting on the hearth into peas. SCHREIBER _ap._ GRIMM, p. 385.\n\n[554] See above, p. 471.\n\n[555] Lubin may be only another form of Lutin, and connected with the\nEnglish Lob. Its likeness to _loup_ may have given occasion to the\nfiction of their taking the lupine form.\n\n[556] Chartier.\n\n[557] See above, p. 475.\n\n[558] Histoire de M\u00e9lusine, tir\u00e9e des Chroniques de Poitou. Paris,\n1698. Dobenek, des Deutschen Mittelalter und Volksglauben.\n\n[559] _i. e._ Cephalonia, see above, p. 41.\n\n[560] It is at this day (1698) corruptly called La Font de S\u00e9e; and\nevery year in the month of May a fair is held in the neighbouring\nmead, where the pastry-cooks sell figures of women, _bien coiff\u00e9es_,\ncalled Merlusines.--_French Author's Note_.\n\n[561] A boar's tusk projected from his mouth. According to Brant\u00f4me, a\nfigure of him, cut in stone, stood at the portal of the M\u00e9lusine\ntower, which was destroyed in 1574.\n\n[562] At her departure she left the mark of her foot on the stone of\none of the windows, where it remained till the castle was destroyed.\n\n[563] In his poem of Melusina, dedicated to Christina of Sweden.\n\n[564] Mlle Bosquet, _ut sup._ p. 100.\n\n[565] Mlle. Bosquet, _ut sup._ p. 98. The castle of Argouges is near\nBayeux, that of R\u00e2nes is in the arrondissement of Argentan.\n\n[566] This proverbial expression is to be met with in various\nlanguages: see Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 802.\n\n[567] See above, p. 458.\n\n\n\n\n EASTERN EUROPE.\n\n Up the hill I went, and gazed round.\n Hoping golden maids to see;\n Trooping lovely maidens came, who\n Round the hill danced merrily.\n\n All the sweetest ditties singing,\n Sweetest ditties that might be;\n Bearing fragrant apple-blossoms,\n These fair maidens came to me.\n LETTISH SONG.\n\n\nEurope is inhabited on the east and north-east, from the Frozen Ocean to\nthe Adriatic, by two extensive races named the Finns and the Slaves. The\nformer dwell round the northern edge of Scandinavia by the Icy Ocean,\nand on the east and south-east of the Baltic. The Majjars, or the\ndominant portion of the people of Hungary, are also of Finnish origin.\nThe Slaves who are akin to the Gotho-German race are also widely spread.\nThis stem numbers among its branches the Russians, Poles, Bohemians,\nServians, and the nations dwelling north-east of the Adriatic. Our\nknowledge of the popular mythology of both races is very limited.\n\n\n\n\n FINNS.\n\n Bee! thou little mundane bird!\n Fly away to where I bid thee;\n O'er the moon, beneath the sun,\n Behind the lofty heaven's stars,\n Close by the Wain's axle--fly\n To the great Creator's court.\n FINNISH RUNE.\n\n\nOf the mythology of the Finnish race, the first possibly that appeared\nin Europe, and one of the most widely spread in the world, our\nknowledge, as we have just stated, is very slight. It appears,\nhowever, either to have influenced that of the Gothic race, or to have\nbeen affected by it.\n\nThe Finlanders, Laplanders, and other nations of this race, who are\nneighbours of the Scandinavians and Germans, believe, like them, in\nDwarfs and Kobolds. The former they describe as having a magnificent\nregion under the ground, to which mortals are sometimes admitted and\nare there sumptuously entertained, getting plenty of tobacco and\nbrandy, and other things esteemed by them delicious.\n\nIt is an article of faith with the Finns that there dwell under the\naltar in every church little misshapen beings which they call\n_Kirkonwaki_, _i. e._, Church-folk. When the wives of these little\npeople have a difficult labour they are relieved if a Christian woman\nvisits them and lays her hand upon them. Such service is always\nrewarded by a gift of gold and silver.[568]\n\nThe Kobold of Finland is called Para (from the Swedish Bj\u00e4ra); he\nsteals the milk from other people's cows, carries and coagulates it in\nhis stomach, and then disgorges it into the churn of his mistress.\nThere is a species of mushroom, which if it be fried with tar, salt\nand sulphur, and then beaten with a rod, the woman who owns the Kobold\nwill quickly appear, and entreat to spare him.\n\nThe Alp, or nightmare, is called Painajainen, _i. e._, Presser. It\nresembles a white maid, and its brightness illumines the whole room.\nIt causes people to scream out wofully; it also hurts young children,\nand makes them squint. The remedy against it is _steel_ or a broom\nplaced under the pillow. The House-spirit named Tonttu (the Swedish\nTomtegubbe) is also common in Finland.[569] The Esthonians believe\nthat the Neck has fish's teeth.\n\nAn Esthonian legend relates that one time a girl was stopt by a pretty\nboy that had on him a handsome peasant's belt and forced to scratch\nhis head a little. She did so, and while she was so engaged she was,\nwithout her knowledge, fastened to him by his belt, but the rubbing of\nher hand set him to sleep. Meanwhile a woman passed by, who came up\nand asked the girl what she was doing there. She told her the whole\nmatter, and as she was speaking she freed herself from the belt. The\nboy, however, slept sounder than ever and his mouth was wide open. The\nwoman who had come nearer cried at once, Ha! that's a _N\u00e4kki_ (Neck,)\nsee his _fish's teeth_! The Neck instantly vanished.[570]\n\nThe following Esthonian legend, though the Devil is the subject,\nstrongly resembles some of those of France and Great Britain:--\n\nA man who had charge of the granary of a farm-house was sitting one\nday moulding buttons in lead. The Devil came by, saluted him, and\nsaid, \"What are you doing there?\" \"I am moulding eyes.\" \"Eyes! could\nyou make me new ones?\" \"To be sure I could; but I have none by me at\npresent.\" \"Will you then do it another time?\" \"That will I.\" \"When\nshall I come again?\" \"Whenever you please.\" Next day the Devil came to\nget his new eyes. \"Will you have them large or small?\" said the man.\n\"Very large.\" The man then put a large quantity of lead down to melt,\nand said, \"I cannot make them for you, unless you first let me tie you\nfast.\" He then made him lie on his back on a bench and tied him down\nwith good strong thick ropes. When the Devil was thus fast bound he\nasked the man what his name was. \"My name is Myself (_Issi_),\" replied\nhe. \"That's a good name, I know none better.\" The lead was now melted;\nthe Devil opened his eyes as wide as he could, expecting to get the\nnew ones. \"Now, I'm going to pour it out,\" said the man, and he poured\nthe melting lead into the eyes of the Devil, who jumped up with the\nbench on his back, and ran away. As he passed by some people who were\nploughing, they asked him \"Who did that to you?\" \"Myself did it (_Issi\nteggi_),\" replied the Devil. The people laughed and said, \"If you did\nit yourself, keep it yourself.\" The Devil died of his new eyes, and\nsince then no one has seen the Devil any more.[571]\n\nThe Hungarians or Madyars (Magyars) as they call themselves, are, as we\nhave seen, a portion of the Finnish race. Two collections of their\npopular tales have been published of late years. The editor of one of\nthem which we have read,[572] assures us that he took them from the lips\nof an old Hungarian soldier, who knew no language but his own. We\ntherefore cannot but regard the tales as genuine, though the mode and\ntone in which they are narrated by the editor are not always the best.\nThey contain no traits of popular mythology,--a circumstance not a\nlittle remarkable, rather resembling the French and Italian Fairy tales.\nSeveral of them, however, are very pleasing. We regret that we have not\nseen the other collection, which is apparently of greater value.[573]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[568] Mnemosyne, Abo 1821, _ap._ Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 426.\n\n[569] R\u00fchs, Finland und seine Bewohner.\n\n[570] Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 459.\n\n[571] Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 979. This is the fourth place where we\nhave met this story. Could they have all come from the Odyssey, the hero\nof which tells the Cyclops, whom he blinds, that his name is Nobody?\n\n[572] Gaal, M\u00e4rchen der Magyaren. Wien, 1822.\n\n[573] Mailath, Magyarische Sagen M\u00e4hrchen, etc., 2 vols, 8vo. Stutg.\n1837.\n\n\n\n SLAVES.\n\n Whatsoe'er at eve had raised the workmen,\n Did the Vila raze ere dawn of morning.\n BOWRING, _Servian Popular Poetry_.\n\n\nA demon, in the attire of a mourning widow, used, in the Eastern\nRussia, to go through the fields at noon in harvest-time, and break\nthe legs and arms of the workmen, who failed, when they saw her, to\nfall on their faces. There was a remedy, however, against this. Trees,\nlong venerated, grew in the adjacent wood, the bark of which being\nlaid on the wound, removed the pain and healed it.[574]\n\nThe Vends believe in a similar being; but a Vend knows that when he\nconverses with her for an hour together about flax and the preparation\nof it, if he always contradicts her, or says the paternoster backwards\nwithout stopping, he is secure.[575]\n\nThe Russians also believe in a species of water and wood-maids,\ncalled Rusalki. They are of a beautiful form, with long green hair;\nthey swing and balance themselves on the branches of trees--bathe in\nlakes and rivers--play on the surface of the water--and wring their\nlocks on the green meads at the water's-edge. It is chiefly at\nWhitsuntide that they appear, and the people then singing and dancing,\nweave garlands for them, which they cast into the stream.[576]\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following is the Polish form of a legend which we have already met\nwith in several places:[577]\n\nThere came to a nobleman an unknown man, who called himself Iskrzycki\n(_spark_ or _firestone_), and offered to engage in his service. The\ncontract was drawn up and signed, when the master perceived that\nIskrzycki had horse's hoofs, and he accordingly wanted to break off the\nagreement; but the servant stood on his right, and declared that he\nwould enter on his duties, even against his master's will. From this\ntime forwards he took up his abode invisibly in the stove, and performed\nall the tasks set him. People gradually grew accustomed to him, but at\nlast the lady prevailed on her lord to remove, and he hired another\nestate. His people left the castle, and they had already gone the\ngreater part of the way, when on a bad part of the road the carriage was\nnear turning over, and the lady gave a loud cry of terror. Immediately a\nvoice answered from behind the carriage--\"Never fear! Iskrzycki is with\nyou!\" The lord and his lady now saw that there was no way of getting rid\nof him, so they went back to the old house, and lived there on good\nterms with their servant till the term of the engagement had arrived.\n\nThe Servian ballads, that have lately appeared,[578] have made us\nacquainted with an interesting species of beings called Vilas. These\nare represented as mountain-nymphs, young and beautiful, clad in\nwhite, with long flying hair. Their voice is said to resemble that of\nthe woodpecker. They shoot, according to popular belief, deadly arrows\nat men, and sometimes carry off children, whom their mothers in their\nanger have consigned to them or the devil: yet the general character\nof the Vilas is to injure none but those who intrude upon their\n_kolos_, or roundels.\n\nThe Vilas sometimes appear gaily dancing their kolos beneath the\nbranches of the Vishnia or Vistula cherry; sometimes a Vila is\nintroduced comforting the sorrows of an enamoured deer; at other times\ncollecting storms in the heavens;[579] now foretelling to a hero his\nimpending death;[580] now ruthlessly casting down each night the walls\nof a rising fortress, till a young and lovely female is immured within\nthem.[581] She usually rides a seven-year old hart, with a bridle made\nof snakes.\n\nThe following are specimens of these Servian ballads:\n\n\n _Vilas_\n\n Cherry! dearest Cherry!\n Higher lift thy branches,\n Under which the Vilas\n Dance their magic roundels.\n Them before Radisha\n Dew from flowers, lashes,\n Leadeth on two Vilas,\n To the third he sayeth--\n \"Be thou mine, O Vila!\n Thou shalt, with my mother,\n In the cool shade seat thee;\n Soft silk deftly spinning\n From the golden distaff.\"[582]\n\n\n\n _Deer and Vila._\n\n A young deer track'd his way through the lone forest\n One lonely day--another came in sadness--\n And the third dawn'd, and brought him sighs and sorrow;\n Then he address'd him to the forest Vila:\n \"Young deer,\" she said, \"thou wild one of the forest!\n Now tell me what great sorrow has oppress'd thee;\n Why wanderest thou thus in the forest lonely:\n Lonely one day--another day in sadness--\n And the third day with sighs and anguish groaning?\"\n And thus the young deer to the Vila answered:\n \"O thou sweet sister! Vila of the forest!\n Me has indeed a heavy grief befallen;\n For I once had a fawn, mine own beloved,\n And one sad day she sought the running water;\n She enter'd it, but came not back to bless me.\n Then, tell me, has she lost her way and wander'd?\n Was she pursued and captured by the huntsman?\n Or has she left me?--has she wholly left me--\n Loving some other deer--and I forgotten?\n Oh, if she has but lost her way, and wanders,\n Teach her to find it--bring her back to love me!\n Oh, if she has been captured by the huntsman,\n Then may a fate as sad as mine await him!\n But if she has forsaken me--if, faithless,\n She loves another deer, and I forgotten--\n Then may the huntsman speedily o'ertake her.\"[583]\n\nWe have already observed how almost all nations compare female beauty\nto that of the beings of their legendary creed. With the Servians the\nobject of comparison is the lovely Vila. \"She is fairer than the\nmountain-Vila,\" is the highest praise of woman's beauty. In the ballad\nof The Sister of the Kapitan Leka, it is said of the heroine\nRossandra, that in no country, either Turkey, or the land of the\nKauran, or Jowrs, was her fellow to be found. No white Bula\n(Mohammedan), no Vlachin (Greek), no slender Latiness (Roman\nCatholic), could compare with her,\n\n And who on the hills hath seen the Vila--\n E'en the Vila, brother, must to her yield.\n\nThe swiftness of the Vila also affords a subject of comparison: a\nfleet horse is said to be \"Vilaish,\" or \"swift as a Vila.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Morlacchi of Dalmatia, as Sir Gardner Wilkinson informs us,[584]\nbelieve also in the Vila. They describe her as a handsome female, who\naccompanies the man who is her favourite everywhere he goes, and\ncauses all his undertakings to prosper. One thus favoured is termed\nVil\u00e9nik. Another of their objects of belief is the Ma\u00e7ieh, who appears\nin the form of a boy, with a cap on his head, and is always laughing.\nAny one to whom he appears gets the power of commanding him. If\nordered to bring money, he usually steals it from one of the\nneighbours, and if taxed with his dishonesty, he goes to the sea and\ncomes back dripping and with money.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[574] Delrio, Lib. ii. Sect. 2. Boxhorn Resp. Moscov. Pars I.\n\n[575] Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 447.\n\n[576] Mone, vol. i. p. 144. Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 460.\n\n[577] Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 480.\n\n[578] Published by Wuk and translated by Talvi and others into German,\nby Bowring into English.\n\n[579] Bowring, p. 175. _Sabejam oblake_, Cloud-gatherer, is an epithet\nof the Vila, answering to the \u039d\u03b5\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 of the Grecian Zeus.\n\n[580] Death of Kralwich Marko. Bowring, p. 97.\n\n[581] The building of Skadra. Ibid. p. 64.\n\n[582] We have made this translation from a German version in the Wiener\nJahrb\u00fccher, vol. xxx. which is evidently more faithful than Bowring's.\n\n[583] Bowring, This version differs considerably from the German one\nof Talvi. We feel quite convinced that the English translator has\nmistaken the sense.\n\n[584] Dalmatia and Montenegro, etc.\n\n\n\n\n AFRICANS, JEWS, Etc.\n\n Lead from the hills the voice of riot comes,\n Where Yumboes shout and beat their Jaloff drums.\n T. K.\n\n\nThis division of our work is somewhat miscellaneous, not being\nrestricted to any particular race, or to any determinate part of the\nearth's surface. It contains merely such matters as appeared to us to\nbe worthy of note, but which we could not include in any of the\npreceding sections.\n\n\n\n\n AFRICANS.\n\n When evening's shades o'er Goree's isle extend,\n The nimble Yumboes from the Paps descend,\n Slily approach the natives' huts, and steal,\n With secret hand, the pounded coos-coos meal.\n T. K.\n\n\nThe Jaloff inhabitants of the mainland of Africa, opposite the isle of\nGoree, believe in a species of beings who have a striking and\nsurprising correspondence with the Gothic Fairies. They call them\nYumboes, and describe them as being about two feet high, of a white\ncolour, as every thing preternatural is in Africa. It is remarkable\nthat, acting on the same principle as the Greeks, who called their\nFuries Eumenides, and the Scots and Irish, who style the Fairies Good\nNeighbours, or Good People, the Africans call the Yumboes, Bakhna\nRakhna, or Good People. The dress of the Yumboes exactly corresponds\nwith that of the natives, and they imitate their actions in every\nparticular. They attach themselves to particular families; and\nwhenever any of their members die, the Yumboes are heard to lament\nthem, and to dance upon their graves. The Moors believe the Yumboes to\nbe the souls of their deceased friends.\n\nThe chief abode of the Yumboes is a subterraneous dwelling on the\nPaps, the hills about three miles distant from the coast. Here they\ndwell in great magnificence, and many wonderful stories are told of\nthose persons, particularly Europeans, who have been received and\nentertained in the subterraneous residence of the Yumboes: of how they\nwere placed at richly furnished tables; how nothing but hands and feet\nwere to be seen, which laid and removed the various dishes; of the\nnumerous stories the underground abode consisted of; the modes of\npassing from one to the other without stairs, etc., etc.\n\nIn the evening the Yumboes come down to the habitation of man, wrapped\nclose in their _pangs_,[585] with only their eyes and nose visible.\nThey steal to the huts, where the women are pounding in mortars the\ncoos-coos, or corn, watch till the pounders are gone for sieves to\nsearce the meal, and then slily creep to the mortars, take out the\nmeal, and carry it off in their pangs, looking every moment behind\nthem, to see if they are observed or pursued; or they put it into\ncalabashes, and arranging themselves in a row, like the monkeys,\nconvey it from hand to hand, till it is placed in safety.\n\nThey are also seen at night in their canoes, out fishing in the bay.\nThey bring their fish to land, and, going to the fires kindled by the\nnatives to keep away the wild beasts, they steal each as much fire as\nwill roast his fish. They bury palm-wine, and when it becomes sour\nthey drink of it till it intoxicates them, and then make a great\nnoise, beating Jaloff drums on the hills.[586]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[585] The Pang (Span. _pa\u00f1o_, cloth) is an oblong piece of cotton cloth,\nwhich the natives manufacture and wear wrapped round their bodies.\n\n[586] For the preceding account of the Yumboes we are indebted to a\nyoung lady, who spent several years of her childhood at Gorce. What\nshe related to us she had heard from her maid, a Jaloff woman, who\nspoke no language but Jaloff.\n\n\n\n\n JEWS.\n\n \u05d1\u05de\u05d1\u05e0\u05d9\u05da \u05d9\u05e7\u05e8\u05d1\u05d5\u05df \u05dc\u05d0 \u05e8\u05de\u05d5\u05d9\u05e7\u05d9\u05d0\n PSALM xci. 5. _Chaldaic\u00e8_\n\n And the Mazikeen shall not come near thy tents.\n\n\nIt has long been an established article of belief among the Jews that\nthere is a species of beings which they call Shedeem,[587]\nShehireem,[588] or Mazikeen.[589] These beings exactly correspond to\nthe Arabian Jinn;[590] and the Jews hold that it is by means of them\nthat all acts of magic and enchantment are performed.\n\nThe Talmud says that the Shedeem were the offspring of Adam. After he\nhad eaten of the Tree of life, Adam was excommunicated for one hundred\nand thirty years. \"In all those years,\" saith Rabbi Jeremiah Ben\nEliezar, \"during which Adam was under excommunication, he begat\nspirits, demons, and spectres of the night, as it is written, 'Adam\nlived one hundred and thirty years, and begat children in his likeness\nand in his image,' which teaches, that till that time he had not\nbegotten them in his own likeness.\" In Berashith Rabba, R. Simon says,\n\"During all the one hundred and thirty years that Adam was separate\nfrom Eve, male spirits lay with her, and she bare by them, and female\nspirits lay with Adam, and bare by him.\"\n\nThese Shedeem or Mazikeen are held to resemble the angels in three\nthings. They can see and not be seen; they have wings and can fly; they\nknow the future. In three respects they resemble mankind: they eat and\ndrink; they marry and have children; they are subject to death. It may\nbe added, they have the power of assuming any form they please; and so\nthe agreement between them and the Jinn of the Arabs is complete.\n\nMoses Edrehi, a learned Jew of Morocco, has translated into Spanish\nfor us several of the tales of the Mazikeen contained in the Talmud\nand Rabbinical writings. We select the following as specimens; and\naccording to our usual custom, adhere strictly to our original.\n\n\n _The Broken Oaths._\n\nThere was a man who was very rich, and who had but one only son. He\nbestowed upon him every kind of instruction, so that he became very\nlearned and of great talent.\n\nBefore his death the old man gave a great entertainment, and invited\nall the chief people of the city; and when the entertainment was over,\nhe called his son, and made him swear, in the name of the great God of\nthe whole universe, that he never would travel or go out of his own\ncountry. He then left him the whole of his riches on this condition,\nand made him sign a paper to that effect, with sufficient witnesses,\nin the presence of all that company, and he gave the paper into the\ncustody of one of the principal persons.\n\nSome years after the death of his father, there came a very large ship\nfrom India, laden with merchandise of great value. The captain when he\narrived inquired after the father of this young man, and the people\nsaid unto him that he was dead, but that he had left a son, and they\nconducted the captain to the young man's dwelling. The captain then\nsaid unto him, \"Sir, I have brought hither much property belonging to\nthy father, and as there is much property of thy father's still\nremaining, if thou wilt come with me, thou wilt be able to obtain much\nriches, for thou canst recover all that is owing unto thy father.\" He\nmade answer unto the captain and said, that he could not travel, as he\nhad taken an oath unto his father that he never would go out of the\ncountry. The captain, however, ceased not every day to persuade him,\nuntil at length he gave him his word that he would go with him. He\nthen went unto the learned Rabbin that were at that time, to see if\nthey would give him absolution respecting the oath he had sworn unto\nhis father. But they counselled him not to leave the country. But his\neagerness to acquire more riches was so great, that he would not\nhearken unto the counsel of any one. So he finally took his\nresolution, and went away with the captain.\n\nNow, when they were in the midst of the sea, lo! the ship went to\npieces, and all the merchandise that was on board was lost, and all\nthe people were drowned, save only this young man, who got upon a\nplank. And the water carried him about from one place unto another,\nuntil it cast him upon the land. But here he was in danger of\nstarving, and had nothing to eat but the herbs of the field, or to\ndrink but the running water.\n\nOne day an exceeding large eagle drew near unto him, and seated\nhimself on the ground before him. As he was now reduced to despair,\nand had little hopes of being able to preserve his life, and knew not\nwhere he was, he resolved to mount this eagle, and to sit upon his\nback. He accordingly mounted the bird, and the eagle flew with him\nuntil he brought him unto a country that was inhabited, where he left\nhim.[591] When he saw that he was in a land where there were people,\nhe was greatly rejoiced, and he immediately inquired where the great\nRabbi of that country dwelt. But all the people that were there stood\nmocking at him, and cursing him, and saying that he should die,\nbecause he had broken the oath he had sworn unto his father. When he\nheard this he was greatly astonished at their knowing it, but he went\nto the house of the chief person among them who said unto him that he\nshould abide in his house until they did him justice, because in that\ncountry they were all Mazikeen, and they wanted to kill him because he\ndeserved death on account of the oath to his father, which he had\nbroken. \"Therefore,\" said he, \"when they will sentence thee, and will\nlead thee forth to punishment, cry aloud and say, I call for justice\nbefore God and the king! The king will then do his utmost to deliver\nthee out of their hands, and thou wilt remain alive.\"\n\nAccordingly, when he was tried before the senate, and before their\nprinces and great men, he was found guilty, and sentenced to death,\naccording to the law of God. And when they led him forth to be slain,\nhe put his fingers before God, and before his majesty the king.[592]\nWhen they heard this, they took him before the king, who examined him,\nand saw that, in justice, he was worthy of death. But the king asked\nhim if he had studied or knew the law of Moses, or had studied the\nTalmud, and various authors; and he saw that he was very learned, and\na great Rabbi, and it grieved him much that he should be put to death.\nThe king, therefore, begged that they would defer his execution until\nthe following day, for he wished to give his case a little further\nconsideration. At this they all held their peace, and departed.\n\nNext day all the senators, governors, chief men, and all the people of\nthe city, came together to see and hear the sentence of the king, and\nalso to behold the death of this man, as it would be for them a very\ncurious sight. Now, while they were all standing there assembled, before\nthe king came forth from his palace to give his judgement, he called for\nthis man who was condemned to death, and asked him if he was willing to\nremain with him and teach his children what he knew, as, in such case,\nhe would do his utmost to deliver him from death. He made answer that he\nwas willing. The king then went forth from his palace, and seated\nhimself upon his throne of judgement, and called all the chief men, and\nall the people, and spake unto them in this sort:--\n\n\"Sirs, it is a truth that you have adjudged this man to death, which\nhe deserves: but there is no rule without an exception, and I believe\nthat this man hath not yet come to his time that he should die. For if\nit was the will of God that he should die, he would have died along\nwith the rest of the people who were on board the same ship with him\nwhen the ship went to pieces, and not have escaped as he hath done.\nAgain, if it was the will of God that he should die, he would not have\nreached the land, and an eagle would not have come and brought him\nhither amongst us. In like manner, God hath delivered him from you,\nfor he might have been slain by you. He hath thus been delivered out\nof these manifold and great perils, and it therefore seemeth unto me\nthat he should live; as for the sin that he hath committed, in\nbreaking his oath, it is between him and God, who shall reward him for\nit one day or other. He shall therefore be free from us; and I ordain\nthat no one shall touch him, or do him any evil; and whosoever\ntroubleth him shall be put to death.\"\n\nWhen they heard these words of the king, they all expressed themselves\nwell pleased at his decision; and the man remained in the house of the\nking, teaching his children. He continued in the palace for three\nyears, highly respected by every one, and greatly esteemed by the king\nfor his talents and his capacity.\n\nNow it came to pass that the king was obliged to set forth with an\narmy, to war against one of the provinces of his kingdom which had\nrebelled. As he was on the point to set out, he called for this man,\nand gave him all the keys of his palaces and his treasures, and said\nunto him, \"Behold! thou mayest view every thing that is in the land\nand in the palaces; but thou hast here a golden key of one palace\nwhich thou must beware of opening, for on the day that thou openest it\nI will slay thee.\" Then, charging the people to respect and attend to\nhim, the king took his leave of him and departed. When the king was\ngone, he began to open and examine all the palaces, and all the\ncuriosities, which were such as he had never seen in his life, and all\nthe treasures of the greatest riches that could be in the world; in\nshort, he saw mountains upon mountains of diamonds of great weight,\nand other things of various kinds, most admirable to behold. But when\nhe had seen all, he was not satisfied; he wanted to see more. And as\nhis desire was very great, he would open the other palace; and he\nthought he should suffer no injury thereby, so that he resolved to\nopen it. Five or six times he drew nigh to open it, and as often he\ndrew back in fear: at length he took courage and opened it.\n\nThere were seven apartments, one within the other, and every apartment\nwas full of different rich and curious things. In the seventh\napartment was the princess, with other women, all richly dressed, and\nvery beautiful. When the princess saw him, she gave a sigh, and said,\n\"Man, it grieveth me for thee! how art thou come hither? Where is thy\nregard for the advice of my father, who entreated thee not to open\nthis palace, when he gave thee the keys of his palaces and his\ntreasures, and straitly charged thee not to come hither? Know now that\nmy father is coming, and that he will surely slay thee. But if thou\nwilt follow my counsel, and wilt espouse me, I will save thee; but\nthou must give unto me thy oath, that thou wilt do it.\" He replied\nthat he would, and he sware unto her, and gave it unto her in writing.\nShe then said unto him, \"When my father asketh thee why thou hast\nopened the palace, thou shalt make answer, and say that thou desirest\nto marry me, and then he will let thee escape, and not slay thee.\"\n\nHe had scarcely ended speaking with her, when the king entered, with\nhis sword drawn in his hand, to slay him. Then he threw himself on the\nground, and began to entreat him, and said that he was desirous to\nmarry the princess. When the king heard this, he was rejoiced that he\nwould remain there, and so teach his children all the knowledge he\npossessed; for he was of great capacity in everything. He therefore\ntold him, that he would leave it to his daughter, whether she would\nhave him or not. The king then asked his daughter, and she replied,\n\"What your majesty doth for me is well done.\" The king then gave his\nconsent for her marriage with him. The contract was made, and notice\nwas given to all the chief persons of the city, and the wedding was\nappointed to be in two months.\n\nWhen the appointed time was come, all the chief men of all the\nprovinces of the kingdom were invited, and a great feast was made to\ncelebrate the marriage of the princess; and they were married to their\ngreat joy and happiness.\n\nOn the first night of their marriage, when the husband and the wife\nwere alone, she said unto him, \"Behold! I am not like one of you, and\nthou seest that, thanks be unto God! there is no defect in my body;\nif, therefore, though we have been publicly married with the consent\nof my father, thou art not content to live with me as husband and\nwife, thou art at liberty, and no one shall know it; but if thou art\ncontent with all thy will, thou must swear unto me that thou wilt\nnever leave me.\" He replied, that he was well content with everything;\nand he sware unto her, and wrote it down on paper, and signed it with\nhis hand, and gave it unto her; and they lived happily as man and wife\nfor many years, and they had children; and his first-born he named\nSolomon, after the name of king Solomon.\n\nImmediately after the marriage, the king caused it to be proclaimed that\nhis son-in-law should be the second person in the kingdom to give\njudgement, and to punish such as should be deserving of punishment. This\nthe king did with the consent of all the great men of the country.\n\nBut, after some years, this man began to be very anxious and\nmelancholy; and his wife asked him many times what it was that ailed\nhim, but he would never tell her the cause: yet she persuaded him so\nmuch, that at length he told it unto her, and said, that when he\nlooked upon his children he remembered the other children that he had,\nand his other wife, and that he yearned to behold them once more. His\nwife replied, \"My dear husband, let not this give thee any uneasiness,\nfor if thou wishest to see them, thou canst see them.\" He answered,\n\"If thou wilt do me this favour and grace, I shall thank thee much.\"\nShe asked him how long he wished to stay with his wife and children,\nand he answered, three months; but she said, \"No; I will give thee the\nspace of a year, on condition, that as soon as the year is expired\nthou return again unto me.\" He answered, \"If thou show me this favour,\nI will do all that thou wilt command me.\" She said, \"Take an oath that\nthou wilt keep thy word.\" He then sware, and wrote it down on paper,\nand gave it unto her.\n\nShe then called one of her servants, and ordered him to convey him to\nhis own house with all the speed he could make; and in the space of a\nfew minutes he found himself in his own house with his wife and\nchildren. The man then asked him if he had any commands for his lady? He\nreplied, \"I have nothing to do with thee or thy lady. I am now with my\nwife and children; I know no other, and therefore I have no message to\ngive.\" The servant then returned to his mistress; and she asked him what\nhis master had said, and if he had given him any message. He answered,\n\"Madam, if I tell thee what he hath said, thou wilt not believe me.\" She\nthen pressed him, and he told her all. She said, \"It doth not signify.\"\n\nHe remained, then, very happy with his family; but at the end of the\nyear his wife sent a messenger unto him to call him back unto her, as\nthe year was expired. But he answered that he would not, and that he had\nnothing to do with them, as he was a man, and had nothing more to say\nwith them. The messenger returned and told his mistress, and she sent\nother messengers of greater dignity, for she said this one is not\nsufficient for him. But he made the same reply that he had made unto the\nfirst. She then sent greater still, three or four times; and at last she\nwas obliged to send her son Solomon. When he saw his son he embraced\nhim, and asked him what he wanted. He told him that his mother had sent\nhim, that he might come back with him, and that if he would not, she\nwould come and avenge herself upon him. His father replied, that he had\nno mind to depart from his house; that he would stay with his wife and\nchildren, who were human beings like himself. So when his son saw that\nthere was no remedy, and that he would not come with him, he returned\nunto his mother, and related the whole unto her.\n\nHis mother was then obliged to go herself with her great army. When they\narrived at the city where the man dwelt, they said unto the princess\nthat they would go up and slay the man that was her husband, and all the\npeople of the city; but she answered, \"No; they had not permission to\nkill any one, as all the Hebrews, when they lie down to sleep at night,\nmake their prayers unto God to protect and guard them from all Mazikeen;\nso that we have no right or permission to touch them; and if we do them\na mischief, we shall be chastised for it by the God of Israel, who\ngoverneth the whole world. Do you, therefore, bide here without the\ncity, and in the morning I and my son Solomon will arise and go unto\nthe school of the Rabbin and the Sanhedrim, and if they will do me\njustice with him, well; if not, I will avenge myself upon him and upon\nthem.\" They all made answer and said, \"It is well said.\"\n\nIn the morning she arose with her son Solomon, and went unto the great\nschool, where the divine Law was taught. They were consulting, when\nthey heard the voice of one crying aloud, and saying, \"Sirs, justice\nbefore God, and before you, upon such a one, my husband;\" and all the\npeople were amazed, and were in astonishment when they heard the voice\nthree times, and saw no one. They then sent for the man, who came unto\nthem and related the whole story, and said that he had no mind to go\nwith her. They again heard the voice, which said, \"Sirs, here are his\noaths, signed by himself, which he sware and signed each time;\" and\nthen three written papers fell before them. They read them, and asked\nhim if that was his signature. He said it was. They said unto him, \"It\nis ill done to break so many oaths,\" and that there was no remedy, but\nthat he should go with her to where he had lived so many years with\nher, and where she had saved him from death, and he had had children\nby her. \"As for us, we advise thee to go with her, and if thou dost\nnot, it will not come to good; for she is not an ordinary person, but\nis a princess, and merits attention, more especially as she hath right\non her side.\" He answered that he would give her Guet (a bill of\ndivorce); but she made answer, that that would not be for her honour.\nIn fine, he refused absolutely to go with her.\n\nAfter a great deal of argument, and when she saw that there were no\nmeans to persuade him, she said, \"Sirs, I am highly obliged and grateful\nto you; for I see that you do me the justice of God, and he will not\naccept it. You are free, and the sin will be upon his soul. Wherefore,\nsirs, since there is no remedy with him, I entreat that he will suffer\nme to take leave of him, and to embrace him.\" He replied that she might,\nand as soon as she embraced him she drew out his soul, and he died. She\nthen said, \"Sirs, here is his son Solomon, who is one of yourselves. I\nwill give him sufficient riches, and he shall be heir along with the\nchildren of his other wife, and you will make him among you a great\nRabbi; for he is of sufficient ability, as you may see if you will\nexamine him. Farewell.\" So saying, she departed with her army.[593]\n\n\n _The Moohel._\n\nThere was once a man who was exceedingly rich, but out of all measure\navaricious, and who never had done a good deed in his life, and never\nhad given even the value of a farthing unto the poor.\n\nIt happened one winter's night, between the hours of twelve and one,\nthat a man came and knocked loudly at the door of this miser. He\nopened the window, and saw a man at the door, and he asked him what it\nwas he wanted. He said that he wanted him to go with him to a village\ntwelve miles distant from the town, to circumcise a young child that\nwould be eight days old in the morning.\n\nNow you must know, that this man of whom we treat was a Jew and a\nMoohel, that is, one whose office it is to circumcise the young\nchildren; and with all his avarice in money matters, he was not\navaricious in his office, for he believed in the end of the world, and\ntherefore he did this good action.\n\nHe accordingly agreed to go with the man, and he kindled a fire, and\nput his clothes before it, and got ready the instruments he required\nfor performing the ceremony. He then set out along with the strange\nman, whom he knew not, though it was winter, and dark and rainy; and\nthey went along, journeying through the wilderness. This unfortunate\nMoohel, who did not know his way in the wilderness, and in the dark,\nevery now and then fell over the stones on the way; but they still\nwent on until they came to a great and lofty mountain in the midst of\nthe wilderness, where people never passed, and where there are no\npeople to be seen, but only dark, dark mountains, that fill with\nterror those who look upon them.\n\nThe man who came with the Moohel now laid his hand on a great stone of\nthe mountain, so large that five hundred persons could not remove or\nraise it; yet he raised it with only one hand. The place then opened,\nand they both descended. There were many flights of steps, and it was\nvery deep within the earth, and below there was an entire city. They\nentered then into a palace that was very large and handsome; it had\nfine gardens, and there was a great deal of light, and music, and much\ndancing of men and women. When they saw this Moohel approach, they\nbegan to laugh and to mock at him; but the poor Moohel was greatly\nastonished at all the things that he saw, and as he stood looking on,\nhe began to consider and reflect upon them; and then he saw that they\nwere not human beings like us, and great fear came upon him; but he\nhad no means of getting out, or of saving himself, so he constrained\nhimself, and remained quiet.\n\nNow the man who had brought him thither was one of their commanders,\nand a great personage among them. He took him then to the apartment of\nthe lying-in woman, that he might view the child. The man then went\naway, and left him with the lying-in woman. But the woman groaned in\ngreat affliction, and began to weep. The Moohel asked her what ailed\nher? Then said the woman unto the Moohel, \"How didst thou come hither?\nKnowest thou in what place thou art, and amongst whom thou art?\" The\nMoohel replied that he did not, as he had not ventured to speak. The\nwoman then explained, \"Thou art in the land of the Mazikeen, and all\nthe people that are here are Mazikeen; but I am a being like unto\nthyself; for when I was yet young and little, I was once alone in a\ndark place, and these people took me and brought me hither; and I was\nmarried to this husband, who is one of their great men, and who is,\nmoreover, a Jew, for there are different religions among them; and I\nalso am a Jewess; and when this child was born, I spake unto my\nhusband, and entreated of him, that he would get a Moohel to\ncircumcise the babe; and so he brought thee hither. But thou art in\ngreat danger here, and art lost; for thou wilt never be able to go out\nfrom here, and wilt be like one of them. Yet, as I have compassion for\nthee, and particularly as thou hast, out of kindness, come hither to\ncircumcise the babe, and out of humanity, I will give thee a counsel\nthat may be of service unto thee; and that is, when they ask thee to\neat or to drink, take good heed not to touch anything; for if thou\ntaste anything of theirs thou wilt become like one of them, and wilt\nremain here for ever.\"\n\nThe husband now came in, and they went to the congregation to perform\nthe morning prayer. After the prayer, they returned to the house to\nperform the ceremony of circumcision. The Moohel took a cup of wine,\nand gave it to taste to the lying-in woman, to the babe, and to all\nwho were invited to the ceremony; for this is the manner and the\ncustom. But the man who had fetched the Moohel said unto him, \"Thou\nalso shouldst taste.\" The Moohel replied, that he could not, for he\nhad dreamed an evil dream, and that he must fast; and by this excuse\nhe escaped. But he waited for him till night, and then they brought\nhim meat and drink; but he replied that he could not eat until he had\npassed two or three days fasting. When the man who had brought him\nthither saw that he would neither eat nor drink for so long a time, he\ntook compassion upon him, and said unto him, \"What is the matter with\nthee, that thou wilt neither eat nor drink?\"--\"Sir,\" replied the\nMoohel, \"I ask and desire no other thing but to go home unto my\nfamily; for this week we hold a feast, and I should be with my family.\nI therefore most humbly supplicate thee to take me unto my own house.\"\nHe then began to beg and entreat him most earnestly, and the woman\nalso entreated for him.\n\nThe man then said unto him, \"Since thou desirest to go home unto thy\nhouse, come then with me; I will give thee a present for thy trouble.\nCome with me, where thou mayest see and take whatever will seem good\nunto thee.\" The Moohel answered, \"I do not wish for anything. Thanks\nbe to God! I am very rich--I want for nothing, but to return home unto\nmy family.\"--\"Nevertheless,\" said he, \"come with me, till I show thee\ncurious things that thou hast never seen in thy life.\" He was\naccordingly persuaded; he went with him, and he showed him divers\napartments all full of silver, of gold, of diamonds, of all sorts of\nprecious stones, and of other curious and magnificent things, such as\nhe had never seen in his life.\n\nHe thus led him from one chamber to another, and continually asked him\nif he wished for anything; for if he did, he might take it. But he\nstill refused, and would take nothing. At length they came to the last\nchamber, where there was nothing but bunches of keys hanging. The\nMoohel raised his eyes at seeing such a number of keys, and, lo! he\nbeheld a bunch of keys that was his own. He began then to reflect\ndeeply; and the man said unto him, \"What dost thou stand gazing at? I\nhave shown thee many precious and curious things, and yet thou didst\nnot bestow so much attention upon them as upon these old keys, that\nare of little worth.\" \"Be not offended, sir,\" answered the Moohel,\n\"but these keys are so like mine, and I believe they are the same.\" He\ntook the keys and began to examine them, and to point out each key\nseparately to the man, who at length said unto him, \"Thou art right,\nthey are thy keys. Know that I am lord over the hearts of the people\nwho never at any time do good; and as thou performest this good deed\nof circumcision, and riskest thy life in dangerous journeys, and goest\nwith all sorts of people to do the commandment of the God of Israel,\nhere, take the keys! From henceforward thy heart will be opened,[594]\nand will be good toward the poor, which will cause thee to live a long\nand a happy life with thy family. Come now with me; I will carry thee\nhome to thy house and to thy family. Now shut thine eyes.\"\n\nHe shut his eyes, and instantly found himself in his own house amidst\nhis family. He then began to distribute money to all the poor that were\nin the land, every week and every month. But the world is always curious\nto hear novelties and strange events, and the people, and even his own\nwife, as this was a very wonderful thing, pressed him and persuaded him,\nuntil at length he was obliged to relate the whole history of what had\nbefallen him, from the beginning even unto the end; and it was a matter\nof great delight to all the world; and they did much good to the poor,\nand they all became rich, with great prosperity. And the Moohel lived\nvery long, and spent a great and a happy life with his family, a pattern\nand an example unto the whole world.[595]\n\n\n _The Mazik-Ass._\n\nIt came to pass in the countries of Africa, in a particular month,\nduring which it is the usage and the custom of the Jews to rise in the\nnight to say their prayers, that a servant, whose business it was to\nknock at the doors, and to call up the people, found one night an ass\n(_jumento_) in the street; and he mounted upon him, and went riding\nalong and calling up the people. And, as he rode, lo! the ass began to\nswell and to increase in size, until he became three hundred yards in\nheight, and reached up even unto the top of the loftiest tower of the\nchurch, upon which he set the man, and then went away; and on the\nmorrow the man was found sitting upon the tower. Now, thou must know\nthat this ass was one of the Mazikeen.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Jews have, as it were, brought us back to Asia. As we proceed\neastwards from Persia, where we commenced, India first meets our view,\nbut of the numerous beings of its copious and intricate mythology, no\nclass seems to belong to earth unless it be the Yakshas who attend on\nKuveras, the Hindoo Plutos, and have charge of his enchanted gardens\non the summit of Himalaya, and who bear some resemblance to the\nDwarfs. There are also the misshapen Pisachas, who love to dwell in\ngloom; the Vidhyadharas, _i. e._, Masters of Magic, are said to\nresemble the Jinn of the Arabs; and the dancing and singing Gandharvas\nand Apsaresas may be compared with the Nymphs of Grecian mythology.\n\nEastwards still lies China. Here there is a species of beings named\nShinse\u00ebn, who are said to haunt the woods and mountains, where, exempt\nfrom the passions and the cares of life, they dwell in a state of\nblissful ease; but still exercise an influence over human affairs.\nSometimes they appear as old men with long beards; at other times as\nyoung maidens, sauntering amid rocks and woods by moonlight.[596]\n\nWe do not recollect to have met, in our reading, with any other beings\nbearing a resemblance to what we term Fairies.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[587] \u05e9\u05e8\u05d9\u05dd from \u05e9\u05e8\u05e8 to lay waste, Deut. xxxii. 17.\n\n[588] \u05e9\u05e2\u05d9\u05e8\u05d9\u05dd from \u05e9\u05e2\u05e8 horreo, Isaiah, xiii. 22.\n\n[589] \u05de\u05d5\u05d9\u05e7\u05d9\u05df from \u05e0\u05d5\u05e7 to hurt.\n\n[590] Moses Edrehi, our informant, says that the Mazikeen are called\nin the Arabic language, _znoon_ ([Illustration]), _i. e._ Jinn.\n\n[591] Comp. Lane, Thousand and One Nights, iii. p. 91.\n\n[592] To signify that he appealed to them.\n\n[593] From a rabbinical book called Mahasee Yerusalemee, _i. e._ History\nof a Hebrew of Jerusalem.--\"Very old,\" says Moses Edrehi, \"and known by\nthe Hebrews to be true.\" \"Moreover,\" saith he of another tale, \"it\nreally happened, because every thing that is written in the Jewish books\nis true; for no one can print any new book without its being examined\nand approved of by the greatest and chiefest Rabbin and wise men of that\ntime and city, and the proofs must be very strong and clear; so that all\nthe wonderful stories in these books are true.\" The Jews are not\nsingular in this mode of vouching for the truth of wonderful stories.\n\n[594] The moral here is apparent.\n\n[595] From a very ancient rabbinical book called R. H. It is needless\nto point out its resemblance to German and other tales.\n\n[596] See Davis's translation of The Fortunate Union, i. 68.\n\n\n\n\n CONCLUSION.\n\n\nHere, then, we conclude. The task which we imposed on ourselves was to\ncollect, arrange, classify, and give under one point of view the\nvarious ideas and legends respecting Fairies and similar beings of the\npopular creed, which lay scattered in a variety of books and a variety\nof languages. We have marked resemblances, traced coincidences, and\noffered etymologies. Many legends, especially German ones, we know,\nexist, which are not to be found in this work; but, in general, they\noffer no new traits of popular lore, and most persons will, we\napprehend, be content with what we have given.\n\nThe labours of MM. Grimm in this department of philosophy can never be\ntoo highly praised. They have been, in fact, the creators of it; and the\nGerman Mythology is a work of the most extensive learning, and written\nin the spirit of true philosophy. And this is no light praise; for of\nall subjects, Mythology appears to be the one on which imagination is\nmost apt to run riot. Hence, it has been frequently almost brought into\ncontempt by the wild vagaries of those who have presumed to write on it\nwithout judgement of common sense. Though all may not agree with the\nopinions or deductions in the preceding pages, we trust that they will\nfind in them no traces of ill-regulated imagination.\n\nAs works of this kind have no bearing on material enjoyments, the number\nof those who will think lightly of them in these days will, of course,\nnot be small. But in the view of sane reason and philosophy, the subject\nis by no means unimportant, nay, it is even more important than many of\nhigher pretensions. To trace the corruption and degradation of the pure\nreligion of the Gospel, has always been held to be a task worthy of the\nhighest intellect: we should not, therefore, despise the present one,\nwhich is the same in kind though different in degree. We have seen that\nall these legendary beings and their characters and acts are remnants of\nancient religious systems, the mental offspring of deep-thinking sages.\nIt is surely, then, not uninteresting to trace them to their present\nform and condition. Even in a historic point of view they are not\nundeserving of attention. Thus, should our theory on the subject be\ncorrect, it is of importance to observe how the tribes around the\nBaltic, when they made conquests in the Roman Empire, brought with them\nthe religious ideas of their forefathers, and left traces of them, which\nare discernible even at the present day. Again, nothing more interests\nthe botanist than to find the same plants, modified by local\ncircumstances, growing in widely-distant regions. The interest is\nsimilar when we find the same legends, modified also by circumstances,\nspringing up in distant countries, and amongst tribes and nations who\ncould hardly have had any communication.[597]\n\nThis work is therefore to be regarded as a part of the philosophy of\npopular fiction. It is not by any means intended to be a work of mere\namusement, and those who view or represent it in that light will do it\nmanifest injustice. Many of the legends, no doubt, may possess\nattractions even for children; but the same is true of the narratives\nof Herodotus, and still more of those of the Old Testament, and\ntherefore should not derogate from its real importance. At the same\ntime, we have adopted a light and facile style, as that which we\ndeemed best suited to the character of the subject and the taste of\nthis country; but we trust that this will not lower either our subject\nor ourselves in the eyes of our readers.[598]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[597] Under the title Similar Legends in the Index, legends of this\nkind are arranged with references to the places where they occur.\n\n[598] The legends from the German and other languages are, in general,\nfaithfully translated, whence the style is at times rude and negligent;\nEnglish legends are for the most part, also, merely transcribed.\n\n\n\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n\nThe following tales are some of those which we contributed to the Irish\nFairy Legends. Subjoined is a selection from the verses which we have\nwritten on various occasions, chiefly to oblige our lady-friends. They\nare inserted merely to show that the writer could compose well-rimed\nstanzas, while he lays no claim whatever to the title of poet.\n\n\n _The Harvest Dinner._\n\nIt was Monday, and a fine October morning. The sun had been some time\nabove the mountains, and the hoar frost and the dew-drops on the\ngossamers[599] were glittering in the light, when Thady Byrne, on\ncoming in to get his breakfast, saw his neighbour Paddy Cavenagh, who\nlived on the other side of the road, at his own door tying his brogues.\n\n\"A good morrow to you, Paddy, honey,\" said Thady Byrne.\n\n\"Good morrow, kindly, Thady,\" said Paddy.\n\n\"Why, thin, Paddy, avick, it isn't your airly risin', anyhow that 'ill\ndo you any harm this mornin'.\"\n\n\"It's thrue enough for you, Thady Byrne,\" answered Paddy casting a\nlook up at the sky; \"for I b'leeve it's purty late in the day. But I\nwas up, you see, murdherin' late last night.\"\n\n\"To be shure, thin, Paddy, it was up at the great dinner, yisterday,\nabove at the big house you wor.\"\n\n\"Ay was it; an' a rattlin' fine dinner we had uv it, too.\"\n\n\"Why, thin, Paddy, agrah, what's to ail you now, but you'd jist sit\nyourself down here on this piece o' green sod, an' tell us all about\nit from beginnin' to ind.\"\n\n\"Niver say the word twist, man; I'll give you the whole full an' thrue\naccount uv it, an' welcome.\"\n\nThey sat down on the roadside, and Paddy thus began.\n\n\"Well, you see, Thady, we'd a powerful great harvist uv it, you know,\nthis year, an' the min all worked like jewels, as they are; an' the\nmasther was in great sperits, an' he promis'd he'd give us all a grand\ndinner whin the dhrawin'-in was over, an' the corn all safe in the\nhaggard. So this last week, you see, crown'd the business; an' on\nSatherday night the last shafe was nately tied an' sint in to the\nmisthress, an' everything was finisht, all to the tatchin' o' the\nricks. Well, you see, jist as Larry Toole was come down from headin'\nthe last rick, an' we war takin' away the laddher, out comes the\nmisthress herself--long life to her--by the light o' the moon; an',\n'Boys,' sez she, 'yez hav' finish'd the harvist bravely, an' I invite\nyez all to dinner here to-morrow; an' if yez come airly, yez 'ill git\nmass in the big hall, widout the throuble o' goin' up all the ways to\nthe chapel for it.'\"\n\n\"Why, thin, did she raally say so, Paddy?\"\n\n\"That she did--the divil the word o' lie in it.\"\n\n\"Well, go on.\"\n\n\"Well, if we didn't set up a shout for her, it's no matther!\"\n\n\"Ay, an' a good right yez had too, Paddy, avick.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, yistherday mornin'--which, God be praised, was as fine\na day as iver come out of the sky--whin I tuk the beard off o' me, Tom\nConner an' I set off together for the big house. An' I don't know,\nThady, whether it was the fineness o' the day, or the thoughts o' the\ngood dinner we wor to have, or the kindness o' the misthress, that med\nmy heart so light, but I filt, anyhow, as gay as any skylark. Well,\nwhin we got up to the house, there was every one o' the people that's\nin the work, min, women and childher, all come together in the yard;\nan' a purty sight it was to luk upon, Thady: they wor all so nate an\nso clane, an' so happy.\"\n\n\"Thrue for you, Paddy, agrah; an' a fine thing it is, too, to work wid\na raal gintleman like the masther. But till us, avick, how was it the\nmisthress conthrived to get the mass for yez: shure Father Miley\nhimself, or the codjuthor, didn't come over.\"\n\n\"No, in troth didn't they, but the misthress managed it betther nor all\nthat. You see, Thady, there's a priest, an ould friend o' the family's,\none Father Mulhall's on a visit, this fortnight past, up at the big\nhouse. He's as gay a little man as iver spoke, only he's a little too\nfond o' the dhrop,--the more's the pity,--an' it's whispered about among\nthe sarvints that by manes uv it he lost a parish he had down the\ncounthry; an' he was an his way up to Dublin, whin he stopt to spind a\nfew days wid his ould frinds the masther an' misthress.\n\n\"Well, you see, the misthress on Satherday, widout sayin' a single\nword uv it to any livin' sowl, writes a letther wid her own hand, an'\nsinds Tom Freen off wid it to Father Miley, to ax him for a loan o'\nthe vistmints. Father Miley, you know's a mighty ginteel man intirely,\nand one that likes to obleege the quolity in anything that doesn't go\nagin' his juty; an' glad he was to hav' it in his power to sarve the\nmisthress; an' he sint off the vistmints wid all his heart an' sowl\nan' as civil a letther, Tommy Freen says, for he hard the misthress\nreadin' it, as ivir was pinned.\"\n\n\"Well, there was an alther, you see, got up in the big hall, jist\nbechune the two doors--if ivir you wor in it--ladin' into the\nstore-room, an' the room the childher sleep in; and whin iviry thing\nwas ready we all come in, an' the priest gev' us as good mass iviry\ntaste as if we wor up at the chapel for it. The misthress an' all the\nfamily attinded thimsilves, an' they stud jist widinside o' the\nparlour-door; and it was raaly surprisin', Thady, to see how dacently\nthey behaved thimsilves. If they wor all their lives goin' to chapel\nthey cudn't have behaved thimsilves betther nor they did.\"\n\n\"Ay, Paddy, mavourneen; I'll be bail they didn't skit and laugh the\nway some people would be doin'.\"\n\n\"Laugh! not thimsilves, indeed. They'd more manners, if nothin' else,\nnor to do that. Well, to go an wid my story: whin the mass was ovir we\nwint sthrollin' about the lawn an' place till three o'clock come, an'\nthin you see the big bell rung out for dinner, an' may be it wasn't we\nthat wor glad to hear it. So away wid us to the long barn where the\ndinner was laid out; an' 'pon my conscience, Thady Byrne, there's not\none word o' lie in what I'm goin' to tell you; but at the sight o' so\nmuch vittles iviry taste uv appetite in the world lift me, an' I thought\nI'd ha' fainted down an the ground that was undher me. There was, you\nsee, two rows o' long tables laid the whole linth o' the barn, an' table\ncloths spred upon iviry inch o' them; an' there was rounds o' beef, an'\nrumps o' beef, an' ribs o' beef, both biled an' roast, an' there was\nligs o' mootton, and han's o' pork, and pieces o' fine bacon, an' there\nwas cabbage an' pratees to no ind, an' a knife an' fork laid for iviry\nbody; an' barrils o' beer an' porther, with the cocks in iviry one o'\nthem, an' moogs an' porringirs in hapes. In all my born days, Thady\ndear, I nivir laid eyes on sich a load o' vittles.\"\n\n\"By the powers o' dilph! Paddy, ahaygar, an' it _was_ a grand sight\nshure enough. Tare an' ayjirs! what ill loock I had not to be in the\nwork this year! But go on, agra.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, the masther himself stud up at the ind uv one o' the\ntables, an' coot up a fine piece o' the beef for us; and right\nforenint him at the other ind, sot ould Paddy Byrne, for, though you\nknow he is a farmer himself, yet the misthress is so fond uv him--he\nis sich a mighty dacint man--that she would by all manner o' manes\nhav' him there. Then the priest was at the head o' th' other table,\nan' said grace for us, an' thin fill to slashin' up another piece o'\nthe beef for us: and forenint him sot Jim Murray the stchewart; an'\nshure enough, Thady, it was oursilves that played away in grand style\nat the beef an' the mootton, an' the cabbage, an' all th' other fine\nthings. An' there was Tom Freen, and all th' other sarvints waitin'\nupon us an' handin' us dhrink, jist as if we wor so many grand\ngintlemin that wor dinin' wid the masther. Well, you see, whin we wor\nabout half doon, in walks the misthress hursilf, an' the young\nmasther, an' the young ladies, an' the ladies from Dublin that's down\non a visit wid the misthress, jist, as she said, to see that we wor\nhappy and merry ovir our dinner; an' thin, Thady, you see, widout\nanybody sayin' a single word, we all stud up like one man, an' iviry\nman an' boy wid his full porringer o' porther in his hand dhrank long\nlife an' success to the misthress and masther an' iviry one o' the\nfamily. I don't know for others, Thady, but for mysilf, I nivir said a\nprayer in all my life more from the heart; and a good right I had,\nshure, and iviry one that was there, too; for, to say nothin' o' the\ndinner, is there the likes uv her in the whole side o' the counthry\nfor goodness to the poor, whethir they're sick or they're well.\nWouldn't I mysilf, if it worn't but for her, be a lone an' desolate\nman this blissed day?\"\n\n\"It's thrue for you, avick, for she brought Judy through it betther\nnor any docther o' thim all.\"\n\n\"Well, to make a long story short, we et, an' we dhrank, an' we laughed,\nan' we talked, till we wor tirt, an' as soon as it grew dusk, we wor all\ncalled agin into the hall: an' there, you see, the misthress had got\novir Tim Connel, the blind piper, an' had sint for all the women that\ncould come, an' the cook had tay for thim down below in the kitchen; an'\nthey come up to the hall, an' there was chairs set round it for us all\nto sit upon, an' the misthress come out o' the parlour, an' 'Boys,' says\nshe, 'I hope yez med a good dinnir, an' I've bin thinkin' uv yez, you\nsee, an' I've got yez plinty o' partnirs, an' it's your own faults if\nyez don't spind a pleasint evinin'.' So wid that we set up another shout\nfor the misthress, an' Tim sthruck up, an' the masther tuk out Nilly\nMooney into the middle of the flure to dance a jig, and it was they that\nfutted it nately. Thin the masther called out Dinny Moran, an' dhragged\nhim up to one o' the Dublin young ladies, an' bid Dinny be stout an' ax\nher out to dance wid him. So Dinny, you see, though he was ashamed to\nmake so free wid the lady, still he was afeard not to do as the masther\nbid him; so, by my conscience, he bowled up to her manfully, an' hild\nout the fist an' axed her out to dance wid him, an' she gev' him her\nhand in a crack, an' Dinny whipt her out into the middle o' the hall,\nforenint us all, an' pulled up his breeches an' called out to Tim to\nblow up 'The Rocks of Cashel' for thim. An' thin _my_ jewil if you wor\nbut to see thim! Dinny flingin' the ligs about as if they'd fly from off\nhim, an' the lady now here, now there, jist for all the world as if she\nwas a sperit, for not a taste o' n'ise did she make on the flure that\nivir was hard; and Dinny callin' out to Tim to play it up fasther an'\nfasther, an' Tim almost workin' his elbow through the bag, till at last\nthe lady was fairly tirt, an' Dinny thin clapt his hands an' up jumpt\nPiggy Reilly, an' she attacked him bouldly, an' danced down Dinny an'\nthin up got Johnny Regan an' put her down complately. An' sence the\nworld was a world, I b'leeve there nivir was such dancin' seen.\"\n\n\"The sarra the doubt uv it, avick I'm sartin'; they're all o' thim\nsich rael fine dancers. An' only to think o' the lady dancin' wid the\nlikes o' Dinny!\"\n\n\"Well, you see, poor ould Paddy Byrne, whin he hears that the womin\nwor all to be there, in he goes into the parlor to the misthress, an'\naxes her if he might make so bould as to go home and fetch _his_\nwoman. So the misthress, you see, though you know Katty Byrne's no\ngreat favourite wid hur, was glad to obleege Paddy, an' so Katty Byrne\nwas there too. An' thin ould Hugh Carr axt hur out to move a minnet\nwid him, an' there was Hugh, as stiff as if he dined on one o' the\nspits, wid his black wig an' his long brown coat, an' his blue\nstockin's, movin' about wid his hat in his hand, an' ladin' Katty\nabout, an' lukin' so soft upon her; an' Katty, in her stiff mob-cap,\nwid the ears pinned down undher her chin, an' hur little black hat on\nthe top uv her head; an' she at one corner curcheyin' to Hugh, an'\nHugh at another bowin' to her, an' iviry body wundherin' at thim, they\nmoved it so iligantly.\"\n\n\"Troth, Paddy, avourneen, that was well worth goin' a mile o' ground\nto see.\"\n\n\"Well, you see; whin the dancin' was ovir they tuk to the singin', an'\nBill Carey gev' the 'Wounded Hussar,' an' the 'Poor but Honest\nSo'dger,' in sich style that yi'd have h'ard him up on the top o' Slee\nRoo; an' Dinny Moran an' ould Tom Freen gev' us the best songs they\nhad, an' the priest sung the 'Cruiskeen Laun' for us gaily, an' one o'\nthe young ladies played an' sung upon a thing widin in the parlor,\nlike a table, that was purtier nor any pipes to listen to.\"\n\n\"An' didn't Bill giv' yez 'As down by Banna's Banks I sthrayed?' Shure\nthat's one o' the best songs he has.\"\n\n\"An' that he did, till he med the very sates shake undher us; but a\nbody can't remimber iviry thing, you know. Well, where was I? Oh, ay!\nYou see, my dear, the poor little priest was all the night long goin'\nbackwards an' forwards, iviry minit, bechune the parlor an' the hall;\nan' the sperits, you see, was lyin' opin on the sideboord, an' the\ndear little man he cudn't, for the life uv him, keep himself from it,\nso he kipt helpin' himself to a dhrop now an' a dhrop thin, till at\nlast he got all as one as tipsy. So thin he comes out into the hall\namong us, an' goes about whisperin' to us to go home, an' not to be\nkeepin' the family out o' their bids. But the misthress she saw what\nhe was at, an' she stud up, an' she spoke out an' she said, 'Good\npeople,' sez she, 'nivir mind what the priest says to yez; yez are my\ncompany, an' not his, an' yez are heartily welcum to stay as long as\nyez like.' So whin he found he cud get no good uv us at all, he rowled\noff wid himself to his bid; an' his head, you see, was so bothered wid\nthe liquor he'd bin takin', that he nivir once thought o' takin' off\nhis boots, but tumbled into bed wid thim upon him, Tommy Freen tould\nus, whin he wint into the room to luk afther him; and divil be in Tim,\nwhen he h'ard it but he lilts up the 'Priest in his Boots;' and, God\nforgive us, we all burst out laughin', for shure who could hilp it, if\nit was the bishop himsilf?\"\n\n\"Troth, it was a shame for yez, anyhow. But Paddy, agrah, did yez come\naway at all?\"\n\n\"Why at last we did, afther another round o' the punch to the glory an'\nsuccess o' the family. And now, Thady, comes the most surprisintest part\no' the whole story. I was all alone, you see, for my woman, you know,\ncudn't lave the childher to come to the dance; so, as it was a fine\nmoonshiny night, nothin' 'ud sarve me but I must go out into the\npaddock, to luk afther poor Rainbow the plough bullock, that's got a bad\nshouldher, and so by that manes, you see, I misst o' the cumpany, an'\nhad to go home all alone by myself. Well, you see, it was out by the\nback gate I come, an' it was thin about twelve in the night, as well as\nI cud jidge by the Plough, an' the moon was shinin' as bright as a\nsilver dish, and there wasn't a sound to be hard, barrin' the screechin'\no' the ould owl down in the ivy-wall; an' I filt it all very pleasant,\nfor I was sumhow rather hearty, you see, wid the dhrink I'd bin takin';\nfor you know, Thady Byrne, I'm a sober man.\"\n\n\"That's no lie for you, Paddy, avick. A little, as they say, goes a\ngreat way wid you.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, an I wint whistlin' to mysilf some o' the chunes they\nwor singin', and thinkin' uv any thing, shure, but the good people;\nwhin jist as I come to the cornir o' the plantation, an' got a sight\no' the big bush, I thought, faith, I seen sum things movin' backwards\nan' for'ards, an' dancin' like, up in the bush. I was quite sartin it\nwas the fairies that, you know, resort to it, for I cud see, I\nthought, their little red caps an' green jackits quite plain. Well, I\nwas thinkin', at first, o' goin' back an' gittin' home through the\nfields; but, says I to myself, says I, what sh'uld I be afeard uv? I'm\nan honest man that does nobody any harm; an' I h'ard mass this\nmornin'; an' it's neither Holly eve nor St. John's eve, nor any other\no' their great days, an' they can do me no harm, I'm sartin. So I med\nthe sign o' the crass, an' an I wint in God's name, till I come right\nundher the bush; and what do you think they wor, Thady, afther all?\"\n\n\"Arrah, how can I till? But you wor a stout man anyhow, Paddy, agrah!\"\n\n\"Why, thin, what was it but the green laves o' the ould bush, an' the\nrid bunches o' the haves that war wavin' and shakin' in the moonlight.\nWell on I goes till I come to the cornir o' the Crab road, whin I\nhappined to cast my eyes ovir tow'st the little moat in the Moatfield,\nan' there, by my sowl! (God forgive me for swaerin',) I seen the\nfairies in rael airnist.\"\n\n\"You did, thin, did you?\"\n\n\"Ay, by my faith, did I, an' a mighty purty sight it was to see, too, I\ncan tell you, Thady. The side o' the moat, you see, that luks into the\nfield was opin, and out uv it there come the darlintest little calvacade\no' the purtiest little fellows you ivir laid your eyes upon. They wor\nall dhrest in green huntin' frocks, wid nice little rid caps on their\nheads, an' they wor all mounted on purty little, long-tailed, white\nponies, not so big as young kids, an' they rode two and two so nicely.\nWell, you see, they tuk right acrass the field, jist abuv the san'pit,\nan' I was wundherin' in myself what they'd do whin they come to the big\nditch, thinkin' they'd nivir git ovir it. But I'll tell you what it is,\nThady. Misther Tom and the brown mare, though they're both o' thim gay\ngood at either ditch or wall, they're not to be talked uv in the same\nday wid thim. They tuk the ditch, you see, big as it is, in full\nsthroke; not a man o' thim was shuk in his sate, nor lost his rank; it\nwas pop, pop, pop, ovir wid thim; and thin, hurra, away wid thim like\nshot acrass the High Field, in the direction o' the ould church. Well,\nmy dear, while I was sthrainin' my eyes lukin' afther thim, I hears a\ngreat rumblin' noise cumin' out o' the moat, an' whin I turned about to\nluk at it, what did I see but a great ould family coach-an'-six comin'\nout o' the moat, and makin' direct for the gate where I was stannin'.\nWell, says I, I'm a lost man now, anyhow. There was no use at all, you\nsee, in thinkin' to run for it, for they wor dhrivin' at the rate uv a\nhunt; so down I got into the gripe o' the ditch, thinkin' to snake off\nwid mysilf while they war op'nin' the gate. But, be the laws, the gate\nflew opin widout a sowl layin' a finger to it, the very instant minnet\nthey come up to it, an' they wheeled down the road jist close to the\nspot where I was hidin', an' I seen thim as plain as I now see you; an'\na quare sight it was, too, to see; for not a morsel uv head that ivir\nwas, was there upon one o' the horses, nor on the coachman neither, and\nyit, for all that, Thady, the Lord Lef'nint's coach cudn't ha' med a\nhandier nor a shorter turn nor they med out o' the gate; an' the blind\nthief uv a coachman, jist as they wor makin' the wheel, was near takin'\nthe eye out o' me wid the lash uv his long whip, as he was cuttin' up\nthe horses to show off his dhrivin'. I've my doubts that the schamer\nknew I was there well enough, and that he did it all a purpose. Well, as\nit passed by me, I peept in at the quolity widinside, an' not a head, no\nnot as big as the head uv a pin, was there among the whole kit o' thim,\nan' four fine futmin that war stannin' behind the coach war jist like\nthe rest o' thim.\"\n\n\"Well, to be shure, but it _was_ a quare sight.\"\n\n\"Well, away they wint tattherin' along the road, makin' the fire fly\nout o' the stones at no rate. So whin I seen they'd no eyes, I knew it\nwas onpossible they could ivir see _me_, so up I got out o' the ditch,\nand afther thim wid me along the road as fast as ivir I culd lay fut\nto ground. But whin I got to the rise o' the hill I seen they wor a\ngreat ways a-head o' me, an' they'd takin to the fields, an' war\nmakin' off for the ould church too. I thought they might have some\nbusiness o' their own there, an' that it might not be safe for\nsthrangers to be goin' afther thim; so as I was by this time near my\nown house, I wint in and got quietly to bid, widout sayin' anything to\nthe woman about it; an' long enough it was before I cud git to sleep\nfor thinkin' o' thim, an' that's the raison, Thady, I was up so late\nthis mornin'. But wasn't it a sthrange thing, Thady?\"\n\n\"Faith, an' shure it was, Paddy ahayger, as sthrange a thing as ivir\nwas. But are you quite sartin an' shure that you seen thim?\"\n\n\"Am I sartin an' shure I seen thim? Am I sartin an' shure I see the\nnose there on your face? What was to ail me not to see thim? Wasn't\nthe moon shinin' as bright as day? An' didn't they pass widin a yard\no' me? And did ivir any one see me dhrunk, or hear me tell a lie?\"\n\n\"It's thrue for you, Paddy, no one ivir did, and myself doesn't\nrightly know what to say to it?\"[600]\n\n\n _The Young Piper._\n\nThere was livin', it's not very long ago, on the bordhers o' the county\nWicklow, a dacint honest couple, whose names wor Mick Flanagan and Judy\nMuldoon. These poor people wor blist, as the saying is, wid four\nchildher, all buys: three o' them wor as fine, stout, healthy,\ngoodlukin' childher as ivir the sun shone upon; an' it was enough to\nmake any Irishman proud of the breed of his counthrymen to see thim\nabout one o'clock on a find summer's day stannin' at their father's\ncabin-door, wid their beautiful, fine flaxen hair hangin' in curls about\ntheir heads, an' their cheeks like two rosy apples, an' a big, laughin'\npotato smokin' in their hand. A proud man, was Mick, o' these fine\nchildher, an' a proud woman, too, was Judy; an' raison enough they had\nto be so. But it was far otherwise wid the remainin' one, which was the\nouldest; he was the most miserable, ugly, ill-conditioned brat that ivir\nGod put life into: he was so ill thriven, that he was nivir able to\nstand alone or to lave his cradle; he had long, shaggy, matted, curly\nhair, as black as the sut; his face was uv a greenish yollow colour; his\neyes wor like two burnin' coals, an' wor for ever movin' in his head, as\nif they had the parpaitual motion. Before he was a twel'month ould he\nhad a mouth full o' great teeth; his hands wor like kite's claws, and\nhis legs wor no thicker nor the handle of a whip, and about as straight\nas a rapin' hook; to make the matther worse, he had the gut uv a\ncormorant, and the whinge, and the yelp, and the screech, and the yowl,\nwas never out of his mouth.\n\nThe neighbours all suspicted that he was somethin' not right, more\nespecialy as it was obsarved, that whin people, as they use to do in\nthe counthry, got about the fire, and begun to talk o' religion and\ngood things, the brat, as he lay in the cradle which his mother\nginerally put near the fireplace that he might be snug, used to sit\nup, as they wor in the middle of their talk, and begin to bellow as if\nthe divil was in him in right airnest: this, as I said, led the\nneighbours to think that all wasn't right wid him, an' there was a\ngineral consultashion held one day, about what id be best to do wid\nhim. Some advised to put him out an the shovel, but Judy's pride was\nup at that. A purty thing, indeed, that a child of her's shud be put\nan a shovel, an' flung out on the dunghill jist like a dead kitten or\na pisoned rat; no, no, she wouldn't hear to that at all. One ould\nwoman, who was considhered mighty skilful an' knowin' intirely in\nfairy matthers sthrongly recomminded to put the tongs in the fire, an'\nto hate thim rid hot, an' thin to take his nose in thim, an' that that\nid, beyant all manner o' doubt, make him tell what he was, an' whare\nhe come from (for the gineral suspishion was, that he was changed by\nthe good people); but Judy was too saft-harted, an' too fond o' the\nimp, so she wouldn't giv' into this plan neither, though iverybody\nsaid she was wrong; and may be so she was, but it's a hard thing, you\nknow, to blame a mother. Well some advised one thing and some another,\nat last one spoke of sindin fur the priest, who was a very holy an' a\nvery larned man, to see it; to this Judy uv ecorse had no objection,\nbut one thing or another always purvinted her doing so, an' the upshot\no' the business was that the priest niver seen him at all. Well,\nthings wint on in the ould way for some time longer. The brat\ncontinued yelpin' an' yowlin', an' aitin' more nor his three brothers\nput together, an' playin' all sorts uv unlucky thricks, for he was\nmighty mischievyously inclined, till it happened one day that Tim\nCarrol, the blind piper, goin' his rounds, called in and sot down by\nthe fire to hav' a bit o' chat wid the woman o' the house. So afther\nsome time, Tim, who was no churl uv his music, yoked an the pipes an'\nbegun to bellows away in high style; whin the instant minnit he begun,\nthe young fellow, who was lyin' as still as a mouse in his cradle, sot\nup, an' begun to grin an' to twist his ugly phiz, an' to swing about\nhis long tawny arms, an' to kick out his crucked ligs, an' to show\nsigns o' grate glee at the music. At last nothin' id sarve him but he\nmust git the pipes into his own hands, an', to humour him, his mother\naxt Tim to lind thim to the child for a minnit. Tim, who was kind to\nchildher, readily consinted; and, as Tim hadn't his sight, Judy\nherself brought thim to the cradle, an' wint to put thim an him, but\nshe had no need, for the youth seemed quite up to the business. He\nbuckled an the pipes, set the bellows undher one arm and the bag\nundher th' other, an' worked thim both as knowingly as iv he was\ntwinty years at the thrade, an' lilted up \"Sheela na Guira,\" in the\nfinest style that iver was hard.\n\nWell, all was in amazemint; the poor woman crast herself. Tim, who, as\nI tould you afore, was dark an' didn't well know who was playin,' was\nin grate delight; an' whin he hard that it was a little\n_prechaun_,[601] not aight years ould, that nivir seen a set of pipes\nin all his days afore, he wished the mother joy iv her son; offered to\ntake him aff her han's iv she'd part wid him, swore he was a born\npiper, a nath'ral jainus, an' declared that in a little time more, wid\nthe help uv a little good tachein' frum himsilf, there wouldn't be his\nmatch in the whole counthry round. The poor woman was grately\ndelighted to hear all this, particklarly as what Tim sed about\nnath'ral jainises put an ind to some misgivin's that war risin' in hur\nmind, laist what the naybours sed about his not bein' right might be\nonly too thrue; an' it gratified hur too to think that her dear child\n(for she raely loved the whelp) wouldn't be forced to turn out an'\nbig, but might airn dacent, honest bread fur himsilf. So whin Miek\ncome home in the evenin' frum his work, she up an' she tould him all\nthat happined, an' all that Tim Carrol sed; an Mick, as was nath'ral,\nwas very glad to hear it, for the helpless condition o' the poor\ncrather was a grate throuble to him; so nixt fair-day he tuk the pig\nto the fair of Naas, and wid what it brought he whipt up, the nixt\nholiday that come, to Dublin, an' bespoke a bran new set o' pipes o'\nthe proper size fur him, an' the nixt time Tom Doolan wint up wid the\ncars, in about a fortnight after, the pipes come home, an' the minnit\nthe chap in the cradle laid eyes on thim, he squealed wid delight, an'\nthrew up his purty legs, an' bumped himsilf in his cradle, an' wint an\nwid a grate many comical thricks; till at last, to quite him, they gev\nhim the pipes, an' immajetly he set to an' pulled away at \"Jig\nPolthog,\" to th' admirashin uv all that hard him.\n\nWell, the fame uv his skill an the pipes soon spread far an' near, for\nthere wasn't a piper in the nixt three counties cud come near him at\nall, in Ould Maudha Roo, or the Hare in the Corn, or The Fox Hunther's\nJig, or The Piper's Maggot, or any uv the fine ould Irish jigs, that\nmake people dance whether they will or no: an' it was surprisin' to hear\nhim rattle away The Fox Hunt; you'd raaly think you hard the hounds\ngivin' tongue, an' the tarriers yelpin' always behind, an' the huntsman\nan' the whippers-in cheerin' or correctin' the dogs; it was, in short,\nthe very nixt thing to seein' the hunt itself. The best uv him was, he\nwas no way stingy uv his music, an' many's the merry dance the boys an'\nthe girls o' the neighbourhood used to hav' in his father's cabin; an'\nhe'd play up music fur thim that, they sed, used, as it wor, to put\nquicksilver in their feet; an' they all declared they nivir moved so\nlight an' so airy to any piper's playin' that ivir they danced to.\n\nBut besides all his fine Irish music, he had one quare chune uv his own,\nthe oddest that iver was hard; fur the minnit he begun to play it\niverything in the house seemed disposed to dance; the plates an'\nporringers used to jingle an the dhresser, the pots an' pot-hooks used\nto rattle in the chimbley, an' people used even to fancy they felt the\nstools movin' frum undher thim; but, howiver it might be wid the stools,\nit is sartin that no one cud keep long sittin' an them, fur both ould\nand young always fell to caperin' as hard as ivir they cud. The girls\ncomplained that whin he begun this chune it always threw thim out in\ntheir dancin', an' that they nivir cud handle their feet rightly, fur\nthey felt the flure like ice undher thim, an' thimsilves ready iviry\nminnit to come sprawlin' an their backs or their faces; the young\nbachelors that wanted to show aff their dancin' an' their new pumps, an'\ntheir bright red or green an' yellow garthers, swore that it confused\nthim so that they cud nivir go rightly through the heel-and-toe, or\ncover-the-buckle, or any uv their best steps, but felt thimsilves always\nbedizzied an' bewildhered, au' thin ould an' young id go jostlin' an'\nknockin' together in a frightful manner an' whin the anlooky brat had\nthim all in this way whirligiggin' about the flure, he'd grin an' he'd\nchuckle an' he'd chather, jist fur all the world like Jocko, the monkey,\nwhin he's played off sum uv his roguery.[602]\n\nThe oulder he grew the worse he grew, an' by the time he was noine\nyear ould there was no stannin' the house for him; he was always\nmakin' his brothers burn or scald thimsilves, or brake their shins\novir the pots an' stools. One time in harvist, he was left at home by\nhimself, an' whin his mother come in she found the cat a-horseback on\nthe dog wid hur face to the tail, an' hur legs tied round him, an' the\nurchin playin' his quare chune to thim, so that the dog wint barking\nan jumpin' about, an' puss was miowin' fur the dear life, an' slappin'\nher tail backwards an' forwards, which whin it id hit agin the dog's\nchaps, he'd snap at it an' bite it, an' thin there was the philliloo.\nAnother time the farmer Mick worked wid, a mighty dacint kind uv a\nman, happened to call in, an' Judy wiped a stool wid her apron an'\naxed him to sit down an rest himself afther his walk. He was sittin'\nwid his back to the cradle, an' behind him was a pan o' blood, fur\nJudy was makin' hog's puddin's; the lad lay quite still in his nist,\nan' watched his opportunity till he got ready a hook at the ind uv a\npiece o' packthread an' he conthrived to fling it so handy that it\ncotcht in the bob o' the man's nice new wig, an' soused it in the pan\no' blood. Another time his mother was comin' in from milkin' the cow,\nwid the pail an her head, an' the very minnit he saw her, he lilted up\nhis infernal chune, an' the poor woman lettin' go the pail, clapped\nher hands aside an' begun to dance a jig, an' tumbled the milk all\natop uv her husband, who was bringin' in some turf to bile the supper.\nIn short there id be no ind to tellin' all his pranks, an' all the\nmischievyous tricks he played.\n\nSoon afther, some mischances begun to happen to the farmer's cattle; a\nhorse tuk the staggers, a fine vale calf died o' the black-lig, an' some\nuv his sheep o' the rid wather; the cows begun to grow vicious, an' to\nkick down the milkpails, an' the roof o' one ind o' the barn fell in;\nan' the farmer tuk it into his head that Mick Flannagan's onlooky child\nwas the cause uv all the mischief. So, one day, he called Mick aside,\nan' sed to him, \"Mick,\" sez he, \"you see things are not goin' on wid me\nas they ought to go; an' to be plain an' honest wid you, Mick, I think\nthat child o' yours is the cause uv it. I am raaly fallin' away to\nnothin', wid frettin', an' I can hardly sleep an my bed at night for\nthinkin' o' what may happen afore the mornin'. So I'd be glad af you'd\nluk out fur work somewhare else; you're as good a man as any in the\nwhole counthry, there's no denyin' it, an' there's no fear but you'll\nhave yer choice o' work.\" To this Mick med answer, and sed, \"that he was\nsorry indeed for his losses, and still sorrier that he or his shud be\nthought to be the cause o' thim; that, for his own part, he wasn't quite\naisy in his mind about that child, but he had him, an' so he must keep\nhim;\" an' he promised to luk out fur another place immajetly.\n\nSo nixt Sunday at chapil, Mick gev out that he was about lavin' the\nwork at John Riordan's, an' immajetly a farmer, who lived a couple o'\nmiles aff, an' who wanted a ploughman (the last one havin' jist left\nhim), come up to Mick, an' offered him a house an' garden, an' work\nall the year round. Mick, who knew him to be a good employer,\nimmajetly closed wid him. So it was agreed that the farmer shud sind\nhis car to take his little bit o' furniture, an' that he shud remove\nan the following Thursday.\n\nWhin Thursday come, the car come accordin' to promise, an' Mick loaded\nit, an' put the cradle wid the child an' his pipes an the top, an' Judy\nsat beside it to take care uv him, laste he shud tumble out an' be kilt;\nthey druv the cow afore thim, the dog follied; but the cat, uv coorse,\nwas lift behind: an' the other three childer wint along the road,\npickin' haves and blackberries; for it was a fine day towst the latther\nind uv harvist. They had to crass a river; but as it run through the\nbottom between two high banks, you didn't see it till you wor close up\nan it. The young fellow was lyin' purty quite in the bottom o' the\ncradle, till they come to the head o' the bridge, whin hearin' the\nroarin' o' the wather (for there was a grate flood in the river, as\nthere was heavy rain for the last two or three days), he sot up in his\ncradle, an' luked about him; an' the minnit he got a sight ov the\nwather, an' found they wor goin' to take him acrass it, oh! how he did\nbellow, an' how he did squeal. \"Whisht, alanna,\" sed Judy, \"there's no\nfear o' yer; shure it's only ovir the stone bridge we're goin'.\" \"Bad\nluck to yer, ye ould rip,\" sez he, \"what a purty thrick yuv played me,\nto bring me here;\" an' he still wint an yellin', and the farther they\ngot an the bridge, the loudher he yelled; till at last Mick cud hould\nout no longer; so givin' him a skelp o' the whip he had in his han',\n\"Divil choke you, you crukked brat,\" sez he; \"will you nivir stop\nbawlin'? a body can't hear their ears for you.\" Well, my dear, the\ninstant minnit he felt the thong o' the whip, he jumped up in the\ncradle, clapped the pipes undher his arm, an' lept clane ovir the\nbattlemints o' the bridge down into the wather. \"Oh, my child! my\nchild!\" shouted Judy; \"he's clane gone for ivir frum me.\" Mick an' the\nrest o' the childher run to the other side o' the bridge an' lukt down,\nan' they seen him comin' out from undher the arch o' the bridge, sittin'\ncrass-liggs an the top uv a big white-headed wave, an' playin' away an\nthe pipes, jist as if nothin' had happened at all. The river was runnin'\nvery hard, so he was whirled away at a grate rate; but he played away as\nfast, ay, and faster nor the river run. They set aff as hard as they cud\nalong the bank; but as the river med a suddint turn round the hill,\nabout a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he\nwas out o' sight, an' no one ivir led eyes an him sence; but the gineral\nbelief is, that he wint home wid the pipes to his own relations--the\ngood people--to make music fur thim.\n\n\n _The Soul Cages._\n\nJack Dogherty lived on the coast of the county Clare. Jack was a\nfisherman, as his father and his grandfather before him had been. Like\nthem, too, he lived all alone (but for the wife), and just in the same\nspot, too. People used to wonder why the Dogherty family were so fond\nof that wild situation, so far away from all human kind, and in the\nmidst of huge scattered rocks, with nothing but the wide ocean to look\nupon. But they had their own good reasons for it.\n\nThe place was just, in short, the only spot on that part of the coast\nwhere anybody could well live; there was a neat little creek, where a\nboat might lie as snug as a puffin in her nest, and out from this\ncreek a ledge of sunken rocks ran into the sea. Now, when the\nAtlantic, according to custom, was raging with a storm, and a good\nwesterly wind was blowing strong on the coast, many's the richly-laden\nship that went to pieces on these rocks; and then the fine bales of\ncotton and tobacco, and such like things; and the pipes of wine, and\nthe puncheons of rum, and the casks of brandy, and the kegs of\nHollands that used to come ashore. Why, bless you! Dunbeg Bay was just\nlike a little estate to the Doghertys.\n\nNot but that they were kind and humane to a distressed sailor, if ever\none had the good luck to get to land; and many a time, indeed, did\nJack put out in his little _corragh_, that would breast the billows\nlike any gannet, to lend a hand towards bringing off the crew from a\nwreck. But when the ship was gone to pieces, and the crew were all\nlost, who would blame Jack for _picking_ up all he could find? \"And\nwho's the worse of it?\" said he. \"For as to the king, God bless him!\neverybody knows he's rich enough already, without gettin' what's\nfloatin' in the say.\"\n\nJack, though such a hermit, was a good-natured, jolly fellow. No other,\nsure, could ever have coaxed Biddy Mahony to quit her father's snug and\nwarm house in the middle of the town of Ennis, and to go so many miles\noff to live among the rocks, with the seals and sea-gulls for her next\ndoor neighbours. But Biddy knew what's what, and she knew that Jack was\nthe man for a woman who wished to be comfortable and happy; for, to say\nnothing of the fish, Jack had the supplying of half the gentlemen's\nhouses of the country with the Godsends that came into the bay. And she\nwas right in her choice, for no woman ate, drank, or slept better, or\nmade a prouder appearance at Chapel on Sundays than Mrs. Dogherty.\n\nMany a strange sight, it may well be supposed, did Jack see, and many\na strange sound did he hear, but nothing daunted him. So far was he\nfrom being afraid of Merrows, or such like beings, that the very first\nwish of his heart was fairly to meet with one. Jack had heard that\nthey were mighty like Christians, and that luck had always come out of\nan acquaintance with them. Never, therefore, did he dimly discern the\nMerrows moving along the face of the waters in their robes of mist,\nbut he made direct for them; and many a scolding did Biddy, in her own\nquiet way, bestow upon Jack for spending his whole day out at sea, and\nbringing home no fish. Little did poor Biddy know the fish Jack was\nafter.\n\nIt was rather annoying to Jack that, though living in a place where\nthe Merrows were as plenty as lobsters, he never could get a right\nview of one. What vexed him more was, that both his father and\ngrandfather had often and often seen them; and he even remembered\nhearing, when a child, how his grandfather, who was the first of the\nfamily that had settled down at the Creek, had been so intimate with a\nMerrow, that, only for fear of vexing the priest, he would have had\nhim stand for one of his children. This, however, Jack did not well\nknow how to believe.\n\nFortune at length began to think that it was only right that Jack\nshould know as much as his father and grandfather knew. Accordingly,\none day, when he had strolled a little farther than usual along the\ncoast to the northward, just as he was turning a point, he saw\nsomething, like to nothing he had ever seen before, perched upon a\nrock at a little distance out to sea: it looked green in the body, as\nwell as he could discern at that distance, and he would have sworn,\nonly the thing was impossible, that it had a cocked hat in his hand.\nJack stood, for a good half hour, straining his eyes and wondering at\nit, and all the time the thing did not stir hand or foot. At last\nJack's patience was quite worn out, and he gave a loud whistle and a\nhail, when the Merrow (for such it was) started up, put the cocked hat\non its head, and dived down, head foremost, from the rock.\n\nJack's curiosity was now excited, and he constantly directed his steps\ntoward the point; still he could never get a glimpse of the\nsea-gentleman with the cocked hat; and with thinking and thinking about\nthe matter, he began at last to fancy he had been only dreaming. One\nvery rough day, however, when the sea was running mountains high, Jack\ndetermined to give a look at the Merrow's rock, (for he had always\nchosen a fine day before,) and then he saw the strange thing cutting\ncapers upon the top of the rock, and then diving down, and then coming\nup, and then diving down again. Jack had now only to choose his time,\n(that is, a good blowing day,) and he might see the man of the sea as\noften as he pleased. All this, however, did not satisfy him,--\"much will\nhave more;\"--he wished now to get acquainted with the Merrow, and even\nin this he succeeded. One tremendous blustery day, before he got to the\npoint whence he had a view of the Merrow's rock, the storm came on so\nfuriously that Jack was obliged to take shelter in one of the caves\nwhich are so numerous along the coast, and there, to his astonishment,\nhe saw, sitting before him, a thing with green hair, long green teeth, a\nred nose, and pig's eyes. It had a fish's tail, legs with scales on\nthem, and short arms like fins. It wore no clothes, but had the cocked\nhat under its arm, and seemed engaged thinking very seriously about\nsomething. Jack, with all his courage, was a little daunted; but now or\nnever, thought he; so up he went boldly to the cogitating fish-man, took\noff his hat, and made his best bow.\n\n\"Your sarvint, sir,\" said Jack.--\"Your servant, kindly, Jack Dogherty,\"\nanswered the Merrow.--\"To be shure, thin, how well your honour knows my\nname,\" said Jack.--\"Is it I not know your name, Jack Dogherty? Why, man,\nI knew your grandfather long before he was married to Judy Regan, your\ngrandmother. Ah, Jack, Jack, I was fond of that grandfather of yours; he\nwas a mighty worthy man in his time. I never met his match above or\nbelow, before or since, for sucking in a shellful of brandy. I hope, my\nboy,\" said the old fellow, \"I hope you're his own grandson.\"--\"Never\nfear me for that,\" said Jack; \"if my mother only reared me on brandy,\n'tis myself that 'ud be a suckin infant to this hour.\"--\"Well, I like to\nhear you talk so manly; you and I must be better acquainted, if it were\nonly for your grandfather's sake. But, Jack, that father of yours was\nnot the thing; he had no head at all, not he.\"--\"I'm shure,\" said Jack,\n\"sense your honour lives down undher the wather, you must be obleeged to\ndhrink a power to keep any hate in you, at all at all, in such a cruel,\ndamp, cowld place. Well, I often hard of Christhens dhrinkin' like\nfishes;--and might I be so bould as to ax where you get the\nsperits?\"--\"Where do you get them yourself, Jack?\" said the Merrow, with\na knowing look.--\"Hubbubboo,\" cries Jack, \"now I see how it is; but I\nsuppose, sir, your honour has got a fine dhry cellar below to keep them\nin.\"--\"Let me alone for that,\" said the Merrow, with another knowing\nlook.--\"I'm shure,\" continued Jack, \"it must be mighty well worth the\nluking at.\"--\"You may say that, Jack, with your own pretty mouth,\" said\nthe Merrow; \"and if you meet me here next Monday, just at this time of\nthe day, we will have a little more talk with one another about the\nmatter.\"\n\nJack and the Merrow parted the best friends in the world; and on\nMonday they met, and Jack was not a little surprised to see that the\nMerrow had two cocked hats with him, one under each arm. \"Might I make\nso bould as to ask you, sir,\" said Jack, \"why yer honour brought the\ntwo hats wid you to-day? You wouldn't, shure, be goin' to giv' me one\no' them, to keep for the curosity of the thing?\"--\"No, no, Jack,\" said\nhe, \"I don't get my hats so easily, to part with them that way; but I\nwant you to come down and eat a bit of dinner with me, and I brought\nyou the hat to dive with.\"--\"The Lord bless and presarve us!\" cried\nJack, in amazement, \"would you want me to go down to the bottom of the\nsalt say ocean? Shure I'd be smoothered and choked up wid the wather,\nto say nothin' of bein' dhrownded! And what would poor Biddy do for\nme, and what would she say?\"--\"And what matter what she says, you\npinkeen you? Who cares for Biddy's squalling? It's long before your\ngrandfather would have talked in that way. Many's the time he stuck\nthat same hat on his head, and dived down boldly after me, and many's\nthe snug bit of dinner, and good shellful of brandy, he and I had\ntogether, below under the water.\"--\"Is it raally, sir, and no joke?\"\nsaid Jack; \"why, thin, sorra' be from me for ivir and a day afther, if\nI'll be a bit a worse man nor my grandfather was! So here goes; but\nplay me fair now. Here's nick or nothin'!\" cried Jack.--\"That's your\ngrandfather all over,\" said the old fellow. \"So come along, my boy,\nand do as I do.\"\n\nThey both left the cave, walked into the sea, and then swam a piece\nuntil they got to the rock. The Merrow climbed to the top of it, and\nJack followed him. On the far side it was as straight as the wall of a\nhouse, and the sea looked so deep that Jack was almost cowed.\n\n\"Now, do you see, Jack,\" said the Merrow, \"just put this hat on your\nhead, and mind to keep your eyes wide open. Take hold of my tail, and\nfollow after me, and you'll see what you'll see.\" In he dashed, and in\ndashed Jack after him boldly. They went and they went, and Jack\nthought they'd never stop going. Many a time did he wish himself\nsitting at home by the fireside with Biddy; yet, where was the use of\nwishing now, when he was so many miles as he thought below the waves\nof the Atlantic? Still he held hard by the Merrow's tail, slippery as\nit was. And, at last, to Jack's great surprise, they got out of the\nwater, and he actually found himself on dry land at the bottom of the\nsea. They landed just in front of a nice little house that was slated\nvery neatly with oyster-shells; and the Merrow, turning about to Jack,\nwelcomed him down. Jack could hardly speak, what with wonder, and what\nwith being out of breath with travelling so fast through the water. He\nlooked about him, and could see no living things, barring crabs and\nlobsters, of which there were plenty walking leisurely about on the\nsand. Overhead was the sea like a sky, and the fishes like birds\nswimming about in it.\n\n\"Why don't you speak, man?\" said the Merrow: \"I dare say you had no\nnotion that I had such a snug little concern as this? Are you\nsmothered, or choked, or drowned, or are you fretting after Biddy,\neh?\" \"Oh! not mysilf, indeed,\" said Jack, showing his teeth with a\ngood-humoured grin, \"but who in the world 'ud ivir ha' thought uv\nseein' sich a thing?\" \"Well, come along my lad, and let's see what\nthey've got for us to eat?\"\n\nJack was really hungry, and it gave him no small pleasure to perceive a\nfine column of smoke rising from the chimney, announcing what was going\non within. Into the house he followed the Merrow, and there he saw a\ngood kitchen, right well provided with everything. There was a noble\ndresser, and plenty of pots and pans, with two young Merrows cooking.\nHis host then led him into the _room_, which was furnished shabbily\nenough. Not a table or a chair was there in it; nothing but planks and\nlogs of wood to sit on, and eat off. There was, however, a good fire\nblazing on the hearth--a comfortable sight to Jack. \"Come, now, and I'll\nshow you where I keep--you know what,\" said the Merrow, with a sly look;\nand opening a little door, he led Jack into a fine long cellar, well\nfilled with pipes, and kegs, and hogsheads, and barrels. \"What do you\nsay to that, Jack Dogherty?--Eh!--May-be a body can't live snug down\nunder the water!\" \"The divil the doubt of that,\" said Jack, \"anyhow.\"\n\nThey went back to the room, and found dinner laid. There was no\ntable-cloth, to be sure--but what matter? It was not always Jack had\none at home. The dinner would have been no discredit to the first\nhouse in the county on a fast-day. The choicest of fish, and no\nwonder, was there. Turbots, and soles, and lobsters, and oysters, and\ntwenty other kinds, were on the planks at once, and plenty of foreign\nspirits. The wines, the old fellow said, were too cold for his\nstomach. Jack ate and drank till he could eat no more: then, taking up\na shell of brandy, \"Here's to your honour's good health, sir,\" said\nhe, \"though beggin' your pardon, its mighty odd, that as long as we're\nacquainted, I don't know your name yit.\" \"That's true, Jack,\" replied\nhe; \"I never thought of it before, but better late than never. My name\nis Coomara.\" \"Coomara! And a mighty dacint sort of a name it is, too,\"\ncried Jack, taking another shellful: \"here's, then, to your good\nhealth, Coomara, and may you live these fifty years.\" \"Fifty years!\"\nrepeated Coomara; \"I'm obliged to you, indeed; if you had said five\nhundred, it would have been something worth wishing.\" \"By the laws,\nsir,\" said Jack, \"yez live to a powerful great age here undher the\nwather! Ye knew my grandfather, and he's dead and gone betther nor\nsixty years. I'm shure it must be a mighty healthy place to live in.\"\n\"No doubt of it; but come, Jack, keep the liquor stirring.\"\n\nShell after shell did they empty, and to Jack's exceeding surprise, he\nfound the drink never got into his head, owing, I suppose, to the sea\nbeing over them, which kept their noddles cool. Old Coomara got\nexceedingly comfortable, and sang several songs; but Jack, if his life\nhad depended on it, never could remember any of them. At length said\nhe to Jack, \"Now, my dear boy, if you follow me, I'll show you my\ncurosities!\" He opened a little door, and led Jack into a large room,\nwhere Jack saw a great many odds and ends that Coomara had picked up\nat one time or another. What chiefly took his attention, however, were\nthings like lobster-pots, ranged on the ground along the wall.\n\n\"Well, Jack, how do you like my curosities?\" said old Coo. \"Upon my\nsowkins, sir,\" said Jack, \"they're mighty well worth the lukin' at;\nbut might a body make so bould as to ax what thim things like\nlobster-pots are?\" \"Oh, the soul-cages, is it?\" \"The what, sir?\"\n\"These things here that I keep the souls in.\" \"Arrah! what sowls,\nsir?\" said Jack in amazement: \"shure the fish ha' got no sowls in\nthem?\" \"Oh, no,\" replied Coo, quite coolly, \"that they haven't; but\nthese are the souls of drowned sailors.\" \"The Lord presarve us from\nall harm!\" muttered Jack, \"how in the world did you conthrive to get\nthim?\" \"Easily enough. I've only when I see a good storm coming on, to\nset a couple of dozen of these, and then, when the sailors are\ndrowned, and the souls get out of them under the water, the poor\nthings are almost perished to death, not being used to the cold; so\nthey make into my pots for shelter, and then I have them snug, and\nfetch them home, and keep them here dry and warm; and is it not well\nfor them, poor souls, to get into such good quarters?\"\n\nJack was so thunderstruck he did not know what to say, so he said\nnothing. They went back into the dining-room, and had some more\nbrandy, which was excellent, and then, as Jack knew that it must be\ngetting late, and as Biddy might be uneasy, he stood up, and said he\nthought it was time for him to be on the road.\n\n\"Just as you like, Jack,\" said Coo, \"but take a _doch an durrus_ before\nyou go; you've a cold journey before you.\" Jack knew better manners than\nto refuse the parting glass. \"I wondher\" said he, \"will I ivir be able\nto make out my way home.\" \"What should ail you,\" said Coo, \"when I show\nyou the way?\" Out they went before the house, and Coomara took one of\nthe cocked hats, and put it on Jack's head the wrong way, and then\nlifted him up on his shoulder that he might launch him up into the\nwater. \"Now,\" says he, giving him a heave, \"you'll come up just in the\nsame spot you came down in; and, Jack, mind and throw me back the hat.\"\nHe canted Jack off his shoulder, and up he shot like a bubble--whirr,\nwhirr, whiz--away he went up through the water, till he came to the very\nrock he had jumped off, where he found a landing-place, and then in he\nthrew the hat, which sunk like a stone.\n\nThe sun was just going down in the beautiful sky of a calm summer's\nevening. The evening star was seen brightly twinkling in the cloudless\nheaven, and the waves of the Atlantic flashed in a golden flood of\nlight. So Jack, perceiving it was getting late, set off home; but when\nhe got there, not a word did he say to Biddy of where he had spent his\nday.\n\nThe state of the poor souls cooped up in the lobster-pots, gave Jack a\ngreat deal of trouble, and how to release them cost him a great deal\nof thought. He at first had a mind to speak to the priest about the\nmatter; but what could the priest do, and what did Coo care for the\npriest? Besides, Coo was a good sort of an old fellow, and did not\nthink he was doing any harm. Jack had a regard for him too, and it\nalso might not be much to his own credit if it were known that he used\nto go dine with the Merrows under the sea. On the whole, he thought\nhis best plan would be to ask Coo to dinner, and to make him drunk, if\nhe was able, and then to take the hat and go down and turn up the\npots. It was first of all necessary, however, to get Biddy out of the\nway; for Jack was prudent enough, as she was a woman, to wish to keep\nthe thing secret from her.\n\nAccordingly, Jack grew mighty pious all of a sudden, and said to\nBiddy, that he thought it would be for the good of both their souls if\nshe was to go and take her rounds at Saint John's Well, near Ennis.\nBiddy thought so too, and accordingly off she set one fine morning at\nday dawn, giving Jack a strict charge to have an eye to the place. The\ncoast being clear, away then went Jack to the rock to give the\nappointed signal to Coomara, which was, throwing a big stone into the\nwater; Jack threw, and up sprang Coo. \"Good morrow, Jack,\" said he;\n\"what do you want with me?\" \"Jist nothin' at all to spake about, sir,\"\nreplied Jack; \"only to come and take pot-luck wid me, now that Biddy's\nout of the way; if I might make so free as to ax you, an' shure it's\nmyself that's afther doin' so.\" \"It's quite agreeable, Jack, I assure\nyou; what's your hour?\" \"Any time that's most convenient to yoursilf,\nsir: say one o'clock, that you may go home, if you wish it, wid the\ndaylight.\" \"I'll be with you,\" said Coo, \"never fear me.\"\n\nJack went home and dressed a noble fish dinner, and got out plenty of\nhis best foreign spirits, enough for that matter to make twenty men\ndrunk. Just to the minute came Coo, with his cocked hat under his arm.\nDinner was ready; they sat down, and ate and drank manfully. Jack\nthinking of the poor souls below in the pots, plied old Coo well with\nbrandy, and encouraged him to sing, hoping to put him under the table,\nbut poor Jack forgot that he had not the sea over his own head now to\nkeep it cool. The brandy got into it and did his business for him, and\nCoo reeled off home, leaving his entertainer as dumb as a haddock on a\nGood Friday.\n\nJack never woke till the next morning, and then he was in a sad way.\n\"'Tis no use at all for me thinkin' to make that ould Rapperee dhrunk,\"\nsaid Jack; \"an' how in this world can I help the poor sowls out o' the\nlobster pots.\" After ruminating nearly the whole day, a thought struck\nhim. \"I have it,\" said he, slapping his thigh; \"I'll be bail Coo nivir\nsaw a dhrop o' raal potyeen as ould as he is, an' that's the thing to\nsettle him! Och! thin isn't it well that Biddy won't be home these two\ndays yit; I can have another twist at him.\" Jack asked Coo again, and\nCoo laughed at him for having no better head; telling him, he'd never\ncome up to his grandfather. \"Well, but thry me agin,\" said Jack, \"and\nI'll be bail to dhrink you dhrunk and sober, and dhrunk agin.\"--\"Any\nthing in my power,\" said Coo, \"to oblige you.\"\n\nAll this dinner, Jack took care to have his own liquor watered, and to\ngive the strongest brandy he had to Coo. At last, says he, \"Pray, sir,\ndid you ivir dhrink any potyeen? any raal mountain-jew?\"--\"No,\" says\nCoo; \"what's that, and where does it come from?\"--\"Oh! that's a sacret,\"\nsaid Jack, \"but it's the right stuff; nivir believe me agin if it isn't\nfifty times better nor brandy or rum either. Biddy's brother jist sint\nme a prisent of a little dhrop, in exchange for some brandy, and as\nyou're an ould frind o' the family, I kep it to thrate you wid.\"--\"Well,\nlet's see what sort of thing it is,\" said Coo.\n\nThe potyeen was the right sort. It was first-rate, and had the real\nsmack on it. Coo was delighted with it; he drank and he sang, and he\nlaughed and he danced, till he fell on the floor fas' asleep. Then Jack,\nwho had taken good care to keep himself sober, snapt up the cocked hat,\nran off to the rock, leaped in, and soon arrived at Coo's habitation.\n\nAll was as still as a churchyard at midnight--not a Merrow young or\nold, was there. In he went and turned up the pots, but nothing did he\nsee, only he heard, he thought, a sort of a little whistle or chirp as\nhe raised each of them. At this he was surprised, till he recollected\nwhat the priest had often said, that nobody living could see the soul,\nno more than they could see the wind or the air. Having now done all\nhe could do for them he set the pots as they were before, and sent a\nblessing after the poor souls to speed them on their journey wherever\nthey were going. He now began to think of returning; he put on the hat\n(as was right,) the wrong way; but when he got out, he found the water\nso high over his head that he had no hopes of ever getting up into it\nnow that he had not old Coomara to give him a lift. He walked about\nlooking for a ladder, but not one could he find, and not a rock was\nthere in sight. At last he saw a spot where the sea hung rather lower\nthan anywhere else, so he resolved to try there. Just as he came to\nit, a big cod happened to put down his tail. Jack made a jump and\ncaught hold of it, and the cod, all in amazement, gave a bounce and\npulled Jack up. The minute the hat touched the water, pop away Jack\nwas whisked; and up he shot like a cork, dragging the poor cod, that\nhe forgot to let go, up with him tail foremost. He got to the rock in\nno time, and without a moment's delay hurried home rejoicing in the\ngood deed he had done. But, meanwhile, there was fine work at home;\nfor our friend Jack had hardly left the house on his soul-freeing\nexpedition, when back came Biddy from her soul-saving one to the well.\nWhen she entered the house and saw the things lying _thrie-na heelah_\non the table before her--\"Here's a purty job,\" said she, \"that\nblackguard of mine--what ill-luck I had ivir to marry him--he's picked\nup some vagabone or other, while I was prayin' for the good of his\nsowl; and they've bin dhrinkin' up all the potyeen that my own brother\ngev' him, and all the sperits, to be shure, that he was to have sould\nto his honour.\" Then hearing an outlandish kind of grunt, she looked\ndown and saw Coomara lying under the table. \"The blessed Vargin help\nan' save me,\" shouted she, \"if he hasn't made a rael baste of himself.\nWell, well, well to be shure, I often hard till of a man makin' a\nbaste of himself wid dhrink, but I niver saw it afore! Oh hone, oh\nhone,--Jack, honey, what 'ill I do wid you, or what 'ill I do widout\nyou? How can any dacint woman ivir think of livin' wid a baste?\"\n\nWith such like lamentations, Biddy rushed out of the house, and was\ngoing, she knew not where, when she heard the well known voice of\nJack, singing a merry tune. Glad enough was Biddy to find him safe and\nsound, and not turned into a thing that was like neither fish nor\nflesh. Jack was obliged to tell her all; and Biddy, though she had\nhalf a mind to be angry with him for not telling her before, owned\nthat he had done a great service to the poor souls. Back they both\nwent most lovingly to the house, and Jack wakened up Coomara; and\nperceiving the old fellow to be rather dull, he bid him not be cast\ndown, for 'twas many a good man's case; said it all came of his not\nbeing used to the potyeen, and recommended him, by way of cure, to\nswallow a hair of the dog that bit him. Coo, however, seemed to think\nhe had had quite enough: he got up, quite out of sorts, and without\nhaving the good manners to say one word in the way of civility, he\nsneaked off to cool himself by a jaunt through the salt water.\n\nCoomara never missed the souls. He and Jack continued the best friends\nin the world; and no one, perhaps, ever equalled Jack at freeing souls\nfrom purgatory; for he contrived fifty excuses for getting into the\nhouse below the sea, unknown to the old fellow; and then turned up the\npots, and let out the souls. It vexed him, to be sure, that he could\nnever see them; but as he knew the thing to be impossible, he was\nobliged to be satisfied. Their intercourse continued for several\nyears. However, one morning, on Jack's throwing in a stone, as usual,\nhe got no answer. He flung another, and another; still there was no\nreply. He went away, and returned the next morning; but it was to no\npurpose. As he was without the hat, he could not go down to see what\nhad become of old Coo; but his belief was, that the old man, or the\nold fish, or whatever he was, had either died, or had removed away\nfrom that part of the country.[603]\n\n\n _Barry of Cairn Thierna._\n\nFermoy, though now so pretty and so clean a town, was once as poor and\nas dirty a village as any in Ireland. It had neither barracks, nor\nchurch, nor school, nor anything to admire. Two-storied houses were\nbut few: its street (for it had but one) was chiefly formed of\nmiserable mud cabins; nor was the fine scenery around sufficient to\ninduce the traveller to tarry in its paltry, dirty inn, beyond the\nlimits actually required.\n\nIn those days it happened that a regiment of foot was proceeding from\nDublin to Cork. One company, which left Caher in the morning, had,\nwith 'toilsome march,' passed through Mitchelstown, tramped across the\nKilworth mountains; and, late of an October evening, tired and hungry,\nreached Fermoy, the last stage but one to their quarters. No barracks,\nas we have said, were then built there to relieve them; and every\nvoice was raised, calling to the gaping villagers for the name and\nresidence of the billet-master.\n\n\"Why, thin, can't ye be aisy, now, and let a body tell you,\" said one.\n\"Shure, thin, how can I answer you all at onst,\" said another. \"Anan!\"\ncried a third, affecting not to understand the sergeant, who addressed\nhim. \"Is it Mr. Consadine you want?\" replied a fourth, answering, _\u00e0 l'\nIrlandaise_, the question, by asking another. \"Bad luck to the whole\nbreed and seed of the sogers!\" muttered a fifth villager, between his\nteeth. \"It's come to ate poor people that work for their bread, out of\nhouse and home, yez are?\" \"Whisht, Teigue, can't you, now?\" said his\nneighbour, jogging the last speaker; \"there's the house, gintlemen. You\nsee it there, yondher, forenint you, at the bottom of the sthreet, wid\nthe light in the winddy; or, stay, shure it's mysilf id think little of\nrunnin' down wid you, poor crathurs! for 'tis tirt and wairy yez must be\nafther the road.\"--\"That's an honest fellow,\" said several of the\ndust-covered soldiers; and away scampered Ned Flynn, with all the men of\nwar following close at his heels.\n\nMr. Consadine, the billet-master, was, as may be supposed, a person of\nsome, and on such occasions as the present, of no small consideration\nin such a place as Fermoy. He was of a portly build, and of a grave\nand slow movement, suited at once to his importance and to his size.\nThree inches of fair linen were at all times visible between his\nwaistband and waistcoat. His breeches-pockets were never buttoned;\nand, scorning to conceal the bull-like proportions of his chest and\nneck, his shirt-collar was generally open, as he wore no cravat; and a\nflaxen bob-wig commonly sat fairly on his head, and squarely on his\nforehead. Such, then, was Mr. Consadine, billet-master-general and\nbarony sub-constable, who was now just getting to the end of his\neighth tumbler, in company with the proctor, who at that moment had\nbegun to talk of coming to something like a fair settlement about his\ntithes, when Ned Flynn knocked.\n\n\"See who's at the door, Nilly,\" said the eldest Miss Consadine, raising\nher voice, and calling to the barefooted servant girl. \"'Tis the sogers,\nsir, is come!\" cried Nelly, running back into the room without opening\nthe door. \"I hear the jinketin of their swoords and bagnets on the\npavin'-stones.\"--\"Divil welcome them at this hour o' the night,\" said\nMr. Consadine, taking up the candle, and moving off to the room on the\nopposite side of the hall, which served him for an office.\n\nMr. Consadine's own pen, and that of his son Tom were now in full\nemployment. The officers were sent to the inn; the sergeants,\ncorporals, etc., were billeted on those who were on indifferent terms\nwith Mr. Consadine; for, like a worthy man as he was, he leaned as\nlight as he could on his friends. The soldiers had nearly all departed\nfor their quarters, when one poor fellow, who had fallen asleep,\nleaning on his musket against the wall, was awakened by the silence,\nand starting up, he went over to the table at which Mr. Consadine was\nseated, hoping his worship would give him a good billet. \"A good\nbillet, my lad,\" said the billet-master-general, \"that you shall have,\nand on the biggest house in the whole place. Do you hear, Tom! make\nout a billet for this honest man upon Mr. Barry of Cairn Thierna.\" \"On\nMr. Barry of Cairn Thierna!\" said Tom, with a look of amazement. \"Yes,\nto be sure, on Mr. Barry of Cairn Thierna--the great Barry!\" replied\nhis father, giving a nod. \"Isn't he said to keep the grandest house in\nthis part of the counthry?--or stay, Tom, jist hand me over the paper,\nand I'll write the billet myself.\"\n\nThe billet was made out accordingly; the sand glittered on the\nsignature and broad flourishes of Mr. Consadine, and the weary\ngrenadier received it with becoming gratitude and thanks. Taking up\nhis knapsack and firelock, he left the office, and Mr. Consadine\nwaddled back to the proctor to chuckle over the trick he had played on\nthe soldier, and to laugh at the idea of his search after Barry of\nCairn Thierna's house. Truly had he said no house could vie in\ncapacity with Mr. Barry's; for like Allan A-Dale's, its roof was\n\n The blue vault of Heaven, with its crescent so pale.\n\nBarry of Cairn Thierna was one of the chieftains who, of old, lorded\nit over the barony of Barrymore, and for some reason or other, he had\nbecome enchanted on the mountain of Cairn Thierna, where he was known\nto live in great state, and was often seen by the belated peasant.\n\nMr. Consadine had informed the soldier that Mr. Barry lived a little way\nout of the town, on the Cork road; so the poor fellow trudged along for\nsome time with eyes right and eyes left, looking for the great house;\nbut nothing could he see only the dark mountain of Cairn Thierna before\nhim, and an odd cabin or two on the road-side. At last he met a man, of\nwhom he asked the way to Mr. Barry's. \"To Mr. Barry's?\" said the man;\n\"what Barry is it you want?\" \"I can't say exactly in the dark,\" returned\nthe soldier. \"Mr. What's-his-name, the billet-master, has given me the\ndirection on my billet; but he said it was a large house, and I think he\ncalled him the great Mr. Barry.\" \"Why, sure, it wouldn't be the great\nBarry of Cairn Thierna you're asking after?\" \"Aye,\" said the soldier,\n\"Cairn Thierna--that's the place. Can you tell me where it is?\" \"Cairn\nThierna!\" repeated the man--\"Barry of Cairn Thierna! I'll show you the\nway, and welcome; but it's the first time in all my born days that ever\nI h'ard of a soger bein' billeted on Barry of Cairn Thierna. 'Tis a\nquare thing, anyhow, for ould Dick Consadin to be sindin' you up there,\"\ncontinued he; \"but you see that big mountain before you--that's Cairn\nThierna. Any one will show you Mr. Barry's when you get to the top of\nit, up to the big hape of stones.\"\n\nThe weary soldier gave a sigh as he walked forwards toward the\nmountain; but he had not proceeded far when he heard the clatter of a\nhorse coming along the road after him, and, turning his head round, he\nsaw a dark figure rapidly approaching. A tall gentleman, richly\ndressed, and mounted on a noble gray horse, was soon at his side, when\nthe rider pulled up, and the soldier repeated his inquiry after Mr.\nBarry of Cairn Thierna. \"Why, I'm Barry of Cairn Thierna, myself,\"\nsaid the gentleman, \"and pray what's your business with me, friend.\"\n\"I have got a billet on your house, sir,\" replied the soldier, \"from\nthe billet-master of Fermoy.\" \"Did you, indeed,\" said Mr. Barry;\n\"well, then, it is not very far off; follow me and you shall be well\ntaken care of, depend upon it.\"\n\nHe turned off the road, and led his horse up the steep side of the\nmountain, followed by the soldier, who was astonished at seeing the\nhorse proceed with so little difficulty, where _he_ was obliged to\nscramble up, and could hardly find or keep his footing. When they got\nto the top, there was a house, sure enough, far beyond any house in\nFermoy. It was three stories high, with fine windows, and all lighted\nup within, as if it was full of grand company. There was a hall-door,\ntoo, with a flight of stone steps before it, at which Mr. Barry\ndismounted, and the door was opened to him by a servant-man, who took\nhis horse round to the stable. Mr. Barry, as he stood at the door,\ndesired the soldier to walk in, and, instead of sending him down to\nthe kitchen, as any other gentleman would have done, brought him into\nthe parlour, and desired to see his billet. \"Ay,\" said Mr. Barry,\nlooking at it and smiling, \"I know Dick Consadine well--he's a merry\nfellow, no doubt, and, if I mistake not, has got some capital good\ncows down on the inch-field of Carrickabrick; a sirloin of beef would\nbe no bad thing for supper, my man, eh?\"\n\nMr. Barry then called out to some of his attendants, and desired them\nto lay the cloth, and make all ready, which was no sooner done than a\nsmoking sirloin of beef was placed before them. \"Sit down, now, my\nhonest fellow,\" said Mr. Barry, \"you must be hungry after your long\nday's march.\" The soldier with a profusion of thanks for such\nhospitality, and acknowledgments for such condescension, sat down and\nmade, as might be expected, an excellent supper; Mr. Barry never\nletting his jaws rest for want of helping until he was fairly unable\nto eat more. Then the boiling water was brought in, and such a jug of\nwhiskey punch as was made! Take my word for it,--it did not, like\nhonest Robin Craig's, require to be hung out on the bush to let the\nwater drain out of it.\n\nThey sat together a long time, talking over the punch, and the fire\nwas so good, and Mr. Barry himself was so free a gentleman, and had\nsuch fine conversation about everything in the world, far or near,\nthat the soldier never felt the night going over him. At last Mr.\nBarry stood up, saying it was a rule with him that every one in his\nhouse should be in bed by twelve o'clock, \"And,\" said he, pointing to\na bundle which lay in one corner of the room, \"take that to bed with\nyou, it's the hide of the cow I had killed for your supper; give it to\nthe billet-master when you go back to Fermoy, in the morning, and tell\nhim that Barry of Cairn Thierna sent it to him. He will soon\nunderstand what it means, I promise you; so, good night, my brave\nfellow; I wish you a comfortable sleep and every good fortune; but I\nmust be off and away out of this long before you are stirring.\" The\nsoldier gratefully returned his host's good wishes, and went off to\nthe room which was shown him, without claiming, as every one knows he\nhad a right to do, the second best bed in the house.\n\nNext morning the sun awoke him. He was lying on the broad of his back,\nand the skylark was singing over him in the beautiful blue sky, and\nthe bee was humming close to his ear among the heath. He rubbed his\neyes; nothing did he see but the dear sky, with two or three light\nmorning clouds floating away. Mr. Barry's fine house and soft feather\nbed had melted into air, and he found himself stretched on the side of\nCairn Thierna, buried in the heath, with the cowhide which had been\ngiven him, rolled up under his head for a pillow.[604]\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"this bates cockfighting, any how! Didn't I spind the\nplisantest night I iver spint in my life with Mr. Barry last night?\nAnd what in the world has becom' of the house, and the hall door with\nthe steps, and the very bed that was undher me?\" He stood up. Not a\nvestige of a house or any thing like one, but the rude heap of stones\non the top of the mountain, could he see; and ever so far off lay the\nBlackwater, glittering with the morning sun, and the little quiet\nvillage of Fermoy on its banks, from whose chimneys white wreaths of\nsmoke were beginning to rise upwards into the sky. Throwing the\ncowhide over his shoulder, he descended, not without some difficulty,\nthe steep side of the mountain, up which Mr. Barry had led his horse\nthe preceding night with so much ease; and he proceeded along the\nroad, pondering on what had befallen him.\n\nWhen he reached Fermoy, he went straight to Mr. Consadine's, and asked\nto see him. \"Well, my gay fellow,\" said the official Mr. Consadine,\nrecognising, at a glance, the soldier; \"what sort of an entertainment\ndid you meet with from Barry of Cairn Thierna?\" \"The best of good\nthratement, sir,\" replied the soldier; \"and well did he spake of you,\nand he disired me to give you this cowhide as a token to remimber him\nby.\" \"Many thanks to Mr. Barry for his generosity,\" said the\nbillet-master, making a low bow, in mock solemnity; \"many thanks\nindeed, and a right good skin it is, wherever he got it.\"\n\nMr. Consadine had scarcely finished the sentence, when he saw his\ncow-boy running up the street, shouting and crying aloud, that the\nbest cow in the Inch-field was lost and gone, and nobody knew what had\nbecome of her, or could give the least tidings of her.\n\nThe soldier had spread out the skin on the ground for Mr. Consadine to\nsee it; and the cow-boy looking at it, exclaimed--\"That is her hide,\nwherever she is; I'd take my Bible oath to the two small white spots,\nwith the glossy black about thim; and there's the very place where she\nrubbed the hair off her shouldher last Martinmas.\" Then clapping his\nhands together, he literally sang \"the tune the old cow died of.\" This\nlamentation was stopped short by Mr. Consadine: \"There is no manner of\ndoubt about it,\" said he. \"It was Barry that kilt my best cow, and all\nhe has left me is the hide o' the poor baste to comfort myself with;\nbut it will be a warnin' to Dick Consadine, for the rest of his life,\nnivir again to play off his thricks upon thravellers.\"\n\n\n _Aileen a Roon,_\n\n (ELLEN MY LOVE.)\n\nCarrol O'Daly is the Lochinvar of Ireland. He and Ellen Cavanagh were\nintimate from childhood. The result was love; but Ellen's father\ninsisted on her marrying a wealthier suitor. On the wedding-night Carrol\ncame disguised as a harper, and played and sung this air, which he had\ncomposed for the occasion. Ellen's tenderness revived in full force; she\ncontrived to make her father, the bridegroom, and the guests drink to\nexcess, and by morning she and Carrol were beyond pursuit.\n\nThe following lines were written one evening to gratify a lady who\nwished to have the writer's idea of what Carrol might have sung. The\nair is generally known under the name of Robin Adair:--\n\n What are the joys wealth and honours bestow?\n Do they endure like true love's steady glow?\n Shadows of vanity,\n Mists of the summer sky,\n Soon they disperse and fly,\n Aileen a roon!\n\n Time was when Aileen tripped light as the fawn,\n Spying young Carrol approach in the dawn,\n Ere the sun's early beam\n Glittered on lake and stream,--\n Oh! that was bliss supreme,\n Aileen a roon!\n\n Or when mild even's star beamed in the west,\n Bringing to nature the season of rest--\n At that sweet hour to rove,\n Down by yon spreading grove,\n Breathing forth vows of love,\n Aileen a roon!\n\n Aileen forgets, but her Carrol more true,\n As these past scenes memory brings to his view.\n Heaves many a heavy sigh,\n Breaking his heart is nigh--\n And canst thou let him die?\n Aileen a roon!\n\n\n _Rousseau's Dream._\n\nThese verses are adapted to the well-known air. They were suggested by\na passage from Rousseau's works, quoted by Alison in his Essay on\nTaste. Though real names are mentioned, the scenery and subject are\npurely ideal.\n\n Calmly at eve shone the sun o'er Lake Leman,\n Bright in his beam lay the watery expanse,\n Softly the white sails reflected his gleaming,\n Groves, banks, and trees their slow shadows advance.\n Cool from the mountains the summer-gale breathed,\n Laden with fragrance the lake it came o'er;\n Leman, exulting, danced joyous beneath it,\n Light crisped waves gently roll to the shore.\n\n At that soft hour on the blue Leman rowing,\n Slowly a sage urged his bark by a grove,\n Silently musing, his lofty mind glowing,\n Viewing earth's pomp and the glories above\n As o'er the lake the long shadows extended,\n Whispering the breeze, lulled each sense to repose;\n Calm he reclined, and as slumber descended,\n Visions of bliss to his fancy arose.\n\n Heaven to his view seemed arrayed in new glory,\n Earth breathed forth fragrance and basked in the ray\n Clad in loose raiment, more white than the hoary\n Front of Mont Blanc, came a son of the day.\n Lightly his wand o'er the slumberer extending,\n While with new joy laughed the earth, sky, and lake;\n Love in his accents with soft pity blending,\n Shedding content, thus the bright vision spake:--\n\n \"Hither I come, from my cloud-crowned station,\n Touched with thy grief, to shed balm o'er thy mind!\n I am the Spirit to whom, at creation,\n Charge was by Heaven o'er this region assigned.\n List to my accents, thou hunted by malice!\n Let what I utter sink deep in thy breast:\n Fly from mankind, to the lakes, hills, and valleys,\n Thus, thus alone, shall thy spirit find rest.\n\n \"But if again to the world thou now fliest,\n Thou should return, and again meet thy foes,\n Think on this hour, when for comfort thou sighest,\n And the bright scene will dispel all thy woes.\"\n Gone was the vision: eve's star now was glancing,\n Cold came the breeze o'er the blue curling stream;\n Waked from his slumber, his heart with joy dancing,\n Homeward he turned, and still mused on his dream.\n\n\n _Alexander Selkirk's Dream._\n\n COMPOSED ONE DAY WHEN CONFINED TO BED BY A COLD\n AND UNABLE TO READ.\n\n O'er the isle of Juan Fernandez\n Cooling shades of evening spread,\n While upon the peaks of Andes\n Still the tints of day were shed.\n\n From the sea-beat shore returning\n Homeward hied the lonely man,\n O'er his cheerless fortune mourning,\n As through past days memory ran.\n\n Soon his brief repast was ended\n And he sought his lowly bed;\n Balmy slumber there descended,\n Shedding influence o'er his head.\n\n Then a vision full of gladness\n Came, sent forth by Him supreme\n Who his suffering servants' sadness\n Oft dispelleth in a dream.\n\n * * * * *\n\n In his view the lively dream sets\n Hills and vales in verdure bright;\n Where the gaily-prattling streamlets\n Sparkle in the morning-light.\n\n Hark! the holy bell is swinging,\n Calling to the house of prayer;\n Loud resounds the solemn ringing\n Through the still and balmy air.\n\n Youths and maids from glen and mountain\n Hasten at the hallowed sound,\n Old men rest by shady fountain,\n Children lay them on the ground.\n\n Now the pious throng is streaming\n Through the temple's portal low;\n Rapture in each face is beaming\n Pure devotion's genuine glow.\n\n Fervently the hoary pastor,\n Humbly bent before his God,\n Supplicates their heavenly Master\n Them to lead on Sion's road;\n\n Owns that all have widely erred\n From the true, the narrow way,\n That with Him we have no merit,\n And no claim of right can lay.\n\n Loud then rise in choral measure\n Hymns of gratitude and praise,\n As, inspired with solemn pleasure,\n Unto Heaven their strains they raise.\n\n Now the grave discourse beginneth,\n Which, ungraced by rhetoric's arts,\n Quick the rapt attention winneth,\n While it glorious truths imparts;\n\n While it tells how kind is Heaven\n To the race of him who fell;\n How of old the Son was given\n To redeem from pains of hell;\n\n How the Holy Spirit abideth\n In their hearts that hear his call;\n How our God for all provideth,\n How His mercy's over all;\n\n How, beyond the grave extending,\n Regions lie of endless bliss;\n How our thoughts on that world bending,\n We should careless be of this.\n\n Once again the raised hymn pealeth\n Notes of joy and jubilee,\n Praising Him who truth revealeth,\n Dweller of Eternity!\n\n * * * * *\n\n Night's dim shades were now retreating,\n Over Andes rose the day,\n On the hills the kids' loud bleating\n Lingering slumber chased away.\n\n Birds their merry notes were singing,\n Joyous at the approach of morn--\n Morn that, light and fragrance flinging,\n Earth doth cherish and adorn.\n\n Waked by Nature's general chorus\n Selkirk quits his lonely couch,\n While o'er heaven run colours glorious,\n Heralding the sun's approach.\n\n Still the vision hovers o'er him,\n Still the heavenly strains he hears,\n Setting those bright realms before him\n Where are wiped away all tears.\n\n All this vain and transitory\n State of mankind here on earth,\n Weighed with that exceeding glory,\n Now he deems as nothing worth.\n\n Low he bends in adoration,\n As the sun ascends the sky;\n Doubt and fear and lamentation\n With the night's last shadows fly.\n\n\n _A Moonlight Scene_,\n\n CONCEIVED AND COMMENCED WHEN PASSING OVER PUTNEY BRIDGE ON\n A FINE MOONLIGHT NIGHT IN SUMMER.\n\n The moonbeams on the lake are glancing,\n The nimble bark is now advancing,\n That for this grove is bound.\n Ye gentle clouds, ah! hear a lover,\n And hasten not the moon to cover\n And darkness pour around.\n\n Doth fancy sport, or do I hear her,\n As nearer still she comes and nearer,\n Cutting the billows bright?--\n How still! scarce even a light breeze flying!\n Earth, water, air, at peace are lying\n Beneath the calm moonlight.\n\n My heart beats high, my soul rejoices,\n Methinks I hear their merry voices--\n She soon will reach the shore.--\n Ah me! my hopes, my hopes are failing,\n Yon sable cloud is onwards sailing--\n The moon it covers o'er.\n\n Now o'er the lake they dubious wander,\n And on some part remote may strand her,\n Unless they aid obtain,--\n I'll wave a signal from the summit\n Of yon high bank, and haply from it\n Some guidance they may gain.\n\n The cloud moves on, the moonlight beameth,\n And o'er the lovely lady streameth,\n Upon her lofty stand.\n With joyful shout the boatmen greet her,\n Her anxious lover hastes to meet her,\n And eager springs to land.\n\n\n _Lines Written in a Lady's Album._\n\n In those blest days, when free from care\n And happy as the birds in air,\n I roamed the hills and dales,\n By purling rills oft passed the day,\n Or on green banks recumbent lay,\n Listening the shepherds' tales,\n\n My fancy, rising on the wing,\n Would visions fair before me bring,\n Of castles high, and towers,\n With knights in radiant panoply,\n And ladies of the beaming eye,\n Within their fragrant bowers;\n\n Or lead me thence away to shades\n Of woods, and show me, in the glades,\n The cottages serene,\n Where Peace dwelt with Contend, among\n The happy, gay Arcadian throng\n That tenanted the scene.\n\n But whether cot or tower arose\n In vision, at the dawn or close\n Of summer-days, to me,\n The lovely form of woman still\n Shone bright by dale, by mead, by rill,\n Amid my extacy.\n\n I saw her robed in every grace\n With youth, with loveliness of face,\n And virtue's gentle eye;\n And from her tongue heard accents fall,\n That would the rudest heart enthral,\n And raise emotions high.\n\n But like the Eastern prince, who loved\n The pictured form of one that moved\n In life full many a year\n Ere he beheld the light, I deemed\n The lovely form of which I dreamed\n Would ne'er to me appear.\n\n And years came on, and years went by,\n And yet I never found me nigh\n My youthful vision bright.\n I said,--I might as well, I ween,\n Expect to see the Fairy-queen\n Descend, to bless my sight.\n\n But often, when we hope it least,\n And when our search has well nigh ceased,\n Good fortune will befall:\n So I one evening saw a maid,\n Who every grace and charm displayed\n That decked my _Ideal_.\n\n Her portrait here I need not show.\n For, reader, thou must surely know\n That peerless, gentle maid:\n To her these lines I consecrate;\n And if she smiles I'll deem, elate,\n My toil far overpaid.\n\n\n _To Amanda._\n\n [These are the verses quoted in the Introduction to the \"Tales and\n Popular Fictions.\" The author was very young when he wrote them;\n and Amanda was, like Beatrice and Laura, a mere _donna di mente_,\n having no real existence.]\n\n As when a storm in vernal skies\n The face of day doth stain,\n And o'er the smiling landscape flies,\n With mist and drizzling rain;\n If chance the sun look through the shower\n O'er flowery hill and dale,\n Reviving Nature owns his power,\n And softly sighs the gale:\n\n So when, by anxious thoughts oppressed,\n My soul sinks in despair,\n When smiling hope deserts my breast,\n And all is darkness there;\n If chance Amanda's form appear,\n The gloom is chased away,\n My soul once more her soft smiles cheer,\n And joy resumes his sway.\n\n Then, dear Amanda, since thy smile\n Has power all gloom to charm,\n Oh! ever thus my cares beguile,\n And guard my soul from harm.\n Let Hymen's bands our fates unite,\n What bliss may then be ours!--\n Our days will glide, like streamlets bright,\n O'erhung with fragrant flowers.\n\n\n _Lines_,\n\n WRITTEN AT HOME IN THE SPRING OF 1842.\n\n Fair Tibur, once the Muses' home,\n Before us lay; around\n Was spread the plain which mighty Rome\n Oft saw with victory crowned.\n\n The sun rode high, the sky was clear,\n The lark poured forth his strain,\n And flowers, the firstlings of the year,\n Shed fragrance o'er the plain.\n\n A gentle lady turned on me\n Her bright expressive eyes,\n And bade the flame of poesy\n Within my bosom rise.\n\n 'Twas then I felt, I felt, alas!\n How Time has dealt with me,\n And how the rays of fancy pass,\n And vanish utterly.\n\n For time has been when such a view\n And mandate of the fair,\n With images of brightest hue,\n Had fill'd the land and air:\n\n While now I strive, and strive in vain,\n To twine poetic flowers,\n Since from me Time away has ta'en\n Imagination's powers.\n\n Then lady, be thou gentle still,\n Let pity sway thy breast;\n Accept for deeds the fervent will\n To honour thy behest.\n\n\n _A Farewell._\n\n Farewell! farewell! the parting hour\n Is come, and I must leave thee!\n Oh! ne'er may aught approach thy bower\n That might of bliss bereave thee!\n\n But ever a perennial rill\n Of joy, so brightly flowing,\n Keep each fair thought in fragrance still\n Within thy pure mind blowing.\n\n For life all charm had lost for me,\n My thoughts were only sadness,\n When fortune led me unto thee\n To taste once more of gladness.--\n\n I've seen the sullen shades of night\n Fair nature's face concealing,\n And marked how scattered rays of light\n Came morn's approach revealing.\n\n The light increased, the orb of day\n Clomb to the mountain's summit;\n And vale and plain, and stream and bay,\n Drew life and lustre from it.\n\n And as it towered in majesty,\n Light all around it shedding,\n It seemed a monarch, seated high,\n Bliss through his realms wide spreading.\n\n All nature joyed; I felt my heart\n Distend, and fill with pleasure;\n For heavenly light and warmth impart\n A bliss we cannot measure.\n\n This glorious sun to me art thou,\n Whose light all gloom dispelleth,\n Before whose majesty I bow\n When he his power revealeth.\n\n Thy golden locks, thine eyes so blue,\n Thy smile so sweetly playing,\n Were those first shafts of light that flew,\n The gloom of night warraying.\n\n But when, more intimately known,\n I found not only beauty,\n But genius, taste, and truth, thine own,\n Combined with filial duty:\n\n Then rose the sun, o'er all my soul\n In full effulgence beaming,\n And tides of joy began to roll\n Beneath his radiance gleaming.--\n\n Time still his noiseless course pursues\n With unremitting vigour,\n And lovely Spring each year renews\n The waste of Winter's rigour.\n\n Were mine the power, thus, like Time,\n To wake again life's flowers,\n And days recall of youthful prime\n Passed in the Muses' bowers;\n\n Then, lovely maiden! fancy-free,\n Rich in each mental treasure,\n In me thou wouldst a votary see--\n Thy will would be my pleasure.\n\n But while such bliss might not be mine,\n A friendship pure and holy\n I offered at the hallowed shrine,\n To which my heart turned solely.--\n\n When distant from thee many a mile,\n High waves between us swelling,\n I'll think upon thy lovely smile,\n Of pure emotion telling.\n\n The sky will show me thy blue eye;\n The whispering breeze of even\n Recall that voice, whose melody\n Oft lapped my soul in heaven!\n\n The sinking sun thy ringlets' gold\n Will show; but memory only\n The treasures of thy mind unfold\n To me when musing lonely.\n\n Oh! may I hope that memory,\n That power for ever changing,\n Will make thee sometimes think on me,\n O'er distant mountains ranging?\n\n Say me not nay; let Fancy cheat\n My soul with bland illusion;\n And let not Doubt my vision sweet\n Dispel by rude intrusion.\n\n\n _Verses_,\n\n WRITTEN AT BATH IN 1840, FOR A LITTLE BOY WHO KEPT AN ALBUM, AND WAS\n A GREAT ADMIRER OF ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN.\n\n Had the kind Muse, young friend, on me\n Her pleasing gifts bestowed,\n And taught to tread of poesy\n The smooth and flowery road;\n\n Then should the deeds of Robin Hood,\n And Little John, so bold,\n And of the Friar, stout and good,\n In numbers high be told.\n\n The merry greenwood should resound\n With feats of archery,\n And antlered deer along should bound\n So light and gracefully!\n\n But vain the hopes: 'gainst Fate's decrees\n To struggle I must cease;\n I only can write histories\n Of England, Rome, and Greece.\n\n\n _Father Cuddy's Song._\n\n IN THE LEGEND OF CLOUGH NA CUDDY.\n\n Quam pulchra sunt ova,\n Cum alba et nova\n In stabulo scite leguntur;\n Et \u00e0 Margery bella,\n Qu\u00e6 festiva puella!\n Pinguis lardi cum frustis coquuntur.\n\n Ut belles in prato\n Aprico et lato\n Sub sole tam l\u00e6te renident,\n Ova tosta, in mensa\n Mappa bene extensa,\n Nitidissima lance consident.\n\n\n TRANSLATION.\n\n Oh! 'tis eggs are a treat,\n When so white and so sweet\n From under the manger they're taken,\n And by fair Margery,\n Och! 'tis she's full of glee,\n They are fried with fat rashers of bacon.\n\n Just like daisies all spread\n O'er a broad sunny mead,\n In the sunbeams so beauteously shining,\n Are fried eggs fair displayed\n On a dish, when we've laid\n The cloth and are thinking of dining.\n\n\n _The Praises of Mazender\u00e2n._\n\n FROM THE SH\u00c2H-N\u00c2MEH OF FERDOUSEE.\n\n [The object of this version was to give a correct idea of the\n animated anap\u00e6stic measure in which the Sh\u00e2h-N\u00e2meh is written. Our\n knowledge of Persian was extremely slight; but a friendly\n Orientalist gave us a faithful line-for-line translation, which we\n versified, and he and Ram Mohun Roy then compared our version with\n the original.]\n\n His hand from the lute hath its melody drawn,\n And thus rose the song of Mazender\u00e2n:--\n May Mazender\u00e2n, the land of my birth,\n Its hills and its dales, be e'er famed o'er the earth:\n For evermore blooms in its gardens the rose,\n On its hills nods the tulip, the hyacinth blows;\n Its air ever fragrant, its earth flourishing,\n Cold or heat is not felt,--'tis perpetual spring.\n The nightingale's lays in the gardens resound;\n On the sides of the mountains the stately deer bound,\n In search evermore of their pastime and food;\n With fragrance and colour each season's bedewed;\n Its streams of rose-water unceasingly roll,\n Whose perfume doth gladness diffuse o'er the soul.\n In November, December, and January,\n Full of tulips the ground thou mayest everywhere see;\n The springs, unexhausted, flow all through the year;\n The hawk at his chase everywhere doth appear.\n The region of bliss is adorned all o'er\n With dinars, with rich stuffs, and with all costly store;\n The idol-adorers with fine gold are crowned,\n And girdles of gold gird the heroes renowned.\n Whoe'er hath not dwelt in that region so bright,\n His soul knows no pleasure, his heart no delight.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[599] As we have above given an etymon of _cobweb_, we will here\nrepeat our note on the word _gossamer_ in the Fairy Legends.\n\n\"Gossamers, Johnson says, are the long white cobwebs which fly in the\nair in calm sunny weather, and he derives the word from the Low Latin\n_gossapium_. This is altogether unsatisfactory. The gossamers are the\ncobwebs which may be seen, particularly of a still autumnal morning,\nin such numbers on the furze-bushes, and which are raised by the wind\nand floated through the air, as thus exquisitely pictured by Browne in\nhis Britannia's Pastorals (ii. 2),\n\n The milk-white gossamers not upwards snowed.\n\nEvery lover of nature must have observed and admired the beautiful\nappearance of the gossamers in the early morning, when covered with\ndew-drops, which, like prisms, separate the rays of light, and shoot\nthe blue, red, yellow, and other colours of the _spectrum_, in\nbrilliant confusion. Of King Oberon we are told--\n\n A riche mantle he did wear,\n Made of tinsel gossamer,\n Bestrew'd over with a few\n Diamond drops of morning dew.\n\nA much more probable origin of _gossamer_ than that proposed by\nJohnson is suggested by what has been now stated. _Gossamer_ is, we\nthink, a corruption of _gorse_, or _goss samyt_, i. e. the _samyt_, or\nfinely-woven silken web that lies on the _gorse_ or furze. Voss, in a\nnote on his Luise (iii. 17), says that the popular belief in Germany\nis, that the gossamers are woven by the Dwarfs.\n\n[600] In the notes on this story Mr. Croker gives the following\nletter:--\n\n \"The accuracy of the following story I can vouch for, having heard\n it told several times by the person who saw the circumstances.\n\n \"About twenty years back, William Cody, churn-boy to a person\n near Cork, had, after finishing his day's work, to go through six\n or eight fields to his own house, about twelve o'clock at night.\n He was passing alongside of the ditch of a large field, and\n coming near a quarry, he heard a great cracking of whips on the\n other side. He went on to a gap in the same ditch, and out rode a\n little horseman, dressed in green, and mounted in the best\n manner, who put a whip to his breast, and made him stop until\n several hundred horsemen, all dressed alike, rode out of the gap\n at full speed, and swept round a glen. When the last horseman was\n clear off, the sentinel clapt spurs to his horse, gave three\n cracks of his whip, and was out of sight in a second.\n\n \"The person would swear to the truth of the above, as he was\n quite sober and sensible at the time. The place had always before\n the name of being very _airy_ [the Scottish _eirie_].\n\n \"_Royal Cork Institution_, P. BATH.\n _June 3, 1825._\"\n\n[601] An abridgment of _Leprechaun_, see p. 371.\n\n[602] This wonderful tune is, we fear, a transference we made from\nScandinavia. See above, p. 79.\n\n[603] We must here make an honest confession. This story had no\nfoundation but the German legend in p. 259. All that is not to be\nfound there is our own pure invention. Yet we afterwards found that it\nwas well-known on the coast of Cork and Wicklow. \"But,\" said one of\nour informants, \"It was things like flower-pots he kept them in.\" So\nfaithful is popular tradition in these matters! In this and the\nfollowing tale there are some traits by another hand which we are now\nunable to discriminate.\n\n[604] It is not very likely that the inventor of this legend knew\nanything about the Amadigi of B. Tasso, yet in that poem we meet this\ncircumstance more than once. In c. ii., when night falls on the young\nknight Alidoro, in the open country, he finds a pavilion pitched\nbeside a fountain, with lights in it, and hears a voice which invites\nhim to enter it. He there sups and goes to sleep in a rich bed, and on\nawaking in the morning (iii. 38) finds himself lying in the open air.\nAnother time (c. viii) he comes to a fair inn, in a wild region, where\nhe is entertained and his wounds are dressed by a gentle damsel, and\non awaking in the morning he finds himself lying under a tree. The\ntent and inn were the work of his protectress, the Fairy Silvana.\nAnother Fairy, Argea, entertains (c. xxxiii.) a king, queen, knight\nand ladies, in a stately palace. At night they retire to magnificent\nchambers, and in the morning they find themselves lying in a mead,\nsome under trees, others on the sides of a stream, with more of the\nbeauties of the ladies displayed than they could have desired.\n\n\n\n\n INDEX.\n\n The words printed in _Italics_ are those whose origin or meaning\n is explained. The word \"Fairy\" is inclusive of all similar beings.\n\n Albrich, 206.\n\n Alfar, 64.\n\n _Alguacil_, 464.\n\n Amadigi, L', 454.\n\n Apsaresas, 510.\n\n\n Bakhna Rakhna, 495.\n\n Barguest, 306, 310.\n\n Berserkers, 74.\n\n Boggart, 307.\n\n Bogles, 316, 351.\n\n _Booby_, 464.\n\n _Boy_, 316.\n\n Brownie, 171, 296, 357, 395.\n\n _Bug_, 318.\n\n _Bugaboo_, 316.\n\n _Bugbear_, 316.\n\n _Bullbeggar_, 316.\n\n\n _Calcar_, 291.\n\n _Cauchemare_, 291.\n\n Cauld Lad of Hilton, 296.\n\n Cluricaun, 371.\n\n _Cobweb_, 318.\n\n Colepexy, 305.\n\n Colt-Pixy, 305.\n\n Crions, 440.\n\n Cross, 87, 134, 136, 276, 375, 391.\n\n Courils, 441.\n\n Changelings, 125, 166, 227, 300, 355, 365, 393, 398, 436, 471, 473,\n 521.\n\n\n Dames Blanches, 474.\n\n Dame du Lac, 31.\n\n Daoine Shi', 384.\n\n Deevs, 15.\n\n _Deuce_, 438.\n\n Drac, 465.\n\n Duende, 462, 464.\n\n Duergar, 66.\n\n Duscii, 438.\n\n Dwarfs, 94, 157, 174, 206, 264.\n\n\n Eddas, 60.\n\n Elberich, 208.\n\n Elf-arrow, 352.\n\n Elf-bore, 307.\n\n Elf-queen, 331.\n\n Elves, 78, 281.\n\n Eugel, 207.\n\n\n _Fada_, 5.\n\n Fadas, 468.\n\n _Fairy_, 4.\n\n Fairy-bells, 363, 412.\n\n Fairy-butter, 309.\n\n Fairy-cup, 88, 109, 237, 283, 284, 399.\n\n Fairy-departure, 127, 223, 257, 273, 356.\n\n Fairy-labour, 122, 261, 275, 301, 311, 388, 488.\n\n Fairy-mushrooms, 303.\n\n Fairy-origin, 75, 147, 150, 213, 265, 363, 385, 412, 432, 464.\n\n Fairy-riding, 355, 384, 401, 414, 520.\n\n Fairy-song, 364, 438, 461.\n\n Fairy-wife, 19, 108, 163, 169, 370, 409, 450, 458, 480, 485.\n\n Fairy-land, 44.\n\n Faerie Queene, 56.\n\n Fairies, 28, 290, 350, 363, 385, 397, 412.\n\n Farisees, 306.\n\n Fary, 310.\n\n _Fata_, 5.\n\n Fate, 451.\n\n Fear Dearg, 369.\n\n F\u00e9es, 472.\n\n Fosse-Grim, 152.\n\n Friar Rush, 347.\n\n\n Gallicen\u00e6, 420.\n\n Gandharvas, 510.\n\n Gobelins, 476.\n\n Goldemar, 256.\n\n Good People, 363, 397, 495.\n\n Gorics, 440.\n\n _Gossamer_, 513.\n\n Grant, 286.\n\n _Guancia_, 464.\n\n Guid Neighbours, 164, 351.\n\n\n Habundia, 474.\n\n _Hada_, 5.\n\n Hadas, 469.\n\n _Hag_, 290, 332.\n\n _Haggard_, 318.\n\n Havfrue, 152.\n\n Havmand, 152.\n\n _Hel-Keplein_, 207.\n\n Hinzelmann, 240.\n\n Hobgoblin, 317.\n\n H\u00f6dekin, 255.\n\n Holger Danske, 129.\n\n House-spirit, 139, 163, 171, 239, 265, 287, 291, 296, 307, 357, 369,\n 395, 407, 449, 462, 468, 488.\n\n _Housle-egg_, 291.\n\n Huldrafolk, 79.\n\n Hyldemoer, 94.\n\n\n Incubo, 449.\n\n Iron, 25, 148, 413, 488.\n\n\n Jean de la Boli\u00e9ta, 265.\n\n Jinn, 25.\n\n Jinnist\u00e2n, 16.\n\n\n K\u00e2f, 15.\n\n Kelpie, 360, 385.\n\n Kit-wi-the-Canstick, 291.\n\n Kleine Volk, 216.\n\n Klintekonger. 91.\n\n Kobold, 239.\n\n Korr, 431.\n\n Korred, 431.\n\n Korrig, 431.\n\n Korrigan, 420, 431.\n\n\n Lancelot du Lac, 31.\n\n Lars, 448.\n\n Laurin, 207.\n\n Leprechaun, 371.\n\n _Lob_, 318.\n\n _Lob's pound_, 319.\n\n _Lubber_, 319.\n\n Lubin, 478.\n\n Lubrican, 372.\n\n Luridan, 172.\n\n Lutin, 476.\n\n Luck of Eden Hall, 292.\n\n\n Mab, 331, 476.\n\n Ma\u00e7ieh, 494.\n\n Mazikeen, 497.\n\n Melusina, 479.\n\n Mermaids, 370, 433, 450.\n\n Merrow, 370, 527.\n\n Mi\u00f6lner, 70.\n\n Monaciello, 449.\n\n _Monkey_, 464.\n\n Morgan, 433.\n\n Morgana, 5.\n\n Morgue la Fa\u00e9e, 42, 46.\n\n Moss-people, 230.\n\n Napf-Hans, 265.\n\n Neck, 148, 178, 488.\n\n Neptunes, 285.\n\n Nickur, 162, 163.\n\n _Ninny_, 464.\n\n Nisse, 139.\n\n Nix, 258.\n\n N\u00f6kke, 148.\n\n Nornir, 64.\n\n Nymphs, 444.\n\n\n _Oaf_, 329.\n\n Oberon, 38, 289, 325.\n\n Oennereeske, 231.\n\n Ogier le Danois, 46.\n\n Oldenburg Horn, 237.\n\n Otnit, 208.\n\n _Ouph_, 329.\n\n\n _Pawkey_, 316.\n\n Pentamerone, Il, 455.\n\n Peries, 15.\n\n Pexy, 305.\n\n Phynnoderree, 402.\n\n Picktree Brag, 310.\n\n Pisachas, 510.\n\n Pisgies, 298.\n\n Pixies, 298.\n\n _Pixy-led_, 300.\n\n Poake, 317.\n\n Pooka, 371.\n\n Portunes, 285.\n\n Pouke, 314.\n\n _Proud_, 103.\n\n Puck, 291, 314.\n\n _Pucker_, 464.\n\n _Puckfist_, 317.\n\n Puckle, 316.\n\n Pug, 315.\n\n Puk, 233.\n\n Pwcca, 418.\n\n\n Robin Goodfellow, 287, 317.\n\n Robin Hood, 318.\n\n Runes, 98.\n\n Rusalki, 491.\n\n\n St. Oluf, 137.\n\n _St. Peter's suster_, 319.\n\n Scogsfru, 153.\n\n Scrat, Schrat, Schretel, 229.\n\n Seemurgh, 17.\n\n Shedeem, 497.\n\n Shellycoat, 360.\n\n Shian, 384.\n\n Shinse\u00ebn, 511.\n\n Shoopiltie, 171.\n\n Skidbladni, 68.\n\n _Spoorn_, 291.\n\n Steel, _see Iron_.\n\n _Stout_, 103.\n\n Stille Volk, 216.\n\n Str\u00f6mkarl, 152.\n\n Svend F\u00e6lling, 88, 128.\n\n Similar Legends,--(i.) 19, 163, 169, 370. (ii.) 88, 109, 237, 283,\n 284, 399. (iii.) 115, 366, 398. (iv.) 116, 232.\n (v.) 121, 409, 450, 458, 480, 485. (vi.) 122, 261,\n 275, 301, 311, 388. (vii.) 124, 260. (viii.) 124,\n 386, 387, 415. (ix.) 127, 223, 257, 273, 356.\n (x.) 140, 307, 369, 491. (xi.) 149, 365, 385.\n (xii.) 220, 226, 289, 295, 352, 389. (xiii.) 228,\n 261, 287, 289, 299, 358, 395, 403. (xiv.) 302, 309,\n 311, 312, 353, 466. (xv.) 304, 438, 461. (xvi.) 313,\n 396, 477, 489.\n\n\n _Take_, 338.\n\n Tangie, 173.\n\n _Tarnkappe_, 207.\n\n Tirfing, 72.\n\n Titania, 325.\n\n Tomte, 139, 147.\n\n Trasgo, 462, 464.\n\n Trolls, 94, 102.\n\n Trows, 164.\n\n _Turning coat_, 300.\n\n Tylwyth T\u00eag, 408.\n\n\n Umskiptinger, 160.\n\n _Urchin_, 319.\n\n Urdar-fount, 64.\n\n Urisk, 396.\n\n\n Vairies, 305.\n\n Vidhyadharas, 519.\n\n Vilas, 491.\n\n Volmar, 256.\n\n\n _Wain_, 105.\n\n Water-spirits, 147, 162, 163, 171, 173, 178, 258, 360, 385, 409, 433,\n 444, 450, 470.\n\n Wicht, Wichtlein, 216, 229.\n\n _Wight_, 216, 319.\n\n Wild-women, 234.\n\n _Wife Paternoster_, 319.\n\n _Witch_, 319.\n\n _Wolf's-fist_, 317.\n\n\n Yakshas, 510.\n\n Yggdrasil, 64.\n\n Yumboes, 495.\n\n\n\n\n THE END.\n\n\n\n\n LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,\n STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n\nObvious punctuation and spelling errors have been fixed throughout.\n\nOld English characters have been replaced with the nearest Latin\nequivalent.\n\nIrish Uncial characters have been replaced with the nearest Latin\nequivalent.\n\nInconsistent hyphenation is as in the original.\n\nInconsistent use of opening and closing quotes are as in the original.\n\nFootnote 275: Has no anchor, left as in the original text.\n\nFootnotes 333 and 334: These footnotes were in incorrect order in the\noriginal text. They have been reversed in the new text.","title":"The Fairy Mythology: Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":206436}