ROBBERIES FROM FAIRYLAND.
The tale of Elidorus--Celtic and Teutonic stories of theft from
supernatural beings--The thief unsuccessful--Cases of successful
robbery--Robbery from the king of the serpents--Robbery of a
drinking-cup, or horn--The horn of Oldenburg and similar
vessels--The Luck of Edenhall--The cup of Ballafletcher--These
vessels sacrificial and pagan.
The earliest writers who allude to the Welsh fairy traditions are
Giraldus Cambrensis and Walter Map, two members of that constellation of
literary men which rendered brilliant the early years of the Plantagenet
dynasty. Giraldus, with whom alone we have to do in this chapter, lays
the scene of what is perhaps his most famous story near Swansea, and
states that the adventures narrated occurred a short time before his own
days. The story concerns one Elidorus, a priest, upon whose persistent
declarations it is founded. This good man in his youth ran away from the
discipline and frequent stripes of his preceptor, and hid himself under
the hollow bank of a river. There he remained fasting for two days; and
then two men of pigmy stature appeared, and invited him to come with
them, and they would lead him into a country full of delights and
sports. A more powerful temptation could not have been offered to a
runaway schoolboy of twelve years old; and the invitation was speedily
accepted. He accompanied his guides into a subterranean land, where he
found a people of small stature but pure morals. He was brought into the
presence of the king, and by him handed over to his son, who was then a
boy. In that land he dwelt for some time; but he often used to return by
various paths to the upper day, and on one of these occasions he made
himself known to his mother, declaring to her the nature, manners, and
state of the pigmy folk. She desired him to bring her a present of gold,
which was plentiful in that region; and he accordingly stole a golden
ball while at play with the king's son, and ran off with it to his
mother, hotly pursued. Reaching home, his foot stumbled on the
threshold, and, dropping the ball, he fell into the room where his
mother was sitting. The two pigmies who had followed him at once seized
the ball and made off with it, not without expressing their contempt for
the thief who had returned their kindness with such ingratitude; and
Elidorus, though he sought it carefully with penitence and shame, could
never again find the way into the underground realm.[104]
Narratives of the theft of valuables from supernatural beings are found
all the world over. In this way, for example, in the mythology of more
than one nation mankind obtained the blessing of fire. Such tales,
however, throw but little light on this one of Elidorus; and it will
therefore be more profitable in considering it to confine our attention
to those generally resembling it current among Celts and Teutons. They
are very common; and the lesson they usually teach is that honesty is
the best policy--at all events, in regard to beings whose power is not
bounded by the ordinary human limitations. Beginning with South Wales,
we find one of these tales told by the Rev. Edward Davies, a clergyman
in Gloucestershire at the beginning of this century, who was the author
of two curious works on Welsh antiquities, stuffed with useless, because
misdirected, learning. The tale in question relates to a small lake "in
the mountains of Brecknock," concerning which we are informed that every
Mayday a certain door in a rock near the lake was found open. He who
was bold enough to enter was led by a secret passage to a small island,
otherwise invisible, in the middle of the lake. This was a fairy island,
a garden of enchanting beauty, inhabited by the _Tylwyth Teg_ (or Fair
Family), and stored with fruits and flowers. The inhabitants treated
their visitors with lavish hospitality, but permitted nothing to be
carried away. One day this prohibition was violated by a visitor, who
put into his pocket a flower with which he had been presented. The Fair
Family showed no outward resentment. Their guests were dismissed with
the accustomed courtesy; but the moment he who had broken their behest
"touched unhallowed ground" the flower disappeared, and he lost his
senses. Nor has the mysterious door ever been found again.[105]
In both these cases the thief is unsuccessful, and the punishment of his
crime is the loss of fairy intercourse; perhaps the mildest form which
punishment could take. But sometimes the _chevalier d'industrie_ is
lucky enough to secure his spoils. It is related that certain white
ghosts were in the habit of playing by night at skittles on a level
grass-plot on the Lüningsberg, near Aerzen, in North Germany. A
journeyman weaver, who was in love with a miller's daughter, but lacked
the means to marry her, thought there could be no harm in robbing the
ghosts of one of the golden balls with which they used to play. He
accordingly concealed himself one evening; and when the harmless
spectres came out he seized one of their balls, and scampered away with
it, followed by the angry owners. A stream crossed his path, and,
missing the plank bridge which spanned it, he sprang into the water.
This saved him, for the spirits had no power there; and a merry wedding
was the speedy sequel of his adventure. In like manner a fairy, who, in
a Breton saga, was incautious enough to winnow gold in broad daylight in
a field where a man was pruning beeches, excited the latter's attention
by this singular proceeding; and the man possessed himself of the
treasure by simply flinging into it a hallowed rosary. In Germany the
water-nix has the reputation of being a good shoemaker. It is related
that a man, who once saw a nix on the shore of the March busy at his
work, threw a rosary upon it. The nix disappeared, leaving the shoe; and
a variant states that the shoe was so well made that the owner wore out
successively twelve other shoes which he had caused to be made to match
it, without its being any the worse.[106]
We have already seen in the last chapter that the performance of
Christian rites and the exhibition of Christian symbols and sacred books
have a powerful effect against fairies. But further, the invocation, or
indeed the simple utterance, of a sacred name has always been held to
counteract enchantments and the wiles of all supernatural beings who are
not themselves part and parcel of what I may, without offence and for
want of a better term, call the Christian mythology, and who may
therefore at times, if not constantly, be supposed to be hostile to the
Christian powers and to persons under their protection. These beliefs
are, of course, in one form or another part of the machinery of every
religion. The tales just quoted are examples of the potency of a symbol.
A North German story is equally emphatic as to the value of a holy name.
We are told that late one evening a boy saw a great number of hares
dancing and leaping. Now hares are specially witch-possessed animals. As
he stood and watched them one of them sprang towards him and tried to
bite his leg. But he said: "Go away! thou art not of God, but of the
devil." Instantly the whole company vanished; but he heard a doleful
voice exclaiming: "My silver beaker, my silver beaker!" On reaching home
he told his adventure; and his father at once started back with him to
the place, where they found a silver beaker inscribed with a name
neither they nor the goldsmith, to whom they sold the goblet for a large
sum of money, could read. The district whence this story comes furnishes
us also with an account of a man who, being out late one night, came
upon a fire surrounded by a large circle of women sitting at a table. He
ventured to seat himself among them. Each one had brought something for
the meal; and a man-cook went round them asking each what she had got.
When he came to the hero of the story the latter struck him with his
stick, saying: "I have a blow which our Lord God gave the devil."
Thereupon the whole assembly disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the
kettle which hung over the fire, and which the man took and long
preserved to testify the truth of his story. A Cornish fisherman was
scarcely less lucky without the protection of a pious exclamation. For
one night going home he found a crowd of "little people" on the beach.
They were sitting in a semicircle holding their hats towards one of
their number, who was pitching gold pieces from a heap into them. The
fisherman contrived to introduce his hat among them without being
noticed, and having got a share of the money, made off with it. He was
followed by the piskies, but had a good start, and managed to reach home
and shut the door upon them. Yet so narrow was his escape that he left
the tails of his sea-coat in their hands.[107]
Vengeance, however, is sometimes swift and sure upon these robberies. It
is believed in Germany that the king of the snakes is wont to come out
to sun himself at noon; and that he then lays aside his crown, a prize
for any one who can seize it. A horseman, coming at the opportune
moment, did so once; but the serpent-king called forth his subjects and
pursued him. By the help of his good steed the man succeeded in arriving
at home; and, thankful to have escaped the danger, he patted the beast's
neck as he jumped down, saying: "Faithfully hast thou helped me!" At
that instant a snake, which had hidden herself unnoticed in the horse's
tail, bit the man; and little joy had he of his crime. In another story
the girl who steals the crown is deafened by the cries of her victim;
and elsewhere, when the serpent-king is unable to reach the robber, he
batters his own head to pieces in ineffectual rage. Perhaps he deserved
his fate in some of these cases, for it seems he had a foolish liking to
lay down his crown on a white cloth, or a white, or blue, silk
handkerchief,--a predilection which the robber did not fail to provide
him with the opportunity of gratifying, and of repenting.[108]
Other tales represent the thief as compelled to restore the stolen
goods. Thus a man who found the trolls on the Danish isle of Fuur
carrying their treasures out into the air, shot thrice over them, and
thereby forced the owners to quit them. He caught up the gold and silver
and rode off with it, followed by the chief troll. But after he got into
the house and shut the doors there was such a storming and hissing
outside, that the whole house seemed ablaze. Terrified, he flung the bag
wherein he had secured the treasures out into the night. The storm
ceased, and he heard a voice crying: "Thou hast still enough." In the
morning he found a heavy silver cup, which had fallen behind a chest of
drawers. Again, a farm servant of South Kongerslev, in Denmark, who went
at his master's instance, on Christmas Eve, to see what the trolls in a
neighbouring hill were doing, was offered drink from a golden cup. He
took the cup, and casting out its contents, spurred his horse from the
spot, hotly pursued. On the way back he passed the dwelling of a band of
trolls at enmity with those from whom he had stolen the cup. Counselled
by them, he took to the ploughed field, where his pursuers were unable
to follow him, and so escaped. The farmer kept the goblet until the
following Christmas Eve, when his wife imprudently helped a tattered
beggar to beer in it. It is not wonderful that both the cup and the
beggar vanished; but we are to understand that the beggar was a troll.
Perhaps he was. In Thyholm, a district of Denmark, there is a range of
lofty mounds formerly inhabited by trolls. Some peasants who were once
passing by these mounds prayed the trolls to give them some beer. In a
moment a little creature came out and presented a large silver can to
one of the men, who had no sooner grasped it than he set spurs to his
horse, with the intention of keeping it. But the little man of the mound
was too quick for him, for he speedily caught him and compelled him to
return the can. In a Pomeranian story the underground folk forestalled
the intention to rob them on the part of a farmer's boy whose thirst
they had quenched with a can of delicious brown-beer. Having drunk, he
hid the can itself, with the object of taking it home when his day's
work was done, for it was of pure silver; but when he afterwards went to
look for it, it had disappeared.[109]
Moreover, ungrateful mortals are sometimes punished, even when they are
lucky enough to secure their prize. Thus it is told of a man of Zahren,
in Mecklenburg, who was seized with thirst on his way home from Penzlin,
that he heard music in a barrow known to be the haunt of the underground
folk. People were then on familiar terms with the latter; and the man
cried out and asked for a drink. Nor did he ask in vain; for his appeal
was at once answered by the appearance of a little fellow with a flask
of delicious drink. After slaking his thirst the man took the
opportunity to make off with the flask; but he was pursued by the whole
troop of elves, only one of whom, and he had only one leg, succeeded in
keeping up with him. The thief, however, managed to get over a
cross-road where One-leg could not follow him; and the latter then,
making a virtue of necessity, cried out: "Thou mayst keep the flask; and
henceforth always drink thereout, for it will never be empty; but beware
of looking into it." For some years the elf's injunction was observed;
but one day, in a fit of curiosity, the peasant looked into the bottom
of the flask, and there sat a horrid toad! The toad disappeared, and so
did the liquor; and the man in a short time fell miserably sick. In a
Norse tale, a man whose bride is about to be carried off by Huldre-folk,
rescues her by shooting over her head a pistol loaded with a silver
bullet. This has the effect of dissolving the witchery; and he is
forthwith enabled to seize her and gallop off, not unpursued. One of the
trolls, to retard his flight, held out to him a well-filled golden horn.
He took the horn, but cast the liquor away, and rode away with both horn
and girl. The trolls, when they found themselves unable to catch him,
cried after him in their exasperation: "The red cock shall crow over thy
dwelling!" And behold! his house stood in a blaze. Similarly, a Swedish
tradition relates that one of the serving-men of the lady of Liungby, in
Scania, one night of Christmas in the year 1490, rode out to inquire the
cause of the noise at the Magle stone. He found the trolls dancing and
making merry. A fair troll-woman stepped forth and offered him a
drinking-horn and a pipe, praying he would drink the troll-king's health
and blow in the pipe. He snatched the horn and pipe from her, and
spurring back to the mansion, delivered them into his lady's hands. The
trolls followed and begged to have their treasures back, promising
prosperity to the lady's race if she would restore them. She kept them,
however; and they are said to be still preserved at Liungby as memorials
of the adventure. But the serving-man who took them died three days
after, and the horse on the second day; the mansion has been twice
burnt, and the family never prospered after. On the eve of the first of
May the witches of Germany hold high revel. Every year the fields and
farmyards of a certain landowner were so injured by these nocturnal
festivities that one of his servants determined to put a stop to the
mischief. Going to the trysting-place, he found the witches eating and
drinking around a large slab of marble which rested on four golden
pillars; and on the slab lay a golden horn of wondrous form. The
sorceresses invited him to join the feast; but a fellow-servant whom he
met there warned him not to drink, for they only wished to poison him.
Wherefore he flung the proffered beverage away, seized the horn, and
galloped home as hard as he could. All doors and gates had been left
open for him; and the witches consequently were unable to catch him. The
next day a gentleman in fine clothes appeared and begged his master to
restore the horn, promising in return to surround his property with a
wall seven feet high, but threatening, in case of refusal, to burn his
farms down thrice, and that just when he thought himself richest. Three
days were allowed to the landowner for consideration, but he declined to
restore the horn. The next harvest had hardly been housed when his barns
were in flames. Three times did this happen, and the landowner was
reduced to poverty. By the king's kindness he was enabled to rebuild;
and he then made every effort to discover the owner of the horn, sending
it about for that purpose even as far as Constantinople; but no one
could be found to claim it.[110]
Somewhat more courteous was a Danish boy whom an Elf-maiden met and
offered drink from a costly drinking-horn one evening as he rode
homeward late from Ristrup to Siellevskov. He received the horn, but
fearing to drink its contents, poured them out behind him, so that, as
in several of these stories, they fell on the horse's back, and singed
the hair off. The horn he held fast, and the horse probably needed no
second hint to start at the top of its speed. The elf-damsel gave chase
until horse and man reached a running water, across which she could not
follow them. Seeing herself outwitted, she implored the youth to give
her back the horn, promising him in reward the strength of twelve men.
On this assurance he returned the horn to her, and got what she had
promised him. But the exchange was not very profitable; for with the
strength of twelve men he had unfortunately acquired the appetite of
twelve. Here it may well be thought that the supernatural gift only took
its appropriate abatement. In a story from the north of Scotland the cup
was stolen for the purpose of undoing a certain spell, and was
honourably returned when the purpose was accomplished. Uistean, we are
told, was a great slayer of Fuathan, supernatural beings apparently akin
to fairies. He shot one day into a wreath of mist, and a beautiful woman
fell down at his side. He took her home; and she remained in his house
for a year, speechless. On a day at the end of the year he was benighted
in the mountains, and seeing a light in a hill, he drew nigh, and found
the fairies feasting. He entered the hill, and heard the butler, as he
was handing the drink round, say: "It is a year from this night's night
that we lost the daughter of the Earl of Antrim. She has the power of
the draught on her that she does not speak a word till she gets a drink
from the cup that is in my hand." When the butler reached Uistean, he
handed him the cup. The latter, on getting it in his hand, ran off,
pursued by the fairies until the cock crew. When he got home, he gave
the lady in his house to drink out of the cup; and immediately her
speech returned. She then told him she was the Earl of Antrim's
daughter, stolen by the fairies from child-bed. Uistean took back the
cup to the hill whence he had brought it, and then restored the lady to
her father safe and sound, the fairy woman who had been left in her
place vanishing meantime in a flame of fire.[111]
There are also legends in which a hat conferring invisibility, or a
glove, figures; but the stolen article is usually, as in most of the
instances cited above, a cup or a drinking-horn. Many such articles are
still preserved in various parts of Northern Europe. Of these the most
celebrated are the Luck of Edenhall and the Oldenburg horn. But before
discussing these I must refer to some other stories, the material
evidence of which is no longer extant. Gervase of Tilbury relates that
in a forest of Gloucestershire there is a glade in the midst whereof
stands a hillock rising to the height of a man. Knights and hunters were
wont, when fatigued with heat and thirst, to ascend the hillock in
question to obtain relief. This had to be done singly and alone. The
adventurous man then would say: "I thirst," when a cupbearer would
appear and present him with a large drinking-horn adorned with gold and
gems, as, says the writer, was the custom among the most ancient
English, and containing liquor of some unknown but most delicious
flavour. When he had drunk this, all heat and weariness fled from his
body, and the cupbearer presented him with a towel to wipe his mouth
withal; and then having performed his office he disappeared, waiting
neither for recompense nor inquiry. One day an ill-conditioned knight of
the city of Gloucester, having gotten the horn into his hands, contrary
to custom and good manners kept it. But the Earl of Gloucester, having
heard of it, condemned the robber to death, and gave the horn to King
Henry I., lest he should be thought to have approved of such wickedness
if he had added the rapine of another to the store of his own private
property. Gervase of Tilbury wrote near the beginning of the thirteenth
century. His contemporary, William of Newbury, relates a similar story,
but lays its scene in Yorkshire. He says that a peasant coming home late
at night, not very sober, and passing by a barrow, heard the noise of
singing and feasting. Seeing a door open in the side of the barrow, he
looked in, and beheld a great banquet. One of the attendants offered him
a cup, which he took, but would not drink. Instead of doing so, he
poured out the contents, and kept the vessel. The fleetness of his beast
enabled him to distance all pursuit, and he escaped. We are told that
the cup, described as of unknown material, of unusual colour and of
extraordinary form, was presented to Henry I., who gave it to his
brother-in-law, David, King of the Scots. After having been kept for
several years in the Scottish treasury it was given by William the Lion
to King Henry II., who wished to see it.[112]
By a fortune somewhat rare, this story, having been written down in the
days of the early Plantagenet kings, has been lately found again among
the folk in the East Riding. The how, or barrow, where it is now said to
have occurred is Willey How, near Wold Newton, on the Bridlington road,
a conspicuous mound about three hundred feet in circumference and sixty
feet in height. The rustic to whom the adventure happened was an
inhabitant of Wold Newton, who had been on a visit to the neighbouring
village of North Burton, and was belated. Another tale resembling the
Gloucestershire saga is found in Swabia, though the object of which the
mysterious benefactor was deprived was not a cup, but a knife. Some farm
servants, while at work in the fields, were approached by an unusually
beautiful maiden clad in black. Every day about nine or ten o'clock in
the morning, and again about four o'clock in the afternoon, she brought
them a small pitcher of wine and a loaf of snow-white bread--greater
luxuries, probably, to peasants then even than they would be now. She
always brought a very pretty silver knife to cut the bread, and always
begged them to be sure to give it back to her, else she were lost. Her
visits continued until one of the servants took it into his head to keep
the knife, which he was ungrateful enough to do in spite of her tears
and prayers. Finding all entreaties vain, she uttered piercing cries of
distress, tore her fair hair, rent her silken clothes, and vanished,
never to be seen again. But often you may hear on the spot where she
once appeared sobs and the sound of weeping.[113]
A Cornish tale relates that a farmer's boy of Portallow was one night
sent to a neighbouring village for some household necessaries. On the
way he fell in with some piskies, and by repeating the formula he heard
them use, transported himself with them, first to Portallow Green, then
to Seaton Beach, and finally to "the King of France's cellar," where he
joined his mysterious companions in tasting that monarch's wines. They
then passed through magnificent rooms, where the tables were laden for
a feast. By way of taking some memorial of his travels he pocketed one
of the rich silver goblets which stood on one of the tables. After a
very short stay the word was passed to return, and presently he found
himself again at home. The good wife complimented him on his despatch.
"You'd say so, if you only know'd where I've been," he replied; "I've
been wi' the piskies to Seaton Beach, and I've been to the King o'
France's house, and all in five minutes." The farmer stared and said the
boy was _mazed_. "I thought you'd say I was mazed, so I brort away this
mug to show vor et," he answered, producing the goblet. With such
undeniable evidence his story could not be any longer doubted. Stealing
from a natural enemy like the King of France was probably rather
meritorious than otherwise; and the goblet remained in the boy's family
for generations, though unfortunately it is no longer forthcoming for
the satisfaction of those who may still be sceptical.[114]
This story differs from the others I have detailed, in narrating a raid
by supernatural beings on the dwelling of a human potentate--a raid in
which a human creature joined and brought away a substantial trophy. In
the seventeenth century there was in the possession of Lord Duffus an
old silver cup, called the Fairy Cup, concerning which the following
tradition was related to John Aubrey, the antiquary, by a correspondent
writing from Scotland on the 25th of March 1695. An ancestor of the then
Lord Duffus was walking in the fields near his house in Morayshire when
he heard the noise of a whirlwind and of voices crying: "Horse and
Hattock!" This was the exclamation fairies were said to use "when they
remove from any place." Lord Duffus was bold enough to cry "Horse and
Hattock" also, and was immediately caught up through the air with the
fairies to the King of France's cellar at Paris, where, after he had
heartily drunk, he fell asleep. There he was found lying the next
morning with the silver cup in his hand, and was promptly brought before
the King, to whom, on being questioned, he repeated this story; and the
King, in dismissing him, presented him with the cup. Where it may be now
I do not know, nor does Aubrey's correspondent furnish us with any
description of it, save the negative but important remark that it had
nothing engraven upon it beside the arms of the family.[115]
On this vessel, therefore, if it be yet in existence, there is nothing
to warrant the name of Fairy Cup, or to connect it with the adventure
just related. Nor does the Oldenburg Horn itself bear any greater marks
of authenticity. That famous vessel is still exhibited at the palace of
Rosenborg at Copenhagen. It is of silver gilt, and ornamented in paste
with enamel. It bears coats of arms and inscriptions, showing that it
was made for King Christian I. of Denmark in honour of the Three Kings
of Cologne, and cannot therefore be older than the middle of the
fifteenth century. The legend attached to it claims for it a much
greater antiquity. The legend itself was narrated in Hamelmann's
"Oldenburger Chronik" at the end of the sixteenth century, and is even
yet current in the mouths of the Oldenburg folk. Hamelmann dates it in
the year 990, when the then Count of Oldenburg was hunting in the forest
of Bernefeuer. He had followed a roe from that forest to the Osenberg,
and had distanced all his attendants. It was the twentieth of July, the
weather was hot, and the count thirsty. He cried out for a draught of
water, and had scarcely uttered the words, when the hill opened and a
beautiful damsel appeared and offered him drink in this horn. Not liking
the look of the beverage, he declined to drink. Whereupon she pressed
him to do so, assuring him that it would go well with him and his
thenceforth, and with the whole house of Oldenburg; but if the count
would not believe her and drink there would be no unity from that time
in the Oldenburg family. He had no faith in her words, and poured out
the drink, which took the hair off his horse wherever it splashed him,
and galloped away with the horn.[116]
Other drinking-horns, of which precisely analogous tales are told, are
still to be seen in Norway. Of the one at Halsteengaard it is related
that the posterity of the robber, down to the ninth generation, were
afflicted, as a penalty, with some bodily blemish. This horn is
described as holding nearly three quarts, and as being encircled by a
strong gilt copper ring, about three inches broad, on which, in monkish
characters, are to be read the names of the Three Kings of Cologne,
Melchior, Baltazar, and Caspar. It is further ornamented with a small
gilt copper plate, forming the setting of an oval crystal. Another horn,
preserved in the museum at Arendal, was obtained in a similar manner. A
father, pursuing his daughter and her lover, was stopped by a troll, and
offered drink in it. Instead of drinking, he cast out the contents, with
the usual result, and put spurs to his horse. He was counselled by
another troll, who was not on good terms with the first, to ride through
the rye and not through the wheat; but even when his pursuer was impeded
by the tall rye-stalks, only the crowing of the cock before dawn rescued
him. The vessel is encircled by three silver gilt rings, bearing an
inscription, which seems not quite correctly reported, as follows:
"Potum servorum benedic deus alme tuorum reliquam unus benede le un
Caspar Melchior Baltazar."[117]
The legend of which I am treating attaches also to a number of sacred
chalices. At Aagerup, in Zealand, is one of these. The thief, nearly
overtaken by the trolls he had robbed, prayed to God in his distress,
and vowed to bestow the cup upon the church if his prayer were heard.
The church of Vigersted, also in Zealand, possesses another. In the
latter case the man took refuge in the church, where he was besieged by
the trolls until morning. In Bornholm a chalice and paten belonging to
the church are said to have been made out of a cup stolen in the same
way by a peasant whose mother was a mermaid, and who had inherited some
portion of her supernatural power; hence, probably, his intercourse with
the trolls, of which he took so mean an advantage. At Viöl, near
Flensborg, in Schleswig, is a beaker belonging to the church, and, like
the chalice at Aagerup, of gold, of which it is narrated that it was
presented full of a liquor resembling buttermilk to a man who was riding
by a barrow where the underground folk were holding high festival. He
emptied and rode off with it in the usual manner. A cry arose behind
him: "Three-legs, come out!" and, looking round, he saw a monster
pursuing him. Finding this creature unable to come up with him, he heard
many voices calling: "Two-legs, come out!" But his horse was swifter
than Two-legs. Then One-leg was summoned, as in the story already cited
from Mecklenburg, and came after him with gigantic springs, and would
have caught him, but the door of his own house luckily stood open. He
had scarcely entered, and slammed it to, when One-leg stood outside,
banging against it, and foiled. The beaker was presented to the church
in fulfilment of a vow made by the robber in his fright; and it is now
used as the communion-cup. At Rambin, on the island of Rügen, is another
cup, the story of which relates that the man to whom it was offered by
the underground folk did not refuse to drink, but having drunk, he kept
the vessel and took it home. A boy who was employed to watch horses by
night on a turf moor near the village of Kritzemow, in Mecklenburg,
annoyed the underground folk by the constant cracking of his whip. One
night, as he was thus amusing himself, a mannikin came up to him and
offered him drink in a silver-gilt beaker. The boy took the beaker, but
being openly on bad terms with the elves, argued no good to himself from
such an offering. So he instantly leaped on horseback and fled, with the
vessel in his hand, along the road to Biestow and Rostock. The mannikin,
of course, followed, but, coming to a crossway, was compelled to give up
the chase. When the boy reached Biestow much of the liquid, as was to be
expected, had been shaken out of the cup, and wherever on the horse it
had fallen the hair had been burnt away. Glad of escaping this danger,
the boy thanked God and handed the vessel over to the church at Biestow.
In none of these instances, however, do I find any description of the
goblet.[118]
Fortunately there is one, and that the most celebrated of all the cups
to which a fairy origin has been ascribed, which has been often and
accurately delineated both with pen and pencil. I refer to the Luck of
Edenhall. It belongs to Sir George Musgrave of Edenhall in Cumberland,
in the possession of whose family it has been for many generations. The
tradition is that a butler, going to fetch water from a well in the
garden, called St. Cuthbert's Well, came upon a company of fairies at
their revels, and snatched it from them. As the little, ill-used folk
disappeared, after an ineffectual attempt to recover it, they cried:
"If this glass do break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall!"
The most recent account of it was written in the year 1880, by the Rev.
Dr. Fitch, for "The Scarborough Gazette," from which it has been
reprinted for private circulation in the shape of a dainty pamphlet. He
speaks of it, from a personal examination, as "a glass stoup, a drinking
vessel, about six inches in height, having a circular base, perfectly
flat, two inches in diameter, gradually expanding upwards till it ends
in a mouth four inches across. The material is by no means fine in
quality, presenting, as it does on close inspection, several small
cavities or air-bubbles. The general hue is a warm green, resembling the
tone known by artists as _brown pink_. Upon the transparent glass is
traced a geometric pattern in white and blue enamel, somewhat raised,
aided by gold and a little crimson. It will, of course, stand on its
base, but it would be far from wise to entrust it, when filled, to this
support." Dr. Fitch is in accord with the common opinion of antiquaries
in pronouncing it to be of Venetian origin, though Mr. Franks thought it
Saracenic. He describes the case in which it is kept as evidently made
for it, being of the same shape. "The lid of this case," he says,
"rather unevenly fits the body by overlapping it. There is no hinge; the
fastenings are certain hooks or catches, not in good condition; the
security and better apposition of the lid is maintained by a piece of
leather, not unlike a modern boot-lace, or thin thong. The case dates,
probably, from the fifteenth century, as articles made of similar
material, viz., _cuir bouilli_, softened or boiled leather, were much in
use in that age. This case bears an elegantly varied pattern that has
been recognized in an inkstand of Henry the Seventh's, yet extant. Upon
the lid of this case, in very chaste and well-formed characters, is the
sacred monogram I.H.S." These three letters, which do not really form a
monogram, have possibly given rise to the surmise, or tradition, that
the Luck was once used as a sacred vessel. Dr. Fitch goes on to quote
several authorities, showing that chalices of glass were sanctioned by
the church, and were, in fact, made and used; and the Luck may have been
such a vessel. But I can see no sufficient evidence of it. There is
nothing to show that the leathern case is of the same date as the glass
itself; and it may have been made long afterwards. The earliest mention
of the relic seems to have been by Francis Douce, the antiquary, who was
at Edenhall in 1785, and wrote some verses upon it; nor is there any
authentic family history attaching to it. The shape of the goblet, its
unsteadiness when full, and the difficulty of drinking from it without
spilling some of its contents, of which Dr. Fitch had some experience,
would point to its being intended rather for convivial than sacred
uses.
The hypothesis of the Luck's having once been a chalice explains
nothing; because, as we have seen, several of the cups alleged to have
been stolen from supernatural beings are chalices to this day. Moreover,
what are we to think of the drinking-horns of which the same tale is
told? Some of these already mentioned bear, not indeed the sacred
letters, but prayers and the names of the sainted Kings of Cologne,
though, unlike the cups, they are not found in churches. One
drinking-horn, however, was preserved in the cathedral at Wexiö, in
Sweden, until carried away by the Danes in 1570. This horn, stated to be
of three hundred colours, was received by a knight on Christmas morning
from a troll-wife, whose head he there and then cut off with his sword.
The king dubbed him Trolle in memory of the deed, and bestowed on him a
coat-of-arms containing a headless troll.[119] How the horn came into
the possession of the cathedral I do not know; but at all events it
could never have been a chalice.
A silver cup, perhaps still used for sacramental purposes at the parish
church of Malew, in the Isle of Man, is the subject of the following
legend. A farmer returning homeward to the parish of Malew from Peel was
benighted and lost his way among the mountains. In the course of his
wanderings he was drawn by the sound of sweet music into a large hall
where a number of little people were banqueting. Among them were some
faces he thought he had formerly seen; but he forbore to take any notice
of them. Nor did they take any notice of him until he was offered drink,
when one of them, whose features seemed not unknown to him, plucked him
by the coat and forbade him, whatever he did, to taste anything he saw
before him; "for if you do," he added, "you will be as I am, and return
no more to your family." Accordingly, when a large silver beaker was put
into his hand, filled with liquor, he found an opportunity to throw its
contents on the ground. The music forthwith ceased, and the company
disappeared, leaving the cup in his hand. On finding his way home, he
told the minister of the parish what had occurred; and the latter, with
the instincts of his profession, advised him to devote the cup to the
service of the Church. We are indebted to Waldron's well-known
"Description of the Isle of Man," originally published in 1731, for this
story. A later writer, annotating Waldron's work rather more than a
quarter of a century ago, refers to the vessel in question as a paten;
he states that it was still preserved in the church, and that it bore
engraved the legend: "Sancte Lupe ora pro nobis."[120] There are no
fewer than eleven saints named Lupus in the calendar. Whichever of them
was invoked here, the inscription points to a continental origin for the
vessel, whether cup or paten, and is not inconsistent with its being of
some antiquity.
Mr. Train, who quotes the tradition in his account of the Isle of Man,
states that several similar tales had been placed at his disposal by
friends in the island; but it was naturally beneath the dignity of an
historian to do more than give a single specimen of this "shade of
superstition," as he calls it. He does, however, mention (though
apparently without being conscious of any close relationship with the
cup of Kirk Malew) an antique crystal goblet in the possession, when he
wrote, of Colonel Wilks, the proprietor of the Estate of Ballafletcher,
four or five miles from Douglas. It is described as larger than a common
bell-shaped tumbler, uncommonly light and chaste in appearance, and
ornamented with floral scrolls, having between the designs, on two
sides, upright _columellæ_ of five pillars. The history of this cup is
interesting. It is said to have been taken by Magnus, the Norwegian King
of Man, from St. Olave's shrine. On what ground this statement rests
does not appear. What is really known about the goblet is that having
belonged for at least a hundred years to the Fletcher family, the owners
of Ballafletcher, it was sold with the effects of the last of the family
in 1778, and was bought by Robert Cæsar, Esq., who gave it to his niece
for safe keeping. This niece was, perhaps, the "old lady, a connection
of the family of Fletcher," who is mentioned by Train as having
presented the cup to Colonel Wilks. The tradition is that it had been
given to the first of the Fletcher family more than two centuries ago,
with the injunction "that as long as he preserved it peace and plenty
would follow; but woe to him who broke it, as he would surely be haunted
by the _lhiannan Shee_," or "peaceful spirit" of Ballafletcher. It was
kept in a recess, whence it was never taken except on Christmas and
Easter days, or, according to Train's account, at Christmas alone. Then,
we are told, it was "filled with wine, and quaffed off at a breath by
the head of the house only, as a libation to the spirit for her
protection."[121]
Here is no mention of the theft of the goblet unless from St. Olave's
sanctuary; but yet I think we have a glimpse of the real character of
the cups to which the legend I am discussing attaches. They were
probably sacrificial vessels dedicated to the old pagan worship of the
house-spirits, of which we find so many traces among the Indo-European
peoples. These house-spirits had their chief seat on the family hearth;
and their great festival was that of the New Year, celebrated at the
winter solstice. The policy of the Church in early and mediæval times
was to baptize to Christian uses as many of the heathen beliefs and
ceremonies as possible. The New Year festival thus became united with
the anniversary of the birth of Christ; and it is matter of history that
as the Danes used, previously to their conversion, to drink to Odin and
the Anses, so after that event they were in the habit of solemnly
pledging Our Lord, His Apostles and the Saints. Such of the old beliefs
and practices, however, as the Church could neither impress with a
sacred character, nor destroy, lingered on. Among them were the
superstitions of the fairies and the household spirits; and there is
nothing unlikely in the supposition that special vessels were kept for
the ceremonies in which these beings were propitiated. For this purpose
a horn would serve as well as any goblet; if, indeed, it were not
actually preferred, as being older, and therefore more sacred in shape
and material. As these ceremonies gradually fell into desuetude, or were
put down by clerical influence, it would be both natural and in
accordance with policy that the cups devoted to the supposed rites
should be transferred to the service of the Church.[122] They would all
be old-fashioned, quaint, and, many of them, of foreign and unknown
provenance. Already connected in the minds of the people with the spirit
world, a supernatural origin would be ascribed to them; and gift or
robbery would be the theory of acquisition most readily adopted. Now,
theory in a certain stage of culture is indistinguishable from
narrative.
In this chapter I have dealt entirely with stolen goods; but, as we have
seen in previous chapters, tales of cups and other articles lent or
given by elves in exchange for services rendered are by no means
unknown. I cannot, however, recall any of such gifts which are now
extant. It were much to be wished that all the drinking-vessels--nay,
all the articles of every kind--to which legends of supernatural origin
belong were actually figured and described. Much light would thereby be
thrown upon their true history. I will only now point out, with regard
to the Luck of Edenhall, and the three horns of Oldenburg, of
Halsteengaard, and of Arendal, of which we have full descriptions, that
what we know of them is all in confirmation of the theory suggested. In
particular, the names of the Three Kings connect the horns with a
Christmas, or Twelfth Night, festival, which is exactly what the theory
of the sacrificial nature of these vessels would lead us to expect. If
we turn from the actual beakers to the stories, it is surprising how
many of these we find pointing to the same festival. The cup of South
Kongerslev was won and lost on Christmas Eve. The horn and pipe of
Liungby were stolen "one night of Christmas." It was at Christmas-time
that the Danish boy acquired his supernatural strength by giving back to
the elf-maiden the horn he had taken from her. The Halsteengaard horn
and the golden beaker of Aagerup were both reft from the trolls on
Christmas Eve, and the horn of Wexiö on Christmas morning. The night of
St. John's Day is mentioned as the time when the horn now at Arendal was
obtained. The saint here referred to is probably St. John the
Evangelist, whose feast is on December the 27th. And in more than one
case the incident is connected with a marriage, which would be an
appropriate occasion for the propitiation of the household spirit. The
only instance presenting any difficulty is that of the cup at Kirk
Malew; and there the difficulty arises from the name of the saint to
whom the cup was apparently dedicated. Nor is it lessened by the number
of saints bearing the name of Lupus. The days on which these holy men
are respectively commemorated range through the calendar from January to
October; and until we know which of them was intended it is useless to
attempt an explanation. The question, however, is of small account in
the face of the probability called forth by the coincidences that
remain.
There is one other matter to which I would call attention, namely, that
while stories of the type discussed in the foregoing pages are common to
both Celts and Teutons, the stolen cup is exclusively a Teutonic
possession. More than that, no authentic record of the preservation of
the relic itself is found save in the homes and conquests of the
Scandinavian race. Is this to be accounted for by the late date of
Christianity, and, therefore, the more recent survival of heathen rites
among Teutonic, and especially Scandinavian, peoples?
FOOTNOTES:
[104] Girald. Cambr., l. i. c. 8.
[105] Davies, "Mythology," p. 155. Mr. Wirt Sikes quotes this story
without acknowledgment, stating that the legend, "varying but little in
phraseology, is current in the neighbourhood of a dozen different
mountain lakes." As if he had collected it himself! (Sikes, p. 45).
Compare an Eskimo story of a girl who, having acquired _angakok_ power,
visited the _ingnersuit_, or underground folk, "and received presents
from them; but while carrying them homewards the gifts were wafted out
of her hands and flew back to their first owners" (Rink, p. 460).
[106] Thorpe, vol. iii. p. 120, apparently quoting Harry's "Sagen,
Märchen und Legenden Niedersachsens"; Sébillot, "Trad. et Sup." vol. i.
p. 115; "Zeits. f. Volksk." vol. ii. p. 415, quoting Vernaleken.
[107] Kuhn und Schwartz, pp. 305, 306; "Choice Notes," p. 76.
[108] Niederhöffer, vol. iv. p. 130; Bartsch, vol. i. p. 278; Thorpe,
vol. iii. p. 56, quoting Müllenhoff; Birlinger, "Volksthümliches," vol.
i. p. 103; Grimm, "Tales," vol. ii. p. 77. A Lusatian tradition quoted
by Grimm in a note represents the watersnake-king's crown as not only
valuable in itself, but like other fairy property, the bringer of great
riches to its possessor. Ibid. 406. _Cf._ a Hindoo story to the same
effect, Day, p. 17; and many other tales.
[109] Thorpe, vol. ii. pp. 148, 146, 121, quoting Thiele, "Danmarks
Folkesagn;" Jahn, p. 75.
[110] Bartsch, vol. i. p. 83 (see also p. 41); Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 6,
quoting Faye, "Norske Folkesagn"; ibid. p. 89, quoting Afzelius,
"Svenske Folkets Sago-Häfder"; Kuhn und Schwartz, p. 26.
[111] Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 142, quoting Thiele. See also Keightley, p.
88; Campbell, vol. ii. p. 97.
[112] Gerv. Tilb., Decis. iii. c. 60; Guil. Neub. "Chronica Rerum
Anglic." lib. i. c. 28, quoted by Liebrecht in a note to Gerv. Tilb.
[113] Nicholson, p. 83. Mr. Nicholson in a letter to me says that he had
the story as given by him from an old inhabitant of Bridlington, and
that it is current in the neighbourhood. Birlinger, "Volkst." vol. i.
pp. 3, 5.
[114] "Choice Notes," p. 73.
[115] Aubrey, "Miscellany," p. 149.
[116] Thorpe, vol. iii. p. 128; Kuhn und Schwartz, p. 280. The latter is
the version still found as traditional. Its details are not so full, and
are in some respects different.
[117] Thorpe, vol. ii. pp. 15, 14, apparently quoting Faye. Dr. Geo.
Stephens of the University of Copenhagen very kindly made a great number
of inquiries for me with a view to obtain information, and, if possible,
drawings of the Scandinavian horns and cups, but unhappily with little
success. The answer to his inquiries in reference to the horns of
Halsteengaard and Arendal, sent by Prof. Olaf Rygh, the learned Keeper
of the Norwegian Museum at Christiania, will be read with interest. He
says: "Mr. Hartland's notice of 'Halsteengaard' in Norway doubtless
refers to a local tale about a drinking-horn formerly in the hands of
the owner of Holsteingaard, Aal parish, Hallingdal. It was first made
public in the year 174-, in 'Ivar Wiels Beskriveke over Ringerige og
Hallingdals Fogderi,' in 'Topografisk Journal for Norge,' Part XXXI.,
Christiania, 1804, pp. 179-183. I know nothing more as to the fate of
this horn than what is said in Nicolaysen's 'Norske Fornlevninger,' p.
152, that it is said to have been sent to the Bergen Museum in 1845.
Should this be so, it will be almost impossible to identify it among the
many such horns in that collection. As described by Wiel, it was merely
a very simple specimen of the kind with the common inscription JASPAR X
MELCHIOR X BALTAZAR. This class of horn was largely imported to Norway
from North Germany in the 15th and 16th centuries.
"Meanwhile I beg to point out that the oldest legend of this kind which
has come down to us is found in 'Biskop Jens Nilssons Visitatsböger og
Reise-optegnelser, udgivne af Dr. Yngvar Nielsen,' p. 393. It was
written by the bishop or his amanuensis during his visitation, 1595, in
Flatdal parish, Telemarken. What has become of the horn spoken of by the
bishop I cannot say.
"I have no idea of what is meant by Mr. Hartland's reference to Arendal.
Possibly it may concern something in the museum there, but of which I
never heard. The printed catalogue of the museum (Arendal, 1882)
includes nothing from the middle age or later."
[118] Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 144, quoting Thiele. Keightley, pp. 109, 111,
note; (The latter mentions another theft of a silver jug where the thief
was saved by crossing running water.) Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 140; vol. iii.
p. 70, quoting Müllenhoff; Jahn, p. 53; Bartsch, vol. i. p. 60.
[119] Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 91, quoting Afzelius.
[120] Waldron, pp. 28, 106.
[121] Train, vol. ii. p. 154; and see a note by Harrison to his edition
of Waldron, p. 106. The cup is stated by Harrison to have been, when he
wrote, in the possession of Major Bacon, of Seafield House. Mrs.
Russell, of Oxford, kindly made inquiries for me in the Isle of Man as
to its present whereabouts, and that of the cup of Kirk Malew, and
inserted a query in _Yn Livar Manninagh_, the organ of the Isle of Man
Natural History and Antiquarian Society, but without eliciting any
information.
[122] It is not irrelevant to observe in this connection that several of
the chalices in Sweden are said to have been presented to the churches
by priests to whom a Berg-woman had offered drink in these very cups or
bowls (Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 90, quoting Afzelius).