“Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou com’st in such a questionable shape—”
HAMLET.
ASTR. Now from the holy records, from the creed of the Magus Zoroaster,
from the Greek, and Roman, and other legends, how clear is the influence
of ethereal beings, of angels and demons, on man’s life; and of the
imparted power of _exorcism_! In allusion to this divine gift to
Solomon, Josephus has the following story:—“God also enabled him to
learn that skill which expels demons, which is a science useful and
sanative to men. And this method is of great force unto this day, for I
have seen a certain man of my own country, whose name was Eleazer,
releasing people that were demoniacal in the presence of Vespasian, and
his sons, and his captains, and the whole multitude of his soldiers. The
manner of the cure was this. He put a ring, that had a root of one of
those sorts mentioned by Solomon, to the nostrils of the demoniac, after
which he drew out the demon through his nostrils; and when the man fell
down immediately, he adjured him to return into him no more, making
still mention of Solomon, and reciting the incantations which he
composed. And when Eleazer would persuade and demonstrate to the
spectators that he had such a power, he set a little way off a cup or
bason full of water, and commanded the demon, as he went out of the man,
to overturn it, and thereby to let the spectators know that he had left
the man.”
The gods of the Greeks and the Latins, the _lares_ and _lemures_, or
hearth-spirits, the pagan and the Christian elves, were ever held as
delegated agents of the Deity, who worked, not by a fiat, but by an
instrument. Such were the _Cemies_ of the American islanders, and the
_Kitchi_ and _Matchi Manitou_ of the Indians; and, if we consult Father
Borri, we shall learn that in Cochin China _Lucifer_ himself promenaded
the streets in _human_ shape.
Psellus records six kinds of devils; and the arrangements of Agrippa,
and other theologians, enumerate nine sorts of evil spirits, as you may
read in one of old Burton’s eccentric chapters.
The mythology of the _Baghvat Geeta_, the sacred record of the Hindoo
theists, is based on the notion of good and evil spirits, the emblems of
virtue and of vice under the will and power of Brahma. Indeed, the
Hindoo mythology is but that of the classic in other words. _Agnee_, the
god of fire, _Varoon_, the god of the ocean, _Vayoo_, the god of the
wind, and _Cama_, the god of love, are but other names for Jupiter, and
Neptune, and Œolus, and Cupid.
The creed of Zoroaster asserts a perpetual conflict between the good and
evil deity, the types of religious knowledge and ignorance. The southern
Asiatics are people of _good_ principle, and the northern nations people
of _evil_ principle. And why may not the Persian thus coincide with
Bacon himself, who in his book “De Dignitate,” confesses his belief in
good and bad spirits, in charms, and prophecies, and the varieties of
natural magic. Or is it inconsistent that the Hindoos should incarnate
the malignant disease, small pox, in the person of the deity
_Mah-ry-umma_, of whose lethal influence they lived in abject fear.
IDA. In the holy records, it is true, we read that demons were even
permitted to enter the bodies of other beings, and that when they had so
established a possession, by divine command they went out of those
possessed, as, for sacred example, into the herd of the Gadarenes; that
they were also commissioned, for the fulfilment of the inscrutable will
of the Creator, to try the endurance of Job, and even to tempt the
divinity of the Saviour, and that they were the immediate cause of
madness and other sad afflictions.
I do fear, Astrophel, that there is much danger, _now_, in this
_embodying_ of a demon; and that we too often model our modern
principles, on the proud presumption of still possessing that miraculous
power of exorcism. With sorrow may I confess, that the holy truths of
Scripture, so clearly evincing a _special_ purpose, should have been
ever warped, by worse than inquisitorial bigotry, into the motive for
cruelties unparalleled. From the Scripture histories of demoniac
possession have arisen the coercion and cruelties, which once marked
with an indelible stain the records of our own madhouses; where chains
and lashes, inflicted by the demons of science, have driven the moody
wretch into a raving maniac, when a light hand and a smile would have
brought back the angel reason to the mind.
Impersonation is the grand source of many similar errors. The demon,
which, since the light of the Christian dispensation has brooded in
man’s heart and mind, is his own base passion, which incites him to shut
his eyes to this holy light, and follow deeds of evil; to be a slavish
worshipper in the hall of _Arimanes_. With this profane homage, we court
our evil passions, to betray and destroy the soul. And this is the
interpretation of an allegory in the profane legends of the Talmud—that
Lilis, the wife of Adam, ere the creation of Eve, brought forth none but
demons; the origin, indeed, of moral evil.
There are many popular stories which bear a moral to this end: that the
evil spirit is powerless over the heart, if it be not encouraged and
invited; and, alas! the alluring masque under which evil looks on us, is
often but too certain to charm us to its influence, or we are too
thoughtless to beware the danger. Thus the disguised enchanter enters
into the palace of the Sultan Mesnar, (in “The Tales of the Genii,”) and
thus the gentle Christabel of Coleridge leads the false Geraldine over
that threshold, which she could not cross without the help of confiding
and unsuspecting innocence.
CAST. The crones of retired villages have not yet yielded their belief
in fairy influence.
Among the low Irish it is believed that (as the _nympholepts_ of old who
had looked upon Pan, sealed an early doom), the paralytic is
_fairy-struck_; and superstition has inspired them with a belief in the
influence of the _evil eye_ or _glamourie_, especially in the vicinity
of Blackwater.
I remember, when our wanderings among the Wicklow mountains led us
through the dark glen of the Dargle, the implicit faith of the Irish
women in the charm of amulets and talismans. Like the fabled glance of
the basilisk, the evil eye is bestowed on some unhappy beings from their
very birth; nay, the spell infests the cabin in which they herd. To
avert this fatal influence from the children, a charm is suspended
around their necks, which when blessed by the priest is called a
“gospel.”
When a happy or evil star shines at a birth, it is the eye of a cherub
or a demon, smiling or frowning on the destiny of the babe; and when
happiness or misery predominates in a life, it is a minister of good or
ill that blesses or inflicts. There is one beautiful scrap of this
mythology—the thrill of holy joy which the Irish mother feels when her
infant smiles in its sleep; for she _knows_ it is a holy angel
whispering in its ear.
In our own island they are often celebrated as the very pinks of
hospitality.
In Cornish history, we read how Anne Jeffries was fed for six months by
the small green people. And in yonder forest of Dean, (as writeth
Gervase, the Imperial Chancellor, in his “Otia Imperialia,”) “In a grovy
lawn there is a little mount, rising in a point to the height of a man,
on which knights and other hunters are used to ascend, when fatigued
with heat and thirst, to seek some relief for their wants. The nature of
the place and of the business is, however, such, that whoever ascends
the mount must leave his companions and go quite alone. When alone, he
was to say, as if speaking to some other person, ‘I thirst,’ and
immediately there would appear a cup-bearer in an elegant dress, with a
cheerful countenance, bearing in his outstretched hand a large horn,
adorned with gold and gems, as was the custom among the most ancient
English. In the cup, nectar of an unknown but most delicious flavour was
presented; and when it was drunk, all heat and weariness fled from the
glowing body, so that one would be thought ready to undertake toil,
instead of having toiled. Moreover, when the nectar was taken, the
servant presented a towel to the drinker to wipe his mouth with, and
then, having performed his office, he waited neither for recompense for
his services, nor for questions, nor inquiry.”
This frequent and daily action had, for a very long period, of old times
taken place among the ancient people, till one day a knight of that
city, when out hunting, went thither, and having called for drink, and
gotten the horn, did not, as was the custom, and as in good manners he
should have done, return it to the cup-bearer, but kept it for his own
use. But the illustrious Earl of Gloucester, when he learned the truth
of the matter, condemned the robber to death, and presented the horn to
the most excellent king, Henry the Elder; lest he should be thought to
have approved of such wickedness, if he had added the rapine of another
to the store of his private property.
But the fairies might rue their kindness, if you frowned so darkly on
them, Astrophel. They would fear the influence of your spells, for there
is blight and mildew in that glance. At the banquet of the fairies, if
the eye of the _seer_ but look on them, the romance is instantly at an
end: the nymphs of beauty are changed into withered carles and crones,
and the splendour of Elfin-land is turned to dust and ashes.
IDA. As a set-off against the _virtues_ of your fairies, Castaly, you
forget there was a propensity to _mischief_. They were rather fond, like
the Daoine Shi, of stealing unchristened babes, and of chopping and
changing these innocents, thence called _changelings_. On this fable
your own Shakspere has wrought the quarrel of Oberon and Titania:—
“A lovely boy, stol’n from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling.”
I am willing, dearest, that the _poet_ shall make a good market of these
fictions; but superstitious ignorance may make a sad and cruel work of
it, even among your romantic Irish peasantry.
A few months since, on the demesne of Heywood (as we learn from the
“Tipperary Constitution”), the death of a child, six years old, was
accomplished with a wantonness of purpose almost incredible. Little
Mahony was afflicted with spinal disease, and, like many other deformed
children, possessed the gift,—in this case the _fatal_ gift,—of acute
intellect. For this quality, it was decided that he was not the son of
his reputed father, but a fairy changeling. After a solemn convocation,
it was decreed that the elfin should be scared away: and the mode of
effecting this was, by holding the child on a hot shovel, and then
pumping cold water on his head! This had the effect of extorting a
confession of his imposture, and a promise to send back the _real_
Johnny Mahony; but ere he could return to elfland and perform this
promise, _he died_. But who is he sitting at your ear, Castaly?
CAST. Sir, is this fair? You have played the eaves-dropper. Why come you
here?
EV. To counsel you to silence on these mysteries, sweetest Castaly:
remember the fate of Master Kirke, of Aberfoyle, for his dabbling in
elfin matters, which you may read in Sir Walter’s “Demonology.” Yet I
will not flout all your fayrie legends; there may be _innocent_
illusions, that carry with them somewhat of morality and
retribution,—seeing that there are good and bad spirits, which reward
and punish mortality. But, in sooth, I never think of fairyland, without
remembering that good Sir Walter, as sheriff of Selkirkshire, once took
the deposition of a shepherd, who affirmed that he saw the good
neighbours sitting under a hill-side: when, lo! it was proved that these
were the _puppets of a showman_, stolen and left there by some Scotch
mechanics. And, better still, the story of the Mermaid of Caithness, as
related to Sir Humphrey Davy, and recorded in his “Salmonia;”—the
mermaids, as I take it, being nearly allied to the _Nereid_, or
Sea-fairy, and the reality of one about as true as that of the other.
Nature is wild and beautiful enough, without these false creations. Read
her _truth_, fair lady, and leave the _fables_ to the fairies. There is
not a ripple or a stone that is not replete with scientific interest,
and yields not a study that both ennobles and delights the mind.
The doublings, or _horse-shoes_, of this Wye, or _Vaga_ as the Romans
named it, within its circle of rocks, so exquisitely fringed with green
and purple lichens (like the Danube, round the castle of Hayenbach in
the gloomy gorge of Schlagen, or the Crook of Lune, in Westmoreland, and
many others), illustrate at once the nature of the stratification on the
earth’s surface; even the varied tints of these mountain streams may
read the student a practic lesson in geology.
From the lime-rock springs the azure-blue, as the Glaslyn stream, at
Beddgelert, the Rhone, and the Traun in Styria; from the chalk ripples
the grey water of the Dee and the Arve; from the clay hills the stream
comes down yellow, as “the Derwent’s amber wave;” and where the
peat-mosses abound, especially in the autumnal flood, the stream is of a
rich and dark sienna brown, as the Conway, and the Mawddach, in
Merioneth; or even of transparent black, as the Elain, which flows down
through the white schist rocks of Cardiganshire.