There is one variety of the Swiss fairies who manage to get along with
very few clothes, and those very thin. The prettiest ones among them
seem to live up among the highest mountain peaks. There, it is colder
than anywhere else, but these fairies do not mind it. Furs are not in
fashion, but only very filmy garments. On their backs are gauzy wings,
by which they can fly around from one peak to another. They hover over
the meadows also, which in summer glisten with blossoms of every tint
and hue. They love to plague Jack Frost, and the old mountain giants,
that have beards of icicles, and hair of snow streamers, and who try so
hard to freeze out the flowers.
These fairies know all the secrets of the mountains. They find out
where the largest and prettiest rock crystals are, and where the
priceless minerals are to be found. They can tell just where the caves
of sparkling topaz are situated, but they do not let any mortal know,
unless he is their favorite. They can lead a hunter to the spot where
the chamois are feeding on the moss. When they want to reward a brave
man, they bring him bullets that are sure to hit the buck, and win for
the marksman a fine pair of horns; or, at the village shooting matches,
plug the bull’s eye of the target, and so secure the prize. To please
his fairy guardian, the hunter must always promise to do what she bids
him, or else her bad temper is roused. Then she scolds, and leaves him
to his luck, which, after that time, is never good. It is not safe to
quarrel with a fairy.
Now there was one of these lovely creatures, named Silver Wreath,
because she looked as charming as the morning mists at sunrise, when
shot through and through by the upspringing light. Then they float off
in the air, like glistening wreaths made of golden braid, or like
scarves of silver. Sometimes, when illuminated by the sun’s rays, they
remind one of necklaces of pearls; or, when many are together, like
white garments of burnished silver set with costly gems.
Silver Wreath, the fairy, was noted for living among the lofty peaks,
where only the hardiest flowers, such as the Alpine rose, and the noble
white flower, called the edelweiss, could grow. No animal or bird,
ermine or ptarmigan, could be whiter than her body, which glistened
like snow crystals or hoar frost, when struck by the sunbeams. When she
blushed, her whole body was like the wonderful Alpine glow that, after
sunset, robes the mountain tops, and both for the same reason. The sky
becomes rosy red, because the sun’s rays are reflected from the snow,
even after going down. So this fairy’s beautiful body not only shone by
its own light, but at times reflected the great luminary’s loveliest
tints. It was a way the sun had, of saying “good night” to the mighty
mountains. So, also, fairy Silver Wreath blushed when, in the dawn of
day, she made her farewell curtsey to her companions, for, after
sunrise, the fairies disappear.
Now there was a brave hunter named Jeannod, who lived in a village of
Uri. In his pursuit of the chamois, this stalwart youth was not afraid
to follow this agile animal over the most dizzy precipices, and far up
beyond the snow line. He did not hesitate to climb the most
perpendicular mountain walls, to get a good shot. Hence, he was often
compelled to spend a night, amid the cliffs and glaciers.
One evening, while on a hunting expedition, Jeannod caught sight of
Silver Wreath, as she was flitting on her gauzy wings around a peak. At
once, he fell in love with her. Happily for him, she was, after several
meetings, enamored of Jeannod, and he became her favorite. As they
became better acquainted with each other, she guided him over unknown
paths and often warned him of danger. She directed him to the chamois
herds, and fed him with the finest oat cake and cheese. When too
wearied to retrace his way back, or to return home, for the night, she
watched over him while he slept. There, far above, where the eagles
flew, she guarded her lover from falling rock or ice, shielding him
from every peril, seen and unseen.
In that way, it happened that for many months, the hunter was in luck
and became the envy of his village companions. He never slipped or lost
his balance, or fell over a precipice, or into an ice crevasse, or was
hit by an avalanche, or lost his path. On every occasion he came back
home with a fat buck on his shoulders, or a brace of ptarmagan birds,
or a big rock crystal, and always looked rosy and healthy; all the
young girls admired him, and the youth wanted to be like him. They
hoped to learn the reason of his luck, which he kept a secret.
Silver Wreath soon found out what Jeannod liked most to eat, for while
she was a fairy, he was a mortal, and had a stomach, and, always, a
lively appetite. He was very particular, and rather fussy about the
kind of cheese he ate, and he always bought the best that could be
found in the market. In fact, he would often walk many miles, and spend
his last coin, to get a cheese of an especially good brand or flavor,
no matter at what price.
The fairy soon found this out, about her lover’s taste, and when
Jeannod was hungry, after climbing the steep rocks, she fed him on a
most delicious kind of cheese. He declared no mortal man or woman could
make any equal to it, whether in taste, or in nourishment, or in
flavor. On the other hand, he amused her by singing, rattling off
rhymes, or telling her stories about men and women. One of these, about
“Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,” seemed to her to be the funniest of all.
After that, when he asked her what he might bring her for a present, he
was surprised to hear her say a “pumpkin shell.” Then he laughed
heartily. When he brought it to her, she kept the pumpkin shell in a
rock crevice as a great curiosity and called it her doll house.
Jeannod was so happy in his love for fairy Silver Wreath, that he
wanted to make her his wife. So one day, he kneeled before her and
asked her to be his bride. He thought it would be easy for her to
accept his love and care, after she had so helped and favored him.
But Silver Wreath, much as she loved Jeannod, did not welcome the idea
of either changing her nature, or leaving her mountain home. Either or
both meant much to her, though little to him. She would have to put on
women’s clothes, and be bothered with changes in fashion, with which
fairies are not troubled. She would be shut up in a house, among
mortals, who get old and die. She would have to depart from heaven-high
peaks, and things white, and vast, and glorious, and dwell among
gossips and tale-bearers. Besides, she could not tell whether Jeannod
would always be fond of her. One day, she remembered the story he had
told her, in fun, of “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,” and it frightened
her, when she thought of Peter’s wife. So she brooded, long and hard,
over the matter as to whether she should say “yes” to Jeannod, and be
his wife. Would he be a Peter, and keep her in a pumpkin shell?
Yet the hunter was so handsome and so brave! Besides, he did so love
the mountains and the Alpine flowers! Every time he came to her, he had
an Alpine rose in his coat as a symbol of his joy, which might,
however, be for his lifetime only; but, in his hand, he held an
edelweiss, as symbol of faith in the things eternal. This showed that
he thought of both the affairs of the body and the life of the soul, in
the true Swiss way. Besides, he so vehemently assured her that,
whenever she should get homesick, he would take her with him up to her
old haunts. Every time he went to hunt the chamois, she should be his
companion. Last, but not least, he pressed his suit so ardently that,
finally, she consented to marry him, and live in his home.
But she gave her promise, only on one condition. She would be a
faithful and loving wife, and live truly as a mortal, provided he
should agree to the rules, which she made about eating; and, if he
would observe the table manners, which she approved. Knowing his
weakness for cheese, she vowed to keep the larder furnished, always,
with the same kind of this delicacy, upon which she had fed him in his
hunting trips, when he made love to her.
“I’ll wed with you,” she said, “provided that, every time, when you eat
and enjoy the cheese, you will leave one small portion, uneaten, on
your plate.”
This one condition of wifehood seemed so simple, that he laughed out
loud, and poked fun at his betrothed, at her being so childish. But she
looked very grave, though she did not speak a word. Fairies are not
fools, and it may be that even mortal women know more than men, in some
things. Besides, the pumpkin shell had become to her such a spectre,
that, one day, she smashed it with a rock, even after he had promised
vehemently to obey her law as to table manners. Then he gave her a
kiss, and everything serious was forgotten in the mutual joy of lovers.
So the fairy put on a human form, keeping her beauty and loveliness,
but leaving off her wings, and wearing bridal clothes. Then they were
married in the village church. At the wedding, the maidens all
marvelled at her wonderful dress and veil of silvery gauze. When the
honeymoon was past, all declared that no more modest, sensible and
pretty woman had ever come among them, while they wondered where
Jeannod could have met and won so lovely and so good a wife.
In her new home, the fairy lady seemed to be happy every hour. Days
sped into weeks, and months into years, in the routine of household and
village life. What with her flowers and her cuckoo clock, and her
carved wooden spoons, and her well set table, and a flower garden, and
vines on the house wall, that surpassed all her neighbors, her bee
hives and dove cote, the home of Jeannod and Silver Wreath was a place
of beauty and joy. She was at once the delight and envy of all the
village brides and wives. The blossoming plants seemed to thrive and
grow more beautiful, because she loved them so. On her dainty, well
spread table, were set the richest cream, the most transparent and
delicious honey, and the whitest rolls. Her cheese surpassed in taste
everything made by the men in the summer high pastures, who came back
in the late September autumn, bringing their cheeses, which, since
June, they had made in the chalets. In the chateau of Jeannod and
Silver Wreath, it seemed to be always summer, and the food had the
coveted June flavor all the year round.
While her butter, eggs, honey, milk and cream were the best, no one
knew where she got such wonderful cheese, which excelled all. This was
on the table, at every meal, and all the year round, from New Year’s
Day to Christmas Eve, and during the holidays. Her husband was not very
curious and did not ask questions. So long as he had plenty to eat, he
was satisfied, for he had a good appetite and he loved his fairy wife
very dearly, and liked to look at her often with sincere affection.
While food was plenty, Jeannod always remembered the promise he had
made and kept his good table manners. He never caused his sweet and
loving mate to scold, or even to frown. Because of his active life,
hunger was the best sauce to sharpen appetite. Yet he always left a
large part of the cheese uncut, for good manners. Even when returning
from a chamois hunt hungry enough—so he laughingly declared—to swallow
a cow, with its horns and tail, he kept at once his promise and his
politeness to his sweet wife.
But in one year, when midwinter came, the cold was so severe, the
storms so much more frequent and the avalanches so much bigger and more
destructive than usual, that the roads were covered, so as to hide even
the great landmarks out of sight. Then hunting was impossible. The wind
was so tempestuous, that the strongest men kept indoors. Apart from
what his wife provided, Jeannod could bring little to the table. In
such terrible weather, Jeannod, unable to use his rifle, could not
provide meat, and even Silver Wreath could furnish only cheese. In such
a case, the husband was often ravenously hungry, and an empty stomach
who can bear very long? Even when wolves and lions become tame and
helpless, through hunger, what strong man does not become weak?
One day, after trying many hours, to track a chamois, and get within
range of it, with his rifle, Jeannod came back empty, and very low in
his mind. He was so fiercely hungry, that he threw down his hat and
forgot, not only what the edelweiss and Alpine rose had taught him, but
even what he had promised.
When he opened the door, into the larder, he saw that there was nothing
there, but a strip of cheese, left over, from the last meal. Indeed it
was hardly more than a rind. Thinking of nothing, but to satisfy his
gnawing hunger, he seized and bit into it.
At that moment, Silver Wreath, his wife, entered the house. She saw him
with the cheese in his hand, and cried out:
“Oh, my beloved, remember your promise that you would always keep a
slice of cheese. Please do wait until midnight; and, at breakfast time,
I promise you, you shall have all you want of the best; but now,
please, please, leave even a small piece over.”
But the hungry and tired man was too obstinate to listen. From a
thinking being, he had become a ravening beast. He gobbled up the last
fragment.
No sooner had he swallowed the morsel, than his fairy wife cried out,
“You’ve broken your promise and the rule of good manners in the fairy
world. I cannot live with a glutton and promise-breaker. I must return
to my mountains and fellow-fairies.”
Thereupon, all her clothing fell off. Her cap and comb, and her shoes,
stockings and her pretty garments, one by one, dropped on the floor. In
a moment more, her former filmy blue and pink robes covered her, while,
from her back, grew out a pair of wings, like a butterfly’s, but
larger, and mist-like. Waving a good-bye, she flew out of the door,
which opened of its own accord. Soon, on the lofty mountain heights,
she rejoined her fairy family, while the hunter-husband was left alone
in misery and hunger, and, worse than all, with an accusing conscience.