_Cuento Morál._
_A Moral Tale._
Un _Duende_, grave Señor,
Que estudió la astrologia,
Se propuso la mania,
De ser rico jugador.
A grave and learned Senior, who
Practised astrology,
Bethought him by his lucky stars
He passing rich would be.
Todos los siete planetas,
Formaban su gran consejo;
Y antes de llegar á viejo,
Ya no tenia calzetas.
The planets seven his council made,
He hugged the glozing cheat;
But ere the pedant's legs were old,
No stockings held his feet!
Aburrido y sin dinero,
Mui tarde se arrepintid,
Y en un desban se metid
A llorar su error primero.
Enraged and disappointed, he
Waxed sour and melancholy,
And to a vintner's garret trudged,
There to bewail his folly.
Por su gran sabiduría,
En duende se corivirtió,
Y la guerra declaró,
Al arte de fullería.
"I'll have revenge," he cried, then wrought
So wondrous cunningly,
That in a trice transformed he was,
A brisk _Duende_ he.
La vecíndad asombrada,
De sus fuertes alaridos,
Corriendo despavoridos,
Abandon an la Posada.
This pedant, now a "Boggart" made,
No soul could rest in quiet;
Nor rogue nor bully was his match
For kicking up a riot.
Dueño absolute ya el duende,
De la espantosa mansion,
Se aunientó la confusion,
Y el temor entre la gente.
At last none dared that garret drear,
His dwelling, to come nigh;
Sole master of his attic, he
Reigned peremptorily.
Pero siendo tan demente
El hombre que es codicioso,
No faltó quien jactancioso,
Despreciase al señor duende.
Not so the sharpers, who this house
Had made their special haunt:
"Señor Duende!--Humph!"--cried they
"May suck eggs with his aunt!"
Unos cuantos jugadores,
Que llaman de profesion,
Eligieron la mansion
Para exercer sus primores.
They and their worthy company,
Of the black-limbed profession,
Here cheated in a lawful way,
By that best right--possession!
Mui luego la compañia,
Numerosa vino á ser,
Y el que Ilegaba á perder,
Contra al duende maldecía.
The crowd increased. Some luckless wight
His winnings at an end, he
Swore by his trumps, 'twas owing to
That rascally _Duende_!
La confusa gritería,
Pronto al duende incomodó,
Y al complot se apareció
Que ápenas, cuarta tenía.
This roused him from his garret, where
He heard the daily squabble;
And lo, in human form, he stands
Before the shirtless rabble!
En voz, como chirimía,
Dijoles cortés y atento
_Que habitaba el aposento_
_Donde su amo existia_.
He squeaked, "Your servant, gentlemen;
I would not thus intrude,
'Pon honour, but your conduct is
So very-very rude.
_Que en alta camara fiero,_
_Todo señor, reclamaba_
_El orden, y lo aperaba,_
_Aunque ageno de en fullero_.
"My master,--he who sits up-stairs
I mean,--no jesting, gents,--
Expects that you'll be quiet, else
He'll scold at all events."
No fue poca la sorpresa,
Del mensage y la vision;
Y aun con todo, un temerón,
Quiso de ella hacer presa.
The gamblers stared, some tumbled down,
Some gaped, some told their prayers
But one, more daring, swore, i'fack,
He'd kick the brute down-stairs!
Mas el caso se fustró,
Sin saber como ni cuando,
Pues por el ayre volando
Nuestro duende se fugó.
But ere he felt th' uplifted foot
He 'scaped,--how none could tell;
But, sooth it was, this messenger
No bodily harm befell!
El suceso maldecían
Los unos por el temor,
Y gritaban con furor
Los que el dinero perdían.
The rogues, who saw him disappear,
Waxed paler than before:
Some said an _Ave_; some for fear,
And some for folly, swore.
Vuelve por segunda vez,
El mensajero, crecido
Media vara, y atrevido,
Les dice, menos cortés.
When suddenly amidst them all,
Again the demon stands;
A full half-yard in stature grown!
Their business he demands.
_Que su amo, era absoluto,_
_De aquella encantada casa,_
_Y su paciencia era escasa,_
_Con todo fullero astuto_.
"I tell ye, villains, gamblers, thieves!
His patience is but small,
With such as you,--so master says,
Who master will you all!
_Que les mandaba salir_
_De aquel lugar, con presteza,_
_Pues de no, su gentileza,_
_Los haría consumir_.
"Out of the house, ye rabble rout!
Out of the house! I say,
Or otherwise his honour will
Consume you utterly!"
Del duendecito quisieron
Apoderarse valientes,
Mas se les fué entre los dientes,
Y sin la presa se vieron.
Thought one, "I'll seize this varlet vile,"
And speedily arose;
He caught him in his clutch--the sprite
Vanished and tweaked his nose!
Ya el temor empezó á obrar
Y entraron las reflexiones,
Apoyando con varones,
Que era Duende, á no dudar.
"San Jerome, save us, we are loo'd
If this should be the sprite;
The big _Duende_, best we bid
His boggartship good night."
Como siempre al jugador,
Lo sostiene la esperanza,
Fundàron la confianza,
En que un Duende es vividor.
But hope, the gambler's enemy,
Beguiled them to their ruin;
"These ugly sprites, they say, are rich,
Yet yield nought without wooing.
Que su ciencia atrae dinero,
Y medios paro adquirirlo,
Y era cuerdo el admitirlo,
Dandole el lugar primero.
"His skill may help us to repair
Our cloaks, and eke our breeches;
Best speak him fair. We'll worship Nick
If he but grant us riches!"
Mas el duende que escuchaba
La trama de los fulleros,
Quiso en tales caballeros,
_Vengàr,_ lo que suspiraba.
The sly _Duende_, like a mouse,
Hearkening behind the wall,
Did now resolve he quickly would
The greedy rogues bemaul
En efecto, agigantado,
Con negro manto talár,
Cornamenta singular,
Ufías largas y barbado.
A mighty giant, lo he comes.
Wrapped in a cloak of sable;
With horns, hoofs, nails, and beard yclad,
He jumped upon the table!
Un garrote enarbolado
Y brotando espuma y fuego,
Les dijo: _Yo devo al juego_
_Mi desgracia y este estado._
A cudgel of some seven years' growth
He brandished. Fire and smoke
Shot from his lips, while thus he spake;--
"I'll gripe you gambling folk.
_Los fulleros me han quitado_
_Con mi dinero, la vida,_
_Y pues que sois homicida_
_De todo hombre inocente!_
"To gaming my disgrace I owe,
With money went my wife;
'Tis such as you the murderers be,--
This night shall end your life!
_No quede vicho viviente,_
_En toda culta nacion,_
_Que ejérza la profesion_
_De fullero y vagamundo_.
"In every nation, called refined,
Or gamblers or their wives,
Or wealthy wight shall ne'er be found,
Who shakes the bones and thrives."
Y dando un grito profundo,
Su garrote descargando,
A todos fué despachando,
Sin dejar uno en el mundo.
With that a loud and horrid yell
He gave. And cudgel flew
Broadside amongst them; when, like vermin, he
Dispatched the hungry crew!
No extinguió, sin duda, el Duende,
Toda la mala semilla,
Pues hay muchos, como el Duende,
Sin camisa, y sin capilla.
But woe is me, they were not all destroyed.
For many still, by these cursed arts decoyed,
Shoeless and shirtless, miserable sinners,
Are seen, snuffing, with empty wind, their dinners!
In the _Dunske Folkesagen_ appear one or two circumstances relative to
the freaks of a _nis_, the goblin of the Danish popular creed, similar
to the pranks detailed in our Lancashire legend. Fancy, however sportive
and playful with materials already in her possession, is of a much less
creative character than is generally supposed, even by those most
susceptible to her influence. It is surprising how few are the original
conceptions that have sprung from the human mind. Popular
superstitions--the great mass of them spread over an immense variety of
surface, climate, manners, and opinions--might be supposed to exhibit a
corresponding difference in originality and invention. But here we find
the same paucity of incidents, varying only in character with the
climate which gave them birth; the leading features being evidently
common to each. The Scandinavian and the Hindoo, the European and the
Asiatic, construct their legends on the same basis; the same stories,
and even the same train of events, proving their common origin.
Mr Crofton Croker, a name familiar to all lovers of legendary lore, has
kindly communicated the following tale. In substituting this, in place
of what the author might have written on the subject, he feels convinced
that his readers will not feel displeased at the change, and assures
them it is with real gratification that he presents them with an article
from the pen of the writer of _The Fairy Legends_.
Not far from the little-snug smoky village of Blakeley, or Blackley,
there lies one of the most romantic of dells, rejoicing in a state of
singular seclusion, and in the oddest of Lancashire names, to wit, the
"Boggart-hole." Rich in every requisite for picturesque beauty and
poetical association, it is impossible for me (who am neither a painter
nor a poet) to describe this dell as it should be described; and I will
therefore only beg of thee, gentle reader, who peradventure mayst not
have lingered in this classical neighbourhood, to fancy a deep, deep
dell, its steep sides fringed down with hazel and beech, and fern and
thick undergrowth, and clothed at the bottom with the richest and
greenest sward in the world. You descend, clinging to the trees, and
scrambling as best you may,--and now you stand on haunted ground! Tread
softly, for this is the Boggart's clough; and see in yonder dark corner,
and beneath the projecting mossy stone, where that dusky sullen cave
yawns before us, like a bit of Salvator's best, there lurks the strange
elf, the sly and mischievous Boggart. Bounce! I see him coming; oh no,
it was only a hare bounding from her form; there it goes--there!
I will tell you of some of the pranks of this very Boggart, and how he
teased and tormented a good farmer's family in a house hard by, and I
assure you it was a very worthy old lady who told me the story. But
first, suppose we leave the Boggart's demesne, and pay a visit to the
theatre of his strange doings.
You see that old farm house about two fields distant, shaded by the
sycamore-tree: that was the spot which the Boggart or Bar-gaist selected
for his freaks; there he held his revels, perplexing honest George
Cheetham--for that was the farmer's name--scaring his maids, worrying
his men, and frightening the poor children out of their seven senses, so
that at last not even a mouse durst show himself indoors at the farm, as
he valued his whiskers, five minutes after the clock had struck twelve.
It had long been remarked that whenever a merry tale was told on a
winter's evening a small shrill voice was heard above all the rest, like
a baby's penny trumpet, joining in with the laughter.
"Weel laughed, Boggart, thou'rt a fine little tyke, I'se warrant, if one
could but just catch glent on thee," said Robert, the youngest of the
farmer's sons, early one evening, a little before Christmas, for
familiarity had made them somewhat bold with their invisible guest. Now,
though more pleasant stories were told on that night beside the hearth
than had been told there for the three preceding months, though the fire
flickered brightly, though all the faces around it were full of mirth
and happiness, and though everything, it might seem, was there which
could make even a Boggart enjoy himself, yet the small shrill laugh was
heard no more that night after little Bob's remark.
Robert, who was a short stout fellow for his age, slept in the same bed
with his elder brother John, who was reckoned an uncommonly fine and
tall lad for his years. No sooner had they got fairly to sleep than they
were roused by the small shrill voice in their room shouting out,
"Little tyke, indeed! little tyke thysel'. Ho, ho, ho! I'll have my
laugh now--Ho, ho, ho!"
The room was completely dark, and all in and about the house was so
still that the sound scared them fearfully. The concluding screech made
the place echo again;--but this strange laughter was not necessary to
prevent little Robert from further sleep, as he found himself one moment
seized by the feet and pulled to the bottom of the bed, and the next
moment dragged up again on his pillow. This was no sooner done, than by
the same invisible power he was pulled down again, and then his head
would be dragged back, and placed as high as his brother's.
"Short and long won't match,--short and long won't match,--ho, ho, ho!"
shouted the well-known voice of the Boggart, between each adjustment of
little Robert with his tall brother, and thus were they both wearied for
more than a hundred times; yet so great was their terror, that neither
Robert nor his brother--"Long John," as he ever afterwards was
called--dared to stir one inch; and you may well suppose how delighted
they both were when the first grey light of the morning appeared.
"We'st now ha' some rest, happen," said John, turning on his side in the
expectation of a good nap, and covering himself up with the bed-clothes,
which the pulling of Robert so often backwards and forwards had tumbled
about sadly.
"Rest!" said the same voice that had plagued them through the night,
"rest!--what is rest? Boggart knows no rest."
"Plague tak' thee for a Boggart!" said the farmer next morning, on
hearing the strange story from his children: "Plague tak' thee! can thee
not let the poor things be quiet? But I'll be up with thee, my
gentleman: so tak' th' chamber an' be hang'd to thee, if thou wilt. Jack
and little Robert shall sleep o'er the cart-house, and Boggart may rest
or wriggle as he likes when he is by himsel'."
The move was accordingly made, and the bed of the brothers transferred
to their new sleeping-room over the cart-house, where they remained for
some time undisturbed; but his Boggartship having now fairly become the
possessor of a room at the farm, it would appear, considered himself in
the light of a privileged inmate, and not, as hitherto, an occasional
visitor, who merely joined in the general expression of merriment.
Familiarity, they say, breeds contempt; and now the children's bread and
butter would be snatched away, or their porringers of bread and
milk-would be dashed to the ground by an unseen hand; or if the younger
ones were left alone but for a few minutes, they were sure to be found
screaming with terror on the return of their nurse. Sometimes, however,
he would behave himself kindly. The cream was then churned, and the pans
and kettles scoured without hands. There was one circumstance which was
remarkable;--the stairs ascended from the kitchen, a partition of boards
covered the ends of the steps, and formed a closet beneath the
staircase. From one of the boards of this partition a large round knot
was accidentally displaced; and one day the youngest of the children,
while playing with the shoe-horn, stuck it into this knot-hole. Whether
or not the aperture had been formed by the Boggart as a peep-hole to
watch the motions of the family, I cannot pretend to say. Some thought
it was, for it was called the Boggart's peep-hole; but others said that
they had remembered it long before the shrill laugh of the Boggart was
heard in the house. However this may have been, it is certain that the
horn was ejected with surprising precision at the head of whoever put it
there; and either in mirth or in anger the horn was darted forth with
great velocity, and struck the poor child over the ear.
There are few matters upon which parents feel more acutely than that of
the maltreatment of their offspring; but time, that great soother of all
things, at length familiarised this dangerous occurrence to every one at
the farm, and that which at the first was regarded with the utmost
terror, became a kind of amusement with the more thoughtless and daring
of the family. Often was the horn slipped slyly into the hole, and in
return it never failed to be flung at the head of some one, but most
commonly at the person who placed it there. They were used to call this
pastime, in the provincial dialect, "laking wi' t' Boggart;" that is,
playing with the Boggart. An old tailor, whom I but faintly remember,
used to say that the horn was often "pitched" at his head, and at the
head of his apprentice, whilst seated here on the kitchen table, when
they went their rounds to work, as is customary with country tailors. At
length the goblin, not contented with flinging the horn, returned to his
night persecutions. Heavy steps, as of a person in wooden clogs, were at
first heard clattering down-stairs in the dead hour of darkness; then
the pewter and earthern dishes appeared to be dashed on the
kitchen-floor; though in the morning all remained uninjured on their
respective shelves. The children generally were marked out as objects of
dislike by their unearthly tormentor. The curtains of their beds would
be violently pulled to and fro,--then a heavy weight, as of a human
being, would press them nearly to suffocation, from which it was
impossible to escape. The night, instead of being the time for repose,
was disturbed with screams and dreadful noises, and thus was the whole
house alarmed night after night. Things could not long continue in this
fashion; the farmer and his good dame resolved to leave a place where
they could no longer expect rest or comfort: and George Cheetham was
actually following with his wife and family the last load of furniture,
when they were met by a neighbouring farmer, named John Marshall.
"Well, Georgey, and soa you're leaving th' owd house at last?" said
Marshall.
"Heigh, Johnny, ma lad, I'm in a manner forced to 't, thou sees,"
replied the other; "for that wearyfu' Boggart torments us soa, we can
neither rest neet nor day for't. It seems loike to have a malice again't
young ans,--an' it ommost kills my poor dame here at thoughts on't, and
soa thou sees we're forc'd to flitt like."
He had got thus far in his complaint, when, behold, a shrill voice from
a deep upright churn, the topmost utensil on the cart, called out--"Ay,
ay, neighbour, we're flitting, you see."
"'Od rot thee!" exclaimed George: "if I'd known thou'd been flitting
too I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay,--it's to no use, Mally," he
continued, turning to his wife, "we may as weel turn back again to th'
owd house as be tormented in another not so convenient."
They did return; but the Boggart, having from the occurrence ascertained
the insecurity of his tenure, became less outrageous, and was never more
guilty of disturbing, in any extraordinary degree, the quiet of the
family.
[Illustration: INCE HALL, NEAR WIGAN.
_Drawn by G. Pickering. Engraved by Edw^d Finden._]