ACT II.--SCENE I.

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[Illustration]

THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY,

ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE

Romance and Superstition of Various Countries;

BY

THOMAS KEIGHTLEY,

Author of the Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy; Histories of

Greece, Rome, England, and India, The Crusaders, &c., &c.

Another sort there be, that will

Be talking of the Fairies still;

Nor never can they have their fill,

As they were wedded to them

DRAYTON.

A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND GREATLY ENLARGED

LONDON:

GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK ST., COVENT GARDEN,

AND NEW YORK.

1892.

LONDON:

REPRINTED FROM STEREOTYPE PLATES BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.

STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

FRANCIS EARL OF ELLESMERE,

IN TESTIMONY OF

ESTEEM AND RESPECT FOR PUBLIC AND PRIVATE VIRTUE,

LITERARY TASTE, TALENT, AND ACQUIREMENTS,

AND PATRONAGE OF LITERATURE AND THE ARTS.

This Volume is Inscribed

BY

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

A preface is to a book what a prologue is to a play--a usual, often

agreeable, but by no means necessary precursor. It may therefore be

altered or omitted at pleasure. I have at times exercised this right,

and this is the third I have written for the present work.

In the first, after briefly stating what had given occasion to it, I

gave the germs of the theory which I afterwards developed in the Tales

and Popular Fictions. The second contained the following paragraph:--

"I never heard of any one who read it that was not pleased with it. It

was translated into German as soon as it appeared, and was very

favourably received. Goethe thought well of it. Dr. Jacob Grimm--perhaps

the first authority on these matters in Europe--wrote me a letter

commending it, and assuring me that even to _him_ it offered something

new; and I was one Christmas most agreeably surprised by the receipt of

a letter from Vienna, from the celebrated orientalist, Jos Von Hammer,

informing me that it had been the companion of a journey he had lately

made to his native province of Styria, and had afforded much pleasure

and information to himself and to some ladies of high rank and

cultivated minds in that country. The initials at the end of the

preface, he said, led him to suppose it was a work of mine. So far for

the Continent. In this country, when I mention the name of Robert

Southey as that of one who has more than once expressed his decided

approbation of this performance, I am sure I shall have said quite

enough to satisfy any one that the work is not devoid of merit."

I could now add many names of distinguished persons who have been

pleased with this work and its pendent, the Tales and Popular Fictions.

I shall only mention that of the late Mr. Douce, who, very shortly

before his death, on the occasion of the publication of this last work,

called on me to assure me that "it was many, many years indeed, since he

had read a book which had yielded him so much delight."

The contents of the work which gave such pleasure to this learned

antiquary are as follows:--

I. Introduction--Similarity of Arts and Customs--Similarity of

Names--Origin of the Work--Imitation--Casual

Coincidence--Milton--Dante. II. The Thousand and One

Nights--Bedoween Audience around a Story-teller--Cleomades and

Claremond--Enchanted Horses--Peter of Provence and the fair

Maguelone. III. The Pleasant Nights--The Dancing Water, the Singing

Apple, and the Beautiful Green Bird--The Three Little

Birds--Lactantius--Ulysses and Sindbad. IV. The Shâh-Nâmeh--Roostem

and Soohrâb--Conloch and Cuchullin--Macpherson's Ossian--Irish

Antiquities. V. The Pentamerone--Tale of the Serpent--Hindoo Legend.

VI. Jack the Giant-killer--The Brave Tailoring--Thor's Journey to

Utgard--Ameen of Isfahan and the Ghool--The Lion and the Goat--The

Lion and the Ass. VII. Whittington and his Cat--Danish

Legends--Italian Stories--Persian Legend. VIII. The Edda--Sigurd and

Brynhilda--Völund--Helgi--Holger Danske--Ogier le

Danois--Toko--William Tell. IX. Peruonto--Peter the Fool--Emelyan

the Fool--Conclusion. Appendix.

Never, I am convinced, did any one enter on a literary career with

more reluctance than I did when I found it to be my only

resource--fortune being gone, ill health and delicacy of constitution

excluding me from the learned professions, want of interest from

every thing else. As I journeyed to the metropolis, I might have sung

with the page whom Don Quixote met going a-soldiering:

A la guerra me lleva--mi necesidad,

Si tuviera dineros--no fuera en verdad

for of all arts and professions in this country, that of literature is

the least respected and the worst remunerated. There is something

actually degrading in the expression "an author by trade," which I have

seen used even of Southey, and that by one who did not mean to disparage

him in the slightest degree. My advice to those who may read these pages

is to shun literature, if not already blest with competence.

One of my earliest literary friends in London was T. Crofton Croker,

who was then engaged in collecting materials for the Fairy Legends of

the South of Ireland. He of course applied to his friends for aid and

information; and I, having most leisure, and, I may add, most

knowledge, was able to give him the greatest amount of assistance. My

inquiries on the subject led to the writing of the present work, which

was succeeded by the Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, and the

Tales and Popular Fictions; so that, in effect, if Mr. Croker had not

planned the Fairy Legends, these works, be their value what it may,

would in all probability never have been written.

Writing and reading about Fairies some may deem to be the mark of a

trifling turn of mind. On this subject I have given my ideas in the

Conclusion; here I will only remind such critics, that as soon as this

work was completed, I commenced, and wrote in the space of a few

weeks, my Outlines of History; and whatever the faults of that work

may be, no one has ever reckoned among them want of vigour in either

thought or expression. It was also necessary, in order to write this

work and its pendent, to be able to read, perhaps, as many as eighteen

or twenty different languages, dialects, and modes of orthography,

and to employ different styles both in prose and verse. At all events,

even if it were trifling, _dulce est desipere in loco_; and I shall

never forget the happy hours it caused me, especially those spent over

the black-letter pages of the French romances of chivalry, in the old

reading-room of the British Museum.

Many years have elapsed since this work was first published. In that

period much new matter has appeared in various works, especially in the

valuable Deutsche Mythologie of Dr. Grimm. Hence it will be found to be

greatly enlarged, particularly in the sections of England and France. I

have also inserted much which want of space obliged me to omit in the

former edition. In its present form, I am presumptuous enough to expect

that it may live for many years, and be an authority on the subject of

popular lore. The active industry of the Grimms, of Thiele, and others,

had collected the popular traditions of various countries. I came then

and gathered in the harvest, leaving little, I apprehend, but gleanings

for future writers on this subject. The legends will probably fade fast

away from the popular memory; it is not likely that any one will relate

those which I have given over again; and it therefore seems more

probable that this volume may in future be reprinted, with notes and

additions. For human nature will ever remain unchanged; the love of gain

and of material enjoyments, omnipotent as it appears to be at present,

will never totally extinguish the higher and purer aspirations of mind;

and there will always be those, however limited in number, who will

desire to know how the former dwellers of earth thought, felt, and

acted. For these mythology, as connected with religion and history, will

always have attractions.

October, 1850.

Whatever errors have been discovered are corrected in this impression.

January, 1870. T. K.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION. Page

Origin of the Belief in Fairies 1

Origin of the Word Fairy 4

ORIENTAL ROMANCE.

PERSIAN ROMANCE 14

The Peri-Wife 20

ARABIAN ROMANCE 24

MIDDLE-AGE ROMANCE.

FAIRY-LAND 44

SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEENE 55

EDDAS AND SAGAS 60

THE ALFAR 64

THE DUERGAR 66

Loki and the Dwarf 68

Thorston and the Dwarf 70

The Dwarf-Sword Tirfing 72

SCANDINAVIA.

ELVES 78

Sir Olof in the Elve-Dance 82

The Elf-Woman and Sir Olof 84

The Young Swain and the Elves 86

Svend Faelling and the Elle-Maid 88

The Elle-Maids 89

Maid Væ 89

The Elle-Maid near Ebeltoft 90

Hans Puntleder 91

DWARFS OR TROLLS 94

Sir Thynnè 97

Proud Margaret 103

The Troll Wife 108

The Altar-Cup in Aagerup 109

Origin of Tiis Lake 111

A Farmer tricks a Troll 113

Skotte in the Fire 113

The Legend of Bodedys 115

Kallundborg Church 116

The Hill-Man invited to the Christening 118

The Troll turned Cat 120

Kirsten's Hill 121

The Troll-Labour 122

The Hill-Smith 123

The Girl at the Troll-Dance 125

The Changeling 125

The Tile-Stove jumping over the Brook 127

Departure of the Trolls From Vendsyssel 127

Svend Faelling 128

The Dwarfs' Banquet 130

NISSES 139

The Nis Removing 140

The Penitent Nis 141

The Nis and the Boy 142

The Nis Stealing Corn 143

The Nis and the Mare 144

The Nis Riding 145

The Nisses in Vosborg 146

NECKS, MERMEN, AND MERMAIDS 147

The Power of the Harp 150

Duke Magnus and the Mermaid 154

NORTHERN ISLANDS.

ICELAND 157

FEROES 162

SHETLAND 164

Gioga's Son 167

The Mermaid Wife 169

ORKNEYS 171

ISLE OF RÜGEN 174

Adventures of John Dietrich 178

The Little Glass Shoe 194

The Wonderful Plough 197

The Lost Bell 200

The Black Dwarfs of Granitz 204

GERMANY.

DWARFS 216

The Hill-Man at the Dance 217

The Dwarf's Feast 218

The Friendly Dwarfs 220

Wedding-Feast of the Little People 220

Smith Riechert 221

Dwarfs stealing Corn 222

Journey of Dwarfs over the Mountain 223

The Dwarfs borrowing Bread 226

The Changeling 227

The Dwarf-Husband 232

Inge of Rantum 232

THE WILD-WOMEN 234

The Oldenburg Horn 237

KOBOLDS 239

Hinzelmann 240

Hödeken 255

King Goldemar 256

The Heinzelmänchen 257

NIXES 258

The Peasant and the Waterman 259

The Water-Smith 260

The Working Waterman 261

The Nix-Labour 261

SWITZERLAND.

DWARFS 264

Gertrude and Rosy 266

The Chamois-Hunter 271

The Dwarfs on the Tree 273

Curiosity punished 273

The Rejected Gift 275

The Wonderful Little Pouch 276

Aid and Punishment 277

The Dwarf in search of Lodging 278

GREAT BRITAIN.

ENGLAND.

The Green Children 281

The Fairy-Banquet 283

The Fairy-Horn 284

The Portunes 285

The Grant 286

The Luck of Eden Hall 292

The Fairy-Fair 294

The Fairies' Caldron 295

The Cauld Lad of Hilton 296

The Pixy-Labour 301

Pixy-Vengeance 303

Pixy-Gratitude 304

The Fairy-Thieves 305

The Boggart 307

Addlers and Menters 308

The Fary-Nurseling 310

The Fary-Labour 311

Ainsel 313

Puck 314

SCOTTISH LOWLANDS.

The Fairies' Nurse 353

The Fairy-Rade 354

The Changeling 355

Departure of the Fairies 356

The Brownie 357

CELTS AND CYMRY.

IRELAND.

Clever Tom and the Leprechaun 373

The Leprechaun in the Garden 376

The Three Leprechauns 379

The Little Shoe 382

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS.

The Fairy's Inquiry 385

The Young Man in the Shian 386

The two Fiddlers 387

The Fairy-Labour 388

The Fairy borrowing Oatmeal 389

The Fairy-Gift 389

The Stolen Ox 390

The Stolen Lady 391

The Changeling 393

The Wounded Seal 394

The Brownies 395

The Urisk 396

ISLE OF MAN.

The Fairy-Chapman 398

The Fairy-Banquet 399

The Fairies' Christening 400

The Fairy-Whipping 400

The Fairy-Hunt 401

The Fiddler and the Fairy 402

The Phynnodderee 402

WALES.

Tale of Elidurus 404

The Tylwyth Têg 408

The Spirit of the Van 409

Rhys at the Fairy-Dance 415

Gitto Bach 416

The Fairies banished 417

BRITTANY.

Lai D'Ywenec 422

Lord Nann and the Korrigan 433

The Dance and Song of the Korred 438

SOUTHERN EUROPE.

GREECE 443

ITALY 447

SPAIN 456

The Daughter of Peter do Cabinam 456

Origin of the House of Haro 458

La Infantina 459

Pepito el Corcovado 461

FRANCE.

Legend of Melusina 480

EASTERN EUROPE.

FINNS 487

SLAVES 490

Vilas 492

Deer and Vila 493

AFRICANS, JEWS,

AFRICANS 495

JEWS 497

The Broken Oaths 498

The Moohel 506

The Mazik-Ass 510

APPENDIX 513

INDEX 557

THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY

INTRODUCTION.

In oldè dayès of the King Artoúr,

Of which that Bretons spoken gret honoúr,

All was this lond fulfilled of faërie;

The elf-qrene with hir jolie companie

Danced full oft in many a grenè mede.

CHAUCER.

ORIGIN OF THE BELIEF IN FAIRIES.

According to a well-known law of our nature, effects suggest causes;

and another law, perhaps equally general, impels us to ascribe to the

actual and efficient cause the attribute of intelligence. The mind of

the deepest philosopher is thus acted upon equally with that of the

peasant or the savage; the only difference lies in the nature of the

intelligent cause at which they respectively stop. The one pursues the

chain of cause and effect, and traces out its various links till he

arrives at the great intelligent cause of all, however he may

designate him; the other, when unusual phenomena excite his attention,

ascribes their production to the immediate agency of some of the

inferior beings recognised by his legendary creed.

The action of this latter principle must forcibly strike the minds of

those who disdain not to bestow a portion of their attention on the

popular legends and traditions of different countries. Every

extraordinary appearance is found to have its extraordinary cause

assigned; a cause always connected with the history or religion,

ancient or modern, of the country, and not unfrequently varying with a

change of faith.[1]

The noises and eruptions of Ætna and Stromboli were, in ancient times,

ascribed to Typhon or Vulcan, and at this day the popular belief

connects them with the infernal regions. The sounds resembling the

clanking of chains, hammering of iron, and blowing of bellows, once to

be heard in the island of Barrie, were made by the fiends whom Merlin

had set to work to frame the wall of brass to surround Caermarthen.[2]

The marks which natural causes have impressed on the solid and

unyielding granite rock were produced, according to the popular creed,

by the contact of the hero, the saint, or the god: masses of stone,

resembling domestic implements in form, were the toys, or the

corresponding implements of the heroes and giants of old. Grecian

imagination ascribed to the galaxy or milky way an origin in the teeming

breast of the queen of heaven: marks appeared in the petals of flowers

on the occasion of a youth's or a hero's untimely death: the rose

derived its present hue from the blood of Venus, as she hurried barefoot

through the woods and lawns; while the professors of Islâm, less

fancifully, refer the origin of this flower to the moisture that exuded

from the sacred person of their prophet. Under a purer form of religion,

the cruciform stripes which mark the back and shoulders of the patient

ass first appeared, according to the popular tradition, when the Son of

God condescended to enter the Holy City, mounted on that animal; and a

fish only to be found in the sea[3] stills bears the impress of the

finger and thumb of the apostle, who drew him out of the waters of Lake

Tiberias to take the tribute-money that lay in his mouth. The repetition

of the voice among the hills is, in Norway and Sweden, ascribed to the

Dwarfs mocking the human speaker, while the more elegant fancy of Greece

gave birth to Echo, a nymph who pined for love, and who still fondly

repeats the accents that she hears. The magic scenery occasionally

presented on the waters of the Straits of Messina is produced by the

power of the Fata Morgana; the gossamers that float through the haze of

an autumnal morning, are woven by the ingenious dwarfs; the verdant

circlets in the mead are traced beneath the light steps of the dancing

elves; and St. Cuthbert forges and fashions the beads that bear his

name, and lie scattered along the shore of Lindisfarne.[4]

In accordance with these laws, we find in most countries a popular

belief in different classes of beings distinct from men, and from the

higher orders of divinities. These beings are usually believed to

inhabit, in the caverns of earth, or the depths of the waters, a

region of their own. They generally excel mankind in power and in

knowledge, and like them are subject to the inevitable laws of death,

though after a more prolonged period of existence.

How these classes were first called into existence it is not easy to

say; but if, as some assert, all the ancient systems of heathen

religion were devised by philosophers for the instruction of rude

tribes by appeals to their senses, we might suppose that the minds

which peopled the skies with their thousands and tens of thousands of

divinities gave birth also to the inhabitants of the field and flood,

and that the numerous tales of their exploits and adventures are the

production of poetic fiction or rude invention. It may further be

observed, that not unfrequently a change of religious faith has

invested with dark and malignant attributes beings once the objects of

love, confidence, and veneration.[5]

It is not our intention in the following pages to treat of the awful

or lovely deities of Olympus, Valhalla, or Merû. Our subject is less

aspiring; and we confine ourselves to those beings who are our

fellow-inhabitants of earth, whose manners we aim to describe, and

whose deeds we propose to record. We write of FAIRIES, FAYS, ELVES,

_aut alio quo nomine gaudent_.

ORIGIN OF THE WORD FAIRY.

Like every other word in extensive use, whose derivation is not

historically certain, the word Fairy has obtained various and opposite

etymons. Meyric Casaubon, and those who like him deduce everything

from a classic source, however unlikely, derive Fairy from Φηρ, a

Homeric name of the Centaurs;[6] or think that _fée_, whence Fairy, is

the last syllable of _nympha_. Sir W. Ouseley derives it from the

Hebrew פאר (_peër_), _to adorn_; Skinner, from the Anglo-Saxon [Old

English: faran], _to fare_, _to go_; others from Feres, companions, or

think that Fairy-folk is _quasi_ Fair-folk. Finally, it has been

queried if it be not Celtic.[7]

But no theory is so plausible, or is supported by such names, as that

which deduces the English Fairy from the Persian Peri. It is said that

the Paynim foe, whom the warriors of the Cross encountered in

Palestine, spoke only Arabic; the alphabet of which language, it is

well known, possesses no _p_, and therefore organically substitutes an

_f_ in such foreign words as contain the former letter; consequently

Peri became, in the mouth of an Arab, Feri, whence the crusaders and

pilgrims, who carried back to Europe the marvellous tales of Asia,

introduced into the West the Arabo-Persian word _Fairy_. It is further

added, that the Morgain or Morgana, so celebrated in old romance, is

Merjan Peri, equally celebrated all over the East.

All that is wanting to this so very plausible theory is something like

proof, and some slight agreement with the ordinary rules of etymology.

Had Feërie, or Fairy, originally signified the individual in the

French and English, the only languages in which the word occurs, we

might feel disposed to acquiesce in it. But they do not: and even if

they did, how should we deduce from them the Italian Fata, and the

Spanish Fada or Hada, (words which unquestionably stand for the same

imaginary being,) unless on the principle by which Menage must have

deduced Lutin from Lemur--the first letter being the same in both? As

to the fair Merjan Peri (D'Herbelot calls her Merjan Banou[8]), we

fancy a little too much importance has been attached to her. Her name,

as far as we can learn, only occurs in the Cahermân Nâmeh, a Turkish

romance, though perhaps translated from the Persian.

The foregoing etymologies, it is to be observed, are all the

conjectures of English scholars; for the English is the only language

in which the name of the individual, Fairy, has the canine letter to

afford any foundation for them.

Leaving, then, these sports of fancy, we will discuss the true origin

of the words used in the Romanic languages to express the being which

we name Fairy of Romance. These are _Faée_, _Fée_, French; _Fada_,

Provençal (whence _Hada_, Spanish); and _Fata_, Italian.

The root is evidently, we think, the Latin _fatum_. In the fourth

century of our æra we find this word made plural, and even feminine, and

used as the equivalent of Parcæ. On the reverse of a gold medal of the

Emperor Diocletian are three female figures, with the legend _Fatis

victricibus_; a _cippus_, found at Valencia in Spain, has on one of its

sides _Fatis Q. Fabius ex voto_, and on the other, three female

figures, with the attributes of the Mœræ or Parcæ.[9] In this last place

the gender is uncertain, but the figures would lead us to suppose it

feminine. On the other hand, Ausonius[10] has _tres Charites_, _tria

Fata_; and Procopius[11] names a building at the Roman Forum τα τρια

φατα, adding ουτω γαρ ῥωμαιοι τας μοιρας νενομικασι καλειν. The Fatæ or

Fata, then, being persons, and their name coinciding so exactly with the

modern terms, and it being observed that the Mœræ were, at the birth of

Meleager, just as the Fées were at that of Ogier le Danois, and other

heroes of romance and tale, their identity has been at once asserted,

and this is now, we believe, the most prevalent theory. To this it may

be added, that in Gervase of Tilbury, and other writers of the

thirteenth century, the Fada or Fée seems to be regarded as a being

different from human kind.[12]

On the other hand, in a passage presently to be quoted from a

celebrated old romance, we shall meet a definition of the word _Fée_,

which expressly asserts that such a being was nothing more than a

woman skilled in magic; and such, on examination, we shall find to

have been all the Fées of the romances of chivalry and of the popular

tales; in effect, that _fée_ is a participle, and the words _dame_ or

_femme_ is to be understood.

In the middle ages there was in use a Latin verb, _fatare_,[13] derived

from _fatum_ or _fata_, and signifying to enchant. This verb was

adopted by the Italian, Provençal[14] and Spanish languages; in French

it became, according to the analogy of that tongue, _faer_, _féer_. Of

this verb the past participle _faé_, _fé_; hence in the romances we

continually meet with _les chevaliers faés_, _les dames faées_, _Oberon

la faé_, _le cheval étoit faé_, _la clef était fée_, and such like. We

have further, we think, demonstrated[15] that it was the practice of the

Latin language to elide accented syllables, especially in the past

participle of verbs of the first conjugation, and that this practice had

been transmitted to the Italian, whence _fatato-a_ would form _fato-a_,

and _una donna fatata_ might thus become _una fata_. Whether the same

was the case in the Provençal we cannot affirm, as our knowledge of that

dialect is very slight; but, judging from analogy, we would say it was,

for in Spanish _Hadada_ and _Hada_ are synonymous. In the Neapolitan

Pentamerone _Fata_ and _Maga_ are the same, and a Fata sends the heroine

of it to a sister of hers, _pure fatata_.

Ariosto says of Medea--

E perchè per virtù d' erbe e d'incanti

Delle Fate una ed immortal fatta era.

_I Cinque Canti_, ii. 106.

The same poet, however, elsewhere says--

Queste che or Fate e dagli antichi foro

Già dette Ninfe e Dee con più bel nome.--_Ibid._ i. 9.

and,

Nascemmo ad un punto che d'ogni altro male

Siamo capaci fuorchè della morte.--_Orl. Fur._ xliii. 48.

which last, however, is not decisive. Bojardo also calls the

water-nymphs Fate; and our old translators of the Classics named them

_fairies_. From all this can only, we apprehend, be collected, that

the ideas of the Italian poets, and others, were somewhat vague on the

subject.

From the verb _faer_, _féer_, to enchant, illude, the French made a

substantive _faerie_, _féerie_,[16] illusion, enchantment, the meaning

of which was afterwards extended, particularly after it had been

adopted into the English language.

We find the word Faerie, in fact, to be employed in four different

senses, which we will now arrange and exemplify.

1. Illusion, enchantment.

Plusieurs parlent de Guenart,

Du Loup, de l'Asne, de Renart,

De _faeries_ et de songes,

De phantosmes et de mensonges.

_Gul. Giar. ap. Ducange._

Where we must observe, as Sir Walter Scott seems not to have been

aware of it, that the four last substantives bear the same relation to

each other as those in the two first verses do.

Me bifel a ferly

Of _faërie_, me thought.

_Vision of Piers Plowman_, v. 11.

Maius that sit with so benigne a chere,

Hire to behold it seemed _faërie_.

_Chaucer, Marchante's Tale._

It (_the horse of brass_) was of _faërie_, as the peple semed,

Diversè folk diversëly han demed.--_Squier's Tale._

The Emperor said on high,

Certes it is a _faërie_,

Or elles a vanité.--_Emare._

With phantasme and _faërie_,

Thus she bleredè his eye.--_Libeaus Disconus._

The God of her has made an end,

And fro this worldès _faërie_

Hath taken her into companie.--_Gower, Constance._

Mr. Ritson professes not to understand the meaning of _faerie_ in this

last passage. Mr. Ritson should, as Sir Hugh Evans says, have 'prayed

his pible petter;' where, among other things that might have been of

service to him, he would have learned that 'man walketh in a _vain_

shew,' that 'all is _vanity_,' and that 'the fashion of this world

passeth away;' and then he would have found no difficulty in

comprehending the pious language of 'moral Gower,' in his allusion to

the transitory and deceptive vanities of the world.

2. From the sense of illusion simply, the transition was easy to that

of the land of illusions, the abode of the Faés, who produced them;

and Faerie next came to signify the country of the Fays. Analogy also

was here aiding; for as a Nonnerie was a place inhabited by Nonnes, a

Jewerie a place inhabited by Jews, so a Faerie was naturally a place

inhabited by Fays. Its termination, too, corresponded with a usual one

in the names of countries: Tartarie, for instance, and 'the regne of

Feminie.'

Here beside an elfish knight

Hath taken my lord in fight,

And hath him led with him away

Into the _Faërie_, sir, parmafay.--_Sir Guy._

La puissance qu'il avoit sur toutes _faeries_ du monde.

_Huon de Bordeaux._

En effect, s'il me falloit retourner en _faerie_, je ne sçauroye

ou prendre mon chemin.--_Ogier le Dannoys._

That Gawain with his oldè curtesie,

Though he were come agen out of _faërie_.

_Squier's Tale._

He (Arthur) is a king y-crowned in _Faërie_,

With sceptre and pall, and with his regalty

Shallè resort, as lord and sovereigne,

Out of _Faerie_, and reignè in Bretaine,

And repair again the ouldè Roundè Table.

_Lydgate, Fall of Princes_, bk. viii. c. 24.

3. From the country the appellation passed to the inhabitants in their

collective capacity, and the Faerie now signified the people of

Fairy-land.[17]

Of the fourth kind of Spritis called the Phairie.

_K. James, Demonologie_, 1. 3.

Full often time he, Pluto, and his quene

Proserpina, and alle hir _faërie_,

Disporten hem, and maken melodie

About that well.--_Marchante's Tale._

The feasts that underground the _Faërie_ did him make,

And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake.

_Drayton, Poly-Olb., Song IV._

4. Lastly, the word came to signify the individual denizen of

Fairy-land, and was equally applied to the full-sized fairy knights

and ladies of romance, and to the pygmy elves that haunt the woods and

dells. At what precise period it got this its last, and subsequently

most usual sense, we are unable to say positively; but it was probably

posterior to Chaucer, in whom it never occurs, and certainly anterior

to Spenser, to whom, however, it seems chiefly indebted for its future

general currency.[18] It was employed during the sixteenth century[19]

for the Fays of romance, and also, especially by translators, for the

Elves, as corresponding to the Latin Nympha.

They believed that king Arthur was not dead, but carried awaie by

the _Fairies_ into some pleasant place, where he should remaine

for a time, and then returne again and reign in as great authority

as ever.

_Hollingshed_, bk. v. c. 14. Printed 1577.

Semicaper Pan

Nunc tenet, at quodam tenuerunt tempore nymphæ.

_Ovid, Met._ xiv. 520.

The halfe-goate Pan that howre

Possessed it, but heretofore it was the _Faries'_ bower.

_Golding_, 1567.

Hæc nemora indigenæ fauni nymphæque tenebant,

Gensque virum truncis et duro robore nata.

_Virgil, Æneis_, viii. 314.

With nymphis and faunis apoun every side,

Qwhilk _Farefolkis_ or than _Elfis_ clepen we.

_Gawin Dowglas._

The woods (quoth he) sometime both fauns and nymphs, and gods of

ground,

And _Fairy-queens_ did keep, and under them a nation rough.

_Phaer_, 1562.

Inter Hamadryadas celeberrima Nonacrinas

Naïas una fuit.--_Ovid, Met._ l. i. 690.

Of all the nymphes of Nonacris and _Fairie_ ferre and neere,

In beautie and in personage this ladie had no peere.

_Golding._

Pan ibi dum teneris jactat sua carmina nymphis.

_Ov. Ib._ xi. 153.

There Pan among the _Fairie-elves_, that daunced round

togither.

_Golding._

Solaque Naïadum celeri non nota Dianæ.--_Ov. Ib._ iv. 304.

Of all the _water-fayries_, she alonely was unknowne

To swift Diana.--_Golding._

Nymphis latura coronas.--_Ov. Ib._ ix. 337.

Was to the _fairies_ of the lake fresh garlands for to bear.

_Golding._

Thus we have endeavoured to trace out the origin, and mark the progress

of the word Fairy, through its varying significations, and trust that

the subject will now appear placed in a clear and intelligible light.

After the appearance of the Faerie Queene, all distinctions were

confounded, the name and attributes of the real Fays or Fairies of

romance were completely transferred to the little beings who,

according to the popular belief, made 'the green sour ringlets whereof

the ewe not bites.' The change thus operated by the poets established

itself firmly among the people; a strong proof, if this idea be

correct, of the power of the poetry of a nation in altering the

phraseology of even the lowest classes[20] of its society.

Shakspeare must be regarded as a principal agent in this revolution;

yet even he uses Fairy once in the proper sense of Fay; a sense it

seems to have nearly lost, till it was again brought into use by the

translators of the French Contes des Fées in the last century.

To this great Fairy I'll commend thy acts.

_Antony and Cleopatra_, act iv. sc. 8.

And Milton speaks

Of Faery damsels met in forests wide

By knights of Logres or of Lyones,

Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellinore.

Yet he elsewhere mentions the

Faery elves,

Whose midnight revels by a forest side

Or fountain some belated peasant sees.

Finally, Randolph, in his Amyntas, employs it, for perhaps the last

time, in its second sense, Fairy-land:

I do think

There will be of Jocastus' brood in Fairy.

Act i. sc. 3.

We must not here omit to mention that the Germans, along with the

French romances, early adopted the name of the Fées. They called them

Feen and Feinen.[21] In the Tristram of Gottfried von Strazburg we are

told that Duke Gylan had a syren-like little dog,

Dez wart dem Herzoge gesandt 'Twas sent unto the duke, pardé,

Uz Avalun, der _Feinen_ land, From Avalun, the Fays' countrie,

Von einer Gottinne.--V. 1673. By a gentle goddess.

In the old German romance of Isotte and Blanscheflur, the hunter who

sees Isotte asleep says, I doubt

Dez sie menschlich sei, If she human be,

Sie ist schöner denn eine _Feine_, She is fairer than a Fay.

Von Fleische noch von Beine Of flesh or bone, I say,

Kunte nit gewerden Never could have birth

So schönes auf der erden. A thing so fair on earth.

Our subject naturally divides itself into two principal branches,

corresponding to the different classes of beings to which the name

Fairy has been applied. The first, beings of the human race, but

endowed with powers beyond those usually allotted to men, whom we

shall term FAYS, or FAIRIES OF ROMANCE. The second, those little

beings of the popular creeds, whose descent we propose to trace from

the cunning and ingenious Duergar or dwarfs of northern mythology, and

whom we shall denominate ELVES or POPULAR FAIRIES.

It cannot be expected that our classifications should vie in accuracy

and determinateness with those of natural science. The human

imagination, of which these beings are the offspring, works not, at

least that we can discover, like nature, by fixed and invariable laws;

and it would be hard indeed to exact from the Fairy historian the

rigid distinction of classes and orders which we expect from the

botanist or chemist. The various species so run into and are

confounded with one another; the actions and attributes of one kind

are so frequently ascribed to another, that scarcely have we begun to

erect our system, when we find the foundation crumbling under our

feet. Indeed it could not well be otherwise, when we recollect that

all these beings once formed parts of ancient and exploded systems of

religion, and that it is chiefly in the traditions of the peasantry

that their memorial has been preserved.

We will now proceed to consider the Fairies of romance; and as they

are indebted, though not for their name, yet perhaps for some of their

attributes, to the Peries of Persia, we will commence with that

country. We will thence pursue our course through Arabia, till we

arrive at the middle-age romance of Europe, and the gorgeous realms of

Fairy-land; and thence, casting a glance at the Faerie Queene, advance

to the mountains and forests of the North, there to trace the origin

of the light-hearted, night-tripping elves.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The mark on Adam's Peak in Ceylon is, by the Buddhists, ascribed to

Buddha; by the Mohammedans, to Adam. It reminds one of the story of the

lady and the vicar, viewing the moon through a telescope; they saw in

it, as they thought, two figures inclined toward each other: "Methinks,"

says the lady, "they are two fond lovers, meeting to pour forth their

vows by earth-light." "Not at all," says the vicar, taking his turn at

the glass; "they are the steeples of two neighbouring churches."

[2] Faerie Queene, III. c. iii. st. 8, 9, 10, 11. Drayton,

Poly-Olbion, Song VI. We fear, however, that there is only poetic

authority for this belief. Mr. Todd merely quotes Warton, who says

that Spenser borrowed it from Giraldus Cambrensis, who picked it up

among the romantic traditions propagated by the Welsh bards. The

reader will be, perhaps, surprised to hear that Giraldus says nothing

of the demons. He mentions the sounds, and endeavours to explain them

by natural causes. Hollingshed indeed (l. i. c. 24.) says, "whereof

the superstitious sort do gather many toys."

[3] The Haddock.

[4] For a well-chosen collection of examples, see the very learned and

philosophical preface of the late Mr. Price to his edition of Warton's

History of English Poetry, p. 28 _et seq._

[5] In the Middle Ages the gods of the heathens were all held to be

devils.

[6] Φηρ is the Ionic form of θηρ, and is nearly related to the German

_thier_, beast, animal. The Scandinavian _dyr_, and the Anglo-Saxon

[Old English: deor], have the same signification; and it is curious to

observe the restricted sense which this last has gotten in the English

_deer_.

[7] Preface to Warton, p. 44; and Breton philologists furnish us with

an etymon; not, indeed, of Fairy, but of Fada. "Fada, fata, etc.,"

says M. de Cambry (Monumens Celtiques), "come from the Breton _mat_ or

_mad_, in construction _fat_, good; whence the English, _maid_."

[8] D'Herbelot _titre_ Mergian says, "C'est du nom de cette Fée que

nos anciens romans ont formé celui de _Morgante la Déconnue_." He here

confounds Morgana with Urganda, and he has been followed in his

mistake. D'Herbelot also thinks it possible that _Féerie_ may come

from _Peri_; but he regards the common derivation from _Fata_ as much

more probable. Cambrian etymologists, by the way, say that Morgain is

Mor Gwynn, the _White Maid_.

[9] These two instances are given by Mdlle. Amélie Bosquet (La

Normandie Romanesque, etc. p. 91.) from Dom Martin, _Rel. des

Gaulois_, ii. ch. 23 and 24.

[10] Gryphus ternarii numeri.

[11] De Bell. Got. i. 25.

[12] See below, _France_. It is also remarked that in some of the

tales of the Pentamerone, the number of the _Fate_ is three; but to

this it may be replied, that in Italy every thing took a classic

tinge, and that the Fate of those tales are only Maghe; so in the

Amadigi of Bernardo Tasso we meet with La _Fata_ Urganda. In Spain and

France the number would rather seem to have been seven. Cervantes

speaks of "los siete castillos de las _siete_ fadas;" in the Rom. de

la Infantina it is said, "_siete_ fadas me _fadaron_, en brazos de una

ama mia," and the _Fées_ are _seven_ in La Belle au Bois dormant. In

the romance, however, of Guillaume au Court-nez, the _Fées_ who carry

the sleeping Renoart out of the boat are _three_ in number.--See Grimm

Deutsche Mythologie, p. 383.

[13] A MS. of the 13th century, quoted by Grimm (_ut sup._ p. 405),

thus relates the origin of Aquisgrani (Aix la Chapelle): Aquisgrani

dicitur Ays, et dicitur eo, quod Karolus tenebat ibi quandam _mulierem

fatatam_, sive quandam _fatam_, quæ alio nomine _nimpha_ vel _dea_ vel

_adriades_ (l. _dryas_) appellatur, et ad hanc consuetudinem habebat,

et eam cognoscebat; et ita erat, quod ipso accedente ad eam vivebat

ipsa, ipso Karolo recedente moriebatur. Contigit dum quadam vice ad

ipsam accessisset ut cum ea delectaretur, radius solis intravit os

ejus, et tunc Karolus vidit _granum auri_ lingue ejus affixum, quod

fecit abscindi et contingenti (l. in continenti) mortua est, nec

postea revixit.

[14]

"Aissim _fadaro_ tres serors

En aquella ora qu' ieu sui natz

Que totz temps fos enamoratz."--_Folquet de Romans._

(Thus three sisters _fated_, in the hour that I was born, that I

should be at all times in love.)

"Aissi fuy de nueitz _fadatz_ sobr' un puegau."--_Guilh. de Poitou._

(Thus was I _fated_ by night on a hill.)--Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 383.

[15] See our Virgil, Excurs. ix.

[16] Following the analogy of the Gotho-German tongues, _zauberei_,

Germ. _trylleri_, Dan. _trolleri_, Swed. illusion, enchantment. The

Italian word is _fattucchieria_.

[17] Here too there is _perhaps_ an analogy with _cavalry_,

_infantry_, _squierie_, and similar collective terms.

[18] The Faerie Queene was published some years before the Midsummer

Night's Dream. Warton (Obs. on the Faerie Queene) observes: "It appears

from Marston's Satires, printed 1598, that the Faerie Queene occasioned

many publications in which Fairies were the principal actors.

Go buy some ballad of the FAERY KING.--_Ad Lectorem._

Out steps some Faery with quick motion,

And tells him wonders of some flowerie vale--

Awakes, straight rubs his eyes, and prints his tale.

B. III. Sat. 6."

[19] It is in this century that we first meet with _Fairy_ as a

dissyllable, and with a plural. It is then used in its fourth and last

sense.

[20] The Fata Morgana of the Straits of Messina is an example; for the

name of Morgana, whencesoever derived, was probably brought into Italy

by the poets.

[21] Dobenek, des deutschen Mittelalters und Volksglauben. Berlin, 1816.

ORIENTAL ROMANCE.[22]

[Illustration: SADEE.]

All human beings must in beauty yield

To you; a PERI I have ne'er beheld.

PERSIAN ROMANCE.

The pure and simple religion of ancient Persia, originating, it is

said, with a pastoral and hunting race among the lofty hills of

Aderbijân, or, as others think, in the elevated plains of Bactria, in

a region where light appears in all its splendour, took as its

fundamental principle the opposition between light and darkness, and

viewed that opposition as a conflict. Light was happiness; and the

people of Irân, the land of light, were the favourites of Heaven;

while those of Turân, the gloomy region beyond the mountains to the

north, were its enemies. In the realms of supernal light sits

enthroned Ormuzd, the first-born of beings; around him are the six

Amshaspands, the twenty-eight Izeds, and the countless myriads of

Ferohers.[23] In the opposite kingdom of darkness Aherman is supreme,

and his throne is encompassed by the six Arch-Deevs, and the numerous

hosts of inferior Deevs. Between these rival powers ceaseless warfare

prevails; but at the end the prince of darkness will be subdued, and

peace and happiness prevail beneath the righteous sway of Ormuzd.

From this sublime system of religion probably arose the Peri-[24] or

Fairy-system of modern Persia; and thus what was once taught by sages,

and believed by monarchs, has shared the fate of everything human, and

has sunk from its pristine rank to become the material and the

machinery of poets and romancers. The wars waged by the fanatical

successors of the Prophet, in which literature was confounded with

idolatry, have deprived us of the means of judging of this system in

its perfect form; and in what has been written respecting the Peries

and their country since Persia has received the law of Mohammed, the

admixture of the tenets and ideas of Islam is evidently perceptible.

If, however, Orientalists be right in their interpretation of the name

of Artaxerxes' queen, Parisatis, as Pari-zadeh[25] (_Peri-born_), the

Peri must be coeval with the religion of Zoroaster.

The Peries and Deevs of the modern Persians answer to the good and

evil Jinn of the Arabs, of whose origin and nature we shall presently

give an account. The same Suleymans ruled over them as over the Jinn,

and both alike were punished for disobedience. It is difficult to say

which is the original; but when we recollect in how much higher a

state of culture the Persians were than the Arabs, and how well this

view accords with their ancient system of religion, we shall feel

inclined to believe that the Arabs were the borrowers, and that by

mingling with the Persian system ideas derived from the Jews, that one

was formed by them which is now the common property of all Moslems.

In like manner we regard the mountains of Kâf, the abode alike of Jinn

and of Peries and Deevs, as having belonged originally to Persian

geography. The fullest account of it appears in the Persian romance of

Hatim Taï,[26] the hero of which often visited its regions. From this it

would seem that this mountain-range was regarded as, like that of the

ancient Greek cosmology, surrounding the flat circular earth like a

ring, or rather like the bulwarks of a ship, outside of which flowed the

ocean; while some Arab authorities make it to lie beyond, and to enclose

the ocean as well as the earth.[27] It is said to be composed of green

chrysolite, the reflection of which gives its greenish tint to the sky.

According to some, its height is two thousand English miles.

Jinnestân is the common appellation of the whole of this ideal region.

Its respective empires were divided into many kingdoms, containing

numerous provinces and cities. Thus in the Peri-realms we meet with

the luxuriant province of Shad-u-kâm (_Pleasure and Delight_), with

its magnificent capital Juherabâd (_Jewel-city_), whose two kings

solicited the aid of Cahermân against the Deevs,[28] and also the

stately Amberabâd (_Amber-city_), and others equally splendid. The

metropolis of the Deev-empire is named Ahermanabâd (_Aherman's city_);

and imagination has lavished its stores in the description of the

enchanted castle, palace, and gallery of the Deev monarch, Arzshenk.

The Deevs and Peries wage incessant war with each other. Like mankind,

they are subject to death, but after a much longer period of

existence; and, though far superior to man in power, they partake of

his sentiments and passions.

We are told that when the Deevs in their wars make prisoners of the

Peries, they shut them up in iron cages, and hang them from the tops

of the highest trees, exposed to every gaze and to every chilling

blast. Here their companions visit them, and bring them the choicest

odours to feed on; for the ethereal Peri lives on perfume, which has

moreover the property of repelling the cruel Deevs, whose malignant

nature is impatient of fragrance.[29]

When the Peries are unable to withstand their foes, they solicit the

aid of some mortal hero. Enchanted arms and talismans enable him to cope

with the gigantic Deevs, and he is conveyed to Jinnestân on the back of

some strange and wonderful animal. His adventures in that country

usually furnish a wide field for poetry and romance to expatiate in.

The most celebrated adventurer in Jinnestân was Tahmuras, surnamed

Deev-bend (_Deev-binder_),[30] one of the ancient kings of Persia. The

Peries sent him a splendid embassy, and the Deevs, who dreaded him,

despatched another. Tahmuras, in doubt how to act, consults the

wonderful bird Seemurgh,[31] who speaks all languages, and whose

knowledge embraces futurity. She advises him to aid the Peries, warns

him of the dangers he has to encounter, and discloses his proper line

of action. She further offers to convey him to Jinnestân, and plucks

some feathers from her breast, with which the Persian monarch adorns

his helmet.

Mounted on the Seemurgh, and bracing on his arm the potent buckler of

Jân-ibn-Jân,[32] Tahmuras crosses the abyss impassable to unaided

mortality. The vizier Imlân, who had headed the Deev embassy,

deserting his original friends, had gone over to Tahmuras, and through

the magic arts of the Deev, and his own daring valour, the Persian

hero defeats the Deev-king Arzshenk. He next vanquishes a Deev still

more fierce, named Demrush, who dwelt in a gloomy cavern, surrounded

by piles of wealth plundered from the neighbouring realms of Persia

and India. Here Tahmuras finds a fair captive, the Peri Merjân,[33]

whom Demrush had carried off, and whom her brothers, Dâl Peri and

Milân Shâh Peri, had long sought in vain. He chains the Deev in the

centre of the mountain, and at the suit of Merjân hastens to attack

another powerful Deev named Houndkonz; but here, alas! fortune deserts

him, and, maugre his talismans and enchanted arms, the gallant

Tahmuras falls beneath his foe.

The great Deev-bend, or conqueror of Deevs, of the Shâh-Nâmeh[34] is the

illustrious Roostem. In the third of his Seven Tables or adventures, on

his way to relieve the Shâh Ky-Caoos, whom the artifice of a Deev had

led to Mazenderân, where he was in danger of perishing, he encounters in

the dark of the night a Deev named Asdeev, who stole on him in a

dragon's form as he slept. Twice the hero's steed, Reksh, awoke him, but

each time the Deev vanished, and Roostem was near slaying his good steed

for giving him a false alarm. The third time he saw the Deev and slew

him after a fearful combat. He then pursued his way to the cleft in the

mountain in which abode the great Deev Sefeed, or White Deev. The

seventh Table brought him to where lay an army of the Deev Sefeed's

Deevs, commanded by Arzshenk, whose head he struck off, and put his

troops to flight. At length he reached the gloomy cavern of the Deev

Sefeed himself, whom he found asleep, and scorning the advantage he

awoke him, and after a terrific combat deprived him also of life.

Many years after, when Ky-Khosroo sat on the throne, a wild ass of

huge size, his skin like the sun, and a black stripe along his back,

appeared among the royal herds and destroyed the horses. It was

supposed to be the Deev Akvân, who was known to haunt an adjacent

spring. Roostem went in quest of him; on the fourth day he found him

and cast his noose at him, but the Deev vanished. He re-appeared; the

hero shot at him, but he became again invisible. Roostem then let

Reksh graze, and laid him to sleep by the fount. As he slept, Akvân

came and flew up into the air with him; and when he awoke, he gave him

his choice of being let fall on the mountains or the sea. Roostem

secretly chose the latter, and to obtain it he pretended to have heard

that he who was drowned never entered paradise. Akvân thereupon let

him fall into the sea, from which he escaped, and returning to the

fount, he there met and slew the Deev. Roostem's last encounter with

Deevs was with Akvân's son, Berkhyas, and his army, when he went to

deliver Peshen from the dry well in which he was confined by Afrasiâb.

He slew him and two-thirds of his troops. Berkhyas is described as

being a mountain in size, his face black, his body covered with hair,

his neck like that of a dragon, two boar's tusks from his mouth, his

eyes wells of blood, his hair bristling like needles, his height 140

ells, his breadth 17, pigeons nestling in his snaky locks. Akvân had

had a head like an elephant.

In the Hindoo-Persian Bahar Danush (_Garden of Knowledge_) of

Ynâyet-ûllah, written in India A.D. 1650,[35] we find the following

tale of the Peries, which has a surprising resemblance to European

legends hereafter to be noticed.[36]

_The Peri-Wife._

The son of a merchant in a city of Hindostan, having been driven from

his father's house on account of his undutiful conduct, assumed the

garb of a Kalenderee or wandering Derweesh, and left his native town.

On the first day of his travels, being overcome with fatigue before he

reached any place of rest, he went off the high road and sat down at

the foot of a tree by a piece of water: while he sat there, he saw at

sunset four doves alight from a tree on the edge of the pond, and

resuming their natural form (for they were Peries) take off their

clothes and amuse themselves by bathing in the water. He immediately

advanced softly, took up their garments, without being seen, and

concealed them in the hollow of a tree, behind which he placed

himself. The Peries when they came out of the water and missed their

clothes were distressed beyond measure. They ran about on all sides

looking for them, but in vain. At length, finding the young man and

judging that he had possessed himself of them, they implored him to

restore them. He would only consent on one condition, which was that

one of them should become his wife. The Peries asserted that such a

union was impossible between them whose bodies were formed of fire and

a mortal who was composed of clay and water; but he persisted, and

selected the one which was the youngest and handsomest. They were at

last obliged to consent, and having endeavoured to console their

sister, who shed copious floods of tears at the idea of parting with

them and spending her days with one of the sons of Adam; and having

received their garments, they took leave of her and flew away.

The young merchant then led home his fair bride and clad her

magnificently; but he took care to bury her Peri-raiment in a secret

place, that she might not be able to leave him. He made every effort

to gain her affections, and at length succeeded in his object "she

placed her foot in the path of regard, and her head on the carpet of

affection." She bore him children, and gradually began to take

pleasure in the society of his female relatives and neighbours. All

doubts of her affection now vanished from his mind, and he became

assured of her love and attachment.

At the end of ten years the merchant became embarrassed in his

circumstances, and he found it necessary to undertake a long voyage.

He committed the Peri to the care of an aged matron in whom he had the

greatest confidence, and to whom he revealed the secret of her real

nature, and showed the spot where he had concealed her raiment. He

then "placed the foot of departure in the stirrup of travel," and set

out on his journey. The Peri was now overwhelmed with sorrow for his

absence, or for some more secret cause, and continually uttered

expressions of regret. The old woman sought to console her, assuring

her that "the dark night of absence would soon come to an end, and the

bright dawn of interview gleam from the horizon of divine bounty." One

day when the Peri had bathed, and was drying her amber-scented tresses

with a corner of her veil, the old woman burst out into expressions of

admiration at her dazzling beauty. "Ah, nurse," replied she, "though

you think my present charms great, yet had you seen me in my native

raiment, you would have witnessed what beauty and grace the Divine

Creator has bestowed upon Peries; for know that we are among the most

finished portraits on the tablets of existence. If then thou desirest

to behold the skill of the divine artist, and admire the wonders of

creation, bring the robes which my husband has kept concealed, that I

may wear them for an instant, and show thee my native beauty, the like

of which no human eye, but my lord's, hath gazed upon."

The simple woman assented, and fetched the robes and presented them to

the Peri. She put them on, and then, like a bird escaped from the

cage, spread her wings, and, crying Farewell, soared to the sky and

was seen no more. When the merchant returned from his voyage "and

found no signs of the rose of enjoyment on the tree of hope, but the

lamp of bliss extinguished in the chamber of felicity, he became as

one Peri-stricken,[37] a recluse in the cell of madness. Banished

from the path of understanding, he remained lost to all the bounties

of fortune and the useful purposes of life."

* * * * *

The Peri has been styled "the fairest creation of poetical imagination."

No description can equal the beauty of the female Peri,[38] and the

highest compliment a Persian poet can pay a lady is to liken her to one

of these lovely aerial beings.[39] Thus Sâdee, in the lines prefixed to

this section, declares that only the beauty of a Peri can be compared

with that of the fair one he addresses; and more lately, Aboo Taleeb

Khân says to Lady Elgin, as he is translated by M. von Hammer,[40]

The sun, the moon, the Peries, and mankind,

Compared with you, do far remain behind;

For sun and moon have never form so mild,

The Peries have, but roam in deserts wild.

Sir W. Ouseley is at a loss what to compare them to. They do not, he

thinks, resemble the Angels, the Cherubim and Seraphim of the Hebrews,

the Dæmons of the Platonists, or the Genii of the Romans; neither do

they accord with the Houri of the Arabs. Still less do they agree with

the Fairies of Shakspeare; for though fond of fragrance, and living

on that sweet essential food, we never find them employed in

Killing cankers in the musk-rose buds,

or obliged

To serve the fairy queen

To dew her orbs upon the green.

Neither is their stature ever represented so diminutive as to make

key-holes pervious to their flight, or the bells of flowers their

habitations. But Milton's sublime idea of a 'faery vision,' he thinks,

corresponds more nearly with what the Persian poets have conceived of

the Peries.

Their port was more than human, as they stood;

I took it for a faery vision

Of some gay creatures of the element

That in the colours of the rainbow live

And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awestruck,

And as I pass'd I worshipp'd.--_Comus._

"I can venture to affirm," concludes Sir William gallantly, "that he

will entertain a pretty just idea of a Persian Peri, who shall fix his

eyes on the charms of a beloved and beautiful mistress."

If poetic imagination exhausted itself in portraying the beauty of the

Peries, it was no less strenuous in heaping attributes of deformity on

the Deevs. They may well vie in ugliness with the devils of our

forefathers. "At Lahore, in the Mogul's palace," says William Finch,

"are pictures of Dews, or Dives, intermixed in most ugly shapes, with

long horns, staring eyes, shaggy hair, great fangs, ugly paws, long

tails, with such horrible difformity and deformity, that I wonder the

poor women are not frightened therewith."[41]

Such then is the Peri-system of the Mohammedan Persians, in which the

influence of Islâm is clearly perceptible, the very names of their

fabled country and its kings being Arabic. Had we it as it was before

the Arabs forced their law on Persia, we should doubtless find it more

consistent in all its parts, more light, fanciful, and etherial.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] See D'Herbelot, Richardson's Dissertation, Ouseley's Persian

Miscellanies, Wahl in the Mines de l'Orient, Lane, Thousand and One

Nights, Forbes, Hatim Taï, etc., etc.

[23] Ormuzd employed himself for three thousand years in making the

heavens and their celestial inhabitants, the Ferohers, which are the

angels and the unembodied souls of all intelligent beings. All nature

is filled with Ferohers, or guardian angels, who watch over its

various departments, and are occupied in performing their various

tasks for the benefit of mankind.--_Erskine on the Sacred Books and

Religion of the Parsis, in the Transactions of the Literary Society of

Bombay_, vol. ii. p. 318. The Feroher bears in fact a very strong

resemblance to the Genius of the ancient Roman religion: see our

Mythology of Greece and Italy.

[24] This word is pronounced _Perry_ or rather _Parry_.

[25] [Illustration] Hence it follows that the very plausible idea of

the Peri having been the same with the Feroher cannot be correct.

[26] Translated by Mr. Duncan Forbes. It is to be regretted that he

has employed the terms Fairies and Demons instead of Peries and Deevs.

[27] See Lane, Thousand and One Nights, i. p. 21, _seq._

[28] The Cahermân Nâmeh is a romance in Turkish. Cahermân was the

father of Sâm, the grandfather of the celebrated Roostem.

[29] It is in the Cahermân Nâmeh that this circumstance occurs.

[30] [Illustration] The Tahmuras Nâmeh is also in Turkish. It and the

Cahermân Nâmeh are probably translations from the Persian. As far as

we are aware, Richardson is the only orientalist who mentions these

two romances.

[31] [Illustration] It signifies 'thirty birds' and is thought to be

the roc of the Arabs. The poet Sâdee, to express the bounty of the

Almighty says

[Illustration]

His liberal board he spreadeth out so wide,

On Kâf the Seemurgh is with food supplied.

The Seemurgh probably belongs to the original mythology of Persia, for

she appears in the early part of the Shâh Nâmeh. When Zâl was born to

Sâm Nerimân, his hair proved to be white. The father regarding this as

a proof of Deev origin, resolved to expose him, and sent him for that

purpose to Mount Elburz. Here the poor babe lay crying and sucking his

fingers till he was found by the Seemurgh, who abode on the summit of

Elburz, as she was looking for food for her young ones. But God put

pity into her heart, and she took him to her nest and reared him with

her young. As he grew up, the caravans that passed by, spread the fame

of his beauty and his strength, and a vision having informed Sâm that

he was his son, he set out for Elburz to claim him from the Seemurgh.

It was with grief that Zâl quitted the maternal nest. The Seemurgh,

when parting with her foster-son, gave him one of her feathers, and

bade him, whenever he should be in trouble or danger, to cast it into

the fire, and he would have proof of her power; and she charged him at

the same time strictly never to forget his nurse.

[32] See _Arabian Romance_.

[33] [Illustration] a pearl. Life, soul also, according to Wilkins.

[34] Ferdousee's great heroic poem. It is remarkable that the Peries

are very rarely spoken of in this poem. They merely appear in it with

the birds and beasts among the subjects of the first Iranian monarchs.

[35] Chap. xx. translation of Jonathan Scott, 1799.

[36] See below, _Shetland_.

[37] _i. e._ possessed, insane. It is like the νυμφοληπτος of the

Greeks.

[38] It must be recollected that the Peries are of both sexes: we have

just spoken of Peri _kings_, and of the _brothers_ of Merjân.

[39] In the Shâh Nâmeh it is said of Prince Siyawush, that when he was

born he was _bright as a Peri_. We find the poets everywhere comparing

female beauty to that of superior beings. The Greeks and Romans

compared a lovely woman to Venus, Diana, or the nymphs; the Persians

to a Peri; the ancient Scandinavians would say she was Frith sem

Alfkone, "fair as an Alf-woman;" and an Anglo-Saxon poet says of

Judith that she was _Elf-sheen_, or fair as an Elf. In the Lay of

Gugemer it is said,

Dedenz la Dame unt trovée

Ki de biauté resanbloit _Fée_.

The same expression occurs in Méon (3, 412); and in the Romant de la

Rose we meet, _jure que plus belle est que fée_ (10, 425). In the

Pentamerone it is said of a king's son, _lo quale essenno bello comme

a no fato_.

[40] Mines de l'Orient, vol. iii. p. 40. To make his version

completely English, M. von Hammer uses the word Fairies; we have

ventured to change it.

[41] In Purchas' Pilgrims, vol. i., quoted by Sir W. Ouseley.

ARABIAN ROMANCE.

The Prophet is the centre round which every thing connected with Arabia

revolves. The period preceding his birth is regarded and designated as

the times of ignorance, and our knowledge of the ancient Arabian

mythology comprises little more than he has been pleased to transmit to

us. The Arabs, however, appear at no period of their history to have

been a people addicted to fanciful invention. Their minds are acute and

logical, and their poetry is that of the heart rather than of the fancy.

They dwell with fondness on the joys and pains of love, and with

enthusiasm describe the courage and daring deeds of warriors, or in

moving strains pour forth the plaintive elegy; but for the description

of gorgeous palaces and fragrant gardens, or for the wonders of magic,

they are indebted chiefly to their Persian neighbours.[42]

What classes of beings the popular creed may have recognised before

the establishment of Islâm we have no means of ascertaining.[43] The

Suspended Poems, and Antar, give us little or no information; we only

know that the tales of Persia were current among them, and were

listened to with such avidity as to rouse the indignation of the

Prophet. We must, therefore, quit the tents of the Bedoween, and the

valleys of 'Araby the Blest,' and accompany the khaleefehs to their

magnificent capital on the Tigris, whence emanated all that has thrown

such a halo of splendour around the genius and language of Arabia. It

is in this seat of empire that we must look to meet with the origin of

the marvels of Arabian literature.

Transplanted to a rich and fertile soil, the sons of the desert

speedily abandoned their former simple mode of life; and the court of

Bagdad equalled or surpassed in magnificence any thing that the East

has ever witnessed. Genius, whatever its direction, was encouraged and

rewarded, and the musician and the story-teller shared with the

astronomer and historian the favour of the munificent khaleefehs. The

tales which had amused the leisure of the Shahpoors and Yezdejirds

were not disdained by the Haroons and Almansoors. The expert narrators

altered them so as to accord with the new faith. And it was thus,

probably, that the delightful Thousand and One Nights[44] were

gradually produced and modified.

As the Genii or Jinn[45] are prominent actors in these tales, where

they take the place of the Persian Peries and Deevs, we will here give

some account of them.

According to Arabian writers, there is a species of beings named Jinn

or Jân (Jinnee _m._, Jinniyeh _f. sing._), which were created and

occupied the earth several thousand years before Adam. A tradition

from the Prophet says that they were formed of "smokeless fire,"

_i.e._ the fire of the wind Simoom. They were governed by a succession

of forty, or, as others say, seventy-two monarchs, named Suleyman, the

last of whom, called Jân-ibn-Jân, built the Pyramids of Egypt.

Prophets were sent from time to time to instruct and admonish them;

but on their continued disobedience, an army of angels appeared, who

drove them from the earth to the regions of the islands, making many

prisoners, and slaughtering many more. Among the prisoners, was a

young Jinnee, named 'Azâzeel, or El-Hârith (afterwards called Iblees,

from his _despair_), who grew up among the angels, and became at last

their chief. When Adam was created, God commanded the angels to

worship him; and they all obeyed except Iblees, who, for his

disobedience, was turned into a Sheytân or Devil, and he became the

father of the Sheytâns.[46]

The Jinn are not immortal; they are to survive mankind, but to die

before the general resurrection. Even at present many of them are slain

by other Jinn, or by men; but chiefly by shooting-stars hurled at them

from Heaven. The fire of which they were created, circulates in their

veins instead of blood, and when they receive a mortal wound, it bursts

forth and consumes them to ashes. They eat and drink, and propagate

their species. Sometimes they unite with human beings, and the offspring

partakes of the nature of both parents. Some of the Jinn are obedient to

the will of God, and believers in the Prophet, answering to the Peries

of the Persians; others are like the Deevs, disobedient and malignant.

Both kinds are divided into communities, and ruled over by princes. They

have the power to make themselves visible and invisible at pleasure.

They can assume the form of various animals, especially those of

serpents, cats, and dogs. When they appear in the human form, that of

the good Jinnee is usually of great beauty; that of the evil one, of

hideous deformity, and sometimes of gigantic size.

When the Zôba'ah, a whirlwind that raises the sand in the form of a

pillar of tremendous height, is seen sweeping over the desert, the

Arabs, who believe it to be caused by the flight of an evil Jinnee,

cry, Iron! Iron! (_Hadeed!_ _Hadeed!_) or Iron! thou unlucky one!

(_Hadeed! yâ meshoom!_) of which metal the Jinn are believed to have a

great dread. Or else they cry, God is most great! (_Allâhu akbar!_)

They do the same when they see a water-spout at sea; for they assign

the same cause to its origin.[47]

The chief abode of the Jinn of both kinds is the Mountains of Kâf,

already described. But they also are dispersed through the earth, and

they occasionally take up their residence in baths, wells, latrinæ,

ovens, and ruined houses.[48] They also frequent the sea and rivers,

cross-roads, and market-places. They ascend at times to the confines

of the lowest heaven, and by listening there to the conversation of

the angels, they obtain some knowledge of futurity, which they impart

to those men who, by means of talismans or magic arts, have been able

to reduce them to obedience.[49]

The following are anecdotes of the Jinn, given by historians of

eminence.[50]

It is related, says El-Kasweenee, by a certain narrator of traditions,

that he descended into a valley with his sheep, and a wolf carried off

a ewe from among them; and he arose and raised his voice, and cried,

"O inhabitant of the valley!" whereupon he heard a voice saying, "O

wolf, restore him his sheep!" and the wolf came with the ewe and left

her, and departed.

Ben Shohnah relates, that in the year 456 of the Hejra, in the reign

of Kaiem, the twenty-sixth khaleefeh of the house of Abbas, a report

was raised in Bagdad, which immediately spread throughout the whole

province of Irak, that some Turks being out hunting saw in the desert

a black tent, beneath which there was a number of people of both

sexes, who were beating their cheeks, and uttering loud cries, as is

the custom in the East when any one is dead. Amidst their cries they

heard these words--_The great king of the Jinn is dead, woe to this

country!_ and then there came out a great troop of women, followed by

a number of other rabble, who proceeded to a neighbouring cemetery,

still beating themselves in token of grief and mourning.

The celebrated historian Ebn Athir relates, that when he was at Mosul

on the Tigris, in the year 600 of the Hejra, there was in that country

an epidemic disease of the throat; and it was said that a woman, of

the race of the Jinn, having lost her son, all those who did not

condole with her on account of his death were attacked with that

disease; so that to be cured of it men and women assembled, and with

all their strength cried out, _O mother of Ankood, excuse us! Ankood

is dead, and we did not mind it!_

FOOTNOTES:

[42] Compare Antar and the Suspended Poems (translated by Sir W.

Jones) with the later Arabic works. Antar, though written by Asmai the

court-poet of Haroon-er-Rasheed, gives the manners and ideas of the

Arabs of the Desert.

[43] The Jinn are mentioned in the Kurân and also in Antar.

[44] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 37, _seq._ Lane, Thousand and

One Nights, _passim_.

[45] Genius and Jinn, like Fairy and Peri, is a curious coincidence.

The Arabian Jinnee bears no resemblance whatever to the Roman Genius.

[46] "When we said unto the Angels, Worship ye Adam, and they

worshiped except Iblees (who) was of the Jinn."--Kurân. chap. xviii.

v. 48. Worship is here prostration. The reply of Iblees was, "Thou

hast created _me_ of fire, and hast created _him_ of earth."--_Ib._

vii. 11; xxxviii. 77.

[47] It was the belief of the Irish peasantry, that whirlwinds of dust

on the roads were raised by the Fairies, who were then on a journey. On

such occasions, unlike the Arabs, they used to raise their hats and say,

"God speed you, gentlemen!" For the power of iron, see _Scandinavia_.

[48] The Arabs when they pour water on the ground, let down a bucket

into a well, enter a bath, etc., say, "Permission!" (_Destoor!_) or,

Permission, ye blessed! (_Destoor, yâ mubârakeen!_)

[49] For the preceding account of the Jinn, we are wholly indebted to

Lane's valuable translation of the Thousand and One Nights, i. 30,

_seq._

[50] The first is given by Lane, the other two by D'Herbelot.

MIDDLE-AGE ROMANCE.

Ecco quei che le carte empion di sogni,

Lancilotto, Tristano e gli altri erranti,

Onde conven che il volgo errante agogni.

PETRARCA.

Few will now endeavour to trace romantic and marvellous fiction to any

individual source. An extensive survey of the regions of fancy and their

productions will incline us rather to consider the mental powers of man

as having an uniform operation under every sky, and under every form of

political existence, and to acknowledge that identity of invention is

not more to be wondered at than identity of action. It is strange how

limited the powers of the imagination are. Without due consideration of

the subject, it might be imagined that her stores of materials and

powers of combination are boundless; yet reflection, however slight,

will convince us that here also 'there is nothing new,' and charges of

plagiarism will in the majority of cases be justly suspected to be

devoid of foundation. The finest poetical expressions and similes of

occidental literature meet us when we turn our attention to the East,

and a striking analogy pervades the tales and fictions of every region.

The reason is, the materials presented to the inventive faculties are

scanty. The power of combination is therefore limited to a narrow

compass, and similar combinations must hence frequently occur.

Yet still there is a high degree of probability in the supposition of

the luxuriant fictions of the East having through Spain and Syria

operated on European fancy. The poetry and romance of the middle ages

are notoriously richer in detail, and more gorgeous in invention, than

the more correct and chaste strains of Greece and Latium; the island

of Calypso, for example, is in beauty and variety left far behind by

the retreats of the fairies of romance. Whence arises this difference?

No doubt

When ancient chivalry display'd

The pomp of her heroic games,

And crested knights and tissued dames

Assembled at the clarion's call,

In some proud castle's high-arch'd hall,

that a degree of pomp and splendour met the eye of the minstrel and

romancer on which the bards of the simple republics of ancient times had

never gazed, and this might account for the difference between the

poetry of ancient and of middle-age Europe. Yet, notwithstanding, we

discover such an Orientalism in the latter as would induce us to

acquiesce in the hypothesis of the fictions and the manner of the East

having been early transmitted to the West; and it is highly probable

that along with more splendid habits of life entered a more lavish use

of the gorgeous stores laid open to the plastic powers of fiction. The

tales of Arabia were undoubtedly known in Europe from a very early

period. The romance of Cleomades and Claremonde, which was written in

the thirteenth century,[51] not merely resembles, but actually is the

story of the Enchanted Horse in the Thousand and One Nights. Another

tale in the same collection, The two Sisters who envied their younger

Sister, may be found in Straparola, and is also a popular story in

Germany; and in the Pentamerone and other collections of tales published

long before the appearance of M. Galland's translation of the Eastern

ones, numerous traces of an oriental origin may be discerned. The

principal routes they came by may also be easily shown. The necessities

of commerce and the pilgrimage to Mecca occasioned a constant

intercourse between the Moors of Spain and their fellow-sectaries of the

East; and the Venetians, who were the owners of Candia, carried on an

extensive trade with Syria and Egypt. It is worthy of notice, that the

Notti Piacevoli of Straparola were first published in Venice, and that

Basile, the author of the Pentamerone, spent his youth in Candia, and

was afterwards a long time at Venice. Lastly, pilgrims were notorious

narrators of marvels, and each, as he visited the Holy Land, was anxious

to store his memory with those riches, the diffusal of which procured

him attention and hospitality at home.

We think, therefore, that European romance may be indebted, though not

for the name, yet for some of the attributes and exploits of its

fairies to Asia. This is more especially the case with the romances

composed or turned into prose in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and

sixteenth centuries; for in the earlier ones the Fairy Mythology is

much more sparingly introduced.

But beside the classic and oriental prototypes of its fairies, romance

may have had an additional one in the original mythology of the Celtic

tribes, of which a being very nearly allied to the fay of romance

appears to have formed a part. Such were the damoiselles who bestowed

their favours upon Lanval and Graelent. This subject shall, however,

be more fully considered under the head of Brittany.

Romances of chivalry, it is well known, may be divided into three

principal classes; those of Arthur and his Round Table, of Charlemagne

and his Paladins, and those of Amadis and Palmerin, and their

descendants and kindred. In the first, with the exception of Isaie le

Triste, which appears to be a work of the fifteenth century, the

fairies appear but seldom; the second exhibits them in all their

brilliancy and power; in the third, which all belong to the literature

of Spain, the name at least does not occur, but the enchantress

Urganda la Desconecida seems equal in power to La Dame du Lac, in the

romance of Lancelot du Lac.[52]

Among the incidents of the fine old romance just alluded to,[53] is

narrated the death of King Ban, occasioned by grief at the sight of

his castle taken and in flames through the treachery of his seneschal.

His afflicted queen had left her new-born infant on the margin of a

lake, while she went to soothe the last moments of the expiring

monarch. On her return, she finds her babe in the arms of a beautiful

lady. She entreats her pathetically to restore the orphan babe; but,

without heeding her entreaties, or even uttering a single word, she

moves to the edge of the lake, into which she plunges and disappears

with the child. The lady was the celebrated Dame du Lac: the child was

Lancelot, afterwards styled Du Lac. The name of the lady was Vivienne,

and she had dwelt "en la marche de la petite Bretaigne." Merlin the

demon-born, the renowned enchanter, became enamoured of her, and

taught her a portion of his art; and the ill-return she made is well

known in the annals of female treachery.[54] In consequence of the

knowledge thus acquired she became a fairy; for the author informs us

that "the damsel who carried Lancelot to the lake was a fay, and in

those times all those women were called fays who had to do with

enchantments and charms--and there were many of them then, principally

in Great Britain--and knew the power and virtues of words, of stones,

and of herbs, by which they were kept in youth and in beauty, and in

great riches, as they devised."[55]

The lake was a _feerie_, an illusion raised by the art which the devil

had taught Merlin, and Merlin the lady. The romance says: "The lady

who reared him conversed only in the forest, and dwelt on the summit

of a hill, which was much lower than that on which King Ban had died.

In this place, where it seemed that the wood was large and deep, the

lady had many fair houses, and very rich; and in the plain beneath

there was a gentle little river well-stored with fish; and this place

was so secret and so concealed, that right difficult was it for any

one to find, for the semblance of the said lake covered it so that it

could not be perceived."[56]

When her young _protégé_ had gone through his course of knightly

education, she took him to King Arthur's court, and presented him

there; and his subsequent history is well known.

In the romance of Maugis d'Aygremont et de Vivian son Frère, when

Tapinel and the female slave had stolen the two children of Duke Bevis

of Aygremont, the former sold to the wife of Sorgalant the child which

he had taken, whose name was Esclarmonde, and who was about fifteen

years of age, and was "plus belle et plus blanche qu'une fée." The

slave having laid herself to rest under a white-thorn (_aube-spine_),

was devoured by a lion and a leopard, who killed one another in their

dispute for the infant. "And the babe lay under the thorn, and cried

loudly, during which it came to pass that Oriande la Fée, who abode at

Rosefleur with four other fays, came straight to this thorn; for every

time she passed by there she used to repose under that white-thorn.

She got down, and hearing the child cry, she came that way and looked

at him, and said, 'By the god in whom we believe, this child here is

lying badly (_mal gist_), and this shall be his name;' and from that

time he was always called Maugis."

Oriande la Fée brought the child home with her and her damsels; and

having examined him, and found, by a precious ring that was in his ear,

that he was of noble lineage, "she prayed our Lord that he would be

pleased of his grace to make known his origin (_nation_)." When she had

finished her prayer, she sent for her nephew Espiet, "who was a dwarf,

and was not more than three feet high, and had his hair yellow as fine

gold, and looked like a child of seven years, but he was more than a

hundred; and he was one of the falsest knaves in the world, and knew

every kind of enchantment." Espiet informed her whose child he was; and

Oriande, having prayed to our Lord to preserve the child, took him with

her to her castle of Rosefleur, where she had him baptised and named

Maugis. She and her damsels reared him with great tenderness; and when

he was old enough she put him under the care of her brother Baudris,

"who knew all the arts of magic and necromancy, and was of the age of a

hundred years;" and he taught what he knew to Maugis.

When Maugis was grown a man, the Fay Oriande clad him in arms, and he

became her _ami_; and she loved him "de si grand amour qu'elle doute

fort qu'il ne se departe d'avecques elle."

Maugis shortly afterwards achieved the adventure of gaining the

enchanted horse Bayard, in the isle of Boucaut. Of Bayard it is said,

when Maugis spoke to him, "Bayard estoit _feyé_, si entendoit aussi

bien Maugis comme s'il (_Bayard_) eust parlé." On his return from the

island, Maugis conquers and slays the Saracen admiral Anthenor, who

had come to win the lands and castle of Oriande, and gains the sword

Flamberge (Floberge), which, together with Bayard, he afterwards gave

to his cousin Renaud.

In Perceforest, Sebille la Dame du Lac, whose castle was surrounded by

a river on which lay so dense a fog that no one could see across the

water, though not called so, was evidently a fay. The fortnight that

Alexander the Great and Floridas abode with her, to be cured of their

wounds, seemed to them but as one night. During that night, "la dame

demoura enceinte du roy dung filz, dont de ce lignage yssit le roi

Artus."[57]

In the same romance[58] we are told that "en lysle de Zellande jadis fut

demourante une _faee_ qui estoit appellee Morgane." This Morgane was

very intimate with "ung esperit (named Zephir) qui repairoit es lieux

acquatiques, mais jamais nestoit veu que de nuyt." Zephir had been in

the habit of repairing to Morgane la Faee from her youth up, "car elle

estoit malicieuse et subtille et tousjours avoit moult desire a

aucunement sçavoir des enchantemens et des conjurations." He had

committed to her charge the young Passelyon and his cousin Bennucq, to

be brought up, and Passelyon was detected in an intrigue with the young

Morgane, daughter of the fay. The various adventures of this amorous

youth form one of the most interesting portions of the romance.

In Tristan de Leonois,[59] king Meliadus, the father of Tristan, is

drawn to a chase _par mal engin et negromance_ of a fairy who was in

love with him, and carries him off, and from whose thraldom he was

only released by the power of the great enchanter Merlin.

In Parthenopex of Blois,[60] the beautiful fairy Melior, whose magic

bark carries the knight to her secret island, is daughter to the

emperor of Greece.

In no romance whatever is the fairy machinery more pleasingly

displayed than in Sir Launfal, a metrical romance, composed[61] by

Thomas Chestre, in the reign of Henry VI.

Before, however, we give the analysis of this poem, which will be

followed by that of another, and by our own imitations of this kind of

verse, we will take leave to offer some observations on a subject that

seems to us to be in general but little understood, namely, the

structure of our old English verse, and the proper mode of reading it.

Our forefathers, like their Gotho-German kindred, regulated their verse

by the number of accents, not of syllables. The foot, therefore, as we

term it, might consist of one, two, three, or even four syllables,

provided it had only one strongly marked accent. Further, the accent of

a word might be varied, chiefly by throwing it on the last syllable, as

_natúre_ for _náture_, _honoúr_ for _hónour_, etc. (the Italians, by the

way, throw it back when two accents come into collision, as, _Il Pástor

Fido_[62]); they also sounded what the French call the feminine e of

their words, as, _In oldè dayès of the King Artoúr_; and so well known

seems this practice to have been, that the copyists did not always write

this _e_, relying on the skill of the reader to supply it.[63] There was

only one restriction, namely, that it was never to come before a vowel,

unless where there was a pause. In this way the poetry of the middle

ages was just as regular as that of the present day; and Chaucer, when

properly read, is fully as harmonious as Pope. But the editors of our

ancient poems, with the exception of Tyrwhitt, seem to have been

ignorant or regardless of this principle; and in the Canterbury Tales

alone is the verse properly arranged.

We will now proceed to the analysis of the romance of Sir Launfal.

Sir Launfal was one of the knights of Arthur, who loved him well, and

made him his steward. But when Arthur married the beautiful but frail

Gwennere, daughter of Ryon, king of Ireland, Launfal and other

virtuous knights manifested their dissatisfaction when she came to

court. The queen was aware of this, and, at the first entertainment

given by the king,

The queen yaf (_gave_) giftès for the nones,

Gold and silver, precious stones,

Her courtesy to kythe (_show_):

Everiche knight she yaf broche other (_or_) ring,

But Sir Launfal she yaf no thing,

That grieved him many a sythe (_time_).

Launfal, under the feigned pretext of the illness of his father, takes

leave of the king, and retires to Karlyoun, where he lives in great

poverty. Having obtained the loan of a horse, one holyday, he rode into

a fair forest, where, overcome by the heat, he lay down under the shade

of a tree, and meditated on his wretched state. In this situation he is

attracted by the approach of two fair damsels splendidly arrayed.

Their faces were white as snow on down,

Their rode[64] was red, their eyne were brown;

I saw never none swiche.

That one bare of gold a basín,

That other a towel white and fine,

Of silk that was good and riche;

Their kerchevès were welè skire (_clear_)

Araid (_striped_) with richè goldè wire--

Launfal began to siche--

They comè to him over the hoth (_heath_),

He was curteís, and against them goeth,

And greet them mildeliche.

They greet him courteously in return, and invite him to visit their

mistress, whose pavilion is at hand. Sir Launfal complies with the

invitation, and they proceed to where the pavilion lies. Nothing could

exceed this pavilion in magnificence. It was surmounted by an _erne_

or eagle, adorned with precious stones so rich, that the poet

declares, and we believe, that neither Alexander nor Arthur possessed

"none swiche jewel."

He foundè in the paviloun

The kingès daughter of Oliroun,

Dame Tryamour that hight;

Her father was king of Faërie,

Of occientè[65] fer and nigh,

A man of mickle might.

The beauty of dame Tryamour was beyond conception.

For heat her cloathès down she dede

Almostè to her girdle stede (_place_),

Than lay she uncover't;

She was as white as lily in May,

Or snow that snoweth in winter's day:

He seigh (_saw_) never none so pert (_lively_).

The redè rose, when she is new,

Against her rode was naught of hew

I dare well say in cert;

Her hairè shone as goldè wire:

May no man redè her attire,

Ne naught well think in hert (_heart_).

This lovely dame bestows her heart on Sir Launfal, on condition of his

fidelity. As marks of her affection, she gives him a never-failing

purse and many other valuable presents, and dismisses him next morning

with the assurance, that whenever he wished to see her, his wish would

be gratified on withdrawing into a private room, where she would

instantly be with him. This information is accompanied with a charge

of profound secrecy on the subject of their loves.

The knight returns to court, and astonishes every one by his riches

and his munificence. He continues happy in the love of the fair

Tryamour, until an untoward adventure interrupts his bliss. One day

the queen beholds him dancing, with other knights, before her tower,

and, inspired with a sudden affection, makes amorous advances to the

knight. These passages of love are received on his part with an

indignant repulse, accompanied by a declaration more enthusiastic than

politic or courteous, that his heart was given to a dame, the foulest

of whose maidens surpassed the queen in beauty. The offence thus given

naturally effected an entire conversion in the queen's sentiments;

and, when Arthur returned from hunting, like Potiphar's wife, she

charges Launfal with attempting her honour. The charge is credited,

and the unhappy knight condemned to be burned alive, unless he shall,

against a certain day, produce that peerless beauty. The fatal day

arrives; the queen is urgent for the execution of the sentence, when

ten fair damsels, splendidly arrayed, and mounted on white palfreys,

are descried advancing toward the palace. They announce the approach

of their mistress, who soon appears, and by her beauty justifies the

assertion of her knight. Sir Launfal is instantly set at liberty, and,

vaulting on the courser his mistress had bestowed on him, and which

was held at hand by his squire, he follows her out of the town.

The lady rode down Cardevile,

Fer into a jolif ile,

Oliroun that hight;[66]

Every year upon a certain day,

Men may heare Launfales steedè neighe,

And him see with sight.

He that will there axsy (_ask_) justes

To keep his armès fro the rustes,

In turnement other (_or_) fight,

Dar (_need_) he never further gon;

There he may find justès anon,

With Sir Launfal the knight.

Thus Launful, withouten fable,

That noble knight of the roundè table,

Was taken into the faërie;

Since saw him in this land no man,

Ne no more of him tell I ne can,

For soothè, without lie.[67]

No romance is of more importance to the present subject than the

charming Huon de Bordeaux.[68] Generally known, as the story should

be, through Wieland's poem and Mr. Sotheby's translation, we trust

that we shall be excused for giving some passages from the original

French romance, as Le petit roy Oberon appears to form a kind of

connecting link between the fairies of romance and the Elves or Dwarfs

of the Teutonic nations. When we come to Germany it will be our

endeavour to show how the older part of Huon de Bordeaux has been

taken from the story of Otnit in the Heldenbuch, where the dwarf king

Elberich performs nearly the same services to Otnit that Oberon does

to Huon, and that, in fact, the name Oberon is only Elberich slightly

altered.[69]

Huon, our readers must know, encounters in Syria an old follower of his

family named Gerasmes; and when consulting with him on the way to

Babylon he is informed by him that there are two roads to that city, the

one long and safe, the other short and dangerous, leading through a

wood, "which is sixteen leagues long, but is so full of Fairie and

strange things that few people pass there without being lost or stopt,

because therewithin dwelleth a king, Oberon the Fay. He is but three

feet in height; he is all humpy; but he hath an angelic face; there is

no mortal man who should see him who would not take pleasure in looking

at him, he hath so fair a face. Now you will hardly have entered the

wood, if you are minded to pass that way, when he will find how to speak

to you, but of a surety if you speak to him, you are lost for evermore,

without ever returning; nor will it lie in you, for if you pass through

the wood, whether straightforwards or across it, you will always find

him before you, and it will be impossible for you to escape at all

without speaking to him, for his words are so pleasant to hear, that

there is no living man who can escape him. And if so be that he should

see that you are nowise inclined to speak to him, he will be passing

wroth with you. For before you have left the wood he will cause it so to

rain on you, to blow, to hail, and to make such right marvellous storms,

thunder and lightning, that you will think the world is going to end.

Then you will think that you see a great flowing river before you,

wondrously black and deep; but know, sire, that right easily will you be

able to go through it without wetting the feet of your horse, for it is

nothing but a phantom and enchantments that the dwarf will make for you,

because he wishes to have you with him, and if it so be that you keep

firm to your resolve, not to speak to him, you will be surely able to

escape," etc.[70]

Huon for some time followed the sage advice of Gerasmes, and avoided

Oberon le fayé. The storms of rain and thunder came on as predicted,

the magic horn set them all dancing, and at last the knight determined

to await and accost the dwarf.

"The Dwarf Fay came riding through the wood, and was clad in a robe so

exceeding fine and rich, that it would be a marvel to relate it for

the great and marvellous riches that were upon it; for so much was

there of precious stones, that the great lustre that they cast was

like unto the sun when he shineth full clear. And therewithal he bare

a right fair bow in his fist, so rich that no one could value it, so

fine it was; and the arrow that he bare was of such sort and manner,

that there was no beast in the world that he wished to have, that it

did not stop at that arrow. He had at his neck a rich horn, which was

hung by two rich strings of fine gold."[71]

This horn was wrought by four Fairies, who had endowed it with its

marvellous properties.

Oberon, on bringing Huon to speech, informed him that he was the son of

Julius Cæsar, and the lady of the Hidden Island, afterwards called

Cephalonia. This lady's first love had been Florimont of Albania, a

charming young prince, but being obliged to part from him, she married,

and had a son named Neptanebus, afterwards King of Egypt, who begot

Alexander the Great, who afterwards put him to death. Seven hundred

years later, Cæsar, on his way to Thessaly, was entertained in

Cephalonia by the lady of the isle, and he loved her, for she told him

he would defeat Pompey, and he became the father of Oberon. Many a noble

prince and noble fairy were at the birth, but one Fairy was unhappily

not invited, and the gift she gave was that he should not grow after his

third year, but repenting, she gave him to be the most beautiful of

nature's works. Other Fairies gave him the gift of penetrating the

thoughts of men, and of transporting himself and others from place to

place by a wish; and the faculty, by like easy means, of raising and

removing castles, palaces, gardens, banquets, and such like. He further

informed the knight, that he was king and lord of Mommur; and that when

he should leave this world his seat was prepared in Paradise--for

Oberon, like his prototype Elberich, was a veritable Christian.

When after a variety of adventures Oberon comes to Bordeaux to the aid

of Huon, and effects a reconciliation between him and Charlemagne, he

tells Huon that the time is at hand that he should leave this world

and take the seat prepared for him in Paradise, "en faerie ne veux

plus demeurer." He directs him to appear before him within four years

in his city of Mommur, where he will crown him as his successor.

Here the story properly ends, but an addition of considerable magnitude

has been made by a later hand, in which the story is carried on.

Many are the perils which Huon encounters before the period appointed

by Oberon arrives. At length, however, he and the fair Esclairmonde

(the Rezia of Wieland) come to Mommur. Here, in despite of Arthur

(who, with his sister Morgue la faée and a large train, arrives at

court, and sets himself in opposition to the will of the monarch, but

is reduced to order by Oberon's threat of turning him into a _Luyton

de Mer_[72]), Huon is crowned king of all Faerie "tant du pais des

Luytons comme des autres choses secretes reservées dire aux hommes."

Arthur gets the kingdom of Bouquant, and that which Sybilla held of

Oberon, and all the Faeries that were in the plains of Tartary. The

good king Oberon then gave Huon his last instructions, recommending

his officers and servants to him, and charging him to build an abbey

before the city, in the mead which the dwarf had loved, and there to

bury him. Then, falling asleep in death, a glorious troop of angels,

scattering odours as they flew, conveyed his soul to Paradise.

Isaie le Triste is probably one of the latest romances, certainly

posterior to Huon de Bordeaux, for the witty but deformed dwarf Tronc,

who is so important a personage in it, is, we are told, Oberon, whom

Destiny compelled to spend a certain period in that form. And we

shall, as we have promised, prove Oberon to be the handsome dwarf-king

Elberich. In Isaie the Faery ladies approach to the Fées of Perrault,

and Madame D'Aulnoy. Here, as at the birth of Oberon and of Ogier le

Danois, they interest themselves for the new-born child, and bestow

their gifts upon it. The description in this romance of the manner in

which the old hermit sees them occupied about the infant Isaie is very

pleasing. It was most probably Fairies of this kind, and not the

diminutive Elves, that Milton had in view when writing these lines:

Good luck betide thee, son, for, at thy birth,

The Faery ladies danced upon the hearth.

Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy

Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie,

And, sweetly singing round about thy bed,

Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head.

The description of the Vergier des Fées in Isaie le Triste, and of the

beautiful valley in which it was situated, may rival in richness and

luxuriancy similar descriptions in Spenser and the Italian poets.[73]

We have now, we trust, abundantly proved our position of the Fairies

of romance being, at least at the commencement, only 'human mortals,'

endowed with superhuman powers, though we may perceive that, as the

knowledge of Oriental fiction increased, the Fairies began more and

more to assume the character of a distinct species. Our position will

acquire additional strength when in the course of our inquiry we

arrive at France and Italy.

Closely connected with the Fairies is the place of their abode, the

region to which they convey the mortals whom they love, 'the happy

lond of Faery.'

FOOTNOTES:

[51] On the subjects mentioned in this paragraph, see Tales and

Popular Fictions, chap. ii. and iii.

[52] In the Amadigi of B. Tasso, she is La Fata Urganda.

[53] Lancelot is regarded as probably the earliest prose romance of

chivalry. It was first printed in 1494. The metrical romance called La

Charrette, of which Lancelot is the hero, was begun by Chrestien de

Troyes, who died in 1191, and finished by Geoffrey de Ligny. We may

here observe that almost all the French romances of chivalry were

written originally in verse in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,

principally by Chrestien de Troyes and Huon de Villeneuve. The prose

romances in general were made from them in the fifteenth century.

[54]

For while it was in hand, by loving of an elf,

For all his wondrous skill was cozened of himself:

For walking with his Fay, her to the rock he brought,

In which he oft before his nigromancies wrought.

And going in thereat, his magics to have shown,

She stopt the cavern's mouth with an enchanted stone,

Whose cunning strongly crossed, amazed while he did stand,

She captive him conveyed unto the Fairy-land.

Drayton, _Poly-Olb._ Song IV.--See above, p. 2.

[55] La damoiselle qui Lancelot porta au lac estoit une _fée_, et en

cellui temps estoient appellées _fees_ toutes celles qui

sentremcloient denchantements et de charmes, et moult en estoit pour

lors principallement en la Grand Bretaigne, et savoient la force et la

vertu des parolles, des pierres, et des herbes, parquoi elles estoient

en jeunesse, et en beaulte, et en grandes richesses, comment elles

divisoient.

[56] La dame qui le nourissoit ne conversoit que en forest, et estoit au

plain de ung tertre plus bas assez que celui ou le roy Ban estoit mort:

en ce lieu ou il sembloit que le bois fust grant et parfont (_profond_)

avoit la dame moult de belles maisons et moult riches; et au plain

dessoubs y avoit une gente petite riviere moult plantureuse de poissons;

et estoit ce lieu si cele et secret que bien difficille estoit a homme

de le trouver, car la semblance du dit lac le couvroit si que il ne

pouvoit estre apperceu. And farther, La damoiselle nestoit mie seulle,

mais y avoit grande compaignie de chevaliers et de dames et damoiselles.

[57] Vol. i. ch. 42.

[58] Vol. iii. ch. 31.

[59] Tristan was written in verse by Chrestien de Troyes. The prose

romance was first printed in 1489.

[60] Parthenopex was written in French in the twelfth century,

according to Le Grand; in the thirteenth, according to Roquefort.

[61] _Composed_--for to call it, with Ellis, Ritson, and others, a

translation, would be absurd. How Ellis, who had at least read Le

Grand's and Way's Fabliaux, could say of Chestre, that he "seems to

have given a _faithful_ as well as spirited version of this old Breton

story," is surprising. It is in fact no translation, but a poem on the

adventures of Sir Launfal, founded chiefly on the Lais de Lanval and

de Graelent, in Marie de France, with considerable additions of

Chestre's own invention, or derived from other sources. These Lais

will be considered under Brittany.

[62] Thus we ourselves say _the Príncess Royal, éxtreme need_, etc.

This, by the way, is the cause why the Greeks put a grave and not an

acute accent on words accented on the last syllable, to show that it

is easily moveable.

[63] As this seems to be one of the lost arts, we will here and

elsewhere mark the feminine _e_ and the change of accent.

[64] Rode--complexion; from _red_.

[65] Occient--_occident_ or _océan_? The Gascon peasantry call the Bay

of Biscay _La Mer d'Occient_. The Spaniards say _Mar Oceano_.

[66] It is strange to find the English poet changing the Avalon of the

Lai de Lanval into the well-known island of Oléron. It is rather

strange too, that Mr. Ritson, who has a note on "Oliroun," did not

notice this.

[67] The Lai ends thus:

Od (_avec_) li sen vait en Avalun,

Ceo nus recuntent le Bretun;

En une isle que mut est beaus,

La fut ravi li dameiseaus,

Nul humme nen ot plus parler,

Ne jeo nen sai avant cunter.

In Graelent it is said that the horse of the knight used to return

annually to the river where he lost his master. The rest is Thomas

Chestre's own, taken probably from the well-known story in Gervase of

Tilbury.

[68] Huon, Hue, or Hullin (for he is called by these three names in

the poetic romance) is, there can be little doubt, the same person

with Yon king of Bordeaux in the Quatre Filz Aymon, another

composition of Huon de Villeneuve, and with Lo Re Ivone, prince or

duke of Guienne in Bojardo and Ariosto. See the Orl. Inn. l. i. c. iv.

st. 46. I Cinque Canti, c. v. st. 42.

[69] Otnit was supposed to have been written by Wolfram von

Eschembach, in the early part of the thirteenth century. It is

possibly much older. Huon de Bordeaux was, it is said, written in

French verse by Huon de Villeneuve, some time in the same century. It

does not appear in the list of Huon de Villeneuve's works given by

Mons. de Roquefort. At the end of the prose romance we are told that

it was written at the desire of Charles seigneur de Rochefort, and

completed on the 29th of January, 1454.

[70] Qui a de long seizes lieues, mais tant est plain de faerie et

chose estrange que peu de gens y passent qui n'y soient perdus ou

arrestez, pour ce que la dedans demeure un roi, Oberon le fayé. Il n'a

que trois pieds de hauteur; il est tout bossu; mais il a un visage

angelique; il n'est homme mortel que le voye que plaisir ne prengne a

le regarder tant a beau visage. Ja si tost ne serez entrez au bois se

par la voulez passer qu'il ne trouve maniere de parler a vous, si

ainsi que a luy parliez perdu estus a tousjours sans jamais plus

revenir; ne il ne sera en vous, car se par le bois passez, soit de

long ou de travers, vous le trouverez tousjours au devant de vous, et

vous sera impossible que eschappiez nullement que ne parliez a luy,

car ses parolles sont tant plaisantes a ouyr qu'il n'est homme mortel

qui de luy se puisse eschapper. Et se chose est qu'il voye que

nullement ne vueillez parler a luy, il sera moult troublé envers vous.

Car avant que du bois soyez parti vous fera pleuvoir, ventrer,

gresiller, et faire si tres-mervueilleux orages, tonnerres, et

esclairs, que advis vous sera que le monde doive finir. Puis vous sera

advis que par devant vous verrez une grande riviere courante, noire et

parfonde a grand merveilles; mais sachez, sire, que bien y pourrez

aller sans mouiller les pieds de vostre cheval, car ce n'est que

fantosme et enchantemens que le nain vous fera pour vous cuider avoir

avec lui, et se chose est que bien tenez propos en vous de non parler

a luy, bien pourrez eschapper, etc.

[71] Le Nain Fee s'en vint chevauchant par le bois, et estoit vestu

d'une robbe si tres-belle et riche, que merveilles sera ce racompter

pour la grand et merveilleuse richesse que dessus estoit, car tant y

avoit de pierres precieuses, que la grand clarté qu'elles jettoient

estoit pareille au soleil quant il luit bien clair. Et avec ce portoit

un moult bel arc en son poing, tant riche que on ne le sauroit estimer

tant estoit beau. Et la fleche qu'il portoit est it de telle sorte et

maniere, qu'il n'estoit beste au monde qu'il vousist souhaiter qu'a

ieelle fleche elle ne s'arrestast. Il avoit a son cou un riche cor,

lequel estoit pendu a deux riches attaches de fin or.

[72] This sort of transformation appears to have been a usual mode of

punishing in a Fairy land. It may have come from Circe, but the

Thousand and One Nights is full of such transformations. For _luyton_

or _lutin_, see below, _France_.

[73] We are only acquainted with this romance through Mr. Dunlop's

analysis.

FAIRY LAND.

There, renewed the vital spring,

Again he reigns a mighty king

And many a fair and fragrant clime,

Blooming in immortal prime,

By gales of Eden ever fanned,

Owns the monarch's high command.

T. WARTON.

Among all nations the mixture of joy and pain, of exquisite delight

and intense misery in the present state, has led the imagination to

the conception of regions of unmixed bliss destined for the repose of

the good after the toils of this life, and of climes where happiness

prevails, the abode of beings superior to man. The imagination of the

Hindoo paints his Swergas as 'profuse of bliss,' and all the joys of

sense are collected into the Paradise of the Mussulman. The Persian

lavished the riches of his fancy in raising the Cities of Jewels and

of Amber that adorn the realms of Jinnestân; the romancer erected

castles and palaces filled with knights and ladies in Avalon and in

the land of Faerie; while the Hellenic bards, unused to pomp and

glare, filled the Elysian Fields and the Island of the Blest with

tepid gales and brilliant flowers. We shall quote without apology two

beautiful passages from Homer and Pindar, that our readers may at one

view satisfy themselves of the essential difference between classic

and romantic imagination.

In Homer, Proteus tells Menelaus that, because he had had the honour

of being the son-in-law of Zeus, he should not die in "horse-feeding

Argos."

But thee the ever-living gods will send

Unto the Elysian plain and distant bounds

Of Earth, where dwelleth fair-hair'd Rhadamanthus.

There life is easiest unto men; no snow,

Or wintry storm, or rain, at any time,

Is there; but evermore the Ocean sends

Soft-breathing airs of Zephyr to refresh

The habitants.--_Od._ iv. 563.

This passage is finely imitated by Pindar, and connected with that

noble tone of pensive morality, so akin to the Oriental spirit, and by

which the 'Dircæan Swan' is distinguished from all his fellows.

They speed their way

To Kronos' palace, where around

The Island of the Blest, the airs

Of Ocean breathe, and golden flowers

Blaze; some on land

From shining trees, and other kinds

The water feeds. Of these

Garlands and bracelets round their arms they bind,

Beneath the righteous sway

Of Rhadamanthus.--_Ol._ ii. 126.

Lucretius has transferred these fortunate fields to the superior

regions, to form the abode of his _fainéans_, gods; and Virgil has

placed them, with additional poetic splendour, in the bosom of the

earth.

Widely different from these calm and peaceful abodes of parted warriors

are the Faeries of the minstrels and romancers. In their eyes, and in

those of their auditors, nothing was beautiful or good divested of the

pomp and pride of chivalry; and chivalry has, accordingly, entered

deeply into the composition of their pictures of these ideal realms.

The Feeries of romance may be divided into three kinds: Avalon, placed

in the ocean, like the Island of the Blest; those that, like the palace

of Pari Banou, are within the earth; and, lastly, those that, like

Oberon's domains, are situate 'in wilderness among the holtis hairy.'

Of the castle and isle of Avalon,[74] the abode of Arthur and Oberon,

and Morgue la faye, the fullest description is to be seen in the

romance of Ogier le Danois, from which, as we know no sure quarter but

the work itself to refer to for the part connected with the present

subject, we will make some extracts.[75]

At the birth of Ogier several Fairies attended, who bestowed on him

various gifts. Among them was Morgue la Faye, who gave him that he

should be her lover and friend. Accordingly, when Ogier had long

distinguished himself in love and war, and had attained his hundredth

year, the affectionate Morgue thought it was time to withdraw him from

the toils and dangers of mortal life, and transport him to the joys

and the repose of the castle of Avalon. In pursuance of this design,

Ogier and king Caraheu are attacked by a storm on their return from

Jerusalem, and their vessels separated. The bark on which Ogier was

"floated along the sea till it came near the castle of loadstone,

which is called the castle of Avalon, which is not far on this side of

the terrestrial paradise, whither were rapt in a flame of fire Enock

and Helias; and where was Morgue la Faye, who at his birth had endowed

him with great gifts, noble and virtuous."[76]

The vessel is wrecked against the rock; the provisions are divided

among the crew, and it is agreed that every man, as his stock failed,

should be thrown into the sea. Ogier's stock holds out longest, and he

remains alone. He is nearly reduced to despair, when a voice from

heaven cries to him: "God commandeth thee that, as soon as it is

night, thou go unto a castle that thou wilt see shining, and pass from

bark to bark till thou be in an isle which thou wilt find. And when

thou wilt be in that isle thou wilt find a little path, and of what

thou mayest see within be not dismayed at anything. And then Ogier

looked, but he saw nothing."[77]

When night came, Ogier recommended himself to God, and seeing the

castle of loadstone all resplendent with light, he went from one to

the other of the vessels that were wrecked there, and so got into the

island where it was. On arriving at the gate he found it guarded by

two fierce lions. He slew them and entered; and making his way into a

hall, found a horse sitting at a table richly supplied. The courteous

animal treats him with the utmost respect, and the starving hero makes

a hearty supper. The horse then prevails on him to get on his back,

and carries him into a splendid chamber, where Ogier sleeps that

night. The name of this horse is Papillon, "who was a Luiton, and had

been a great prince, but king Arthur conquered him, so he was

condemned to be three hundred years a horse without speaking one

single word, but after the three hundred years he was to have the

crown of joy which they wore in Faerie."[78]

Next morning he cannot find Papillon, but on opening a door he meets a

huge serpent, whom he also slays, and follows a little path which

leads him into an orchard "tant bel et tant plaisant, que cestoit ung

petit paradis a veoir." He plucks an apple from one of the trees and

eats it, but is immediately afflicted by such violent sickness as to

be put in fear of speedy death. He prepares himself for his fate,

regretting "le bon pays de France, le roi Charlemaigne ... et

principallement la bonne royne dangleterre, sa bonne espouse et vraie

amie, ma dame Clarice, qui tant estoit belle et noble." While in this

dolorous state, happening to turn to the east, he perceived "une moult

belle dame, toute vestue de blanc, si bien et si richement aornee que

cestoit ung grant triumphe que de la veoir."

Ogier, thinking it is the Virgin Mary, commences an Ave; but the lady

tells him she is Morgue la Faye, who at his birth had kissed him, and

retained him for her loyal amoureux, though forgotten by him. She

places then on his finger a ring, which removes all infirmity, and

Ogier, a hundred years old, returns to the vigour and beauty of

thirty. She now leads him to the castle of Avalon, where were her

brother king Arthur, and Auberon, and Mallonbron, "ung luiton de mer."

"And when Morgue drew near to the said castle of Avalon, the Fays came

to meet Ogier, singing the most melodiously that ever could be heard, so

he entered into the hall to solace himself completely. There he saw

several Fay ladies adorned and all crowned with crowns most sumptuously

made, and very rich, and evermore they sung, danced, and led a right

joyous life, without thinking of any evil thing whatever, but of taking

their mundane pleasures."[79] Morgue here introduces the knight to

Arthur, and she places on his head a crown rich and splendid beyond

estimation, but which has the Lethean quality, that whoso wears it,

Forthwith his former state and being forgets,

Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain;

for Ogier instantly forgot country and friends. He had no thought

whatever "ni de la dame Clarice, qui tant estoit belle et noble," nor

of Guyon his brother, nor of his nephew Gauthier, "ne de creature

vivante." His days now rolled on in never-ceasing pleasure. "Such

joyous pastime did the Fay ladies make for him, that there is no

creature in this world who could imagine or think it, for to hear them

sing so sweetly it seemed to him actually that he was in Paradise; so

the time passed from day to day, from week to week, in such sort that

a year did not last a month to him."[80]

But Avalon was still on earth, and therefore its bliss was not

unmixed. One day Arthur took Ogier aside, and informed him that

Capalus, king of the Luitons, incessantly attacked the castle of

Faerie with design to eject king Arthur from its dominion, and was

accustomed to penetrate to the basse court, calling on Arthur to come

out and engage him. Ogier asked permission to encounter this

formidable personage, which Arthur willingly granted. No sooner,

however, did Capalus see Ogier than he surrendered to him; and the

knight had the satisfaction of leading him into the castle, and

reconciling him to its inhabitants.

Two hundred years passed away in these delights, and seemed to Ogier

but twenty: Charlemagne and all his lineage had failed, and even the

race of Ogier was extinct, when the Paynims invaded France and Italy

in vast numbers; and Morgue no longer thought herself justified in

withholding Ogier from the defence of the faith. Accordingly, she one

day took the Lethean crown from off his head: immediately all his old

ideas rushed on his mind, and inflamed him with an ardent desire to

revisit his country. The Fairy gave him a brand which was to be

preserved from burning, for so long as it was unconsumed, so long

should his life extend. She adds to her gift the horse Papillon and

his comrade Benoist. "And when they were both mounted, all the ladies

of the castle came to take leave of Ogier, by the command of king

Arthur and of Morgue la Faye, and they sounded an aubade of

instruments, the most melodious thing to hear that ever was listened

to; then, when the aubade was finished, they sung with the voice so

melodiously, that it was a thing so melodious that it seemed actually

to Ogier that he was in Paradise. Again, when that was over, they sung

with the instruments in such sweet concordance that it seemed rather

to be a thing divine than mortal."[81] The knight then took leave of

all, and a cloud, enveloping him and his companion, raised them, and

set them down by a fair fountain near Montpellier. Ogier displays his

ancient prowess, routs the infidels, and on the death of the king is

on the point of espousing the queen, when Morgue appears and takes him

back to Avalon. Since then Ogier has never reappeared in this world.

Nowhere is a Faerie of the second kind so fully and circumstantially

described as in the beautiful romance of Orfeo and Heurodis. There are,

indeed, copious extracts from this poem in Sir Walter Scott's Essay on

the Fairies of Popular Superstition; and we have no excuse to offer for

repeating what is to be found in a work so universally diffused as the

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, but that it is of absolute necessity

for our purpose, and that romantic poetry is rarely unwelcome.

Orfeo and Heurodis were king and queen of Winchester. The queen

happening one day to sleep under an ymp[82] tree in the palace

orchard, surrounded by her attendants, had a dream, which she thus

relates to the king:

As I lay this undertide (_afternoon_)

To sleep under the orchard-side,

There came to me two faire knightes

Well arrayed allè rightes,

And bade me come without lettíng

To speakè with their lord the king;

And I answér'd with wordès bolde

That I ne durstè ne I nolde:

Fast again they can (_did_) drive,

Then came their kingè all so blive (_quick_)

With a thousand knights and mo,

And with ladies fifty also,

And riden all on snow-white steedes,

And also whitè were their weedes.

I sey (_saw_) never sith I was borne

So fairè knightès me by forne.

The kingè had a crown on his head,

It was not silver ne gold red;

All it was of precious stone,

As bright as sun forsooth it shone.

All so soon he to me came,

Wold I, nold I he me name (_took_),

And madè me with him ride

On a white palfrey by his side,

And brought me in to his palís,

Right well ydight over all ywis.

He shewed me castels and toures,

Meadows, rivers, fields and flowres,

And his forests everiche one,

And sith he brought me again home.

The fairy-king orders her, under a dreadful penalty, to await him next

morning under the ymp tree. Her husband and ten hundred knights stand

in arms round the tree to protect her,

And yet amiddès them full right

The queenè was away y-twight (_snatched_);

With Faëry forth y-nome (_taken_);

Men wist never where she was become.

Orfeo in despair abandons his throne, and retires to the wilderness,

where he solaces himself with his harp, charming with his melody the

wild beasts, the inhabitants of the spot. Often while here,

He mightè see him besides

Oft in hot undertides

The king of Faëry with his rout

Come to hunt him all about,

With dim cry and blowíng,

And houndes also with him barkíng.

Ac (_yet_) no beastè they no nome,

Ne never he nist whither they be come;

And other while he might them see

As a great hostè by him te.[83]

Well atourned ten hundred knightes

Each well y-armed to his rightes,

Of countenancè stout and fierce,

With many displayéd bannérs,

And each his sword y-drawè hold;

Ac never he nistè whither they wold.

And otherwhile he seigh (_saw_) other thing,

Knightès and levedis (_ladies_) come dauncíng

In quaint attirè guisëly,

Quiet pace and softëly.

Tabours and trumpès gede (_went_) him by,

And allè manere minstracy.

And on a day he seigh him beside

Sixty levedis on horse ride,

Gentil and jolif as brid on ris (_bird on branch_),

Nought o (_one_) man amonges hem ther nis,

And each a faucoun on hond bare,

And riden on hauken by o rivér.

Of game they found well good haunt,

Mallardes, heron, and cormeraunt.

The fowlès of the water ariseth,

Each faucoun them well deviseth,

Each faucoun his preyè slough[84] (_slew_).

Among the ladies he recognises his lost queen, and he determines to

follow them, and attempt her rescue.

In at a roche (_rock_) the levedis rideth,

And he after and nought abideth.

When he was in the roche y-go

Well three milès other (_or_) mo,

He came into a fair countráy

As bright soonne summers day,

Smooth and plain and allè grene,

Hill ne dale nas none y-seen.

Amiddle the lond a castel he seigh,

Rich and real and wonder high.

Allè the utmostè wall

Was clear and shinè of cristal.

An hundred towers there were about,

Deguiselich and batailed stout.

The buttras come out of the ditch,

Of redè gold y-arched rich.

The bousour was anowed all

Of each manere diverse animal.

Within there werè widè wones

All of precious stones.

The worstè pillar to behold

Was all of burnished gold.

All that lond was ever light,

For when it should be therk (_dark_) and night,

The richè stonès lightè gonne (_yield_[85])

Bright as doth at nonne the sonne,

No man may tell ne think in thought

The richè work that there was wrought.

Orfeo makes his way into this palace, and so charms the king with his

minstrelsy, that he gives him back his wife. They return to

Winchester, and there reign, in peace and happiness.

Another instance of this kind of Feerie may be seen in Thomas the

Rymer, but, restricted by our limits, we must omit it, and pass to the

last kind.

Sir Thopas was written to ridicule the romancers; its incidents must

therefore accord with theirs, and the Feerie in it in fact resembles

those in Huon de Bordeaux. It has the farther merit of having

suggested incidents to Spenser, and perhaps of having given the idea

of a queen regnante of Fairy Land. Sir Thopas is chaste as Graelent.

Full many a maidè bright in bour

They mourned for him _par amour_;

When hem were bete to slepe;

But he was chaste and no lechour,

And sweet as is the bramble flour

That bereth the red hepe.

He was therefore a suitable object for the love of a gentle elf-queen.

So Sir Thopas one day "pricketh through a faire forest" till he is

weary, and he then lies down to sleep on the grass, where he dreams of

an elf-queen, and awakes, declaring

An elf-queen wol I love, ywis.

All other women I forsake,

And to an elf-queen I me take

By dale and eke by down.

He determines to set out in quest of her.

Into his sadel he clombe anon,

And pricked over style and stone,

An elf-quene for to espie;

Till he so long had ridden and gone,

That he found in a privee wone

The countree of Faerie,[86]

Wherein he soughtè north and south,

And oft he spied with his mouth

In many a forest wilde;

For in that countree n'as there none

That to him dorst ride or gon,

Neither wif ne childe.

The "gret giaunt" Sire Oliphaunt, however, informs him that

Here is the quene of Faërie,

With harpe and pipe and simphonie,

Dwelling in this place.

Owing to the fastidiousness of "mine hoste," we are unable to learn

how Sir Thopas fared with the elf-queen, and we have probably lost a

copious description of Fairy Land.

From the glimmering of the morning star of English poetry, the

transition is natural to its meridian splendour, the reign of

Elizabeth, and we will now make a few remarks on the poem of Spenser.

FOOTNOTES:

[74] Avalon was perhaps the Island of the Blest, of Celtic mythology,

and then the abode of the Fees, through the Breton Korrigan. Writers,

however, seem to be unanimous in regarding it and Glastonbury as the

same place, called an isle, it is stated, as being made nearly such by

the "river's embracement." It was named Avalon, we are told, from the

British word _Aval_, an apple, as it abounded with orchards; and _Ynys

gwydrin_; Saxon [Old English: Glastn-ey], glassy isle; Latin,

Glastonia, from the green hue of the water surrounding it.

[75] See Tales and Popular Fictions, ch. ix., for a further account of

Ogier.

[76] Tant nagea en mer qu'il arriva pres du chastel daymant quon nomme

le chasteau davallon, qui nest gueres deca paradis terrestre la ou

furent ravis en une raye de feu Enoc et Helye, et la ou estoit Morgue

la faye, qui a sa naissance lui avoit donne de grands dons, nobles et

vertueux.

[77] Dieu te mande que si tost que sera nuit que tu ailles en ung

chasteau que tu verras luire, et passe de bateau en bateau tant que tu

soies en une isle que tu trouveras. Et quand tu seras en lisle tu

trouveras une petite sente, et de chose que tu voies leans ne tesbahis

de rien. Et adone Ogier regarda mais il ne vit rien.

[78] Lequel estoit luiton, et avoit este ung grant prince; mais le roi

Artus le conquist, si fust condampne a estre trois cens ans cheval

sans parler ung tou seul mot; mais apres les trois cens ans, il devoit

avoir la couronue de joye de laquelle ils usuient en faerie.

[79] Et quand Morgue approcha du dit chasteau, les Faes vindrent au

devant dogier, chantant le plus melodieusement quon scauroit jamais

ouir, si entra dedans la salle pour se deduire totallement. Adonc vist

plusieurs dames Faees aournees et toutes courronnees de couronnes

tressomptueusement faictes, et moult riches, et tout jour chantoient,

dansoient, et menoient vie tresjoyeuse, sans penser a nulle quelconque

meschante chose, fors prandre leurs mondains plaisirs.

[80] Tant de joyeulx passetemps lui faisoient les dames Faees, quil

nest creature en ce monde quil le sceust imaginer ne penser, car les

ouir si doulcement chanter il lui sembloit proprement quil fut en

Paradis, si passoit temps de jour en jour, de sepmaine en sepmaine,

tellement que ung an ne lui duroit pas ung mois.

[81] Et quand ils furent tous deux montes, toutes les dames du chasteau

vindrent a la departie dogier, par le commandement du roi Artus et de

Morgue la fae, et sonnerent une aubade dinstrumens, la plus melodieuse

chose a ouir que on entendit jamais; puis, l'aubade achevee, chanterent

de gorge si melodieusement que cestoit une chose si melodieuse que il

sembloit proprement a Ogier quil estoit en Paradis. De rechief, cela

fini, ils chanterent avecques les instrumens par si doulce concordance

quil sembloit mieulx chose divine que humaine.

[82] Imp tree is a grafted tree. Sir W. Scott queries if it be not a

tree consecrated to the imps or fiends. Had imp that sense so early? A

grafted tree had perhaps the same relation to the Fairies that the

linden in Germany and the North had to the dwarfs.

[83] _Te_ or _tew_ (Drayton, Poly-Olb. xxv.) is to draw, to march;

from A.S. [Old English: teógan, tugan, teón] (Germ. _ziehen_), whence

_tug_, _team_.

[84] Beattie probably knew nothing of Orfeo and Heurodis, and the

Fairy Vision in the Minstrel (a dream that would never have occurred

to any minstrel) was derived from the Flower and the Leaf, Dryden's,

not Chaucer's, for the personages in the latter are not called

Fairies. In neither are they Elves.

[85] _Gönnen_, Germ.

[86] The "countrie of Faerie," situated in a "privee wone," plainly

accords rather with the Feeries of Huon de Bordeaux than with Avalon,

or the region into which Dame Heurodis was taken.

SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEENE.

A braver lady never tript on land,

Except the ever-living Faerie Queene,

Whose virtues by her swain so written been

That time shall call her high enhanced story,

In his rare song, the Muse's chiefest glory.

BROWN.

During the sixteenth century the study of classical literature, which

opened a new field to imagination, and gave it a new impulse, was

eagerly and vigorously pursued. A classic ardour was widely and

extensively diffused. The compositions of that age incessantly imitate

and allude to the beauties and incidents of the writings of ancient

Greece and Rome.

Yet amid this diffusion of classic taste and knowledge, romance had by

no means lost its influence. The black-letter pages of Lancelot du

Lac, Perceforest, Mort d'Arthur, and the other romances of chivalry,

were still listened to with solemn attention, when on winter-evenings

the family of the good old knight or baron 'crowded round the ample

fire,' to hear them made vocal, and probably no small degree of

credence was given to the wonders they recorded. The passion for

allegory, too, remained unabated. Fine moral webs were woven from the

fragile threads of the Innamorato and the Furioso; and even Tasso was

obliged, in compliance with the reigning taste, to extract an allegory

from his divine poem; which Fairfax, when translating the Jerusalem,

was careful to preserve. Spenser, therefore, when desirous of

consecrating his genius to the celebration of the glories of the

maiden reign, and the valiant warriors and grave statesmen who adorned

it, had his materials ready prepared. Fairy-land, as described by the

romancers, gave him a scene; the knights and dames with whom it was

peopled, actors; and its court, its manners, and usages, a facility of

transferring thither whatever real events might suit his design.

It is not easy to say positively to what romance the poet was chiefly

indebted for his Faery-land. We might, perhaps, venture to conjecture

that his principal authority was Huon de Bordeaux, which had been

translated some time before by Lord Berners, and from which it is most

likely that Shakespeare took his Oberon, who was thus removed from the

realms of romance, and brought back among his real kindred, the dwarfs

or elves. Spenser, it is evident, was acquainted with this romance,

for he says of Sir Guyon,

He was an elfin born of noble state

And mickle worship in his native land;

Well could he tourney and in lists debate,

And knighthood took of good _Sir Huon's_ hand,

When with King Oberon he came to Fairy-land.

B. ii. c. 1. st. vi.

And here, if such a thing were to be heeded, the poet commits an

anachronism in making Sir Huon, who slew the son of Charlemagne, a

contemporary of Arthur.

Where "this delightful land of Faery" lies, it were as idle to seek as

for Oberon's realm of Mommur, the island of Calypso, or the kingdom of

Lilliput. Though it shadow forth England, it is distinct from it; for

Cleopolis excels Troynovant in greatness and splendour, and Elfin, the

first Fairy king, ruled over India and America. To the curious the

poet says,

Of Faery-lond yet if he more inquire,

By certain signes here sett in sondrie place,

He may it fynd, ne let him then admyre,

But yield his sence to be too blunt and bace,

That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.

The idea of making a queen sole regnante of Fairy-land was the necessary

result of the plan of making "the fayrest princesse under sky" view her

"owne realmes in lond of faery." Yet there may have been sage authority

for this settlement of the fairy throne. Some old romancers may have

spoken only of a queen; and the gallant Sir Thopas does not seem to

apprehend that he is in pursuit of the wedded wife of another. This

doughty champion's dream was evidently the original of Arthur's.

Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight

From loftie steede, and downe to sleepe me layd;

The verdant grass my couch did goodly dight,

And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd;

Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,

Me seemed by my side a royall mayd

Her dainty limbes full softly down did lay,

So faire a creature yet saw never sunny day.

Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment

She to me made, and badd me love her deare,

For dearly, sure, her love was to me bent,

As, when iust time expired, should appeare:

But whether dreames delude, or true it were,

Was never hart so ravisht with delight,

Ne living man such wordes did never heare

As she to me delivered all that night,

And at her parting said, she queen of Faries hight.

* * * * *

From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd

To seek her out with labor and long tyne,

And never vow to rest till her I fynd--

Nyne months I seek in vain, yet n'ill that vow unbynd,

B. i. c. 9. st. xiii., xiv., xv.

The names given by Spenser to these beings are Fays (_Feés_), Farys or

Fairies, Elfes and Elfins, of which last words the former had been

already employed by Chaucer, and in one passage it is difficult to say

what class of beings is intended. Spenser's account of the origin of his

Fairies is evidently mere invention, as nothing in the least resembling

it is to be found in any preceding writer. It bears, indeed, some slight

and distant analogy to that of the origin of the inhabitants of

Jinnestân, as narrated by the Orientals. According to the usual practice

of Spenser, it is mixed up with the fables of antiquity.

Prometheus did create

A man of many parts from beasts deryved;

That man so made he called Elfe, to weet,

Quick,[87] the first author of all Elfin kynd,

Who, wandring through the world with wearie feet,

Did in the gardins of Adonis fynd

A goodly creature, whom he deemed in mynd

To be no earthly wight, but either spright

Or angell, the authour of all woman-kynd;

Therefore a Fay he her according hight,

Of whom all Faryes spring, and fetch their lignage right.

Of these a mighty people shortly grew,

And puissant kings, which all the world warrayd,

And to themselves all nations did subdue.

B. ii. c. 9. st. lxx., lxxi., lxxii.

Sir Walter Scott remarks with justice (though his memory played him

somewhat false on the occasion), that "the stealing of the Red Cross

Knight while a child, is the only incident in the poem which

approaches to the popular character of the Fairy." It is not exactly

the _only_ incident; but the only other, that of Arthegal, is a

precisely parallel one:--

He wonneth in the land of Fayëree,

Yet is no Fary born, ne sib at all

To Elfes, but sprung of seed terrestriall,

And whyleome by false Faries stolne away,

Whyles yet in infant cradle he did crall:

Ne other to himself is knowne this day,

But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay.

B. iii. c. 3. st. xxvi.

Sir Walter has been duly animadverted on for this dangerous error by

the erudite Mr. Todd. It would be as little becoming as politic in us,

treading, as we do, on ground where error ever hovers around us, to

make any remark. Freedom from misconception and mistake,

unfortunately, forms no privilege of our nature.

We must here observe, that Spenser was extremely injudicious in his

selection of the circumstances by which he endeavoured to confound the

two classes of Fairies. It was quite incongruous to style the progeny

of the subjects of Gloriane a "base elfin brood," or themselves "false

Fairies," especially when we recollect that such a being as Belphœbe

whose

whole creation did her show

Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime,

That is ingenerate in fleshly slime,

was born of a Fairie.

Our poet seems to have forgotten himself also in the Legend of Sir

Calidore; for though the knight is a Faerie himself, and though such

we are to suppose were all the native inhabitants of Faerie-land, yet

to the "gentle flood" that tumbled down from Mount Acidale,

ne mote the ruder clown

Thereto approach ne filth mote therein drown;

But Nymphs and Faeries on the banks did sit

In the woods shade which did the waters crown.

B. vi. c. 10. st. vii.

And a little farther, when Calidore gazes on the "hundred naked

maidens lily white," that danced around the Graces, he wist not

Whether it were the train of beauty's queen,

Or Nymphs or Faeries, or enchanted show,

With which his eyes mote have deluded been.--St. xvii.

The popular Elves, who dance their circlets on the green, were

evidently here in Spenser's mind.[88]

It is now, we think, if not certain, at least highly probable, that

the Fairy-land and the Fairies of Spenser are those of romance, to

which the term Fairy properly belongs, and that it is without just

reason that the title of his poem has been styled a _misnomer_.[89]

After the appearance of his Faerie Queene, all distinction between the

different species was rapidly lost, and Fairies became the established

name of the popular Elves.

Here, then, we will take our leave of the potent ladies of romance,

and join the Elves of the popular creed, tracing their descent from

the Duergar of northern mythology, till we meet them enlivening the

cottage fireside with the tales of their pranks and gambols.

FOOTNOTES:

[87] That is, _elfe_ is _alive_.

[88] These Fairies thus coupled with Nymphs remind us of the Fairies

of the old translators. Spenser, in the Shepherd's Calendar, however,

had united them before, as

Nor elvish ghosts nor ghastly owls do flee,

But friendly _Faeries_ met with many Graces,

And light-foot _Nymphs_.--Æg. 6.

[89] "Spenser's _Fairy Queen_, which is one of the grossest misnomers in

romance or history, bears no features of the Fairy nation."--Gifford,

note on B. Jonson, vol. ii. p. 202.

EDDAS AND SAGAS.

En sång om strålende Valhalla,

Om Gudar och Gudinnar alla.

TEGNER.

A song of Vallhall's bright abodes,

Of all the goddesses and gods.

The ancient religion of Scandinavia, and probably of the whole

Gotho-German race, consisted, like all other systems devised by man,

in personifications of the various powers of nature and faculties of

mind. Of this system in its fulness and perfection we possess no

record. It is only from the poems of the elder or poetic Edda,[90]

from the narratives of the later or prose Edda and the various Sagas

or histories written in the Icelandic language,[91] that we can obtain

any knowledge of it.

The poetic or Sæmund's Edda was, as is generally believed, collected

about the end of the eleventh or beginning of the twelfth century by an

Icelander named Sæmund, and styled Hinns Fròda, or The Wise. It consists

of a number of mythological and historical songs, the production of the

ancient Scalds or poets, all, or the greater part, composed before the

introduction of Christianity into the north. The measure of these

venerable songs is alliterative rime, and they present not unfrequently

poetic beauties of a high and striking character.[92]

The prose Edda is supposed to have been compiled in the thirteenth

century by Snorro Sturleson, the celebrated historian of Norway. It is

a history of the gods and their actions formed from the songs of the

poetic Edda, and from other ancient poems, several stanzas of which

are incorporated in it. Beside the preface and conclusion, it consists

of two principal parts, the first consisting of the Gylfa-ginning

(_Gylfa's Deception_), or Hárs Lygi (_Hár's_ i. e. _Odin's Fiction_),

and the Braga-rædur (_Braga's Narrative_), each of which is divided

into several Dæmi-sagas or Illustrative Stories; and the second named

the Kenningar or list of poetic names and periphrases.[93]

The Gylfa-ginning narrates that Gylfa king of Sweden, struck with the

wisdom and power of the Æser,[94] as Odin and his followers were

called, journeyed in the likeness of an old man, and under the assumed

name of Ganglar, to Asgard their chief residence, to inquire into and

fathom their wisdom. Aware of his design, the Æser by their magic art

caused to arise before him a lofty and splendid palace, roofed with

golden shields. At the gate he found a man who was throwing up and

catching swords, seven of which were in the air at one time. This man

inquires the name of the stranger, whom he leads into the palace,

where Ganglar sees a number of persons drinking and playing, and three

thrones, each set higher than the other. On the thrones sat Har

(_High_), Jafnhar (_Equal-high_), and Thridi (_Third_). Ganglar asks

if there is any one there wise and learned. Har replies that he will

not depart in safety if he knows more than they.[95] Ganglar then

commences his interrogations, which embrace a variety of recondite

subjects, and extend from the creation to the end of all things. To

each he receives a satisfactory reply. At the last reply Ganglar hears

a loud rush and noise: the magic illusion suddenly vanishes, and he

finds himself alone on an extensive plain.

The Braga-rædur is the discourse of Braga to Ægir, the god of the sea,

at the banquet of the Immortals. This part contains many tales of gods

and heroes old, whose adventures had been sung by Skalds, of high

renown and lofty genius.

Though both the Eddas were compiled by Christians, there appears to be

very little reason for suspecting the compilers of having falsified or

interpolated the mythology of their forefathers. Sæmund's Edda may be

regarded as an Anthology of ancient Scandinavian poetry; and the

author of the prose Edda (who it is plain did not always understand

the true meaning of the tales he related) wrote it as a northern

Pantheon and Gradus ad Parnassum, to supply poets with incidents,

ornaments, and epithets. Fortunately they did so, or impenetrable

darkness had involved the ancient religion of the Gothic stock!

Beside the Eddas, much information is to be derived from the various

Sagas or northern histories. These Sagas, at times transmitting true

historical events, at other times containing the wildest fictions of

romance, preserve much valuable mythic lore, and the Ynglinga,

Volsunga, Hervarar, and other Sagas, will furnish many important

traits of northern mythology.

It is not intended here to attempt sounding the depths of Eddaic

mythology, a subject so obscure, and concerning which so many and

various opinions occur in the works of those who have occupied

themselves with it. Suffice it to observe that it goes back to the

most remote ages, and that two essential parts of it are the Alfar

(_Alfs_ or _Elves_) and the Duergar (_Dwarfs_), two classes of beings

whose names continue to the present day in all the languages of the

nations descended from the Gotho-German race.

"Our heathen forefathers," says Thorlacius,[96] "believed, like the

Pythagoreans, and the farther back in antiquity the more firmly, that

the whole world was filled with spirits of various kinds, to whom they

ascribed in general the same nature and properties as the Greeks did

to their Dæmons. These were divided into the Celestial and the

Terrestrial, from their places of abode. The former were, according

to the ideas of those times, of a good and elevated nature, and of a

friendly disposition toward men, whence they also received the name of

White or Light Alfs or Spirits. The latter, on the contrary, who were

classified after their abodes in air, sea, and earth, were not

regarded in so favourable a light. It was believed that they,

particularly the _land ones_, the δαιμονες επιχθονιοι of the Greeks,

constantly and on all occasions sought to torment or injure mankind,

and that they had their dwelling partly on the earth in great thick

woods, whence came the name Skovtrolde[97] (_Wood Trolls_), or in

other desert and lonely places, partly in and under the ground, or in

rocks and hills; these last were called Bjerg-Trolde (_Hill Trolls_):

to the first, on account of their different nature, was given the name

of Dverge (_Dwarfs_), and Alve, whence the word Ellefolk, which is

still in the Danish language. These Dæmons, particularly the

underground ones, were called Svartálfar, that is Black Spirits, and

inasmuch as they did mischief, Trolls."

This very nearly coincides with what is to be found in the Edda,

except that there would appear to be some foundation for a distinction

between the Dwarfs and the Dark Alfs.[98]

THE ALFAR.

Ther ro meth Alfum.

BRYNHILDAR QUIDA.

Those are with the Alfs.

In the prose Edda, Ganglar inquires what other cities beside that in

which the Nornir dwelt were by the Urdar fount, under the Ash

Yggdrasil.[99] Hár replies,

"There are many fair cities there. There is the city which is called

Alf-heim, where dwelleth the people that is called Liosálfar (_Light

Alfs_). But the Döckálfar (_Dark Alfs_) dwell below under ground, and

are unlike them in appearance, and still more unlike in actions. The

Liosálfar are whiter than the sun in appearance, but the Döckálfar are

blacker than pitch."[100]

The Nornir, the Parcæ, or Destinies of Scandinavian mythology, are

closely connected with the Alfar.

"Many fair cities are there in Heaven," says Hár, "and the divine

protection is over all. There standeth a city under the ash near the

spring, and out of its halls came three maids, who are thus named,

Udr, Verthandi, Skulld (_Past_, _Present_, _Future_). These maids

shape the life of man. We call them Nornir. But there are many Nornir;

those who come to each child that is born, to shape its life, are of

the race of the gods; but others are of the race of the Alfs; and the

third of the race of dwarfs. As is here expressed,

Sundry children deem I

The Nornir to be--the same

Race they have not.

Some are of Æser-kin,

Some are of Alf-kin,

Some are the daughters of Dualin." (_i.e._ of the Dwarfs.)

"Then," said Ganglar, "if the Nornir direct the future destiny of men,

they shape it very unequally. Some have a good life and rich, but some

have little wealth and praise, some long life, some short." "The good

Nornir, and well descended," says Hár, "shape a good life; but as to

those who meet with misfortune, it is caused by the malignant Nornir."

These Nornir bear a remarkable resemblance to the classical Parcæ and

to the fairies of romance. They are all alike represented as assisting

at the birth of eminent personages, as bestowing gifts either good or

evil, and as foretelling the future fortune of the being that has just

entered on existence.[101] This attribute of the fairies may have been

derived from either the north or the south, but certainly these did

not borrow from each other.

Of the origin of the word Alf nothing satisfactory is to be found.

Some think it is akin to the Latin _albus_, white; others, to _alpes_,

Alps, mountains. There is also supposed to be some mysterious

connexion between it and the word Elf, or Elv, signifying water in the

northern languages; an analogy which has been thought to correspond

with that between the Latin Nympha and Lympha. Both relations,

however, are perhaps rather fanciful than just. Of the derivation of

Alf, as just observed, we know nothing certain,[102] and the original

meaning of Nympha would appear to be a new-married woman,[103] and

thence a marriageable young woman; and it was applied to the supposed

inhabitants of the mountains, seas, and streams, on the same principle

that the northern nations gave them the appellation of men and women,

that is, from their imagined resemblance to the human form.

Whatever its origin, the word Alf has continued till the present day

in all the Teutonic languages. The Danes have _Elv_, pl. _Elve_; the

Swedes, _Elf_ pl. _Elfvar_ m. _Elfvor_ f.; and the words _Elf-dans_

and _Elf-blæst_, together with _Olof_ and other proper names, are

derived from them. The Germans call the nightmare _Alp_; and in their

old poems we meet with _Elbe_ and _Elbinne_, and _Elbisch_ occurs in

them in the bad sense of _elvish_ of Chaucer and our old romancers;

and a number of proper names, such as Alprecht, Alphart, Alpinc,

Alpwin,[104] were formed from it, undoubtedly before it got its

present ill sense.[105] In the Anglo-Saxon, [Old English: Ælf], or

[Old English: Ælfen], with its feminine and plural, frequently occurs.

The Oreas, Naias, and Hamodryas of the Greeks and Romans are rendered

in an Anglo-Saxon glossary by [Old English: Munt-ælfen], [Old English:

sǽ-ælfen], and [Old English: feld-ælfen].[106] [Old English: Ælf] is a

component part of the proper names Ælfred and Ælfric; and the author

of the poem of Judith says that his heroine was [Old English:

Ælf-seine] (_Elf-sheen_), bright or fair as an elf. But of the

character and acts of the elfs no traditions have been preserved in

Anglo-Saxon literature. In the English language, Elf, Elves, and their

derivatives are to be found in every period, from its first formation

down to this present time.

FOOTNOTES:

[90] _Edda_ signifies grandmother. Some regard it as the feminine of

_othr_, or _odr_, wisdom.

[91] This language is so called because still spoken in Iceland. Its

proper name is the Norræna Tunga (_northern tongue_). It was the

common language of the whole North.

[92] See Tales and Popular Fictions, chap. ix.

[93] It was first published by Resenius in 1665.

[94] By the Æser are understood the Asiatics, who with Odin brought

their arts and religion into Scandinavia. This derivation of the word,

however, is rather dubious. Though possibly the population and

religion of Scandinavia came originally from Asia there seems to be no

reason whatever for putting any faith in the legend of Odin. It is not

unlikely that the name of their gods, Æser, gave birth to the whole

theory. It is remarkable that the ancient Etrurians also should have

called the gods Æsar.

[95] So the lötunn or Giant Vafthrudnir to Odin in the

Vafthrudnismal.--Strophe vii.

[96] Thorlacius, Noget om Thor og hans Hammer, in the Skandinavisk

Museum for 1803.

[97] Thorlacius, _ut supra_, says the thundering Thor was regarded as

particularly inimical to the Skovtrolds, against whom he continually

employed his mighty weapon. He thinks that the _Bidental_ of the

Romans, and the rites connected with it, seem to suppose a similar

superstition, and that in the well-known passage of Horace,

Tu parum castis inimica mittes

Fulmina lucis,

the words _parum castis lucis_ may mean groves or parts of woods, the

haunt of unclean spirits or Skovtrolds, _satyri lascivi et salaces_.

The word _Trold_ will be explained below.

[98] The Dark Alfs were probably different from the Duergar, yet the

language of the prose Edda is in some places such as to lead to a

confusion of them. The following passage, however, seems to be decisive:

Náir, Dvergar

_Ok_ Döck-A'lfar.

Hrafna-Galdr Othins, xxiv. 7.

Ghosts, Dwarfs

_And_ Dark Alfs.

Yet the Scandinavian literati appear unanimous in regarding them as

the same. Grimm, however, agrees with us in viewing the Döck-Alfar as

distinct from the Duergar. As the abode of these last is named

Svartálfaheimr, he thinks that the Svartálfar and the Duergar were the

same.--Deutsche Mythologie, p. 413, _seq._ See below, _Isle of Rügen_.

[99] The ash-tree, Yggdrasil, is the symbol of the universe, the

Urdar-fount is the fount of light and heat, which invigorates and

sustains it. A good representation of this myth is given in Mr. Bohn's

edition of Mallet's "Northern Antiquities," which the reader is

recommended to consult.

[100] This Grimm (_ut sup._) regards as an error of the writer, who

confounded the _Döck_ and the _Svartálfar_.

[101] See Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 274.

[102] The analogy of Deev, and other words of like import, might lead

to the supposition of Spirit being the primary meaning of Alf.

[103] See Mythology of Greece and Italy, p. 248, second edition.

[104] After the introduction of Christianity, _Engel_, angel, was

employed for _Alp_ in most proper names, as Engelrich, Engelhart, etc.

[105] See MM. Grimm's learned Introduction to their translation of the

Irish Fairy Legends, and the Deutsche Mythologie of J. Grimm.

[106] MM. Grimm suppose with a good deal of probability, that these

are compounds formed to render the Greek ones, and are not expressive

of a belief in analogous classes of spirits.

THE DUERGAR.

By ek fur jörth nethan,

A ek, undir stein, stath.

ALVIS-MAL.

I dwell the earth beneath,

I possess, under the stone, my seat.

These diminutive beings, dwelling in rocks and hills, and

distinguished for their skill in metallurgy, seem to be peculiar to

the Gotho-German mythology.[107] Perhaps the most probable account of

them is, that they are personifications of the subterraneous powers

of nature; for it may be again observed, that all the parts of every

ancient mythology are but personified powers, attributes, and moral

qualities. The Edda thus describes their origin:--

"Then the gods sat on their seats, and held a council, and called to

mind how the Duergar had become animated in the clay below in the

earth, like maggots in flesh. The Duergar had been first created, and

had taken life in Ymir's[108] flesh, and were maggots in it, and by

the will of the gods they became partakers of human knowledge, and had

the likeness of men, and yet they abode in the ground and in stones.

Modsogner was the first of them, and then Dyrin."

The Duergar are described as being of low stature, with short legs and

long arms, reaching almost down to the ground when they stand

erect.[109] They are skilful and expert workmen in gold, silver, iron,

and the other metals. They form many wonderful and extraordinary

things for the Æser, and for mortal heroes, and the arms and armour

that come from their forges are not to be paralleled. Yet the gift

must be spontaneously bestowed, for misfortune attends those extorted

from them by violence.[110]

In illustration of their character we bring forward the following

narratives from the Edda and Sagas. The homely garb in which they are

habited, will not, it is hoped, be displeasing to readers of taste. We

give as exact a copy as we are able of the originals in all their

rudeness. The tales are old, their date unknown, and they therefore

demand respect. Yet it is difficult to suppress a smile at finding such

familiar, nay almost vulgar terms[111] applied to the great supernal

powers of nature, as occur in the following tale from the Edda.

_Loki and the Dwarf._

Loki, the son of Laufeiar, had out of mischief cut off all the hair of

Sif. When Thor found this out he seized Loki, and would have broken

every bone in his body, only that he swore to get the Suartalfar to

make for Sif hair of gold, which would grow like any other hair.

Loki then went to the Dwarfs that are called the sons of Ivallda. They

first made the hair, which as soon as it was put on the head grew like

natural hair; then the ship Skidbladni,[112] which always had the wind

with it, wherever it would sail; and, thirdly, the spear Gugner, which

always hit in battle.

Then Loki laid his head against the dwarf Brock, that his brother

Eitri could not forge three such valuable things as these were. They

went to the forge; Eitri set the swine-skin (bellows) to the fire, and

bid his brother Brock to blow, and not to quit the fire till he should

have taken out the things he had put into it.

And when he was gone out of the forge, and that Brock was blowing,

there came a fly and settled upon his hand, and bit him; but he blew

without stopping till the smith took the work out of the fire; and it

was a boar, and its bristles were of gold.

He then put gold into the fire, and bid him not to stop blowing till

he came back. He went away, and then the fly came and settled on his

neck, and bit him more severely than before; but he blew on till the

smith came back and took out of the fire the gold-ring which is called

Drupner.[113]

Then he put iron into the fire, and bid him blow, and said that if he

stopped blowing all the work would be lost. The fly now settled between

his eyes, and bit so hard that the blood ran into his eyes, so that he

could not see; so when the bellows were down he caught at the fly in all

haste, and tore off its wings; but then came the smith, and said that

all that was in the fire had nearly been spoiled. He then took out of

the fire the hammer Miölner,[114] gave all the things to his brother

Brock, and bade him go with them to Asgard and settle the wager.

Loki also produced his jewels, and they took Odin, Thor, and Frey, for

judges. Then Loki gave to Odin the spear Gugner, and to Thor the hair

that Sif was to have, and to Frey Skidbladni, and told their virtues

as they have been already related. Brock took out his jewels, and gave

to Odin the ring, and said that every ninth night there would drop

from it eight other rings as valuable as itself. To Frey he gave the

boar, and said that he would run through air and water, by night and

by day, better than any horse, and that never was there night so dark

that the way by which he went would not be light from his hide. He

gave the hammer to Thor, and said that it would never fail to hit a

Troll, and that at whatever he threw it it would never miss it; and

that he could never fling it so far that it would not of itself return

to his hand; and when he chose, it would become so small that he might

put it into his pocket. But the fault of the hammer was that its

handle was too short.

Their judgment was, that the hammer was the best, and that the Dwarf had

won the wager. Then Loki prayed hard not to lose his head, but the Dwarf

said that could not be. "Catch me then," said Loki; and when he went to

catch him he was far away, for Loki had shoes with which he could run

through air and water. Then the Dwarf prayed Thor to catch him, and Thor

did so. The Dwarf now went to cut off his head, but Loki said he was to

have the head only, and not the neck. Then the Dwarf took a knife and a

thong, and went to sew up his mouth; but the knife was bad, so the Dwarf

wished that his brother's awl were there; and as soon as he wished it it

was there, and he sewed his lips together.[115]

Northern mythologists thus explain this very ancient fable. Sif is

the earth, and the wife of Thor, the heaven or atmosphere; her hair is

the trees, bushes, and plants, that adorn the surface of the earth.

Loki is the Fire-God, that delights in mischief, _bene servit_, _male

imperat_. When by immoderate heat he has burned off the hair of Sif,

her husband compels him so by temperate heat to warm the moisture of

the earth, that its former products may spring up more beautiful than

ever. The boar is given to Freyr, to whom and his sister Freya, as the

gods of animal and vegetable fecundity, the northern people offered

that animal, as the Italian people did, to the earth. Loki's bringing

the gifts from the under-ground people seems to indicate a belief that

metals were prepared by subterranean fire, and perhaps the forging of

Thor's hammer, the mythic emblem of thunder, by a terrestrial demon,

on a subterranean anvil, may suggest that the natural cause of thunder

is to be sought in the earth.

_Thorston and the Dwarf._

When spring came, Thorston made ready his ship, and put twenty-four

men on board of her. When they came to Vinland, they ran her into a

harbour, and every day he went on shore to amuse himself.

He came one day to an open part of the wood, where he saw a great

rock, and out a little way from it a Dwarf, who was horridly ugly, and

was looking up over his head with his mouth wide open; and it appeared

to Thorston that it ran from ear to ear, and that the lower jaw came

down to his knees. Thorston asked him, why he was acting so foolishly.

"Do not be surprised, my good lad," replied the Dwarf; "do you not see

that great dragon that is flying up there? He has taken off my son,

and I believe that it is Odin himself that has sent the monster to do

it. But I shall burst and die if I lose my son." Then Thorston shot at

the dragon, and hit him under one of the wings, so that he fell dead

to the earth; but Thorston caught the Dwarf's child in the air, and

brought him to his father.

The Dwarf was exceeding glad, and was more rejoiced than any one could

tell; and he said, "A great benefit have I to reward you for, who are

the deliverer of my son; and now choose your recompense in gold and

silver." "Cure your son," said Thorston, "but I am not used to take

rewards for my services." "It were not becoming," said the Dwarf, "if

I did not reward you; and let not my shirt of sheeps'-wool, which I

will give you, appear a contemptible gift, for you will never be tired

when swimming, or get a wound, if you wear it next your skin."

Thorston took the shirt and put it on, and it fitted him well, though it

had appeared too short for the Dwarf. The Dwarf now took a gold ring out

of his purse and gave it to Thorston, and bid him to take good care of

it, telling him that he never should want for money while he kept that

ring. He next took a black stone and gave it to Thorston, and said, "If

you hide this stone in the palm of your hand no one will see you. I have

not many more things to offer you, or that would be of any value to you;

I will, however, give you a fire-stone for your amusement."

He then took the stone out of his purse, and with a steel point. The

stone was triangular, white on one side and red on the other, and a

yellow border ran round it. The Dwarf then said, "If you prick the

stone with the point in the white side, there will come on such a

hail-storm that no one will be able to look at it; but if you want to

stop this shower, you have only to prick on the yellow part, and there

will come so much sunshine that the whole will melt away. But if you

should like to prick the red side, then there will come out of it such

fire, with sparks and crackling, that no one will be able to look at

it. You may also get whatever you will by means of this point and

stone, and they will come of themselves back to your hand when you

call them. I can now give you no more such gifts."

Thorston then thanked the Dwarf for his presents, and returned to his

men, and it was better for him to have made this voyage than to have

stayed at home.[116]

_The Dwarf-Sword Tirfing._

Suaforlami, the second in descent from Odin, was king over Gardarike

(Russia). One day he rode a-hunting, and sought long after a hart, but

could not find one the whole day. When the sun was setting he found

himself immersed so deep in the forest that he knew not where he was.

There lay a hill on his right hand, and before it he saw two Dwarfs;

he drew his sword against them, and cut off their retreat by getting

between them and the rock. They proffered him ransom for their lives,

and he asked them then their names, and one of them was called Dyren,

and the other Dualin. He knew then that they were the most ingenious

and expert of all the Dwarfs, and he therefore imposed on them that

they should forge him a sword, the best that they could form; its hilt

should be of gold, and its belt of the same metal. He moreover

enjoined, that the sword should never miss a blow, and should never

rust; and should cut through iron and stone, as through a garment; and

should be always victorious in war and in single combat for him who

bare it. These were the conditions on which he gave them their lives.

On the appointed day he returned, and the Dwarfs came forth and

delivered him the sword; and when Dualin stood in the door he said,

"This sword shall be the bane of a man every time it is drawn; and

with it shall be done three of the greatest atrocities. It shall also

be thy bane." Then Suaforlami struck at the Dwarf so, that the blade

of the sword penetrated into the solid rock. Thus Suaforlami became

possessed of this sword, and he called it Tirfing, and he bare it in

war and in single combat, and he slew with it the Giant Thiasse, and

took his daughter Fridur.

Suaforlami was shortly after slain by the Berserker[117] Andgrim, who

then became master of the sword. When the twelve sons of Andgrim were

to fight with Hialmar and Oddur for Ingaborg, the beautiful daughter

of King Inges, Angantyr bore the dangerous Tirfing; but all the

brethren were slain in the combat, and were buried with their arms.

Angantyr left an only daughter, Hervor, who, when she grew up, dressed

herself in man's attire, and took the name of Hervardar, and joined a

party of Vikinger, or Pirates. Knowing that Tirfing lay buried with

her father, she determined to awaken the dead, and obtain the charmed

blade; and perhaps nothing in northern poetry equals in interest and

sublimity the description of her landing alone in the evening on the

island of Sams, where her father and uncles lay in their sepulchral

mounds, and at night ascending to the tombs, that were enveloped in

flame,[118] and by force of entreaty obtaining from the reluctant

Angantyr the formidable Tirfing.

Hervor proceeded to the court of King Gudmund, and there one day, as

she was playing at tables with the king, one of the servants chanced

to take up and draw Tirfing, which shone like a sunbeam. But Tirfing

was never to see the light but for the bane of man, and Hervor, by a

sudden impulse, sprang from her seat, snatched the sword and struck

off the head of the unfortunate man. Hervor, after this, returned to

the house of her grandfather, Jarl Biartmar, where she resumed her

female attire, and was married to Haufud, the son of King Gudmund. She

bare him two sons, Angantyr and Heidreker; the former of a mild and

gentle disposition, the latter violent and fierce. Haufud would not

permit Heidreker to remain at his court; and as he was departing, his

mother, with other gifts, presented him Tirfing. His brother

accompanied him out of the castle. Before they parted, Heidreker drew

out his sword to look at and admire it; but scarcely did the rays of

light fall on the magic blade, when the Berserker rage came on its

owner, and he slew his gentle brother.

After this he joined a body of Vikinger, and became so distinguished,

that King Harold, for the aid he lent him, gave him his daughter Helga

in marriage. But it was the destiny of Tirfing to commit crime, and

Harold fell by the hand of his son-in-law. Heidreker was afterwards in

Russia, and the son of the king was his foster-son. One day, as they

were out hunting, Heidreker and his foster-son happened to be separated

from the rest of the party, when a wild boar appeared before them;

Heidreker ran at him with his spear, but the beast caught it in his

mouth and broke it across. He then alighted and drew Tirfing, and killed

the boar; but on looking around, he could see no one but his foster-son,

and Tirfing could only be appeased with warm human blood, and he slew

the unfortunate youth. Finally, King Heidreker was murdered in his bed

by his Scottish slaves, who carried off Tirfing; but his son Angantyr,

who succeeded him, discovered and put them to death, and recovered the

magic blade. In battle against the Huns he afterwards made great

slaughter; but among the slain was found his own brother Laudur. And so

ends the history of the Dwarf-sword Tirfing.[119]

* * * * *

Like Alf, the word Duergr has retained its place in the Teutonic

languages. Dverg[120] is the term still used in the north; the Germans

have Zwerg, and we Dwarf,[121] which, however, is never synonymous

with Fairy, as Elf is. Ihre rejects all the etymons proposed for it,

such, for example, as that of Gudmund Andreæ, θεοι εργον; and with

abundant reason.

Some have thought that by the Dwarfs were to be understood the Finns,

the original inhabitants of the country, who were driven to the

mountains by the Scandinavians, and who probably excelled the

new-comers in the art of working their mines and manufacturing their

produce. Thorlacius, on the contrary, thinks that it was Odin and his

followers, who came from the country of the Chalybes, that brought the

metallurgic arts into Scandinavia.

Perhaps the simplest account of the origin of the Dwarfs is, that

when, in the spirit of all ancient religions, the subterranean powers

of nature were to be personified, the authors of the system, from

observing that people of small stature usually excel in craft and

ingenuity, took occasion to represent the beings who formed crystals

and purified metals within the bowels of the earth as of diminutive

size, which also corresponded better with the power assigned them of

slipping through the fissures and interstices of rocks and stones.

Similar observations led to the representation of the wild and awful

powers of brute nature under the form of huge giants.

FOOTNOTES:

[107] Some think, but with little reason, they were originally a part

of the Finnish mythology, and were adopted into the Gothic system.

[108] The giant Ymir is a personification of Chaos, the undigested

primal matter. The sons of Börr (other personifications) slew him. Out

of him they formed the world; his blood made the sea, his flesh the

land, his bones the mountains; rocks and cliffs were his teeth, jaws,

and broken pieces of bones; his skull formed the heavens.

[109] Gudmund Andreas in notis ad Völuspá.

[110] That they are not insensible to kindness one of the succeeding

tales will show.

[111] The habitual reader of the northern and German writers, or even

our old English ones, will observe with surprise his gradually

diminished contempt for many expressions now become vulgar. He will

find himself imperceptibly falling into the habit of regarding them in

the light of their pristine dignity.

[112] Skidbladni, like Pari Banou's tent, could expand and contract as

required. It would carry all the Æser and their arms, and when not in

use it could be taken asunder and put in a purse. "A good ship," says

Ganglar, "is Skidbladni, but great art must have been employed in

making it." Mythologists say it is the clouds.

[113] _i. e._ The _Dripper_.

[114] _i. e._ The _Bruiser_ or _Crusher_, from _Myla_, to bruise or

crush. Little the Fancy know of the high connexions of their phrase

_Mill_.

[115] Edda Resenii, Dæmisaga 59.

[116] Thorston's Saga, c. 3, in the Kämpa Dater.

[117] The Berserkers were warriors who used to be inflamed with such

rage and fury at the thoughts of combats as to bite their shields, run

through fire, swallow burning coals, and perform such like mad feats.

"Whether the avidity for fighting or the ferocity of their nature,"

says Saxo, "brought this madness on them, is uncertain."

[118] The northern nations believed that the tombs of their heroes

emitted a kind of lambent flame, which was always visible in the

night, and served to guard the ashes of the dead; they called it

_Hauga Elldr_, or The Sepulchral Fire. It was supposed more

particularly to surround such tombs as contained hidden

treasures.--_Bartholin, de Contempt. a Dan. Morte_, p. 275.

[119] Hervarar Saga _passim_. The Tirfing Saga would be its more

proper appellation. In poetic and romantic interest it exceeds all the

northern Sagas.

[120] In Swedish Dverg also signifies a spider.

[121] In the old Swedish metrical history of Alexander, the word

_Duerf_ occurs. The progress in the English word is as follows:

Anglo-Saxon [Old English: dþeorg]; thence _dwerke_;

A maid that is a messingere

And a _dwerkè_ me brought here,

Her to do socoúr.

_Lybeaus Disconus._

lastly, _dwarf_, as in old Swedish.

SCANDINAVIA.

De vare syv og hundrede Trolde,

De vare baade grumme og lede,

De vilde gjöre Bonden et Gjæsterie,

Med hannem baade drikke og æde.

ELINE AF VILLENSZOV.

There were seven and a hundred Trolls,

They were both ugly and grim,

A visit they would the farmer make,

Both eat and drink with him.

Under the name of Scandinavia are included the kingdoms of Sweden,

Denmark, and Norway, which once had a common religion and a common

language. Their religion is still one, and their languages differ but

little; we therefore feel that we may safely treat of their Fairy

Mythology together.

Our principal authorities are the collection of Danish popular

traditions, published by Mr. Thiele,[122] the select Danish ballads of

Nyerup and Rahbek,[123] and the Swedish ballads of Geijer and

Afzelius.[124] As most of the principal Danish ballads treating of

Elves, etc., have been already translated by Dr. Jamieson, we will not

insert them here; but translate, instead, the corresponding Swedish

ones, which are in general of greater simplicity, and often contain

additional traits of popular belief. As we prefer fidelity to polish,

the reader must not be offended at antique modes of expression and

imperfect rimes. Our rimes we can, however, safely say shall be at

least as perfect as those of our originals.

These ballads, none of which are later than the fifteenth century,

are written in a strain of the most artless simplicity; not the

slightest attempt at ornament is to be discerned in them; the same

ideas and expressions continually recur; and the rimes are the most

careless imaginable, often a mere _assonnance_ in vowels or

consonants; sometimes not possessing even that slight similarity of

sound. Every Visa or ballad has its single or double Omquæd[125] or

burden, which, like a running accompaniment in music, frequently falls

in with the most happy effect; sometimes recalling former joys or

sorrows; sometimes, by the continual mention of some attribute of one

of the seasons, especially the summer, keeping up in the mind of the

reader or hearers the forms of external nature.

It is singular to observe the strong resemblance between the

Scandinavian ballads and those of England and Scotland, not merely in

manner but in subject. The Scottish ballad first mentioned below is an

instance; it is to be met with in England, in the Feroes, in Denmark,

and in Sweden, with very slight differences. Geijer observes, that the

two last stanzas of 'William and Margaret,' in Percy's Reliques, are

nearly word for word the same as the two last in the Swedish ballad of

'Rosa Lilla,'[126] and in the corresponding Danish one. This might

perhaps lead to the supposition of many of these ballads having come

down from the time when the connexion was so intimate between this

country and Scandinavia.

We will divide the Scandinavian objects of popular belief into four

classes:--1. The Elves; 2. The Dwarfs, or Trolls, as they are usually

called; 3. The Nisses; and 4. The Necks, Mermen, and Mermaids.[127]

FOOTNOTES:

[122] Danske Folkesagn, 4 vols. 12mo. Copenh. 1818-22.

[123] Udvalgde Danske Viser fra Middelaldaren, 5 vols. 12mo. Copenh.

1812.

[124] Svenska Folk-Visor från Forntiden, 3 vols. 8vo. Stockholm,

1814-16. We have not seen the late collection of Arvidsson named

Svenska Fornsånger, in 3 vols. 8vo.

[125] The reader will find a beautiful instance of a double Omquæd in

the Scottish ballad of the Cruel Sister.

There were two sisters sat in a bower,

_Binnōrie o Binnōrie_

There came a knight to be their wooer

_By the bonny mill-dams of Binnōrie._

And in the Cruel Brother,

There were three ladies played at the ba',

_With a heigh ho and a lily gay_;

There came a knight and played o'er them a',

_As the primrose spreads so sweetly_.

The second and fourth lines are repeated in every stanza.

[126] These are the Swedish verses:

Det växte upp _Liljor_ på begge deres graf,

_Med äran och med dygd_--

De växte tilsamman med alla sina blad.

_J vinnen väl, J vinnen väl både rosor och liljor._

Det växte upp _Rosor_ ur båda deras mun,

_Med äran och med dygd_--

De växte tilsammans i fagreste lund.

_J vinnen väl, J vinnen väl både rosor och liljor._

[127] Some readers may wish to know the proper mode of pronouncing such

Danish and Swedish words as occur in the following legends. For their

satisfaction we give the following information. J is pronounced as our

_y_; when it comes between a consonant and a vowel, it is very short,

like the y that is expressed, but not written, in many English words

after _c_ and _g_: thus _kjær_ is pronounced very nearly as _care_: _ö_

sounds like the German _ö_, or French _eu_: _d_ after another consonant

is rarely sounded, Trold is pronounced Troll: _aa_, which the Swedes

write _å_, as o in _more_, _tore_. Aarhuus is pronounced _Ore-hoos_.

ELVES.

Säg, kännar du Elfvornas glada slägt?

De bygga ved flodernas rand;

De spinna af månsken sin högtidsdrägt,

Med liljehvit spelande hand.

STAGNELIUS.

Say, knowest thou the Elves' gay and joyous race?

The banks of streams are their home;

They spin of the moonshine their holiday-dress,

With their lily-white hands frolicsome.

The Alfar still live in the memory and traditions of the peasantry of

Scandinavia. They also, to a certain extent, retain their distinction

into White and Black. The former, or the Good Elves, dwell in the air,

dance on the grass, or sit in the leaves of trees; the latter, or Evil

Elves, are regarded as an underground people, who frequently inflict

sickness or injury on mankind; for which there is a particular kind of

doctors called _Kloka män_,[128] to be met with in all parts of the

country.

The Elves are believed to have their kings, and to celebrate their

weddings and banquets, just the same as the dwellers above ground. There

is an interesting intermediate class of them in popular tradition called

the Hill-people (_Högfolk_), who are believed to dwell in caves and

small hills: when they show themselves they have a handsome human form.

The common people seem to connect with them a deep feeling of

melancholy, as if bewailing a half-quenched hope of redemption.[129]

There are only a few old persons now who can tell any thing more about

them than of the sweet singing that may occasionally on summer nights

be heard out of their hills, when one stands still and listens, or, as

it is expressed in the ballads, "lays his ear to the Elve-hill"

(_lägger sitt öra till Elfvehögg_): but no one must be so cruel as, by

the slightest word, to destroy their hopes of salvation, for then the

spritely music will be turned into weeping and lamentation.[130]

The Norwegians call the Elves Huldrafolk, and their music Huldraslaat:

it is in the minor key, and of a dull and mournful sound. The

mountaineers sometimes play it, and pretend they have learned it by

listening to the underground people among the hills and rocks. There

is also a tune called the Elf-king's tune, which several of the good

fiddlers know right well, but never venture to play, for as soon as it

begins both old and young, and even inanimate objects, are impelled to

dance, and the player cannot stop unless he can play the air

backwards, or that some one comes behind him and cuts the strings of

his fiddle.[131]

The little underground Elves, who are believed to dwell under the

houses of mankind, are described as sportive and mischievous, and as

imitating all the actions of men. They are said to love cleanliness

about the house and place, and to reward such servants as are neat and

cleanly.

There was one time, it is said, a servant girl, who was for her cleanly,

tidy habits, greatly beloved by the Elves, particularly as she was

careful to carry away all dirt and foul water to a distance from the

house, and they once invited her to a wedding. Every thing was conducted

in the greatest order, and they made her a present of some chips, which

she took good-humouredly and put into her pocket. But when the

bride-pair was coming there was a straw unluckily lying in the way, the

bridegroom got cleverly over it, but the poor bride fell on her face. At

the sight of this the girl could not restrain herself, but burst out

a-laughing, and that instant the whole vanished from her sight. Next

day, to her utter amazement, she found that what she had taken to be

nothing but chips, were so many pieces of pure gold.[132]

A dairy-maid at a place called Skibshuset (_the Ship-house_), in Odense,

was not so fortunate. A colony of Elves had taken up their abode under

the floor of the cowhouse, or it is more likely, were there before it

was made a cowhouse. However, the dirt and filth that the cattle made

annoyed them beyond measure, and they gave the dairy-maid to understand

that if she did not remove the cows, she would have reason to repent it.

She gave little heed to their representations; and it was not very long

till they set her up on top of the hay-rick, and killed all the cows. It

is said that they were seen on the same night removing in a great hurry

from the cowhouse down to the meadow, and that they went in little

coaches; and their king was in the first coach, which was far more

stately and magnificent than the rest. They have ever since lived in the

meadow.[133]

The Elves are extremely fond of dancing in the meadows, where they form

those circles of a livelier green which from them are called Elf-dance

(_Elfdans_). When the country people see in the morning stripes along

the dewy grass in the woods and meadows, they say the Elves have been

dancing there. If any one should at midnight get within their circle,

they become visible to him, and they may then illude him. It is not

every one that can see the Elves; and one person may see them dancing

while another perceives nothing. Sunday children, as they are called,

_i. e._ those born on Sunday, are remarkable for possessing this

property of seeing Elves and similar beings. The Elves, however, have

the power to bestow this gift on whomsoever they please. People also

used to speak of Elf-books which they gave to those whom they loved, and

which enabled them to foretell future events.

The Elves often sit in little stones that are of a circular form, and

are called Elf-mills (_Elf-quärnor_); the sound of their voice is said

to be sweet and soft like the air.[134]

The Danish peasantry give the following account of their Ellefolk or

Elve-people.

The Elle-people live in the Elle-moors. The appearance of the man is

that of an old man with a low-crowned hat on his head; the Elle-woman

is young and of a fair and attractive countenance, but behind she is

hollow like a dough-trough. Young men should be especially on their

guard against her, for it is very difficult to resist her; and she

has, moreover, a stringed instrument, which, when she plays on it,

quite ravishes their hearts. The man may be often seen near the

Elle-moors, bathing himself in the sunbeams, but if any one comes too

near him, he opens his mouth wide and breathes upon them, and his

breath produces sickness and pestilence. But the women are most

frequently to be seen by moonshine; then they dance their rounds in

the high grass so lightly and so gracefully, that they seldom meet a

denial when they offer their hand to a rash young man. It is also

necessary to watch cattle, that they may not graze in any place where

the Elle-people have been; for if any animal come to a place where

the Elle-people have spit, or done what is worse, it is attacked by

some grievous disease which can only be cured by giving it to eat a

handful of St. John's wort, which had been pulled at twelve o'clock on

St. John's night. It might also happen that they might sustain some

injury by mixing with the Elle-people's cattle, which are very large,

and of a blue colour, and which may sometimes be seen in the fields

licking up the dew, on which they live. But the farmer has an easy

remedy against this evil; for he has only to go to the Elle-hill when

he is turning out his cattle and to say, "Thou little Troll! may I

graze my cows on thy hill?" And if he is not prohibited, he may set

his mind at rest.[135]

The following ballads and tales will fully justify what has been said

respecting the tone of melancholy connected with the subject of the

Elves.[136]

_Sir Olof in the Elve-Dance._

Sir Olof he rode out at early day,

And so came he unto an Elve-dance gay.

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

The Elve-father reached out his white hand free,

"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

"O nought I will, and nought I may,

To-morrow will be my wedding-day."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

And the Elve-mother reached out her white hand free,

"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

"O nought I will, and nought I may,

To-morrow will be my wedding-day."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

And the Elve-sister reached out her white hand free,

"Come, come, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

"O nought I will, and nought I may,

To-morrow will be my wedding-day."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

And the bride she spake with her bride-maids so,

"What may it mean that the bells thus go?"

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

"'Tis the custom of this our isle," they replied;

"Each young swain ringeth home his bride."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

"And the truth from you to conceal I fear,

Sir Olof is dead, and lies on his bier."

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

And on the morrow, ere light was the day,

In Sir Olof's house three corpses lay.

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.

It was Sir Olof, his bonny bride,

And eke his mother, of sorrow she died.

The dance it goes well,

So well in the grove.[137]

_The Elf-woman and Sir Olof._

Sir Olof rideth out ere dawn,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

Bright day him came on.

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

Sir Olof rides by Borgya,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

Meets a dance of Elves so gay.

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

There danceth Elf and Elve-maid,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

Elve-king's daughter, with her flying hair.

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

Elve-king's daughter reacheth her hand free,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"Come here, Sir Olof, tread the dance with me."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"Nought I tread the dance with thee,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"My bride hath that forbidden me."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"Nought I will and nought I may,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"To-morrow is my wedding-day."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"Wilt thou not tread the dance with me?"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"An evil shall I fix on thee."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

Sir Olof turned his horse therefrom,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

Sickness and plague follow him home.

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

Sir Olof to his mother's rode,

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

Out before him his mother stood.

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"Welcome, welcome, my dear son,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"Why is thy rosy cheek so wan?"

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"My colt was swift and I tardy,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"I knocked against a green oak-tree."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"My dear sister, prepare my bed,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"My dear brother, take my horse to the mead."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"My dear mother, brush my hair,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"My dear father, make me a bier."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"My dear son, that do not say,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

To-morrow is thy wedding-day."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.

"Be it when it will betide,"

Breaketh day, falleth rime;

"I ne'er shall come unto my bride."

Sir Olof cometh home,

When the wood it is leaf-green.[138]

_The Young Swain and the Elves._

I was a handsome young swain,

And to the court should ride.

I rode out in the evening-hour;

In the rosy grove I to sleep me laid.

Since I her first saw.

I laid me under a lind so green,

My eyes they sunk in sleep;

There came two maidens going along,

They fain would with me speak.

Since I her first saw.

The one she tapped me on my cheek,

The other whispered in my ear:

"Stand up, handsome young swain,

If thou list of love to hear."

Since I her first saw.

They led then forth a maiden,

Whose hair like gold did shine:

"Stand up, handsome young swain,

If thou to joy incline."

Since I her first saw.

The third began a song to sing,

With good will she did so;

Thereat stood the rapid stream,

Which before was wont to flow.

Since I her first saw.

Thereat stood the rapid stream,

Which before was wont to flow;

And the hind all with her hair so brown,

Forgot whither she should go.

Since I her first saw.

I got me up from off the ground,

And leaned my sword upon;

The Elve-women danced in and out,

All had they the Elve fashión.

Since I her first saw.

Had not fortune been to me so good,

That the cock his wings clapped then,

I had slept within the hill that night,

All with the Elve-womén.

Since I her first saw.[139]

_Svend Faelling and the Elle-Maid._

Svend Fælling was, while a little boy, at service in

Sjeller-wood-house in Framley; and it one time happened that he had to

ride of a message to Ristrup. It was evening before he got near home,

and as he came by the hill of Borum Es, he saw the Elle-maids, who

were dancing without ceasing round and round his horse. Then one of

the Elle-maids stept up to him, and reached him a drinking cup,

bidding him at the same time to drink. Svend took the cup, but as he

was dubious of the nature of the contents, he flung it out over his

shoulder, where it fell on the horse's back, and singed off all the

hair. While he had the horn fast in his hand, he gave his horse the

spurs and rode off full speed. The Elle-maid pursued him till he came

to Trigebrand's mill, and rode through the running water, over which

she could not follow him. She then earnestly conjured Svend to give

her back the horn, promising him in exchange twelve men's strength. On

this condition he gave back the horn, and got what she had promised

him; but it very frequently put him to great inconvenience, for he

found that along with it he had gotten an appetite for twelve.[140]

_The Elle-Maids._

There lived a man in Aasum, near Odense, who, as he was coming home

one night from Seden, passed by a hill that was standing on red

pillars, and underneath there was dancing and great festivity. He

hurried on past the hill as fast as he could, never venturing to cast

his eyes that way. But as he went along, two fair maidens came to meet

him, with beautiful hair floating over their shoulders, and one of

them held a cup in her hand, which she reached out to him that he

might drink of it. The other then asked him if he would come again, at

which he laughed, and answered, Yes. But when he got home he became

strangely affected in his mind, was never at ease in himself, and was

continually saying that he had promised to go back. And when they

watched him closely to prevent his doing so, he at last lost his

senses, and died shortly after.[141]

_Maid Vae._

There was once a wedding and a great entertainment at Œsterhæsinge.

The party did not break up till morning, and the guests took their

departure with a great deal of noise and bustle. While they were

putting their horses to their carriages, previous to setting out home,

they stood talking about their respective bridal-presents. And while

they were talking loudly, and with the utmost earnestness, there came

from a neighbouring moor a maiden clad in green, with plaited rushes

on her head; she went up to the man who was loudest, and bragging most

of his present, and said to him: "What wilt thou give to maid Væ?"

The man, who was elevated with all the ale and brandy he had been

drinking, snatched up a whip, and replied: "Ten cuts of my whip;" and

that very moment he dropt down dead on the ground.[142]

_The Elle-Maid near Ebeltoft._

A farmer's boy was keeping cows not far from Ebeltoft. There came to him

a very fair and pretty girl, and she asked him if he was hungry or

thirsty. But when he perceived that she guarded with the greatest

solicitude against his getting a sight of her back, he immediately

suspected that she must be an Elle-maid, for the Elle-people are hollow

behind. He accordingly would give no heed to her, and endeavoured to get

away from her; but when she perceived this, she offered him her breast

that he should suck her. And so great was the enchantment that

accompanied this action, that he was unable to resist it. But when he

had done as she desired him, he had no longer any command of himself, so

that she had now no difficulty in enticing him with her.

He was three days away, during which time his father and mother went

home, and were in great affliction, for they were well assured that he

must have been enticed away. But on the fourth day his father saw him

a long way off coming home, and he desired his wife to set a pan of

meat on the fire as quick as possible. The son then came in at the

door, and sat down at the table without saying a word. The father,

too, remained quite silent, as if every thing was as it ought to be.

His mother then set the meat before him, and his father bid him eat,

but he let the food lie untouched, and said that he knew now where he

could get much better food. The father then became highly enraged,

took a good large switch, and once more ordered him to take his food.

The boy was then obliged to eat, and as soon as he had tasted the

flesh he ate it up greedily, and instantly fell into a deep sleep. He

slept for as many days as the enchantment had lasted, but he never

after recovered the use of his reason.[143]

_Hans Puntleder._

There are three hills on the lands of Bubbelgaard in Funen, which are

to this day called the Dance-hills, from the following occurrence. A

lad named Hans was at service in Bubbelgaard, and as he was coming one

evening past the hills, he saw one of them raised on red pillars, and

great dancing and much merriment underneath. He was so enchanted with

the beauty and magnificence of what he saw, that he could not restrain

his curiosity, but was in a strange and wonderful manner attracted

nearer and nearer, till at last the fairest of all the fair maidens

that were there came up to him and gave him a kiss. From that moment

he lost all command of himself, and became so violent, that he used to

tear to pieces all the clothes that were put on him, so that at last

they were obliged to make him a dress of sole-leather, which he could

not pull off him; and ever after he went by the name of Hans

Puntleder, i. e. Sole-leather.[144]

* * * * *

According to Danish tradition, the Elle-kings, under the denomination

of Promontory-kings, (_Klintekonger_), keep watch and ward over the

country. Whenever war, or any other misfortune, threatens to come on

the land, there may be seen, on the promontory, complete armies, drawn

up in array to defend the country.

One of these kings resides at Möen, on the spot which still bears the

name of King's-hill (_Kongsbjerg_). His queen is the most beautiful

of beings, and she dwells at the Queen's Chair (_Dronningstolen_).

This king is a great friend of the king of Stevns, and they are both

at enmity with Grap, the promontory-king of Rügen, who must keep at a

distance, and look out over the sea to watch their approach.

Another tradition, however, says, that there is but one king, who

rules over the headlands of Möen, Stevns, and Rügen. He has a

magnificent chariot, which is drawn by four black horses. In this he

drives over the sea, from one promontory to another. At such times the

sea grows black, and is in great commotion, and the loud snorting and

neighing of his horses may be distinctly heard.[145]

It was once believed that no mortal monarch dare come to Stevns; for

the Elle-king would not permit him to cross the stream that bounds it.

But Christian IV. passed it without opposition, and since his time

several Danish monarchs have been there.

At Skjelskör, in Zealand, reigns another of these jealous promontorial

sovereigns, named king Tolv (_Twelve_). He will not suffer a mortal

prince to pass the bridge of Kjelskör. Wo, too, betide the watchman who

should venture to cry twelve o'clock in the village, he might chance to

find himself transported to the village of Borre or to the Windmills.

Old people that have eyes for such things, declare they frequently see

Kong Tolv rolling himself on the grass in the sunshine. On New-year's

night he takes from one smith's forge or another nine new shoes for

his horses; they must be always left ready for him, and with them the

necessary complement of nails.

The Elle-king of Bornholm[146] lets himself be occasionally heard with

fife and drum, especially when war is at hand; he may then be seen in

the fields with his soldiers. This king will not suffer an earthly

monarch to pass more than three nights on his isle.

In the popular creed there is some strange connexion between the Elves

and the trees. They not only frequent them, but they make an

interchange of form with them. In the church-yard of Store

Heddinge,[147] in Zealand, there are the remains of an oak wood.

These, say the common people, are the Elle-king's soldiers; by day

they are trees, by night valiant warriors. In the wood of Rugaard, in

the same island, is a tree which by night becomes a whole Elle-people,

and goes about all alive. It has no leaves upon it, yet it would be

very unsafe to go to break or fell it, for the underground-people

frequently hold their meetings under its branches. There is, in

another place, an elder-tree growing in a farm-yard, which frequently

takes a walk in the twilight about the yard, and peeps in through the

window at the children when they are alone.

It was, perhaps, these elder-trees that gave origin to the notion. In

Danish _Hyld_ or _Hyl_--a word not far removed from Elle--is Elder,

and the peasantry believe that in or under the elder-tree dwells a

being called Hyldemoer (_Elder-mother_), or Hyldequinde

(_Elder-woman_), with her ministrant spirits.[148] A Danish peasant,

if he wanted to take any part of an elder-tree, used previously to

say, three times--"O, Hyldemoer, Hyldemoer! let me take some of thy

elder, and I will let thee take something of mine in return." If this

was omitted he would be severely punished. They tell of a man who cut

down an elder-tree, but he soon after died suddenly. It is, moreover,

not prudent to have any furniture made of elder-wood. A child was once

put to lie in a cradle made of this wood, but Hyldemoer came and

pulled it by the legs, and gave it no rest till it was put to sleep

elsewhere. Old David Monrad relates, that a shepherd, one night, heard

his three children crying, and when he inquired the cause, they said

some one had been sucking them. Their breasts were found to be

swelled, and they were removed to another room, where they were quiet.

The reason is said to have been that that room was floored with elder.

The linden or lime tree is the favourite haunt of the Elves and

cognate beings; and it is not safe to be near it after sunset.[149]

FOOTNOTES:

[128] That is, Wise People or Conjurors. They answer to the

Fairy-women of Ireland.

[129] Afzelius is of opinion that this notion respecting the

Hill-people is derived from the time of the introduction of

Christianity into the north, and expresses the sympathy of the first

converts with their forefathers, who had died without a knowledge of

the Redeemer, and lay buried in heathen earth, and whose unhappy

spirits were doomed to wander about these lower regions, or sigh

within their mounds till the great day of redemption.

[130] "About fifteen years ago," says Ödman (Bahuslän, p. 80), "people

used to hear, out of the hill under Gärun, in the parish of Tanum, the

playing, as it were, of the very best musicians. Any one there who had

a fiddle, and wished to play, was taught in an instant, provided they

promised them salvation; but whoever did not do so, might hear them

within, in the hill, breaking their violins to pieces, and weeping

bitterly." See Grimm. Deut. Myth. 461.

[131] Arndt, Reise nach Schweden, iv. 241.

[132] Svenska Folk-Visor, vol. iii. p. 159. There is a similar legend

in Germany. A servant, one time, seeing one of the little ones very

hard-set to carry a single grain of wheat, burst out laughing at him.

In a rage, he threw it on the ground, and it proved to be the purest

gold. But he and his comrades quitted the house, and it speedily went

to decay.--Strack. Beschr. v. Eilsen, p. 124, _ap._ Grimm, Introd.,

etc., p. 90.

[133] Thiele, vol. iv. p. 22. They are called Trolls in the original.

As they had a king, we think they must have been Elves. The Dwarfs

have long since abolished monarchy.

[134] The greater part of what precedes has been taken from Afzelius

in the Svenska Visor, vol. iii.

[135] Thiele, iv. 26.

[136] In the distinction which we have made between the Elves and

Dwarfs we find that we are justified by the popular creed of the

Norwegians.--Faye, p. 49, _ap._ Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 412.

[137] Svenska Visor, iii. 158, as sung in Upland and East Gothland.

[138] Svenska Visor, iii. 165, from a MS. in the Royal Library. This and

the preceding one are variations of the Danish Ballad of Elveskud, which

has been translated by Dr. Jamieson (Popular Ballads, i. 219), and by

Lewis in the Tales of Wonder. The Swedish editors give a third variation

from East Gothland. A comparison of the two ballads with each other, and

with the Danish one, will enable the reader to judge of the

modifications a subject undergoes in different parts of a country.

[139] Svenska Visor, iii. p. 170. This is the Elveshöj of the Danish

ballads, translated by Jamieson (i. 225), and by Lewis. In the different

Swedish variations, they are Hafsfruen, i. e. Mermaids, who attempt to

seduce young men to their love by the offer of costly presents.

A Danish legend (Thiele, i. 22) relates that a poor man, who was working

near Gillesbjerg, a haunted hill, lay down on it to rest himself in the

middle of the day. Suddenly there appeared before him a beautiful

maiden, with a gold cup in her hand. She made signs to him to come near,

but when the man in his fright made the sign of the cross, she was

obliged to turn round and then he saw her back that it was hollow.

[140] Thiele, ii. 67. Framley is in Jutland. Svend (i. e. _Swain_)

Fælling is a celebrated character in Danish tradition; he is regarded as

a second Holger Danske, and he is the hero of two of the Kjempe Viser.

In Sweden he is named Sven Färling or Fotling. Grimm has shown that he

and Sigurd are the same person. Deutsche Mythologie, p. 345. In the

Nibelungen Lied (st. 345) Sifret (Sigurd) gets the strength of twelve

men by wearing the _tarnkappe_ of the dwarf Albrich. Another tradition,

presently to be mentioned, says it was from a Dwarf he got his strength,

for aiding him in battle against another Dwarf. It is added, that when

Svend came home in the evening, after his adventure with the Elle-maids,

the people were drinking their Yule-beer, and they sent him down for a

fresh supply. Svend went without saying anything, and returned with a

barrel in each hand and one under each arm.

[141] Thiele, iii. 43. Odense is in Funen.

[142] Thiele, i. 109. (_communicated_). Such legends, as Mr. Thiele

learned directly from the mouths of the peasantry, he terms _oral_;

those he procured from his friends, _communicated_. Œsterhæsinge, the

scene of this legend, is in the island of Funen.

[143] Thiele, i. 118. (_communicated_). Ebeltoft is a village in North

Jutland.

[144] Thiele, iv. 32. From the circumstances, it would appear that

these were Elves and not Dwarfs; but one cannot be positive in these

matters.

[145] Möen and Stevns are in Zealand. As Rügen does not belong to the

Danish monarchy, the former tradition is probably the more correct

one. Yet the latter may be the original one.

[146] Bornholm is a _holm_, or small island, adjacent to Zealand.

[147] The Elle-king of Stevns has his bedchamber in the wall of this

church.

[148] This is evidently the Frau Holle of the Germans.

[149] The preceding particulars are all derived from M. Thiele's work.

DWARFS OR TROLLS

Ther bygde folk i the bärg,

Quinnor och män, för mycken duerf.

HIST. ALEX. MAC. _Suedice._

Within the hills folk did won,

Women and men, dwarfs many a one.

The more usual appellation of the Dwarfs is Troll or Trold,[150] a

word originally significant of any evil spirit,[151] giant monster,

magician,[152] or evil person; but now in a good measure divested of

its ill senses, for the Trolls are not in general regarded as noxious

or malignant beings.

The Trolls are represented as dwelling inside of hills, mounds, and

hillocks--whence they are also called Hill-people

(_Bjergfolk_)--sometimes in single families, sometimes in societies. In

the ballads they are described as having kings over them, but never so

in the popular legend. Their character seems gradually to have sunk down

to the level of the peasantry, in proportion as the belief in them was

consigned to the same class. They are regarded as extremely rich for

when, on great occasions of festivity, they have their hills raised up

on red pillars, people that have chanced to be passing by have seen them

shoving large chests full of money to and fro, and opening and clapping

down the lids of them. Their hill-dwellings are very magnificent inside.

"They live," said one of Mr. Arndt's guides, "in fine houses of gold and

crystal. My father saw them once in the night, when the hill was open on

St. John's night. They were dancing and drinking, and it seemed to him

as if they were making signs to him to go to them, but his horse

snorted, and carried him away, whether he would or no. There is a great

number of them in the Guldberg (_Goldhill_), and they have brought into

it all the gold and silver that people buried in the great Russian

war."[153]

They are obliging and neighbourly; freely lending and borrowing, and

elsewise keeping up a friendly intercourse with mankind. But they have

a sad propensity to thieving, not only stealing provisions, but even

women and children.

They marry, have children, bake and brew, just as the peasant himself

does. A farmer one day met a hill-man and his wife, and a whole squad

of stumpy little children, in his fields;[154] and people used often

to see the children of the man who lived in the hill of Kund, in

Jutland, climbing up the hill, and rolling down after one another,

with shouts of laughter.

The Trolls have a great dislike to noise, probably from a recollection

of the time when Thor used to be flinging his hammer after them; so

that the hanging of bells in the churches has driven them almost all

out of the country. The people of Ebeltoft were once sadly plagued by

them, as they plundered their pantries in a most unconscionable

manner; so they consulted a very wise and pious man; and his advice

was, that they should hang a bell in the steeple of the church. They

did so, and they were soon eased of the Trolls.[155]

These beings have some very extraordinary and useful properties; they

can, for instance, go about invisibly,[156] or turn themselves into

any shape; they can foresee future events; they can confer prosperity,

or the contrary, on a family; they can bestow bodily strength on any

one; and, in short, perform numerous feats beyond the power of man.

Of personal beauty they have not much to boast: the Ebeltoft Dwarfs,

mentioned above, were often seen, and they had immoderate humps on

their backs, and long crooked noses. They were dressed in gray

jackets,[157] and they wore pointed red caps. Old people in Zealand

say, that when the Trolls were in the country, they used to go from

their hill to the village of Gudmandstrup through the Stone-meadow,

and that people, when passing that way, used to meet great tall men in

long black clothes. Some have foolishly spoken to them, and wished

them good evening, but they never got any other answer than that the

Trolls hurried past them, saying, Mi! mi! mi! mi!

Thanks to the industry of Mr. Thiele, who has been indefatigable in

collecting the traditions of his native country, we are furnished with

ample accounts of the Trolls; and the following legends will fully

illustrate what we have written concerning them.[158]

We commence with the Swedish ballads of the Hill-kings, as in dignity

and antiquity they take precedence of the legends.

_Sir Thynne._

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,

He was a knight so grave;

Whether he were on foot or on horse,

He was a knight so brave.[159]

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè

Went the hart and the hind to shoot,

So he saw Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,

At the green linden's foot.

And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,

Unto her handmaid she cried,

"Go fetch my gold harp hither to me,

Sir Thynnè I'll draw to my side."

The first stroke on her gold harp she struck,

So sweetly she made it ring,

The wild beasts in the wood and field

They forgot whither they would spring.

The next stroke on her gold harp she struck,

So sweetly she made it ring,

The little gray hawk that sat on the bough,

He spread out both his wings.

The third stroke on her gold harp she struck,

So sweetly she made it ring,

The little fish that went in the stream,

He forgot whither he would swim.

Then flowered the mead, then leafed all,

'Twas caused by the runic lay;[160]

Sir Thynnè he struck his spurs in his horse,

He no longer could hold him away.

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,

From his horse he springs hastily,

So goeth he to Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,

All under the green linden tree.

"Here you sit, my maiden fair,

A rose all lilies above;

See you can never a mortal man

Who will not seek your love."

"Be silent, be silent, now Sir Thynnè,

With your proffers of love, I pray;

For I am betrothed unto a hill-king,

A king all the Dwarfs obey.

"My true love he sitteth the hill within,

And at gold tables plays merrily;

My father he setteth his champions in ring,

And in iron arrayeth them he.

"My mother she sitteth the hill within,

And gold in the chest doth lay;

And I stole out for a little while,

Upon my gold harp to play."

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,

He patted her cheek rosie:

"Why wilt thou not give a kinder reply,

Thou dearest of maidens, to me?"

"I can give you no kinder reply:

I may not myself that allow;

I am betrothed to a hill-king,

And to him I must keep my vow."

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,

She at the hill-door looked out,

And there she saw how the knight Sir Thynnè,

Lay at the green linden's foot.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,

She was vext and angry, God wot:

"What hast thou here in the grove to do?

Little business, I trow, thou hast got.

"'Twere better for thee in the hill to be,

And gold in the chest to lay,

Than here to sit in the rosy grove,[161]

And on thy gold harp to play.

"And 'twere better for thee in the hill to be,

And thy bride-dress finish sewíng,

Than sit under the lind, and with runic lay

A Christian man's heart to thee win."

And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,

She goeth in at the hill-door:

And after her goeth the knight Sir Thynnè,

Clothed in scarlet and fur.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,

Forth a red-gold chair she drew:

Then she cast Sir Thynnè into a sleep

Until that the cock he crew.

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,

The five rune-books she took out;

So she loosed him fully out of the runes,

Her daughter had bound him about.

"And hear thou me, Sir Thynnè,

From the runes thou now art free;

This to thee I will soothly say,

My daughter shall never win thee.

"And I was born of Christian kind,

And to the hill stolen in;

My sister dwelleth in Iseland,[162]

And wears a gold crown so fine.

"And there she wears her crown of gold,

And beareth of queen the name;

Her daughter was stolen away from her,

Thereof there goeth great fame.

"Her daughter was stolen away from her,

And to Berner-land brought in;

And there now dwelleth the maiden free,

She is called Lady Hermolin.

"And never can she into the dance go,

But seven women follow her;

And never can she on the gold-harp play,

If the queen herself is not there.

"The king he hath a sister's son,

He hopeth the crown to possess,

For him they intend the maiden free,

For her little happiness.

"And this for my honour will I do,

And out of good-will moreover,

To thee will I give the maiden free,

And part her from that lover."

Then she gave unto him a dress so new,

With gold and pearls bedight;

Every seam on the dress it was

With precious stones all bright.

Then she gave unto him a horse so good,

And therewith a new sell;

"And never shalt thou the way inquire,

Thy horse will find it well."

And it was Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter,

She would show her good-will to the knight;

So she gave unto him a spear so new,

And therewith a good sword so bright.

"And never shalt thou fight a fight,

Where thou shalt not the victory gain;

And never shalt thou sail on a sea

Where thou shalt not the land attain."

And it was Thora, the little Dwarf's wife,

She wine in a glass for him poured:

"Ride away, ride away, now Sir Thynnè,

Before the return of my lord."

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,

He rideth under the green hill side,

There then met him the hill-kings two.

As slow to the hill they ride.

"Well met! Good day, now Sir Thynnè!

Thy horse can well with thee pace;

Whither directed is thy course?

Since thou'rt bound to a distant place."

"Travel shall I and woo;

Plight me shall I a flower;

Try shall I my sword so good,

To my weal or my woe in the stour."

"Ride in peace, ride in peace, away, Sir Thynnè,

From us thou hast nought to fear;

They are coming, the champions from Iseland,

Who with thee long to break a spear."

And it was the knight Sir Thynnè,

He rideth under the green hill side;

There met him seven Bernisk champions,

They bid him to halt and abide.

"And whether shall we fight to-day,

For the red gold and the silvér;

Or shall we fight together to-day,

For both our true loves fair?"

And it was the king's sister's son,

He was of mood so hastý;

"Of silver and gold I have enow,

If thou wilt credit me."

"But hast thou not a fair true love,

Who is called Lady Hermolin?

For her it is we shall fight to-day,

If she shall be mine or thine."

The first charge they together rode,

They were two champions so tall;

He cut at the king's sister's son,

That his head to the ground did fall.

Back then rode the champions six,

And dressed themselves in fur;

Then went into the lofty hall,

The aged king before.

And it was then the aged king,

He tore his gray hairs in woe.

"Ye must avenge my sister's son's death;

I will sables and martins bestow."[163]

Back then rode the champions six,

They thought the reward to gain,

But they remained halt and limbless;

By loss one doth wit obtain.

And he slew wolves and bears,

All before the high chambér;

Then taketh he out the maiden free

Who so long had languished there.

And now hath Lady Hermolin

Escaped from all harm;

Now sleeps she sweet full many a sleep,

On brave Sir Thynnè's arm.

And now has brave Sir Thynnè

Escaped all sorrow and tine;

Now sleeps he sweet full many a sleep,

Beside Lady Hermolin.

Most thanketh he Ulva, the little Dwarf's daughter

Who him with the runes had bound,

For were he not come inside of the hill,

The lady he never had found.[164]

_Proud Margaret._

Proud Margaret's[165] father of wealth had store,

Time with me goes slow.--

And he was a king seven kingdoms o'er,

But that grief is heavy I know.[166]

To her came wooing good earls two,

Time with me goes slow.--

But neither of them would she hearken unto,

But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing princes five,

Time with me goes slow.--

Yet not one of them would the maiden have,

But that grief is heavy I know.

To her came wooing kings then seven,

Time with me goes slow.--

But unto none her hand has she given,

But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king asked his mother to read,

Time with me goes slow.--

How to win proud Margaret he might speed,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And say how much thou wilt give unto me,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"That herself may into the hill come to thee?"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"Thee will I give the ruddiest gold,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"And thy chests full of money as they can hold,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

One Sunday morning it fell out so,

Time with me goes slow.--

Proud Margaret unto the church should go,

But that grief is heavy I know.

And all as she goes, and all as she stays,

Time with me goes slow.--

All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay,

But that grief is heavy I know.

So she goeth around the hill compassing,

Time with me goes slow.--

So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in,

But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill,

Time with me goes slow.--

And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyfúl,

But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden upon his knee,

Time with me goes slow.--

And took the gold rings and therewith her wed he,

But that grief is heavy I know.

So he took the maiden his arms between,

Time with me goes slow.--

He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen,

But that grief is heavy I know.

So she was in the hill for eight round years,

Time with me goes slow.--

There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair,

But that grief is heavy I know.

When she had been full eight years there,

Time with me goes slow.--

She wished to go home to her mother so dear,

But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain,

Time with me goes slow.--

"Put ye the gray paeers now unto the wain,"[167]

But that grief is heavy I know.

And Margaret out at the hill-door stept,

Time with me goes slow.--

And her little children they thereat wept,

But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en.

Time with me goes slow.--

So he lifteth her into the gilded wain,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Thou now shalt drive her to her mother's straightway,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in o'er the door-sill,

Time with me goes slow.--

And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyfúl,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And where hast thou so long stayed?"

Time with me goes slow.--

"I have been in the flowery meads,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair?"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Such as women and mothers use to wear,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"Well may I wear a veil on my head,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"In the hill have I been these eight round years,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"There have I two sons and a daughter so fair,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"The loveliest maiden the world doth bear,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Can I go with thee home thy children to see?"

But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king stept now in at the door,

Time with me goes slow.--

And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here complaining of me,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?"

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore?"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Camest thou not of thyself in at my door?"

But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie,

Time with me goes slow.--

"And pack to the hill to thy children wee,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

The hill-king struck her with a twisted root,

Time with me goes slow.--

"And pack to the hill without any dispute,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

And the hill-king her in his arms has ta'en,

Time with me goes slow.--

And lifted her into the gilded wain,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

Proud Margaret stept in at the hill door,

Time with me goes slow.--

And her little children rejoiced therefòre,

But that grief is heavy I know.

"It is not worth while rejoicing for me,"

Time with me goes slow.--

"Christ grant that I never a mother had been,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a gilded chair,

Time with me goes slow.--

"O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there,"

But that grief is heavy I know.

The one brought out a filled up horn,

Time with me goes slow.--

The other put therein a gilded corn,

But that grief is heavy I know.

The first drink she drank out of the horn,

Time with me goes slow.--

She forgot straightway both heaven and earth,

But that grief is heavy I know.

The second drink she drank out of the horn,

Time with me goes slow.--

She forgot straightway both God and his word,

But that grief is heavy I know.

The third drink she drank out of the horn,

Time with me goes slow.--

She forgot straightway both sister and brother,

But that grief is heavy I know.

She forgot straightway both sister and brother,

Time with me goes slow.--

But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother,

But that grief is heavy I know.[168]

_The Troll Wife._

The grandfather of Reor, who dwelt at Fuglekärr (i.e. _Bird-marsh_), in

the parish of Svartsborg (_Black-castle_), lived close to a hill, and

one time, in the broad daylight, he saw sitting there on a stone a

comely maiden. He wished to intercept her, and for this purpose _he

threw steel_ between her and the hill; whereupon her father laughed

within the hill, and opening the hill-door asked him if he would have

his daughter. He replied in the affirmative and as she was _stark naked_

he took some of his own clothes and covered her with them, and he

afterwards had her christened. As he was going away, her father said to

him, "When you are going to have your wedding (_bröllup_) you must

provide twelve barrels of beer and bake a heap of bread and the flesh of

four oxen, and drive to the barrow or hill where I keep, and when the

bridal gifts are to be bestowed, depend on it I will give mine." This

also came to pass; for when others were giving he raised the cover of

the cart and cast into it so large a bag of money that the body of it

nearly broke, saying at the same time:--"This is _my_ gift!" He said,

moreover, "When you want to have your wife's portion

(_hemmagifta_),[169] you must drive to the hill with four horses, and

get your share. When he came there afterwards at his desire he got

copper-pots, the one larger than the other till the largest pot of all

was filled with the smaller ones. He also gave him other things,[170]

which were helmets, of that colour and fashion which are large and

thick, and which are still remaining in the country, being preserved at

the parsonage of Tanum. This man Reor's father surnamed I Foglekärsten,

had a number of children by this wife of his, whom he fetched out of the

hill, among whom was the aforesaid Reor. Olaf Stenson also in Stora

Rijk, who died last year, was Reor's sister's son.[171]

_The Altar-Cup in Aagerup._

Between the villages of Marup and Aagerup in Zealand, there is said to

have lain a great castle, the ruins of which are still to be seen near

the strand. Tradition relates that a great treasure is concealed among

them, and that a dragon there watches over three kings' ransoms.[172]

Here, too, people frequently happen to get a sight of the underground

folk, especially about festival-times, for then they have dancing and

great jollity going on down on the strand.

One Christmas-eve, a farmer's servant in the village of Aagerup went

to his master and asked him if he might take a horse and ride down to

look at the Troll-meeting. The farmer not only gave him leave but

desired him to take the best horse in the stable; so he mounted and

rode away down to the strand. When he was come to the place he stopped

his horse, and stood for some time looking at the company who were

assembled in great numbers. And while he was wondering to see how well

and how gaily the little dwarfs danced, up came a Troll to him, and

invited him to dismount, and take a share in their dancing and

merriment. Another Troll came jumping up, took his horse by the

bridle, and held him while the man got off, and went down and danced

away merrily with them the whole night long.

When it was drawing near day he returned them his very best thanks for

his entertainment, and mounted his horse to return home to Aagerup.

They now gave him an invitation to come again on New-year's night, as

they were then to have great festivity; and a maiden who held a gold

cup in her hand invited him to drink the stirrup-cup. He took the cup;

but, as he had some suspicion of them, he, while he made as if he was

raising the cup to his mouth, threw the drink out over his shoulder,

so that it fell on the horse's back, and it immediately singed off all

the hair. He then clapped spurs to his horse's sides, and rode away

with the cup in his hand over a ploughed field.

The Trolls instantly gave chase all in a body; but being hard set to

get over the deep furrows, they shouted out, without ceasing,

"Ride on the lay,

And not on the clay."[173]

He, however, never minded them, but kept to the ploughed field.

However, when he drew near the village he was forced to ride out on

the level road, and the Trolls now gained on him every minute. In his

distress he prayed unto God, and he made a vow that if he should be

delivered he would bestow the cup on the church.

He was now riding along just by the wall of the church-yard, and he

hastily flung the cup over it, that it at least might be secure. He

then pushed on at full speed, and at last got into the village; and

just as they were on the point of catching hold of the horse, he

sprung in through the farmer's gate, and the man clapt to the wicket

after him. He was now safe; but the Trolls were so enraged, that,

taking up a huge great stone, they flung it with such force against

the gate, that it knocked four planks out of it.

There are no traces now remaining of that house, but the stone is

still lying in the middle of the village of Aagerup. The cup was

presented to the church, and the man got in return the best farm-house

on the lands of Eriksholm.[174]

_Origin of Tiis Lake._

A Troll had once taken up his abode near the village of Kund, in the

high bank on which the church now stands; but when the people about

there had become pious, and went constantly to church, the Troll was

dreadfully annoyed by their almost incessant ringing of bells in the

steeple of the church. He was at last obliged, in consequence of it,

to take his departure; for nothing has more contributed to the

emigration of the Troll-folk out of the country than the increasing

piety of the people, and their taking to bell-ringing. The Troll of

Kund accordingly quitted the country, and went over to Funen, where he

lived for some time in peace and quiet.

Now it chanced that a man who had lately settled in the town of Kund,

coming to Funen on business, met on the road with this same Troll:

"Where do you live?" said the Troll to him. Now there was nothing

whatever about the Troll unlike a man, so he answered him, as was the

truth, "I am from the town of Kund." "So?" said the Troll. "I don't know

you, then! And yet I think I know every man in Kund. Will you, however,"

continued he, "just be so kind to take a letter from me back with you to

Kund?" The man said, of course, he had no objection. The Troll then

thrust the letter into his pocket, and charged him strictly not to take

it out till he came to Kund church, and then to throw it over the

churchyard wall, and the person for whom it was intended would get it.

The Troll then went away in great haste, and with him the letter went

entirely out of the man's mind. But when he was come back to Zealand

he sat down by the meadow where Tiis Lake now is, and suddenly

recollected the Troll's letter. He felt a great desire to look at it

at least. So he took it out of his pocket, and sat a while with it in

his hands, when suddenly there began to dribble a little water out of

the seal. The letter now unfolded itself, and the water came out

faster and faster, and it was with the utmost difficulty that the poor

man was enabled to save his life; for the malicious Troll had enclosed

an entire lake in the letter. The Troll, it is plain, had thought to

avenge himself on Kund church by destroying it in this manner; but God

ordered it so that the lake chanced to run out in the great meadow

where it now flows.[175]

_A Farmer tricks a Troll._

A farmer, on whose ground there was a little hill, resolved not to let

it lie idle, so he began at one end to plough it up. The hill-man, who

lived in it, came to him and asked him how he dared to plough on the

roof of his house. The farmer assured him that he did not know that it

was the roof of his house, but at the same time represented to him

that it was at present equally unprofitable to them both to let such a

piece of land lie idle. He therefore took the opportunity of proposing

to him that he should plough, sow, and reap it every year on these

terms: that they should take it year and year about, and the hill-man

to have one year what grew over the ground, and the farmer what grew

in the ground; and the next year the farmer to have what was over, and

the hill-man what was under.

The agreement was made accordingly; but the crafty farmer took care to

sow carrots and corn year and year about, and he gave the hill-man the

tops of the carrots and the roots of the corn for his share, with

which he was well content. They thus lived for a long time on

extremely good terms with each other.[176]

_Skotte in the Fire._

Near Gudmanstrup, in the district of Odd, is a hill called Hjulehöi

(_Hollow-hill_). The hill-folk that dwell in this mount are well known

in all the villages round, and no one ever omits making a cross on his

beer-barrels, for the Trolls are in the habit of slipping down from

Hjulehöi to steal beer.

One evening late a farmer was passing by the hill, and he saw that it

was raised up on red pillars, and that underneath there was music and

dancing and a splendid Troll banquet. The man stood a long time gazing

on their festivity; but while he was standing there, deeply absorbed

in admiration of what he saw, all of a sudden the dancing stopped, and

the music ceased, and he heard a Troll cry out, in a tone of the

utmost anguish, "Skotte is fallen into the fire! Come and help him

up!" The hill then sank, and all the merriment was at an end.

Meanwhile the farmer's wife was at home all alone, and while she was

sitting and spinning her tow, she never noticed a Troll who had crept

through the window into the next room, and was at the beer-barrel

drawing off the liquor into his copper kettle. The room-door was

standing open, and the Troll kept a steady eye on the woman. The husband

now came into the house full of wonder at what he had seen and heard.

"Hark ye, dame," he began, "listen now till I tell you what has happened

to me!" The Troll redoubled his attention. "As I came just now by

Hjulehöi," continued he, "I saw a great Troll-banquet there, but while

they were in the very middle of their glee they shouted out within in

the hill, 'Skotte is fallen into the fire; come and help him up!'"

At hearing this, the Troll, who was standing beside the beer-barrel,

was so frightened, that he let the tap run and the kettle of beer fall

on the ground, and tumbled himself out of the window as quickly as

might be. The people of the house hearing all this noise instantly

guessed what had been going on inside; and when they went in they saw

the beer all running about, and found the copper kettle lying on the

floor. This they seized, and kept in lieu of the beer that had been

spilled; and the same kettle is said to have been a long time to be

seen in the villages round about there.[177]

_The Legend of Bodedys._

There is a hill called Bodedys close to the road in the neighbourhood

of Lynge, that is near Soröe. Not far from it lived an old farmer,

whose only son was used to take long journeys on business. His father

had for a long time heard no tidings of him, and the old man became

convinced that his son was dead. This caused him much affliction, as

was natural for an old man like him, and thus some time passed over.

One evening as he was coming with a loaded cart by Bodedys, the hill

opened, and the Troll came out and desired him to drive his cart into

it. The poor man was, to be sure, greatly amazed at this, but well

knowing how little it would avail him to refuse to comply with the

Troll's request, he turned about his horses, and drove his cart

straight into the hill. The Troll now began to deal with him for his

goods, and finally bought and paid him honestly for his entire cargo.

When he had finished the unloading of his vehicle, and was about to

drive again out of the hill, the Troll said to him, "If you will now

only keep a silent tongue in your head about all that has happened to

you, I shall from this time out have an eye to your interest; and if

you come here again to-morrow morning, it may be you shall get your

son." The farmer did not well know at first what to say to all this;

but as he was, however, of opinion that the Troll was able to perform

what he had promised, he was greatly rejoiced, and failed not to come

at the appointed time to Bodedys.

He sat there waiting a long time, and at last he fell asleep, and when

he awoke from his slumber, behold! there was his son lying by his side.

Both father and son found it difficult to explain how this had come to

pass. The son related how he had been thrown into prison, and had there

suffered great hardship and distress; but that one night, while he was

lying asleep in his cell, there came a man to him, who said, "Do you

still love your father?" And when he had answered that he surely did,

his chains fell off and the wall burst open. While he was telling this

he chanced to put his hand up to his neck, and he found that he had

brought a piece of the iron chain away with him. They both were for some

time mute through excess of wonder; and they then arose and went

straightway to Lynge, where they hung up the piece of the chain in the

church, as a memorial of the wonderful event that had occurred.[178]

_Kallundborg Church._

When Esbern Snare was about building a church in Kallundborg, he saw

clearly that his means were not fully adequate to the task. But a

Troll came to him and offered his services; and Esbern Snare made an

agreement with him on these conditions, that he should be able to tell

the Troll's name when the church was finished; or in case he could

not, that he should give him his heart and his eyes.

The work now went on rapidly, and the Troll set the church on stone

pillars; but when all was nearly done, and there was only half a

pillar wanting in the church, Esbern began to get frightened, for the

name of the Troll was yet unknown to him.

One day he was going about the fields all alone, and in great anxiety

on account of the perilous state he was in; when, tired, and

depressed, by reason of his exceeding grief and affliction, he laid

him down on Ulshöi bank to rest himself a while. While he was lying

there, he heard a Troll-woman within the hill saying these words:--

"Lie still, baby mine!

To-morrow cometh Fin,

Father thine,

And giveth thee Esbern Snare's eyes and heart to play with."[179]

When Esbern heard this, he recovered his spirits, and went back to

the church. The Troll was just then coming with the half-pillar that

was wanting for the church; but when Esbern saw him, he hailed him by

his name, and called him "Fin." The Troll was so enraged at this, that

he went off with the half-pillar through the air, and this is the

reason that the church has but three pillars and a half.[180]

* * * * *

The same is told of a far greater than Esbern Snare. As St. Olaf, the

royal apostle of the North, was one day going over hill and dale,

thinking how he could contrive to build a splendid church without

distressing his people by taxation, he was met by a man of a strange

appearance, who asking him what he was thinking about, Olaf told him,

and the Troll, or rather Giant (_Jätte_), for such he was, undertook

to do it within a certain time, stipulating, for his reward, the sun

and moon, or else St. Olaf himself. Olaf agreed, but gave such a plan

for the church as it seemed to be impossible ever could be executed.

It was to be so large that seven priests could preach in it at the

same time without disturbing each other; the columns and other

ornaments both within and without should be of hard flintstone, and so

forth. It soon, however, was finished, all but the roof and pinnacle.

Olaf, now grown uneasy, rambled once more over hill and dale, when he

chanced to hear a child crying within a hill, and a giantess, its

mother, saying to it, "Hush, hush! Thy father, Wind-and-Weather, will

come home in the morning, and bring with him the sun and moon, or else

St. Olaf himself." Olaf was overjoyed, for the power of evil beings

ceases when their name is known. He returned home, where he saw every

thing completed--pinnacle and all. He immediately cried out,

"Wind-and-Weather, you've set the pinnacle crooked!"[181] Instantly

the Giant fell with a great crash from the ridge of the roof, and

broke into a thousand pieces, which were all flintstone.[182]

_The Hill-Man invited to the Christening._

The hill-people are excessively frightened during thunder. When,

therefore, they see bad weather coming on, they lose no time in getting

to the shelter of their hills. This terror is also the cause of their

not being able to endure the beating of a drum, as they take it to be

the rolling of thunder. It is therefore a good receipt for banishing

them to beat a drum every day in the neighbourhood of their hills; for

they immediately pack up and depart to some more quiet residence.

A farmer lived once in great friendship and unanimity with a hill-man,

whose hill was on his lands. One time when his wife was lying-in, it

gave him some degree of perplexity to think that he could not well

avoid inviting the hill-man to the christening, which might not

improbably bring him into bad repute with the priest and the other

people of the village. He was going about pondering deeply, but in

vain, how he might get out of this dilemma, when it came into his head

to ask the advice of the boy that kept his pigs, who was a great

head-piece, and had often helped him before. The pig-boy instantly

undertook to arrange the matter with the hill-man in such a manner

that he should not only stay away without being offended, but moreover

give a good christening-present.

Accordingly, when it was night he took a sack on his shoulder, went

to the hill-man's hill, knocked, and was admitted. He delivered his

message, giving his master's compliments, and requesting the honour of

his company at the christening. The hill-man thanked him, and said, "I

think it is but right that I should give you a christening-gift." With

these words he opened his money-chests, bidding the boy to hold up his

sack while he poured money into it. "Is there enough now?" said he,

when he had put a good quantity into it. "Many give more, few give

less," replied the boy.

The hill-man then fell again to filling the sack, and again asked, "Is

there enough now?" The boy lifted up the sack a little off the ground to

try if he was able to carry any more, and then answered, "It is about

what most people give." Upon this the hill-man emptied the whole chest

into the bag, and once more asked, "Is there enough now?" The guardian

of the pigs saw that there was as much in it now as ever he was able to

carry, so he made answer, "No one gives more, most people give less."

"Come, now," said the hill-man, "let us hear who else is to be at the

christening?" "Ah," said the boy, "we are to have a great parcel of

strangers and great people. First and foremost, we are to have three

priests and a bishop!" "Hem!" muttered the hill-man; "however, these

gentlemen usually look only after the eating and drinking: they will

never take any notice of me. Well, who else?" "Then we have asked St.

Peter and St. Paul." "Hem! hem! however, there will be a by-place for me

behind the stove. Well, and then?" "Then our Lady herself is coming!"

"Hem! hem! hem! however, guests of such high rank come late and go away

early. But tell me, my lad, what sort of music is it you are to have?"

"Music!" said the boy, "why, we are to have drums." "Drums!" repeated

he, quite terrified; "no, no, thank you, I shall stay at home in that

case. Give my best respects to your master, and I thank him for the

invitation, but I cannot come. I did but once go out to take a little

walk, and some people beginning to beat a drum, I hurried home, and was

just got to my door when they flung the drum-stick after me and broke

one of my shins. I have been lame of that leg ever since, and I shall

take good care in future to avoid that sort of music." So saying, he

helped the boy to put the sack on his back, once more charging him to

give his best respects to the farmer.[183]

_The Troll turned Cat._

About a quarter of a mile from Soröe lies Pedersborg, and a little

farther on is the town of Lyng. Just between these towns is a hill

called Bröndhöi (_Spring-hill_), said to be inhabited by the

Troll-people.

There goes a story that there was once among these Troll-people of

Bröndhöi an old crossgrained curmudgeon of a Troll, whom the rest

nick-named Knurremurre (_Rumble-grumble_), because he was evermore the

cause of noise and uproar within the hill. This Knurremurre having

discovered what he thought to be too great a degree of intimacy

between his young wife and a young Troll of the society, took this in

such ill part, that he vowed vengeance, swearing he would have the

life of the young one. The latter, accordingly, thought it would be

his best course to be off out of the hill till better times; so,

turning himself into a noble tortoiseshell tom-cat, he one fine

morning quitted his old residence, and journeyed down to the

neighbouring town of Lyng, where he established himself in the house

of an honest poor man named Plat.

Here he lived for a long time comfortable and easy, with nothing to

annoy him, and was as happy as any tom-cat or Troll crossed in love

well could be. He got every day plenty of milk and good groute[184] to

eat, and lay the whole day long at his ease in a warm arm-chair behind

the stove.

Plat happened one evening to come home rather late, and as he entered

the room the cat was sitting in his usual place, scraping meal-groute

out of a pot, and licking the pot itself carefully. "Harkye, dame,"

said Plat, as he came in at the door, "till I tell you what happened

to me on the road. Just as I was coming past Bröndhöi, there came out

a Troll, and he called out to me, and said,

"Harkye Plat,

Tell your cat,

That Knurremurre is dead."[185]

The moment the cat heard these words, he tumbled the pot down on the

floor, sprang out of the chair, and stood up on his hind-legs. Then, as

he hurried out of the door, he cried out with exultation, "What! is

Knurremurre dead? Then I may go home as fast as I please." And so saying

he scampered off to the hill, to the amazement of honest Plat; and it is

likely lost no time in making his advances to the young widow.[186]

_Kirsten's-Hill._

There is a hill on the lands of Skjelverod, near Ringsted, called

Kirsten's-hill (_Kirstens Bjerg_). In it there lived a Hill-troll

whose name was Skynd, who had from time to time stolen no less than

three wives from a man in the village of Englerup.

It was late one evening when this man was riding home from Ringsted, and

his way lay by the hill. When he came there he saw a great crowd of

Hill-folk who were dancing round it, and had great merriment among them.

But on looking a little closer, what should he recognise but all his

three wives among them! Now as Kirsten, the second of them, had been

his favourite, and dearer to him than either of the others, he called

out to her, and named her name. Troll Skynd then came up to the man, and

asked him why he presumed to call Kirsten. The man told him briefly how

she had been his favourite and best beloved wife, and entreated of him,

with many tears and much lamentation, to let him have her home with him

again. The Troll consented at last to grant the husband's request, with,

however, the condition, that he should never hurry (_skynde_) her.

For a long time the husband strictly kept the condition; but one day,

when the woman was above in the loft, getting something, and it

happened that she delayed a long time, he called out, Make haste,

Kirsten, make haste, (_Skynde dig Kirsten_); and scarcely had he

spoken the words, when the woman was gone, compelled to return to the

hill, which has ever since been called Kirsten's Bjerg.[187]

_The Troll-Labour._

"In the year 1660, when I and my wife had gone to my farm

(_fäboderne_), which is three quarters of a mile from Ragunda

parsonage, and we were sitting there and talking a while, late in the

evening, there came a little man in at the door, who begged of my wife

to go and aid his wife, who was just then in the pains of labour. The

fellow was of small size, of a dark complexion, and dressed in old

grey clothes. My wife and I sat a while, and wondered at the man; for

we were aware that he was a Troll, and we had heard tell that such

like, called by the peasantry Vettar (_spirits_), always used to keep

in the farmhouses, when people left them in harvest-time. But when he

had urged his request four or five times, and we thought on what evil

the country folk say that they have at times suffered from the Vettar,

when they have chanced to swear at them, or with uncivil words bid

them go to hell, I took the resolution to read some prayers over my

wife, and to bless her, and bid her in God's name go with him. She

took in haste some old linen with her, and went along with him, and I

remained sitting there. When she returned, she told me, that when she

went with the man out at the gate, it seemed to her as if she was

carried for a time along in the wind, and so she came to a room, on

one side of which was a little dark chamber, in which his wife lay in

bed in great agony. My wife went up to her, and, after a little while,

aided her till she brought forth the child after the same manner as

other human beings. The man then offered her food, and when she

refused it, he thanked her, and accompanied her out, and then she was

carried along, in the same way in the wind, and after a while came

again to the gate, just at ten o'clock. Meanwhile, a quantity of old

pieces and clippings of silver were laid on a shelf, in the

sitting-room, and my wife found them next day, when she was putting

the room in order. It is to be supposed that they were laid there by

the _Vettr_. That it in truth so happened, I witness, by inscribing my

name. Ragunda, the 12th of April, 1671.

"PET. RAHM."[188]

_The Hill-Smith._

Biörn Martinsson went out shooting, one day, with a gamekeeper, on the

wooded hill of Ormkulla. They there found a hill-smith (_bergsmed_)

lying fast asleep. Biörn directed the gamekeeper to secure him, but he

refused, saying "Pray to God to protect you! The hill-smith will fling

you down to the bottom of the hill." He was, however, bold and

determined, and he went up and seized the sleeping hill-smith, who

gave a cry, and implored him to let him go, as he had a wife and seven

little children. He said he would also do any iron work that should be

required; it would only be necessary to leave iron and steel on the

side of the hill, and the work would be found lying finished in the

same place. Biörn asked him for whom he worked; he replied, "For my

companions." When Biörn would not let him go, he said, "If I had my

mist-cap (_uddehat_) you should not carry me away. But if you do not

let me go, not one of your posterity will attain to the importance

which you possess, but continually decline;" which certainly came to

pass. Biörn would not, however, let him go, but brought him captive to

Bahus. On the third day, however, he effected his escape out of the

place in which he was confined.[189]

* * * * *

The following legend is related in Denmark:--

On the lands of Nyegaard lie three large hills, one of which is the

abode of a Troll, who is by trade a blacksmith. If any one is passing

that hill by night, he will see the fire issuing from the top, and

going in again at the side. Should you wish to have any piece of

iron-work executed in a masterly manner, you have only to go to the

hill, and saying aloud what you want to have made, leave there the

iron and a silver shilling. On revisiting the hill next morning, you

will find the shilling gone, and the required piece of work lying

there finished, and ready for use.[190]

_The Girl at the Troll-Dance._

A girl, belonging to a village in the isle of Funen, went out, one

evening, into the fields, and as she was passing by a small hill, she

saw that it was raised upon red pillars, and a Troll-banquet going on

beneath it. She was invited in, and such was the gaiety and festivity

that prevailed, that she never perceived the flight of time. At

length, however, she took her departure, after having spent, as she

thought, a few hours among the joyous hill-people. But when she came

to the village she no longer found it the place she had left. All was

changed; and when she entered the house in which she had lived with

her family, she learned that her father and mother had long been dead,

and the house had come into the hands of strangers. She now perceived

that for every hour that she had been among the Trolls, a year had

elapsed in the external world. The effect on her mind was such that

she lost her reason, which she never after recovered.[191]

_The Changeling._

There lived once, near Tiis lake, two lonely people, who were sadly

plagued with a changeling, given them by the underground-people

instead of their own child, which had not been baptised in time. This

changeling behaved in a very strange and uncommon manner, for when

there was no one in the place, he was in great spirits, ran up the

walls like a cat, sat under the roof, and shouted and bawled away

lustily; but sat dozing at the end of the table when any one was in

the room with him. He was able to eat as much as any four, and never

cared what it was that was set before him; but though he regarded not

the quality of his food, in quantity he was never satisfied, and gave

excessive annoyance to every one in the house.

When they had tried for a long time in vain how they could best get

rid of him, since there was no living in the house with him, a smart

girl pledged herself that she would banish him from the house. She

accordingly, while he was out in the fields, took a pig and killed it,

and put it, hide, hair, and all, into a black pudding, and set it

before him when he came home. He began, as was his custom, to gobble

it up, but when he had eaten for some time, he began to relax a little

in his efforts, and at last he sat quite still, with his knife in his

hand, looking at the pudding.

At length, after sitting for some time in this manner, he began--"A

pudding with hide!--and a pudding with hair! a pudding with eyes!--and

a pudding with legs in it! Well, three times have I seen a young wood

by Tiis lake, but never yet did I see such a pudding! The devil

himself may stay here now for me!" So saying, he ran off with himself,

and never more came back again.[192]

* * * * *

Another changeling was got rid of in the following manner. The mother,

suspecting it to be such from its refusing food, and being so

ill-thriven, heated the oven as hot as possible. The maid, as

instructed, asked her why she did it. "To burn my child in it to death,"

was the reply. When the question had been put and answered three times,

she placed the child on the peel, and was shoving it into the oven, when

the Troll-woman came in a great fright with the real child, and took

away her own, saying. "There's your child for you. I have treated it

better than you treated mine," and in truth it was fat and hearty.

_The Tile-Stove jumping over the Brook._

Near Hellested, in Zealand, lived a man, who from time to time

remarked that he was continually plundered. All his suspicions fell on

the Troll-folk, who lived in the neighbouring hill of Ildshöi

(_Fire-hill_), and once hid himself to try and get a sight of the

thief. He had waited there but a very short time when he saw, as he

thought, his tile-stove jumping across the brook. The good farmer was

all astonishment at this strange sight, and he shouted out "Hurra!

there's a jump for a tile-stove!" At this exclamation the Troll, who

was wading through the water with the stove on his head, was so

frightened that he threw it down, and ran off as hard as he could to

Ildshöi. But in the place where the stove fell, the ground got the

shape of it, and the place is called Krogbek (_Hook-brook_), and it

was this that gave rise to the common saying, "That was a jump for a

tile-stove!" "_Det var et Spring af en Leerovn!_"[193]

_Departure of the Trolls from Vendsyssel._

One evening, after sunset, there came a strange man to the ferry of

Sund. He engaged all the ferry-boats there to go backwards and

forwards the whole night long between that place and Vendsyssel,

without the people's knowing what lading they had. He told them that

they should take their freight on board half a mile to the east of

Sund, near the alehouse at the bridge of Lange.

At the appointed time the man was at that place, and the ferrymen,

though unable to see anything, perceived very clearly that the boats

sunk deeper and deeper, so that they easily concluded that they had

gotten a very heavy freight on board. The ferry-boats passed in this

manner to and fro the whole night long; and though they got every

trip a fresh cargo, the strange man never left them, but staid to have

everything regulated by his directions.

When morning was breaking they received the payment they had agreed

for, and they then ventured to inquire what it was they had been

bringing over, but on that head their employer would give them no

satisfaction.

But there happened to be among the ferrymen a smart fellow who knew

more about these matters than the others. He jumped on shore, took the

clay from under his right foot, and put it into his cap, and when he

had set it on his head he perceived that all the sand-hills east of

Aalborg were completely covered with little Troll-people, who had all

pointed red caps on their heads. Ever since that time there have been

no Dwarfs seen in Vendsyssel.[194]

_Svend Faelling._

Svend Fælling was a valiant champion. He was born in Fælling, and was

a long time at service in Aakjær house, Aarhuus, and as the roads were

at that time greatly infested by Trolls and underground-people, who

bore great enmity to all Christians, Svend undertook the office of

letter-carrier.

As he was one time going along the road, he saw approaching him the

Troll of Jels-hill, on the lands of Holm. The Troll came up to him,

begging him to stand his friend in a combat with the Troll of

Borum-es-hill. When Svend Fælling had promised to do so, saying that

he thought himself strong and active enough for the encounter, the

Troll reached him a heavy iron bar, and bade him show his strength on

that. But not all Svend's efforts availed to lift it: whereupon the

Troll handed him a horn, telling him to drink out of it. No sooner had

he drunk a little out of it than his strength increased. He was now

able to lift the bar, which, when he had drunk again, became still

lighter; but when again renewing his draught he emptied the horn, he

was able to swing the bar with ease, and he then learned from the

Troll that he had now gotten the strength of twelve men. He then

promised to prepare himself for combat with the Troll of Bergmond. As

a token he was told that he should meet on the road a black ox and a

red ox, and that he should fall with all his might on the black ox,

and drive him from the red one.

This all came to pass just as he was told, and he found, after his work

was done, that the black ox was the Troll from Borum-es-hill, and the

red ox was the Troll himself of Jels-hill, who, as a reward for the

assistance he had given him, allowed him to retain for his own use the

twelve men's strength with which he had endowed him. This grant was,

however, on this condition--that if ever he should reveal the secret of

his strength, he should be punished by getting the appetite of twelve.

The fame of the prodigious strength of Svend soon spread through the

country, as he distinguished himself by various exploits, such, for

instance, as throwing a dairy-maid, who had offended him, up on the

gable of the house, and similar feats. So when this report came to the

ears of his master, he had Svend called before him, and inquired of him

whence his great strength came. Svend recollected the words of his

friend the Troll, so he told him if he would promise him as much food as

would satisfy twelve men, he would tell him. The master promised, and

Svend told his story; but the word of the Troll was accomplished, for

from that day forth Svend ate and drank as much as any twelve.[195]

_The Dwarfs' Banquet._

A NORWEGIAN TALE.[196]

There lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a powerful

man, who was blessed with all the goods of fortune. A part of the

surrounding country was his property; numerous herds fed on his

pastures, and a great retinue and a crowd of servants adorned his

mansion. He had an only daughter, called Aslog,[197] the fame of whose

beauty spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country sought

her, but all were alike unsuccessful in their suit, and he who had

come full of confidence and joy, rode away home silent and melancholy.

Her father, who thought his daughter delayed her choice only to

select, forbore to interfere, and exulted in her prudence. But when,

at length, the richest and noblest had tried their fortune with as

little success as the rest, he grew angry, and called his daughter,

and said to her, "Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but

since I see that you reject all without any distinction, and the very

best of your suitors seem not good enough for you, I will keep

measures no longer with you. What! shall my family be extinct, and my

inheritance pass away into the hands of strangers? I will break your

stubborn spirit. I give you now till the festival of the great

Winter-night; make your choice by that time, or prepare to accept him

whom I shall fix on."

Aslog loved a youth called Orm, handsome as he was brave and noble. She

loved him with her whole soul, and she would sooner die than bestow her

hand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to serve in

the mansion of her father. Aslog's partiality for him was kept a secret;

for her father's pride of power and wealth was such that he would never

have given his consent to an union with so humble a man.

When Aslog saw the darkness of his countenance, and heard his angry

words, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and doubted

not but that he would put his threats into execution. Without uttering a

word in reply, she retired to her silent chamber, and thought deeply but

in vain how to avert the dark storm that hung over her. The great

festival approached nearer and nearer, and her anguish increased every

day.

At last the lovers resolved on flight. "I know," says Orm, "a secure

place where we may remain undiscovered until we find an opportunity of

quitting the country." At night, when all were asleep, Orm led the

trembling Aslog over the snow and ice-fields away to the mountains.

The moon and the stars sparkling still brighter in the cold winter's

night lighted them on their way. They had under their arms a few

articles of dress and some skins of animals, which were all they could

carry. They ascended the mountains the whole night long till they

reached a lonely spot inclosed with lofty rocks. Here Orm conducted

the weary Aslog into a cave, the low and narrow entrance to which was

hardly perceptible, but it soon enlarged to a great hall, reaching

deep into the mountain. He kindled a fire, and they now, reposing on

their skins, sat in the deepest solitude far away from all the world.

Orm was the first who had discovered this cave, which is shown to this

very day, and as no one knew any thing of it, they were safe from the

pursuit of Aslog's father. They passed the whole winter in this

retirement. Orm used to go a hunting, and Aslog stayed at home in the

cave, minded the fire, and prepared the necessary food. Frequently did

she mount the points of the rocks, but her eyes wandered as far as

they could reach only over glittering snow-fields.

The spring now came on--the woods were green--the meads put on their

various colours, and Aslog could but rarely and with circumspection

venture to leave the cave. One evening Orm came in with the

intelligence that he had recognised her father's servants in the

distance, and that he could hardly have been unobserved by them, whose

eyes were as good as his own. "They will surround this place,"

continued he, "and never rest till they have found us; we must quit

our retreat, then, without a moment's delay."

They accordingly descended on the other side of the mountain, and

reached the strand, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm shoved

off, and the boat drove into the open sea. They had escaped their

pursuers, but they were now exposed to dangers of another kind:

whither should they turn themselves? They could not venture to land,

for Aslog's father was lord of the whole coast, and they would

infallibly fall into his hands. Nothing then remained for them but to

commit their bark to the wind and waves. They drove along the entire

night. At break of day the coast had disappeared, and they saw nothing

but the sky above, the sea beneath, and the waves that rose and fell.

They had not brought one morsel of food with them, and thirst and

hunger began now to torment them. Three days did they toss about in

this state of misery, and Aslog, faint and exhausted, saw nothing but

certain death before her.

At length, on the evening of the third day, they discovered an island

of tolerable magnitude, and surrounded by a number of smaller ones.

Orm immediately steered for it, but just as he came near it there

suddenly rose a violent wind, and the sea rolled every moment higher

and higher against him. He turned about with a view of approaching it

on another side, but with no better success; his vessel, as oft as it

approached the island, was driven back as if by an invisible power.

"Lord God!" cried he, and blessed himself and looked on poor Aslog,

who seemed to be dying of weakness before his eyes. But scarcely had

the exclamation passed his lips when the storm ceased, the waves

subsided, and the vessel came to the shore, without encountering any

hindrance. Orm jumped out on the beach; some mussels that he found on

the strand strengthened and revived the exhausted Aslog, so that she

was soon able to leave the boat.

The island was overgrown with low dwarf shrubs, and seemed to be

uninhabited; but when they had gotten about to the middle of it, they

discovered a house reaching but a little above the ground, and

appearing to be half under the surface of the earth. In the hope of

meeting human beings and assistance, the wanderers approached it. They

listened if they could hear any noise, but the most perfect silence

reigned there. Orm at length opened the door, and with his companion

walked in; but what was their surprise, to find everything regulated

and arranged as if for inhabitants, yet not a single living creature

visible. The fire was burning on the hearth, in the middle of the

room, and a pot with fish hung on it apparently only waiting for some

one to take it up and eat it. The beds were made and ready to receive

their wearied tenants. Orm and Aslog stood for some time dubious, and

looked on with a certain degree of awe, but at last, overcome by

hunger, they took up the food and ate. When they had satisfied their

appetites, and still in the last beams of the setting sun, which now

streamed over the island far and wide, discovered no human being, they

gave way to weariness, and laid themselves in the beds to which they

had been so long strangers.

They had expected to be awakened in the night by the owners of the

house on their return home, but their expectation was not fulfilled;

they slept undisturbed till the morning sun shone in upon them. No one

appeared on any of the following days, and it seemed as if some

invisible power had made ready the house for their reception. They

spent the whole summer in perfect happiness--they were, to be sure,

solitary, yet they did not miss mankind. The wild birds' eggs, and the

fish they caught, yielded them provisions in abundance.

When autumn came, Aslog brought forth a son. In the midst of their joy

at his appearance, they were surprised by a wonderful apparition. The

door opened on a sudden, and an old woman stepped in. She had on her a

handsome blue dress: there was something proud, but at the same time

something strange and surprising in her appearance.

"Do not be afraid," said she, "at my unexpected appearance--I am the

owner of this house, and I thank you for the clean and neat state in

which you have kept it, and for the good order in which I find

everything with you. I would willingly have come sooner, but I had no

power to do so till this little heathen (pointing to the new

born-babe) was come to the light. Now I have free access. Only fetch

no priest from the main-land to christen it, or I must depart again.

If you will in this matter comply with my wishes, you may not only

continue to live here, but all the good that ever you can wish for I

will do you. Whatever you take in hand shall prosper; good luck shall

follow you wherever you go. But break this condition, and depend upon

it that misfortune after misfortune will come on you, and even on this

child will I avenge myself. If you want anything, or are in danger,

you have only to pronounce my name three times and I will appear and

lend you assistance. I am of the race of the old Giants, and my name

is Guru. But beware of uttering in my presence the name of him whom no

Giant may hear of, and never venture to make the sign of the cross, or

to cut it on beam or board in the house. You may dwell in this house

the whole year long, only be so good as to give it up to me on Yule

evening, when the sun is at the lowest, as then we celebrate our great

festival, and then only are we permitted to be merry. At least, if you

should not be willing to go out of the house, keep yourselves up in

the loft as quiet as possible the whole day long, and as you value

your lives do not look down into the room until midnight is past.

After that you may take possession of everything again."

When the old woman had thus spoken she vanished, and Aslog and Orm,

now at ease respecting their situation, lived without any disturbance

contented and happy. Orm never made a cast of his net without getting

a plentiful draught; he never shot an arrow from his bow that it was

not sure to hit; in short, whatever they took in hand, were it ever so

trifling, evidently prospered.

When Christmas came, they cleaned up the house in the best manner, set

everything in order, kindled a fire on the hearth, and as the twilight

approached, they went up to the loft, where they remained quite still

and quiet. At length it grew dark; they thought they heard a sound of

whizzing and snorting in the air, such as the swans use to make in the

winter time. There was a hole in the roof over the fireplace which

might be opened and shut either to let in the light from above, or to

afford a free passage for the smoke. Orm lifted up the lid, which was

covered with a skin, and put out his head. But what a wonderful sight

then presented itself to his eyes! The little islands around were all

lit up with countless blue lights, which moved about without ceasing,

jumped up and down, then skipped down to the shore, assembled

together, and came nearer and nearer to the large island where Orm and

Aslog lived. At last they reached it and arranged themselves in a

circle around a large stone not far from the shore, and which Orm well

knew. But what was his surprise, when he saw that the stone had now

completely assumed the form of a man, though of a monstrous and

gigantic one! He could clearly perceive that the little blue lights

were borne by Dwarfs, whose pale clay-coloured faces, with their huge

noses and red eyes, disfigured too by birds' bills and owls' eyes,

were supported by misshapen bodies; and they tottered and wabbled

about here and there, so that they seemed to be at the same time merry

and in pain. Suddenly, the circle opened; the little ones retired on

each side, and Guru, who was now much enlarged and of as immense a

size as the stone, advanced with gigantic steps. She threw both her

arms round the stone image, which immediately began to receive life

and motion. As soon as the first symptom of motion showed itself, the

little ones began, with wonderful capers and grimaces, a song, or to

speak more properly, a howl, with which the whole island resounded and

seemed to tremble at the noise. Orm, quite terrified, drew in his

head, and he and Aslog remained in the dark, so still, that they

hardly ventured to draw their breath.

The procession moved on toward the house, as might be clearly

perceived by the nearer approach of the shouting and crying. They were

now all come in, and, light and active, the Dwarfs jumped about on the

benches; and heavy and loud sounded at intervals the steps of the

giants. Orm and his wife heard them covering the table, and the

clattering of the plates, and the shouts of joy with which they

celebrated their banquet. When it was over and it drew near to

midnight, they began to dance to that ravishing fairy-air which charms

the mind into such sweet confusion, and which some have heard in the

rocky glens, and learned by listening to the underground musicians. As

soon as Aslog caught the sound of this air, she felt an irresistible

longing to see the dance. Nor was Orm able to keep her back. "Let me

look," said she, "or my heart will burst." She took her child and

placed herself at the extreme end of the loft, whence, without being

observed, she could see all that passed. Long did she gaze, without

taking off her eyes for an instant, on the dance, on the bold and

wonderful springs of the little creatures who seemed to float in the

air, and not so much as to touch the ground, while the ravishing

melody of the elves filled her whole soul. The child meanwhile, which

lay in her arms, grew sleepy and drew its breath heavily, and without

ever thinking on the promise she had given the old woman, she made, as

is usual, the sign of the cross over the mouth of the child, and said,

"Christ bless you, my babe!"

The instant she had spoken the word there was raised a horrible

piercing cry. The spirits tumbled heads over heels out at the door

with terrible crushing and crowding, their lights went out, and in a

few minutes the whole house was clear of them, and left desolate. Orm

and Aslog frightened to death, hid themselves in the most retired nook

in the house. They did not venture to stir till daybreak, and not till

the sun shone through the hole in the roof down on the fire-place did

they feel courage enough to descend from the loft.

The table remained still covered as the underground-people had left

it; all their vessels, which were of silver, and manufactured in the

most beautiful manner, were upon it. In the middle of the room, there

stood upon the ground a huge copper vessel half full of sweet mead,

and by the side of it, a drinking-horn of pure gold. In the corner lay

against the wall a stringed instrument, not unlike a dulcimer, which,

as people believe, the Giantesses used to play on. They gazed on what

was before them, full of admiration, but without venturing to lay

their hands on anything: but great and fearful was their amazement,

when, on turning about, they saw sitting at the table an immense

figure, which Orm instantly recognised as the Giant whom Guru had

animated by her embrace. He was now a cold and hard stone. While they

were standing gazing on it, Guru herself entered the room in her

giant-form. She wept so bitterly, that her tears trickled down on the

ground. It was long ere her sobbing permitted her to utter a single

word: at last she spoke:--

"Great affliction have you brought on me, and henceforth I must weep

while I live; yet as I know that you have not done this with evil

intentions, I forgive you, though it were a trifle for me to crush the

whole house like an egg-shell over your heads."

"Alas!" cried she, "my husband, whom I love more than myself, there he

sits, petrified for ever; never again will he open his eyes! Three

hundred years lived I with my father on the island of Kunnan, happy in

the innocence of youth, as the fairest among the Giant-maidens. Mighty

heroes sued for my hand; the sea around that island is still filled

with the rocky fragments which they hurled against each other in their

combats. Andfind won the victory, and I plighted myself to him. But

ere I was married came the detestable Odin into the country, who

overcame my father, and drove us all from the island. My father and

sisters fled to the mountains, and since that time my eyes have beheld

them no more. Andfind and I saved ourselves on this island, where we

for a long time lived in peace and quiet, and thought it would never

be interrupted. But destiny, which no one escapes, had determined it

otherwise. Oluf[198] came from Britain. They called him the Holy, and

Andfind instantly found that his voyage would be inauspicious to the

giants. When he heard how Oluf's ship rushed through the waves, he

went down to the strand and blew the sea against him with all his

strength. The waves swelled up like mountains. But Oluf was still more

mighty than he; his ship flew unchecked through the billows like an

arrow from a bow: He steered direct for our island. When the ship was

so near that Andfind thought he could reach it with his hands, he

grasped at the forepart with his right hand, and was about to drag it

down to the bottom, as he had often done with other ships. But Oluf,

the terrible Oluf, stepped forward, and crossing his hands over each

other, he cried with a loud voice, 'Stand there as a stone, till the

last day,' and in the same instant my unhappy husband became a mass of

rock. The ship sailed on unimpeded, and ran direct against the

mountain, which it cut through, and separated from it the little

island which lies out yonder.[199]

"Ever since my happiness has been annihilated, and lonely and melancholy

have I passed my life. On Yule-eve alone can petrified Giants receive

back their life for the space of seven hours, if one of their race

embraces them, and is, at the same time, willing to sacrifice a hundred

years of their own life. But seldom does a Giant do that. I loved my

husband too well not to bring him back cheerfully to life every time

that I could do it, even at the highest price, and never would I reckon

how often I had done it, that I might not know when the time came when I

myself should share his fate, and at the moment that I threw my arms

around him become one with him. But alas! even this comfort is taken

from me; I can never more by any embrace awake him, since he has heard

the name which I dare not utter; and never again will he see the light

until the dawn of the last day shall bring it.

"I now go hence! You will never again behold me! All that is here in

the house I give you! My dulcimer alone will I keep! But let no one

venture to fix his habitation on the little islands that lie around

here! There dwell the little underground ones whom you saw at the

festival, and I will protect them as long as I live!"

With these words Guru vanished. The next spring Orm took the golden

horn and the silver ware to Drontheim, where no one knew him. The

value of these precious metals was so great, that he was able to

purchase everything requisite for a wealthy man. He laded his ship

with his purchases, and returned back to the island, where he spent

many years in unalloyed happiness, and Aslog's father was soon

reconciled to his wealthy son-in-law.

The stone image remained sitting in the house; no human power was able

to move it. So hard was the stone, that hammer and axe flew in pieces

without making the slightest impression upon it. The Giant sat there

till a holy man same to the island, who with one single word removed

him back to his former station, where he stands to this hour. The

copper vessel, which the underground people left behind them, was

preserved as a memorial upon the island, which bears the name of House

Island to the present day.

FOOTNOTES:

[150] There is no etymon of this word. It is to be found in both the

Icelandic and the Finnish languages; whether the latter borrowed or

communicated it is uncertain. Ihre derives the name of the celebrated

waterfall of Trollhæta, near Göttenburg, from Troll, and Haute

_Lapponice_, an abyss. It therefore answers to the Irish

_Poul-a-Phooka_. See _Ireland_.

[151] In the following lines quoted in the Heimskringla, it would seem

to signify the Dii Manes.

Tha gaf hann Trescegg Tröllum,

Torf-Einarr drap Scurfo.

Then gave he Trescegg to the Trolls,

Turf-Einarr slew Scurfo.

[152] The ancient Gothic nation was called Troll by their Vandal

neighbours (Junii Batavia, c. 27); according to Sir J. Malcolm, the

Tartars call the Chinese Deevs. It was formerly believed, says Ihre,

that the noble family of Troll, in Sweden, derived their name from

having killed a Troll, that is, probably, a Dwarf.

[153] Arndt, Reise nach Schweden, vol. iii. p. 8.

[154] Like our Fairies the Trolls are sometimes of marvellously small

dimensions: in the Danish ballad of Eline af Villenskov we read--

_Del da meldte den mindste Trold,

Han var ikke större end en myre,

Her er kommet en Christen mand,

Den maa jag visseligen styre._

Out then spake the tinyest Troll,

No bigger than an emmet was he,

Hither is come a Christian man,

And manage him will I surelie.

[155] Thiele, i. 36.

[156] For this they seem to be indebted to their hat or cap. Eske Brok

being one day in the fields, knocked off, without knowing it, the hat

of a Dwarf who instantly became visible, and had, in order to recover

it, to grant him every thing he asked. Thiele iii. 49. This hat

answers to the Tarnkappe or Hel-kaplein of the German Dwarfs; who also

become visible when their caps are struck off.

[157] In the Danish ballad of Eline af Villenskov the hero is called

_Trolden graae_, the Gray Trold, probably from the colour of his

habiliments.

[158] We deem it needless in future to refer to volume and page of Mr.

Thiele's work. Those acquainted with the original will easily find the

legends.

[159] We have ventured to omit the Omquæd. _I styren väll de Runor!_

(Manage well the runes!) The final _e_ in Thynnè is marked merely to

indicate that it is to be sounded.

[160] _Runeslag_, literally Rune-stroke. Runes originally signified

letters, and then songs. They were of two kinds, Maalrunor

(_Speech-runes_), and Troll-runor (_Magic-runes_). These last were

again divided into Skaderunor (_Mischief-runes_) and Hjelprunor

(_Help-runes_), of each of which there were five kinds. See Verelius'

notes to the Hervarar Saga, cap. 7.

The power of music over all nature is a subject of frequent recurrence

in northern poetry. Here all the wild animals are entranced by the

magic tones of the harp; the meads flower, the trees put forth leaves;

the knight, though grave and silent, is attracted, and even if

inclined to stay away, he cannot restrain his horse.

[161] _Rosendelund._ The word _Lund_ signifies any kind of grove,

thicket, &c.

[162] Not the island of Iceland, but a district in Norway of that

name. By Berner-land, Geijer thinks is meant the land of Bern

(_Verona_), the country of Dietrich, so celebrated in German romance.

[163] _Sabel och Mård._ These furs are always mentioned in the

northern ballads, as the royal rewards of distinguished actions.

[164] This fine ancient Visa was taken down from recitation in West

Gothland. The corresponding Danish one of Herr Tönne is much later.

[165] Niebuhr, speaking of the Celsi Ramnes, says, "With us the

salutation of blood relations was _Willkommen stolze Vetter_ (Welcome,

proud cousins) and in the Danish ballads, proud (_stolt_) is a noble

appellation of a maiden."--Römische Geschichte, 2d edit. vol. i. p. 316.

It may be added, that in English, _proud_ and the synonymous term

_stout_ (_stolz_, _stolt_) had also the sense of noble, high-born.

Do now your devoir, yonge knightes _proud_.

_Knight's Tale._

Up stood the queen and ladies _stout_.

_Launfal._

[166] _Men jag vet at sorge är tung._

[167] Wain, our readers hardly need be informed, originally signified

any kind of carriage: see Faerie Queene, _passim_. It is the Ang. Sax.

þǽn, and not a contraction of _waggon_.

[168] From Vermland and Upland.

[169] This we suppose to be the meaning of _hemmagifta_, as it is that

of _hemgift_, the only word approaching to it that we have met in our

dictionary.

[170] _Brandcreatur_, a word of which we cannot ascertain the exact

meaning. We doubt greatly if the following _hielmeta_ be helmets.

[171] Grimm (Deut. Mythol. p. 435) has extracted this legend from the

Bahuslän of Ödman, who, as he observes, and as we may see, relates it

quite seriously, and with the real names of persons. It is we believe

the only legend of the union of a _man_ with one of the hill-folk.

[172] "Three kings' ransoms" is a common maximum with a Danish peasant

when speaking of treasure.

[173]

"Rid paa det Bolde,

Og ikke paa det Knolde."

[174] _Oral._ This is an adventure common to many countries. The

church of Vigersted in Zealand has a cup obtained in the same way. The

man, in this case, took refuge in the church, and was there besieged

by the Trolls till morning. The bridge of Hagbro in Jutland got its

name from a similar event. When the man rode off with the silver jug

from the beautiful maiden who presented it to him, an old crone set

off in pursuit of him with such velocity, that she would surely have

caught him, but that providentially he came to a running water. The

pursuer, however, like Nannie with Tam o' Shanter, caught the horse's

hind leg, but was only able to keep one of the cocks of his shoe:

hence the bridge was called Hagbro, _i. e._ Cock Bridge.

[175] _Oral._ Tiis Lake is in Zealand. It is the general belief of the

peasantry that there are now very few Trolls in the country, for the

ringing of bells has driven them all away, they, like the Stille-folk

of the Germans, delighting in quiet and silence. It is said that a

farmer having found a Troll sitting very disconsolate on a stone near

Tiis Lake, and taking him at first for a decent Christian man,

accosted him with--"Well! where are you going, friend?" "Ah!" said he,

in a melancholy tone, "I am going off out of the country. I cannot

live here any longer, they keep such eternal ringing and dinging!"

"There is a high hill," says Kalm (Resa, &c. p. 136), "near Botna in

Sweden, in which formerly dwelt a Troll. When they got up bells in Botna

church, and he heard the ringing of them, he is related to have said:

"_Det är så godt i det Botnaberg at bo,

Vore ikke den leda Bjälleko._"

"Pleasant it were in Botnahill to dwell,

Were it not for the sound of that plaguey bell."

[176] This story is told by Rabelais with his characteristic humour

and extravagance. As there are no Trolls in France, it is the devil

who is deceived in the French version. A legend similar to this is

told of the district of Lujhmân in Afghanistân (Masson, Narrative,

etc., iii. 297); but there it was the Shâitan (_Satan_) that cheated

the farmers. The legends are surely independent fictions.

[177] _Oral._ Gudmanstrup is in Zealand. In Ouröe, a little island

close to Zealand, there is a hill whence the Trolls used to come down

and supply themselves with provisions out of the farmers' pantries.

Niel Jensen, who lived close to the hill, finding that they were

making, as he thought, over free with his provisions, took the liberty

of putting a lock on the door through which they had access. But he

had better have left it alone, for his daughter grew stone blind, and

never recovered her sight till the lock was removed.--_Resenii Atlas_,

i. 10. There is a similar story in Grimm's Deutsche Sagen, i. p. 55.

[178] This legend is oral.

[179]

_Tie stille, barn min!

Imorgen kommer Fin,

Fa'er din,

Og gi'er dig Esbern Snares öine og hjerte at lege med._

[180] _Oral._ Kallundborg is in Zealand. Mr. Thiele says he saw four

pillars at the church. The same story is told of the cathedral of Lund

in Funen, which was built by the Troll Finn at the desire of St.

Laurentius.

Of Esbern Snare, Holberg says, "The common people tell wonderful

stories of him, and how the devil carried him off; which, with other

things, will serve to prove that he was an able man."

The German story of Rumpelstilzchen (Kinder and Haus-Märchen, No. 55)

is similar to this legend. MM. Grimm, in their note on this story,

notice the unexpected manner in which, in the Thousand and One Days,

or Persian Tales, the princess Turandot learns the name of Calaf.

[181]

_Wind och Veder!

Du har satt spiran spedar!_

Others say it was

_Blaster! sätt spiran väster!_

Blester! set the pinnacle westwards!

Or,

_Slät! sätt spiran rätt!_

Slätt! set the pinnacle straight!

[182] Afzelius Sago-häfder, iii. 83. Grimm, Deut. Mythol. p. 515.

[183] This event happened in Jutland. The Troll's dread of thunder

seems to be founded in the mythologic narratives of Thor's enmity to

the Trolls.

[184] Groute, Danish _Gröd_, is a species of food like furmety, made

of shelled oats or barley. It is boiled and eaten with milk or butter.

[185]

_Hör du Plat,

Siig til din Kat,

At Knurremurre er död._

[186] The scene of this story is in Zealand. The same is related of a

hill called Ornehöi in the same island. The writer has heard it in

Ireland, but they were cats who addressed the man as he passed by the

churchyard where they were assembled.

[187] This legend was orally related to Mr. Thiele.

[188] Hülpher, Samlingen om Jämtland. Westeras, 1775. p. 210 _ap._

Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 425.

[189] Ödmans Bahuslän, _ap._ Grimm. Deut. Mythol. p. 426. Ödman also

tells of a man who, as he was going along one day with his dog, came

on a hill-smith at his work, using a stone as an anvil. He had on him

a light grey coat and a black woollen hat. The dog began to bark at

him, but he put on so menacing an attitude that they both deemed it

advisable to go away.

[190] Thiele, iv. 120. In both these legends we find the tradition of

the artistic skill of the Duergar and of Völundr still retained by the

peasantry: see Tales and Popular Fictions, p. 270.

[191] Thiele, iv. 21. In Otmar's Volksagen, there is a German legend

of Peter Klaus, who slept a sleep of twenty years in the bowling green

of the Kyffhäuser, from which Washington Irving made his Ripp van

Winkle. We shall also find it in the Highlands of Scotland. It is the

Irish legend of Clough na Cuddy, so extremely well told by Mr. C.

Croker (to which, by the way, we contributed a Latin song), in the

notes to which further information will be found. The Seven Sleepers

seems to be the original.

[192] _Oral._ See the Young Piper and the Brewery of Egg-shells in the

Irish Fairy Legends, with the notes. The same story is also to be

found in Germany where the object is to make the changeling laugh. The

mother breaks an egg in two and sets water down to boil in each half

shell. The imp then cries out: "Well! I'm as old as the Westerwald,

but never before saw I any one cooking in egg-shells," and burst out

laughing at it. Instantly the true child was returned.--Kinder and

Haus-Märchen, iii. 39. Grose also tells the story in his Provincial

Glossary. The mother there breaks a dozen of eggs and sets the shells

before the child, who says, "I was seven years old when I came to

nurse, and I have lived four since, and yet I never saw so many

milkpans." See also Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and below,

_Wales_, _Brittany_, _France_.

[193] This legend is taken from Resenn Atlas, i. 36.

[194] Vendsyssel and Aalborg are both in North Jutland.--The story is

told by the ferrymen to travellers: see Mythology of Greece and Italy,

p. 68.

[195] See above p. 89. According to what Mr. Thiele was told in

Zealand, Svend Fælling must have been of prodigious size, for there is

a hill near Steenstrup on which he used to sit while he washed his

feet and hands in the sea, about half a quarter of a mile distant. The

people of Holmstrup dressed a dinner for him, and brought it to him in

large brewing vessels, much as the good people of Lilliput did with

Gulliver. This reminds us of Holger Danske, who once wanted a new suit

of clothes. Twelve tailors were employed: they set ladders to his back

and shoulders, as was done to Gulliver, and they measured away; but

the man that was highest on the right side ladder chanced, as he was

cutting a mark in the measure, to clip Holger's ear. Holger,

forgetting what it was, hastily put up his hand to his head, caught

the poor tailor, and crushed him to death between his fingers.

[196] This tale was taken from oral recitation by Dr. Grimm, and

inserted in Hauff's Märchenalmanach for 1827. Dr. Grimm's fidelity to

tradition is too well known to leave any doubt of its genuineness.

[197] Aslög (_Light of the Aser_) is the name of the lovely daughter

of Sigurd and Brynhilda, who became the wife of Ragnar Lodbrok. How

beautiful and romantic is the account in the Volsunga Saga of old

Heimer taking her, when an infant, and carrying her about with him in

his harp, to save her from those who sought her life as the last of

Sigurd's race; his retiring to remote streams and waterfalls to wash

her, and his stilling her cries by the music of his harp!

[198] This is Saint Oluf or Olave, the warlike apostle of the North.

[199] A legend similar to this is told of Saint Oluf in various parts

of Scandinavia. The following is an example:--As he was sailing by the

high strand-hills in Hornsherred, in which a giantess abode, she cried

out to him,

Saint Oluf with the red beard hear!

My cellar-wall thou'rt sailing too near!

Oluf was incensed, and instead of guiding the ship through the rocks,

he turned it toward the hill, replying:

Hearken thou witch with thy spindle and rock!

There shalt thou sit and be a stone-block!

and scarcely had he spoken when the hill burst and the giantess was

turned into stone. She is still seen sitting on the east side with her

rock and spindle; out of the opposite mass sprang a holy well. Grimm.

Deutsche Mythologie, p. 516.

NISSES.[200]

Og Trolde, Hexer, Nisser i hver Vraae.

FINN MAGNUSEN

And Witches, Trolls, and Nisses in each nook.

The Nis is the same being that is called Kobold in Germany, Brownie in

Scotland, and whom we shall meet in various other places under

different appellations. He is in Denmark and Norway also called Nisse

god-dreng (_Nissè good lad_), and in Sweden Tomtgubbe (_Old Man of the

House_), or briefly Tomte.

He is evidently of the Dwarf family, as he resembles them in appearance,

and, like them, has the command of money, and the same dislike to noise

and tumult. He is of the size of a year-old child, but has the face of

an old man. His usual dress is grey, with a pointed red cap; but on

Michaelmas-day he wears a round hat like those of the peasants.

No farm-house goes on well unless there is a Nis in it, and well is it

for the maids and the men when they are in favour with him. They may

go to their beds and give themselves no trouble about their work, and

yet in the morning the maids will find the kitchen swept up, and water

brought in, and the men will find the horses in the stable well

cleaned and curried, and perhaps a supply of corn cribbed for them

from the neighbours' barns. But he punishes them for any irregularity

that takes place.

The Nisses of Norway, we are told, are fond of the moon-light, and in

the winter time they may be seen jumping over the yard, or driving in

sledges. They are also skilled in music and dancing, and will, it is

said, give instructions on the fiddle for a _grey sheep_, like the

Swedish Strömkarl.[201]

Every church, too, has its Nis, who looks to order, and chastises

those who misbehave themselves. He is called the Kirkegrim.

_The Nis Removing._[202]

It is very difficult, they say, to get rid of a Nis when one wishes

it. A man who lived in a house in which a Nis carried his pranks to

great lengths resolved to quit the tenement, and leave him there

alone. Several cart-loads of furniture and other articles were already

gone, and the man was come to take away the last, which consisted

chiefly of empty tubs, barrels, and things of that sort. The load was

now all ready, and the man had just bidden farewell to his house and

to the Nis, hoping for comfort in his new habitation, when happening,

from some cause or other, to go to the back of the cart, there he saw

the Nis sitting in one of the tubs in the cart, plainly with the

intention of going along with him wherever he went. The good man was

surprised and disconcerted beyond measure at seeing that all his

labour was to no purpose; but the Nis began to laugh heartily, popped

his head up out of the tub, and cried to the bewildered farmer, "Ha!

we're moving to-day, you see."[203]

_The Penitent Nis._

It is related of a Nis, who had established himself in a house in

Jutland, that he used every evening, after the maid was gone to bed,

to go into the kitchen to take his groute, which they used to leave

for him in a wooden bowl.

One evening he sat down as usual to eat his supper with a good

appetite, drew over the bowl to him, and was just beginning, as he

thought, to make a comfortable meal, when he found that the maid had

forgotten to put any butter into it for him. At this he fell into a

furious rage, got up in the height of his passion, and went out into

the cow-house, and twisted the neck of the best cow that was in it.

But as he felt himself still very hungry, he stole back again to the

kitchen to take some of the groute, such as it was, and when he had

eaten a little of it he perceived that there was butter in it, but

that it had sunk to the bottom under the groute. He was now so vexed

at his injustice toward the maid, that, to make good the damage he had

done, he went back to the cow-house and set a chest full of money by

the side of the dead cow, where the family found it nest morning, and

by means of it got into flourishing circumstances.

_The Nis and the Boy._

There was a Nis in a house in Jutland; he every evening got his groute

at the regular time, and he, in return, used to help both the men and

the maids, and looked to the interest of the master of the house in

every respect.

There came one time an arch mischievous boy to live at service in this

house, and his great delight was, whenever he got an opportunity, to

give the Nis all the annoyance in his power. One evening, late, when

everything was quiet in the place, the Nis took his little wooden dish,

and was just going to eat his supper, when he perceived that the boy had

put the butter at the bottom, and concealed it, in hopes that he might

eat the groute first, and then find the butter when all the groute was

gone. He accordingly set about thinking how he might repay the boy in

kind; so, after pondering a little, he went up to the loft, where the

man and the boy were lying asleep in the same bed. When he had taken the

bed-clothes off them, and saw the little boy by the side of the tall

man, he said, "Short and long don't match;" and with this word he took

the boy by the legs and dragged him down to the man's legs. He then went

up to the head of the bed, and "Short and long don't match," said he

again, and then he dragged the boy up once more. When, do what he would,

he could not succeed in making the boy as long as the man, he still

persisted in dragging him up and down in the bed, and continued at this

work the whole night long, till it was broad daylight.

By this time he was well tired, so he crept up on the window-stool,

and sat with his legs hanging down into the yard. But the

house-dog--for all dogs have a great enmity to the Nis--as soon as he

saw him, began to bark at him, which afforded such amusement to Nis,

as the dog could not get up to him, that he put down first one leg and

then the other to him, and teazed him, and kept saying, "Look at my

little leg! look at my little leg!" In the meantime the boy had

wakened, and had stolen up close behind him, and while Nis was least

thinking of it, and was going on with his "Look at my little leg!" the

boy tumbled him down into the yard to the dog, crying out at the same

time, "Look at the whole of him now!"

_The Nis Stealing Corn._

There lived a man at Thyrsting, in Jutland, who had a Nis in his barn.

This Nis used to attend to the cattle, and at night he would steal

fodder for them from the neighbours, so that this farmer had the best

fed and most thriving cattle in the country.

One time the boy went along with the Nis to Fugleriis to steal corn.

The Nis took as much as he thought he could well carry, but the boy

was more covetous, and said, "Oh, take more; sure we can rest now and

then?" "Rest!" said the Nis; "rest! and what is rest?" "Do what I tell

you," replied the boy; "take more, and we shall find rest when we get

out of this."--The Nis then took more, and they went away with it. But

when they were come to the lands of Thyrsting, the Nis grew tired, and

then the boy said to him, "Here now is rest;" and they both sat down

on the side of a little hill. "If I had known," said the Nis, as they

were sitting there, "if I had known that rest was so good, I'd have

carried off all that was in the barn."

It happened some time after that the boy and the Nis were no longer

friends, and as the Nis was sitting one day in the granary-window,

with his legs hanging out into the yard, the boy ran at him and

tumbled him back into the granary. But the Nis took his satisfaction

of him that very same night; for when the boy was gone to bed, he

stole down to where he was lying, and carried him naked as he was out

into the yard, and then laid two pieces of wood across the well, and

put him lying on them, expecting that, when he awoke, he would fall

from the fright down into the well and be drowned. But he was

disappointed, for the boy came off without injury.

_The Nis and the Mare._

There was a man who lived in the town of Tirup, who had a very

handsome white mare. This mare had for many years gone, like an

heirloom, from father to son, because there was a Nis attached to her,

which brought luck to the place.

This Nis was so fond of the mare, that he could hardly endure to let

them put her to any kind of work, and he used to come himself every

night and feed her of the best; and as for this purpose he usually

brought a superfluity of corn, both threshed and in the straw, from

the neighbours' barns, all the rest of the cattle enjoyed the

advantage of it, and they were all kept in exceeding good case.

It happened at last that the farm-house passed into the hands of a new

owner, who refused to put any faith in what they told him about the

mare, so the luck speedily left the place, and went after the mare to

his poor neighbour who had bought her; and within five days after his

purchase, the poor farmer who had bought the mare began to find his

circumstances gradually improving, while the income of the other, day

after day, fell away and diminished at such a rate, that he was hard

set to make both ends meet.

If now the man who had gotten the mare had only known how to be quiet,

and enjoy the good times that were come upon him, he and his children,

and his children's children after him, would have been in flourishing

circumstances till this very day. But when he saw the quantity of corn

that came every night to his barn, he could not resist his desire to

get a sight of the Nis. So he concealed himself one evening, at

nightfall, in the stable; and as soon as it was midnight, he saw how

the Nis came from his neighbour's barn and brought a sackful of corn

with him. It was now unavoidable that the Nis should get a sight of

the man who was watching; so he, with evident marks of grief, gave the

mare her food for the last time, cleaned, and dressed her to the best

of his abilities, and when he had done, turned round to where the man

was lying and bid him farewell.

From that day forward the circumstances of both the neighbours were on

an equality, for each now kept his own.

_The Nis Riding._

There was a Nis in a farm-house, who was for ever tormenting the

maids, and playing all manner of roguish tricks on them, and they in

return were continually planning how to be even with him. There came

one time to the farm-house a Juttish drover and put up there for the

night. Among his cattle, there was one very large Juttish ox; and when

Nis saw him in the stable he took a prodigious fancy to get up and

ride on his back. He accordingly mounted the ox, and immediately began

to torment the beast in such a manner that he broke loose from his

halter and ran out into the yard with the Nis on his back. Poor Nis

was now terrified in earnest, and began to shout and bawl most

lustily. His cries awakened the maids, but instead of coming to his

assistance they laughed at him till they were ready to break their

hearts. And when the ox ran against a piece of timber, so that the

unfortunate Nis had his hood all torn by it, the maids shouted out and

called him "Lame leg, Lame leg," and he made off with himself in most

miserable plight. But the Nis did not forget it to the maids; for the

following Sunday when they were going to the dance, he contrived,

unknown to them, to smut their faces all over, so that when they got

up to dance, every one that was there burst out a laughing at them.

_The Nisses in Vosborg._

There was once an exceeding great number of Nisses in Jutland. Those in

Vosborg in particular were treated with so much liberality, that they

were careful and solicitous beyond measure for their master's interest.

They got every evening in their sweet-groute a large lump of butter, and

in return for this, they once showed great zeal and gratitude.

One very severe winter, a lonely house in which there were six calves

was so completely covered by the snow, that for the space of fourteen

days no one could get into it. When the snow was gone, the people

naturally thought that the calves were all dead of hunger; but far

from it, they found them all in excellent condition; the place cleaned

up, and the cribs full of beautiful corn, so that it was quite evident

the Nisses had attended to them.

But the Nis, though thus grateful when well treated, is sure to avenge

himself when any one does anything to annoy and vex him. As a Nis was

one day amusing himself by running on the loft over the cow-house, one

of the boards gave way and his leg went through. The boy happened to be

in the cow-house when this happened, and when he saw the Nis's leg

hanging down, he took up a dung fork, and gave him with it a smart rap

on the leg. At noon, when the people were sitting round the table in the

hall, the boy sat continually laughing to himself. The bailiff asked him

what he was laughing at; and the boy replied, "Oh! a got such a blow at

Nis to-day, and a gave him such a hell of a rap with my fork, when he

put his leg down through the loft." "No," cried Nis, outside of the

window, "it was not one, but three blows you gave me, for there were

three prongs on the fork; but I shall pay you for it, my lad."

Next night, while the boy was lying fast asleep, Nis came and took him

up and brought him out into the yard, then flung him over the house,

and was so expeditious in getting to the other side of the house, that

he caught him before he came to the ground, and instantly pitched him

over again, and kept going on with this sport till the boy had been

eight times backwards and forwards over the roof, and the ninth time

he let him fall into a great pool of water, and then set up such a

shout of laughter at him, that it wakened up all the people that were

in the place.

* * * * *

In Sweden the Tomte is sometimes seen at noon, in summer, slowly and

stealthily dragging a straw or an ear of corn. A farmer, seeing him

thus engaged, laughed, and said, "What difference does it make if you

bring away that or nothing?" The Tomte in displeasure left his farm,

and went to that of his neighbour; and with him went all prosperity

from him who had made light of him, and passed over to the other

farmer. Any one who treated the industrious Tomte with respect, and

set store by the smallest straw, became rich, and neatness and

regularity prevailed in his household.[204]

FOOTNOTES:

[200] Nisse, Grimm thinks (Deut. Mythol. p. 472) is Niels, Nielsen,

_i. e._ Nicolaus, Niclas, a common name in Germany and the North,

which is also contracted to Klas, Claas.

[201] Wilse _ap_ Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 479, who thinks he may have

confounded the Nis with the Nöck.

[202] The places mentioned in the following stories are all in

Jutland. It is remarkable that we seem to have scarcely any Nis

stories from Sweden.

[203] This story is current in Germany, England, and Ireland. In the

German story the farmer set fire to his barn to burn the Kobold in it.

As he was driving off, he turned round to look at the blaze, and, to his

no small mortification, saw the Kobold behind him in the cart, crying

"It was time for us to come out--it was time for us to come out!"

[204] Afzelius, Sago Häfdar., ii. 169. On Christmas-morning, he says,

the peasantry gives the Tomte, his wages, _i. e._ a piece of grey

cloth, tobacco, and a _shovelful of clay_.

NECKS, MERMEN, AND MERMAIDS.

Ei Necken mer i flodens vågor quäder,

Och ingen Hafsfru bleker sina kläder

Paa böljans rygg i milda solars glans.

STAGNELIUS.

The Neck no more upon the river sings,

And no Mermaid to bleach her linen flings

Upon the waves in the mild solar ray.

It is a prevalent opinion in the North that all the various beings of

the popular creed were once worsted in a conflict with superior powers,

and condemned to remain till doomsday in certain assigned abodes. The

Dwarfs, or Hill (_Berg_) trolls, were appointed the hills; the Elves the

groves and leafy trees; the Hill-people (_Högfolk_[205]) the caves and

caverns; the Mermen, Mermaids, and Necks, the sea, lakes, and rivers;

the River-man (_Strömkarl_) the small waterfalls. Both the Catholic and

Protestant clergy have endeavoured to excite an aversion to these

beings, but in vain. They are regarded as possessing considerable power

over man and nature, and it is believed that though now unhappy, they

will be eventually saved, or _faa förlossning_ (get salvation), as it is

expressed.

The NECK (in Danish Nökke[206]) is the river-spirit. The ideas

respecting him are various. Sometimes he is represented as sitting, of

summer nights, on the surface of the water, like a pretty little boy,

with golden hair hanging in ringlets, and a red cap on his head;

sometimes as above the water, like a handsome young man, but beneath

like a horse;[207] at other times, as an old man with a long beard,

out of which he wrings the water as he sits on the cliffs. In this

last form, Odin, according to the Icelandic sagas, has sometimes

revealed himself.

The Neck is very severe against any haughty maiden who makes an ill

return to the love of her wooer; but should he himself fall in love

with a maid of human kind, he is the most polite and attentive suitor

in the world.

Though he is thus severe only against those who deserve it, yet country

people when they are upon the water use certain precautions against his

power. Metals, particularly steel, are believed "_to bind the Neck_,"

(_binda Necken_); and when going on the open sea, they usually put a

knife in the bottom of the boat, or set a nail in a reed. In Norway the

following charm is considered effectual against the Neck:--

Nyk, nyk, naal i vatn!

Jomfru Maria kastet staal i vatn!

Du sök, äk flyt!

Neck, neck, nail in water!

The virgin Mary casteth steel in water!

Do you sink, I flit!

The Neck is a great musician. He sits on the water and plays on his

gold harp, the harmony of which operates on all nature. To learn music

of him, a person must present him with a black lamb, and also promise

him resurrection and redemption.

The following story is told in all parts of Sweden:--

"Two boys were one time playing near a river that ran by their father's

house. The Neck rose and sat on the surface of the water, and played on

his harp; but one of the children said to him, 'What is the use, Neck,

of your sitting there and playing? you will never be saved.' The Neck

then began to weep bitterly, flung away his harp, and sank down to the

bottom. The children went home, and told the whole story to their

father, who was the parish priest. He said they were wrong to say so to

the Neck, and desired them to go immediately back to the river, and

console him with the promise of salvation. They did so: and when they

came down to the river the Neck was sitting on the water, weeping and

lamenting. They then said to him, 'Neck, do not grieve so; our father

says that your Redeemer liveth also.' The Neck then took his harp and

played most sweetly, until long after the sun was gone down."

This legend is also found in Denmark, but in a less agreeable form. A

clergyman, it is said, was journeying one night to Roeskilde in

Zealand. His way led by a hill in which there was music and dancing

and great merriment going forward. Some dwarfs jumped suddenly out of

it, stopped the carriage, and asked him whither he was going. He

replied to the synod of the church. They asked him if he thought they

could be saved. To that, he replied, he could not give an immediate

answer. They then begged that he would give them a reply by next

year. When he next passed, and they made the same demand, he replied,

"No, you are all damned." Scarcely had he spoken the word, when the

whole hill appeared in flames.

In another form of this legend, a priest says to the Neck, "Sooner will

this cane which I hold in my hand grow green flowers than thou shalt

attain salvation." The Neck in grief flung away his harp and wept, and

the priest rode on. But soon his cane began to put forth leaves and

blossoms, and he then went back to communicate the glad tidings to the

Neck who now joyously played on all the entire night.[208]

_The Power of the Harp._

Little Kerstin she weeps in her bower all the day;

Sir Peter in his courtyard is playing so gay.

My heart's own dear!

Tell me wherefore you grieve?

"Grieve you for saddle, or grieve you for steed?

Or grieve you for that I have you wed?"

My heart's, &c.

"And grieve do I not for saddle or for steed:

And grieve do I not for that I have you wed.

My heart's, &c.

"Much more do I grieve for my fair gold hair,

Which in the blue waves shall be stained to-day.

My heart's, &c.

"Much more do I grieve for Ringfalla flood,

In which have been drowned my two sisters proud.

My heart's, &c.

"It was laid out for me in my infancy,

That my wedding-day should prove heavy to me."

My heart's, &c.

"And I shall make them the horse round shoe,

He shall not stumble on his four gold shoes.

My heart's, &c.

"Twelve of my courtiers shall before thee ride,

Twelve of my courtiers upon each side."

My heart's, &c.

But when they were come to Ringfalla wood,

There sported a hart with gilded horns proud.

My heart's, &c.

And all the courtiers after the hart are gone;

Little Kerstin, she must proceed alone.

My heart's, &c.

And when on Ringfalla bridge she goes,

Her steed he stumbled on his four gold shoes.

My heart's, &c.

Four gold shoes, and thirty gold nails,

And the maiden into the swift stream falls.

My heart's, &c.

Sir Peter he spake to his footpage so--

"Thou must for my gold harp instantly go."

My heart's, &c.

The first stroke on his gold harp he gave

The foul ugly Neck sat and laughed on the wave.

My heart's, &c.

The second time the gold harp he swept,

The foul ugly Neck on the wave sat and wept.

My heart's, &c.

The third stroke on the gold harp rang,

Little Kerstin reached up her snow-white arm.

My heart's, &c.[209]

He played the bark from off the high trees;

He played Little Kerstin back on his knees.

My heart's, &c.

And the Neck he out of the waves came there,

And a proud maiden on each arm he bare.

My heart's own dear!

Tell me wherefore you grieve?[210]

The STRÖMKARL, called in Norway Grim or Fosse-Grim[211]

(_Waterfall-Grim_) is a musical genius like the Neck. Like him too,

when properly propitiated, he communicates his art. The sacrifice also

is a black lamb,[212] which the offerer must present with averted

head, and on Thursday evening. If it is poor the pupil gets no further

than to the tuning of the instruments; if it is fat the Strömkarl

seizes the votary by the right hand, and swings it backwards and

forwards till the blood runs out at the finger-ends. The aspirant is

then enabled to play in such a masterly manner that the trees dance

and waterfalls stop at his music.[213]

The Havmand, or Merman, is described as of a handsome form, with green

or black hair and beard. He dwells either in the bottom of the sea, or

in the cliffs and hills near the sea shore, and is regarded as rather

a good and beneficent kind of being.[214]

The Havfrue, or Mermaid, is represented in the popular tradition

sometimes as a good, at other times as an evil and treacherous being.

She is beautiful in her appearance. Fishermen sometimes see her in the

bright summer's sun, when a thin mist hangs over the sea, sitting on the

surface of the water, and combing her long golden hair with a golden

comb, or driving up her snow-white cattle to feed on the strands and

small islands. At other times she comes as a beautiful maiden, chilled

and shivering with the cold of the night, to the fires the fishers have

kindled, hoping by this means to entice them to her love.[215] Her

appearance prognosticates both storm and ill success in their fishing.

People that are drowned, and whose bodies are not found, are believed to

be taken into the dwellings of the Mermaids. These beings are also

supposed to have the power of foretelling future events. A Mermaid, we

are told, prophesied the birth of Christian IV. of Denmark, and

En Havfrue op af Vandet steg,

Og spaade Herr Sinklar ilde.

SINCLAR'S VISA.

A mermaid from the water rose,

And spaed Sir Sinclar ill.

Fortune-telling has been in all countries a gift of the sea-people. We

need hardly mention the prophecies of Nereus and Proteus.

A girl one time fell into the power of a Havfrue and passed fifteen

years in her submarine abode without ever seeing the sun. At length

her brother went down in quest of her, and succeeded in bringing her

back to the upper world. The Havfrue waited for seven years expecting

her return, but when she did not come back, she struck the water with

her staff and made it boil up and cried--

Hade jag trott att du varit så falsk,

Så skulle jag kreckt dig din tiufvehals!

Had I but known thee so false to be,

Thy thieving neck I'd have cracked for thee.[216]

_Duke Magnus and the Mermaid._

Duke Magnus looked out through the castle windów,

How the stream ran so rapidly;

And there he saw how upon the stream sat

A woman most fair and lovelie,

Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, plight thee to me,

I pray you still so freely;

Say me not nay, but yes, yes!

"O, to you I will give a travelling ship,

The best that a knight would guide;

It goeth as well on water as on firm land,

And through the fields all so wide.

Duke Magnus, &c.

"O, to you will I give a courser gray,

The best that a knight would ride;

He goeth as well on water as on firm land,

And through the groves all so wide."

Duke Magnus, &c.

"O, how should I plight me to you?

I never any quiet get;

I serve the king and my native land,

But with woman I match me not yet."

Duke Magnus, &c.

"To you will I give as much of gold

As for more than your life will endure;

And of pearls and precious stones handfùls;

And all shall be so pure."

Duke Magnus, &c.

"O gladly would I plight me to thee,

If thou wert of Christian kind;

But now thou art a vile sea-troll,

My love thou canst never win."

Duke Magnus, &c.

"Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, bethink thee well,

And answer not so haughtily;

For if thou wilt not plight thee to me,

Thou shalt ever crazy be."

Duke Magnus, &c.

"I am a king's son so good,

How can I let you gain me?

You dwell not on land, but in the flood,

Which would not with me agree."

Duke Magnus, Duke Magnus, plight thee to me,

I offer you still so freely;

Say me not nay, but yes, yes![217]

FOOTNOTES:

[205] _Berg_ signifies a larger eminence, mountain, hill; _Hög_, a

height, hillock. The _Hög-folk_ are Elves and musicians.

[206] The Danish peasantry in Wormius' time described the Nökke

(Nikke) as a monster with a human head, that dwells both in fresh and

salt water. When any one was drowned, they said, _Nökken tog ham bort_

(the Nökke took him away); and when any drowned person was found with

the nose red, they said the Nikke has sucked him: _Nikken har suet

ham._--Magnusen, Eddalære. Denmark being a country without any streams

of magnitude, we meet in the Danske Folkesagn no legends of the Nökke;

and in ballads, such as "The Power of the Harp," what in Sweden is

ascribed to the Neck, is in Denmark imputed to the Havmand or Merman.

[207] The Neck is also believed to appear in the form of a complete

horse, and can be made to work at the plough, if a bridle of a

particular description be employed.--_Kalm's Vestgötha Resa_.

[208] Afzelius, Sago-häfdar, ii. 156.

[209]

_Det tredje slag på gullharpan klang,

Liten Kerstin räckta upp sin snöhvita arm.

Min hjerteliga kär!

J sägen mig hvarfor J sörjen!_

[210] As sung in West Gothland and Vermland.

[211] _Fosse_ is the North of England _force_.

[212] Or a white kid, Faye _ap._ Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 461.

[213] The Strömkarl has eleven different measures, to ten of which

alone people may dance; the eleventh belongs to the night spirit his

host. If any one plays it, tables and benches, cans and cups, old men

and women, blind and lame, even the children in the cradle, begin to

dance.--Arndt. _ut sup._, see above p. 80.

[214] In the Danske Viser and Folkesagn there are a few stories of

Mermen, such as Rosmer Havmand and Marstig's Daughter, both translated

by Dr. Jamieson, and Agnete and the Merman, which resembles Proud

Margaret. It was natural, says Afzelius, that what in Sweden was

related of a Hill King, should, in Denmark, be ascribed to a Merman.

[215] The appearance of the Wood-woman (_Skogsfru_) or Elve-woman, is

equally unlucky for hunters. She also approaches the fires, and seeks

to seduce young men.

[216] Arvidsson, ii. 320, _ap._ Grimm, p. 463.

[217] This is a ballad from Småland. Magnus was the youngest son of

Gustavus Vasa. He died out of his mind. It is well known that insanity

pervaded the Vasa family for centuries.

NORTHERN ISLANDS.

Här Necken sin Harpa i Glasborgen slår,

Och Hafsfruar kamma sitt grönskande hår,

Och bleka den skinande drägten.

STAGNELIUS.

The Neck here his harp in the glass-castle plays,

And Mermaidens comb out their green hair always,

And bleach here their shining white clothes.

Under the title of Northern Islands we include all those lying in the

ocean to the north of Scotland, to wit Iceland, the Feroes, Shetland,

and the Orkneys.

These islands were all peopled from Norway and Denmark during the

ninth century. Till that time many of them, particularly Iceland and

the Feroes, though, perhaps, occasionally visited by stray Vikings, or

by ships driven out of their course by tempests, had lain waste and

desert from the creation, the abode alone of wild beasts and birds.

But at that period the proud nobles of Norway and Denmark, who scorned

to be the vassals of Harold Fairhair and Gorm the Old, the founders of

the Norwegian and Danish monarchies, set forth in quest of new

settlements, where, at a distance from these haughty potentates, they

might live in the full enjoyment of their beloved independence. Followed

by numerous vassals, they embarked on the wide Atlantic. A portion fixed

themselves on the distant shores of Iceland; others took possession of

the vacant Feroes; and more dispossessed the Peti and Papæ, the ancient

inhabitants of Shetland and the Orkneys, and seized on their country.

As the Scandinavians were at that time still worshipers of Thor and

Odin, the belief in Alfs and Dwarfs accompanied them to their new

abodes, and there, as elsewhere, survived the introduction of

Christianity. We now proceed to examine the vestiges of the old

religion still to be traced.

ICELAND.

Hvad mon da ei

Og her lyksalig leves kan? Jeg troer

Det mueligt, som för i Heden-Old

For raske Skander mueligt det var,

Paa denne kolde Öe.

ISLANDSKE LANDLEVNET.

What! cannot one

Here, too, live happy? I believe it now

As possible, as in the heathen age,

For the bold Scandinavians it was,

On this cold isle.

It is in vain that we look into the works of travellers for information

on the subject of popular belief in Iceland. Their attention was too

much occupied by Geysers, volcanoes, agriculture, and religion, to allow

them to devote any part of it to this, in their eyes, unimportant

subject. So that, were it not for some short but curious notices given

by natives of the island, we should be quite ignorant of the fate of the

subordinate classes of the old religion in Iceland.

Torfæus, who wrote in the latter end of the seventeenth century, gives,

in his preface to his edition of Hrolf Krakas Saga, the opinion of a

venerable Icelandic pastor, named Einar Gudmund, respecting the Dwarfs.

This opinion Torfæus heard when a boy from the lips of the old man.

"I believe, and am fully persuaded," said he, "that this people are the

creatures of God, consisting of a body and a rational spirit; that they

are of both sexes; marry, and have children; and that all human acts

take place among them as with us: that they are possessed of cattle, and

of many other kinds of property; have poverty and riches, weeping and

laughter, sleep and wake, and have all other affections belonging to

human nature; and that they enjoy a longer or a shorter term of life

according to the will and pleasure of God. Their power of having

children," he adds, "appears from this, that some of their women have

had children by men, and were very anxious to have their offspring

dipped in the sacred font, and initiated into Christianity; but they, in

general, sought in vain. Thorkatla Mari, the wife of Kari, was pregnant

by a Hill-man, but she did not bring the child Aresus into the world, as

appears from the poems made on this fatal occasion.

"There was formerly on the lands of Haga a nobleman named Sigvard

Fostre, who had to do with a Hill-woman. He promised her faithfully

that he would take care to have the child received into the bosom of

the church. In due time the woman came with her child and laid it on

the churchyard wall, and along with it a gilded cup and a holy robe

(presents she intended making to the church for the baptism of her

child), and then retired a little way. The pastor inquired who

acknowledged himself the father of the child. Sigvard, perhaps, out of

shame, did not venture to acknowledge himself. The clerk now asked him

if it should be baptised or not. Sigvard said 'No,' lest by assenting

he should be proved to be the father. The infant then was left where

it was, untouched and unbaptised. The mother, filled with rage,

snatched up her babe and the cup, but left the vestment, the remains

of which may still be seen in Haga. That woman foretold and inflicted

a singular disease on Sigvard and his posterity till the ninth

generation, and several of his descendants are to this day afflicted

with it. Andrew Gudmund (from which I am the seventh in descent) had

an affair of the same kind. He also refused to have the child

baptised, and he and his posterity have suffered a remarkable disease,

of which very many of them have died; but some, by the interposition

of good men, have escaped the deserved punishment."

The fullest account we have of the Icelandic Elves or Dwarfs is

contained in the following passage of the Ecclesiastical History of

Iceland of the learned Finnus Johannæus.

"As we have not as yet," says he, "spoken a single word about the very

ancient, and I know not whether more ridiculous or perverse,

persuasion of our forefathers about semigods, this seems the proper

place for saying a few words about this so celebrated figment, as it

was chiefly in this period it attained its acmè, and it was believed

as a true and necessary article of faith, that there are genii or

semigods, called in our language Alfa and Alfa-folk.

"Authors vary respecting their essence and origin. Some hold that they

have been created by God immediately and without the intervention of

parents, like some kinds of spirits: others maintain that they are

sprung from Adam, but before the creation of Eve:[218] lastly, some

refer them to another race of men, or to a stock of præ-Adamites. Some

bestow on them not merely a human body, but an immortal soul: others

assign them merely mortal breath (_spiritum_) instead of a soul,

whence a certain blockhead,[219] in an essay written by him respecting

them, calls them our half-kin (_half-kyn_).

"According to the old wives' tales that are related about this race of

genii who inhabit Iceland and its vicinity, they have a political form

of government modelled after the same pattern as that which the

inhabitants themselves are under. Two viceroys rule over them, who in

turn every second year, attended by some of the subjects, sail to

Norway, to present themselves before the monarch of the whole race,

who resides there, and to give him a true report concerning the

fidelity, good conduct, and obedience of the subjects; and those who

accompany them are to accuse the government or viceroys if they have

transgressed the bounds of justice or of good morals. If these are

convicted of crime or injustice, they are forthwith stript of their

office, and others are appointed in their place.

"This nation is reported to cultivate justice and equity above all

other virtues, and hence, though they are very potent, especially with

words and imprecations, they very rarely, unless provoked or injured,

do any mischief to man; but when irritated they avenge themselves on

their enemies with dreadful curses and punishments.

"The new-born infants of Christians are, before baptism, believed to

be exposed to great peril of being stolen by them, and their own,

which they foresee likely to be feeble in mind, in body, in beauty, or

other gifts, being substituted for them. These supposititious children

of the semigods are called Umskiptingar; whence nurses and midwives

were strictly enjoined to watch constantly, and to hold the infant

firmly in their arms, till it had had the benefit of baptism, lest

they should furnish any opportunity for such a change. Hence it comes,

that the vulgar use to call fools, deformed people, and those who act

rudely and uncivilly, _Umskiptinga eins og hann sie ko minnaf Alfum_,

_i.e._ changelings, and come of the Alfs.

"They use rocks, hills, and even the seas, for their habitations,

which withinside are neat, and all their domestic utensils extremely

clean and orderly. They sometimes invite men home, and take especial

delight in the converse of Christians, some of whom have had

intercourse with their daughters or sisters, who are no less wanton

than beautiful, and have had children by them, who must by all means

be washed in holy water, that they may receive an immortal soul, and

one that can be saved. Nay, they have not been ashamed to feign that

certain women of them have been joined in lawful marriage with men,

and continued for a long time with them, happily at first, but, for

the most part, with an ill or tragical conclusion.

"Their cattle, if not very numerous, are at least very profitable.

They are invisible as their owners are, unless when it pleases them

to appear, which usually takes place when the weather is serene and

the sun shining very bright; for as they do not see the sun within

their dwellings, they frequently walk out in the sunshine that they

may be cheered by his radiance.[220] Hence, even the coffins of dead

kings and nobles, such as are the oblong stones which are to be seen

here and there, in wildernesses and rough places, always lie in the

open air and exposed to the sun.

"They change their abodes and habitations occasionally like mankind;

this they do on new-year's night; whence certain dreamers and

mountebanks used on that night to watch in the roads, that, by the means

of various forms of conjurations appointed for that purpose, they might

extort from them as they passed along the knowledge of future

events.[221] But people in general, who were not acquainted with such

things, especially the heads of families, used on this evening strictly

to charge their children and servants to be sure to be serious and

modest in their actions and language, lest their invisible guests, and

mayhap future neighbours, should be aggrieved or any way offended.

Hence, when going to bed they did not shut the outer doors of their

houses, nor even the door of the sitting-room, but having kindled a

light, and laid out a table, they desired the invisible personages who

had arrived, or were to arrive, to partake, if it was their pleasure, of

the food that was laid out for them; and hoped that if it pleased them

to dwell within the limits of their lands, they would live safe and

sound, and be propitious to them. As this superstitious belief is

extremely ancient, so it long continued in full vigour, and was held by

some even within the memory of our fathers."[222]

The Icelandic Neck, Kelpie, or Water-Spirit, is called Nickur,

Ninnir, and Hnikur, one of the Eddaic names of Odin. He appears always

in the form of a fine _apple-grey_ horse on the sea-shore; but he may

be distinguished from ordinary horses by the circumstance of his hoofs

being reversed. If any one is so foolish as to mount him, he gallops

off, and plunges into the sea with his burden. He can, however, be

caught in a particular manner, tamed, and made to work.[223]

* * * * *

The Icelanders have the same notions respecting the seals which we

shall find in the Feroes and Shetland. It is a common opinion with

them that King Pharaoh and his army were changed into these animals.

FOOTNOTES:

[218] This was plainly a theory of the monks. It greatly resembles the

Rabbinical account of the origin of the Mazckeen, which the reader

will meet in the sequel.

Some Icelanders of the present day say, that one day, when Eve was

washing her children at the running water, God suddenly called her.

She was frightened, and thrust aside such of them as were not clean.

God asked her if all her children were there, and she said, Yes; but

got for answer, that what she tried to hide from God should be hidden

from man. These children became instantly invisible and distinct from

the rest. Before the flood came on, God put them into a cave and

closed up the entrance. From them are descended all the

underground-people.--Magnussen, _Eddalære_.

[219] This was one Janus Gudmund, who wrote several treatises on this

and similar subjects, particularly one "De Alfis et Alfheimum," which

the learned bishop characterises as a work "nullins pretii, et meras

nugas continens." We might, if we were to see it, be of a different

opinion. Of Janus Gudmund Brynj Svenonius thus expresses himself to

Wormius: _Janus Gudmundius, ære dirutus verius quam rude donatus, sibi

et aliis inutilis in angulo consenuit_. Worm., Epist., 970.

[220] The Icelandic dwarfs, it would appear, wore red clothes. In

Nial's Saga (p. 70), a person gaily dressed (_i litklædum_) is

jocularly called Red-elf (_raud-álfr_).

[221] There was a book of prophecies called the _Kruckspá_, or

Prophecy of Kruck, a man who was said to have lived in the 15th

century. It treated of the change of religion and other matters said

to have been revealed to him by the Dwarfs. Johannæus says it was

forged by Brynjalf Svenonius in or about the year 1660.

[222] Finni Johannæi Historia Ecclesiastica Islandiæ, tom. ii. p. 368.

Havniæ, 1774. We believe we might safely add, is held at the present

day, for the superstition is no more extinct in Iceland than elsewhere.

[223] Svenska Visor, iii. 128. Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 458. At Bahus,

in Sweden, a clever man contrived to throw on him an ingeniously made

bridle so that he could not get away, and he ploughed all his land

with him. One time the bridle fell off and the Neck, like a flash of

fire, sprang into the lake and dragged the harrow down with him.

Grimm, _ut sup._, see p. 148.

FEROES.

Sjûrur touk teâ besta svör

Sum Dvörgurin heji smuja.

QVÖRFINS THAATTUR.

Sigurd took the very best sword

That the Dwarfs had ever smithed.

The people of the Feroes believe in the same classes of beings as the

inhabitants of the countries whence their ancestors came.

They call the Trolls Underground-people, Hollow-men, Foddenskkmænd,

and Huldefolk. These Trolls used frequently to carry people into their

hills, and detain them there. Among several other instances,

Debes[224] gives the following one of this practice:

"Whilst Mr. Taale was priest in Osteröe, it happened that one of his

hearers was carried away and returned again. At last the said young man

being to be married, and every thing prepared, and the priest being

arrived the Saturday before at the parish, the bridegroom was carried

away; wherefore they sent folks to look after him, but he could not be

found. The priest desired his friends to have good courage, and that he

would come again; which he did at last, and related that the spirit that

led him away was in the shape of a most beautiful woman, and very richly

dressed, who desired him to forsake her whom he was now to marry, and

consider how ugly his mistress was in comparison of her, and what fine

apparel she had. He said also that he saw the men that sought after him,

and that they went close by him but could not see him, and that he heard

their calling, and yet could not answer them; but that when he would not

be persuaded he was again left at liberty."

* * * * *

The people of the Feroes call the Nisses or Brownies Niägruisar, and

describe them as little creatures with red caps on their heads, that

bring luck to any place where they take up their abode.

* * * * *

It is the belief of the people of these islands that every ninth-night

the seals put off their skins and assume the human form, and dance and

sport about on the land. After some time, they resume their skins and

return to the water. The following adventure, it is said, once

occurred:[225]

"A man happening to pass by where a female seal was disporting herself

in the form of a woman, found her skin, and took and hid it. When she

could not find her skin to creep into, she was forced to remain in the

human form; and as she was fair to look upon, that same man took her

to wife, had children by her, and lived right happily with her. After

a long time, the wife found the skin that had been stolen, and could

not resist the temptation to creep into it, and so she became a seal

again, and returned to the sea."

* * * * *

The Neck called Nikar is also an object of popular faith in the

Feroes. He inhabits the streams and lakes, and takes a delight in

drowning people.

FOOTNOTES:

[224] Færoæ et Færoa reserata. Lond. 1676.

[225] Thiele, iii. 51, from the MS. Travels of Svaboe in the Feroes.

SHETLAND.

Well, since we are welcome to Yule,

Up wi't Lightfoot, link it awa', boys!

Send for a fiddler, play up Foula reel,

The Shaalds will pay for a', boys.

SHETLAND SONG.

Dr. Hibbert's valuable work on the Shetland Islands[226] fortunately

enables us to give a tolerably complete account of the fairy system of

these islands.

The Shetlanders, he informs us, believe in two kinds of Trows, as they

call the Scandinavian Trolls, those of the land and those of the sea.

The former, whom, like the Scots, they also term the _guid folk_ and

_guid neighbours_, they conceive to inhabit the interior of green

hills. Persons who have been brought into their habitations have been

dazzled with the splendour of what they saw there. All the interior

walls are adorned with gold and silver, and the domestic utensils

resemble the strange things that are found sometimes lying on the

hills. These persons have always entered the hill on one side and gone

out at the other.

They marry and have children, like their northern kindred. A woman of

the island of Yell, who died not long since, at the advanced age of

more than a hundred years, said, that she once met some fairy

children, accompanied by a little dog, playing like other boys and

girls, on the top of a hill. Another time she happened one night to

raise herself up in the bed, when she saw a little boy with a white

nightcap on his head, sitting at the fire. She asked him who he was.

"I am Trippa's son," said he. When she heard this, she instantly

_sained_, i. e. blessed herself, and Trippa's son vanished.

_Saining_ is the grand protection against them; a Shetlander always

sains himself when passing by their hills.

The Trows are of a diminutive stature, and they are usually dressed in

gay green garments. When travelling from one place to another they may

be seen mounted on bulrushes, and riding through the air. If a person

should happen to meet them when on these journeys, he should, if he has

not a bible in his pocket, draw a circle round him on the ground, and in

God's name forbid their approach. They then generally disappear.[227]

They are fond of music and dancing, and it is their dancing that forms

the fairy rings. A Shetlander lying awake in bed before day one

morning, heard the noise of a party of Trows passing by his door. They

were preceded by a piper, who was playing away lustily. The man

happened to have a good ear for music, so he picked up the tune he

heard played, and used often after to repeat it for his friends under

the name of the Fairy-tune.

The Trows are not free from disease, but they are possessed of

infallible remedies, which they sometimes bestow on their favourites.

A man in the island of Unst had an earthen pot that contained an

ointment of marvellous power. This he said he got from the hills, and,

like the widow's cruise, its contents never failed.

They have all the picking and stealing propensities of the

Scandinavian Trolls. The dairy-maid sometimes detects a Trow-woman

secretly milking the cows in the byre. She sains herself, and the

thief takes to flight so precipitately as to leave behind her a copper

pan of a form never seen before.

When they want beef or mutton on any festal occasion, they betake

themselves to the Shetlanders' _scatholds_ or town-mails, and with

elf-arrows bring down their game. On these occasions they delude the

eyes of the owner with the appearance of something exactly resembling

the animal whom they have carried off, and by its apparent violent death

by some accident. It is on this account that the flesh of such animals

as have met a sudden or violent death is regarded as improper food.

A Shetlander, who is probably still alive, affirmed that he was once

taken into a hill by the Trows. Here one of the first objects that met

his view was one of his own cows, that was brought in to furnish

materials for a banquet. He regarded himself as being in rather a

ticklish situation if it were not for the protection of the

Trow-women, by whose favour he had been admitted within the hill. On

returning home, he learned, to his great surprise, that at the very

moment he saw the cow brought into the hill, others had seen her

falling over the rocks.

Lying-in-women and "unchristened bairns" they regard as lawful prize.

The former they employ as wet-nurses, the latter they of course rear

up as their own. Nothing will induce parents to show any attention to

a child that they suspect of being a changeling. But there are persons

who undertake to enter the hills and regain the lost child.

A tailor, not long since, related the following story. He was employed

to work at a farm-house where there was a child that was an idiot, and

who was supposed to have been left there by the Trows instead of some

proper child, whom they had taken into the hills. One night, after he

had retired to his bed, leaving the idiot asleep by the fire, he was

suddenly waked out of his sleep by the sound of music, and on looking

about him he saw the whole room full of fairies, who were dancing away

their rounds most joyously. Suddenly the idiot jumped up and joined in

the dance, and showed such a degree of acquaintance with the various

steps and movements as plainly testified that it must have been a long

time since he first went under the hands of the dancing-master. The

tailor looked on for some time with admiration, but at last he grew

alarmed and _sained_ himself. On hearing this, the Trows all fled in

the utmost disorder, but one of them, a woman, was so incensed at this

interruption of their revels, that as she went out she touched the big

toe of the tailor, and he lost the power of ever after moving it.[228]

In these cases of paralysis they believe that the Trows have taken

away the sound member and left a log behind. They even sometimes sear

the part, and from the want of sensation in it boast of the

correctness of this opinion.[229]

With respect to the Sea-Trows, it is the belief of the Shetlanders

that they inhabit a region of their own at the bottom of the sea.[230]

They here respire a peculiar atmosphere, and live in habitations

constructed of the choicest submarine productions. When they visit the

upper world on occasions of business or curiosity, they are obliged to

enter the skin of some animal capable of respiring in the water. One

of the shapes they assume is that of what is commonly called a merman

or mermaid, human from the waist upwards, terminating below in the

tail of a fish. But their most favourite vehicle is the skin of the

larger seal or Haaf fish, for as this animal is amphibious they can

land on some rock, and there cast off their sea-dress and assume their

own shape, and amuse themselves as they will in the upper world. They

must, however, take especial care of their skins, as each has but one,

and if that should be lost, the owner can never re-descend, but must

become an inhabitant of the supramarine world.

The following Shetland tales will illustrate this:--

_Gioga's Son._

A boat's-crew landed one time upon one of the stacks[231] with the

intention of attacking the seals. They had considerable success;

stunned several of them, and while they lay stupefied, stripped them

of their skins, with the fat attached to them. They left the naked

carcases lying on the rocks, and were about to get into their boat

with their spoils and return to Papa Stour, whence they had come. But

just as they were embarking, there rose such a tremendous swell that

they saw there was not a moment to be lost, and every one flew as

quickly as he could to get on board the boat. They were all successful

but one man, who had imprudently loitered behind. His companions were

very unwilling to leave him on the skerries, perhaps to perish, but

the surge increased so fast, that after many unsuccessful attempts to

bring the boat in close to the stacks, they were obliged to depart,

and leave the unfortunate man to his fate.

A dark stormy night came on, the sea dashed most furiously against the

rocks, and the poor deserted Shetlander saw no prospect before him but

that of dying of the cold and hunger, or of being washed into the sea by

the breakers, which now threatened every moment to run over the stack.

At length he perceived several of the seals, who had escaped from the

boatmen, approaching the skerry. When they landed they stripped off

their seal-skin dresses and appeared in their proper forms of Sea-Trows.

Their first object was to endeavour to recover their friends, who lay

stunned and skinless. When they had succeeded in bringing them to

themselves, they also resumed their proper form, and appeared in the

shape of the sub-marine people. But in mournful tones, wildly

accompanied by the raging storm, they lamented the loss of their

sea-vestures, the want of which would for ever prevent them from

returning to their native abodes beneath the deep waters of the

Atlantic. Most of all did they lament for Ollavitinus, the son of Gioga,

who, stripped of his seal-skin, must abide for ever in the upper world.

Their song was at length broken off by their perceiving the

unfortunate boatman, who, with shivering limbs and despairing looks,

was gazing on the furious waves that now dashed over the stack. Gioga,

when she saw him, instantly conceived the design of rendering the

perilous situation of the man of advantage to her son. She went up to

him, and mildly addressed him, proposing to carry him on her back

through the sea to Papa Stour, on condition of his getting her the

seal-skin of her son.

The bargain was soon made, and Gioga equipped herself in her phocine

garb; but when the Shetlander gazed on the stormy sea he was to ride

through, his courage nearly failed him, and he begged of the old lady

to have the kindness to allow him to cut a few holes in her shoulders

and flanks, that he might obtain a better fastening for his hands

between the skin and the flesh.

This, too, her maternal tenderness induced Gioga to consent to. The man,

having prepared everything, now mounted, and she plunged into the waves

with him, gallantly ploughed the deep, and landed him safe and sound at

Acres Gio, in Papa Stour. He thence set out for Skeo, at Hamna Voe,

where the skin was, and honourably fulfilled his agreement by restoring

to Gioga the means of bringing back her son to his dear native land.

_The Mermaid Wife._

On a fine summer's evening, an inhabitant of Unst happened to be

walking along the sandy margin of a voe.[232] The moon was risen, and

by her light he discerned at some distance before him a number of the

sea-people, who were dancing with great vigour on the smooth sand.

Near them he saw lying on the ground several seal-skins.

As the man approached the dancers, all gave over their merriment, and

flew like lightning to secure their garments; then clothing

themselves, plunged in the form of seals into the sea. But the

Shetlander, on coming up to the spot where they had been, and casting

his eyes down on the ground, saw that they had left one skin behind

them, which was lying just at his feet. He snatched it up, carried it

swiftly away, and placed it in security.

On returning to the shore, he met the fairest maiden that eye ever

gazed upon: she was walking backwards and forwards, lamenting in most

piteous tones the loss of her seal-skin robe, without which she never

could hope to rejoin her family and friends below the waters, but must

remain an unwilling inhabitant of the region enlightened by the sun.

The man approached and endeavoured to console her, but she would not

be comforted. She implored him in the most moving accents to restore

her dress; but the view of her lovely face, more beautiful in tears,

had steeled his heart. He represented to her the impossibility of her

return, and that her friends would soon give her up; and finally,

made an offer to her of his heart, hand, and fortune.

The sea-maiden, finding she had no alternative, at length consented to

become his wife. They were married, and lived together for many years,

during which time they had several children, who retained no vestiges of

their marine origin, saving a thin web between their fingers, and a bend

of their hands, resembling that of the fore paws of a seal; distinctions

which characterise the descendants of the family to the present day.

The Shetlander's love for his beautiful wife was unbounded, but she

made but a cold return to his affection. Often would she steal out

alone and hasten down to the lonely strand, and there at a given

signal, a seal of large size would make his appearance, and they would

converse for hours together in an unknown language; and she would

return home from this meeting pensive and melancholy.

Thus glided away years, and her hopes of leaving the upper world had

nearly vanished, when it chanced one day, that one of the children,

playing behind a stack of corn, found a seal-skin. Delighted with his

prize, he ran with breathless eagerness to display it before his mother.

Her eyes glistened with delight at the view of it; for in it she saw her

own dress, the loss of which had cost her so many tears. She now

regarded herself as completely emancipated from thraldom; and in idea

she was already with her friends beneath the waves. One thing alone was

a drawback on her raptures. She loved her children, and she was now

about to leave them for ever. Yet they weighed not against the pleasures

she had in prospect: so after kissing and embracing them several times,

she took up the skin, went out, and proceeded down to the beach.

In a few minutes after the husband came in, and the children told him

what had occurred. The truth instantly flashed across his mind, and he

hurried down to the shore with all the speed that love and anxiety

could give. But he only arrived in time to see his wife take the form

of a seal, and from the ledge of a rock plunge into the sea.

The large seal, with whom she used to hold her conversations,

immediately joined her, and congratulated her on her escape, and they

quitted the shore together. But ere she went she turned round to her

husband, who stood in mute despair on the rock, and whose misery

excited feelings of compassion in her breast. "Farewell," said she to

him, "and may all good fortune attend you. I loved you well while I

was with you, but I always loved my first husband better."[233]

* * * * *

The water-spirit is in Shetland called Shoopiltee; he appears in the

form of a pretty little horse, and endeavours to entice persons to

ride on him, and then gallops with them into the sea.

FOOTNOTES:

[226] Description of the Shetland Islands. Edinburgh, 1822.

[227] Edmonston's View, &c., of Zetland Islands. Edin. 1809.

[228] We need hardly to remind the reader that in what precedes Dr.

Hibbert is to be regarded as the narrator in 1822.

[229] Edmonston, _ut supra_.

[230] Dr. Hibbert says he could get but little satisfaction from the

Shetlanders respecting this submarine country.

[231] _Stacks_ or _skerries_ are bare rocks out in the sea.

[232] A _voe_ is a small bay.

[233] See below, _Germany_.

ORKNEYS.

Harold was born where restless seas

Howl round the storm-swept Orcades.

SCOTT.

Of the Orcadian Fairies we have very little information. Brand[234]

merely tells us, they were, in his time, frequently seen in several of

the isles dancing and making merry; so that we may fairly conclude

they differed little from their Scottish and Shetland neighbours. One

thing he adds, which is of some importance, that they were frequently

seen in armour.

Brownie seems to have been the principal Orkney Fairy, where he

possessed a degree of importance rather beyond what was allotted to

him in the neighbouring realm of Scotland.

"Not above forty or fifty years ago," says Brand, "almost every family

had a Brownie, or evil spirit, so called, which served them, to whom

they gave a sacrifice for its service; as, when they churned their milk,

they took a part thereof and sprinkled every corner of the house with it

for Brownie's use; likewise, when they brewed, they had a stone which

they called Brownie's stone, wherein there was a little hole, into which

they poured some wort for a sacrifice to Brownie. My informer, a

minister of the country, told me that he had conversed with an old man,

who, when young, used to brew and sometimes read upon his bible; to whom

an old woman in the house said that Brownie was displeased with that

book he read upon, which, if he continued to do, they would get no more

service of Brownie. But he being better instructed from that book which

was Brownie's eyesore, and the object of his wrath, when he brewed, he

would not suffer any sacrifice to be given to Brownie; whereupon, the

first and second brewings were spilt and for no use, though the wort

wrought well, yet in a little time it left off working and grew cold;

but of the third browst or brewing, he had ale very good, though he

would not give any sacrifice to Brownie, with whom afterwards they were

no more troubled. I had also from the same informer, that a lady in

Unst, now deceased, told him that when she first took up house, she

refused to give a sacrifice to Brownie, upon which, the first and second

brewings misgave, but the third was good; and Brownie, not being

regarded and rewarded as formerly he had been, abandoned his wonted

service: which cleareth the Scripture, 'Resist the devil and he will

flee from you.' They also had stacks of corn which they called Brownie's

stacks, which, though they were not bound with straw ropes, or any way

fenced as other stacks use to be, yet the greatest storm of wind was not

able to blow anything off them."

A very important personage once, we are told, inhabited the Orkneys in

the character of Brownie.

"Luridan," says Reginald Scot, "a familiar of this kind, did for many

years inhabit the island of Pomonia, the largest of the Orkades in

Scotland, supplying the place of manservant and maid-servant with

wonderful diligence to those families whom he did haunt, sweeping

their rooms and washing their dishes, and making their fires before

any were up in the morning. This Luridan affirmed, that he was the

_genius Astral_ of that island; that his place or residence in the

days of Solomon and David was at Jerusalem; that then he was called by

the Jews Belelah; after that, he remained long in the dominion of

Wales, instructing their bards in British poesy and prophecies, being

called Wrthin, Wadd, Elgin; 'and now,' said he, 'I have removed

hither, and, alas! my continuance is but short, for in seventy years I

must resign my place to Balkin, lord of the Northern Mountains.'

"Many wonderful and incredible things did he also relate of this Balkin,

affirming that he was shaped like a satyr, and fed upon the air, having

wife and children to the number of twelve thousand, which were the brood

of the Northern Fairies, inhabiting Southerland and Catenes, with the

adjacent islands. And that these were the companies of spirits that hold

continual wars with the fiery spirits in the mountain Heckla, that

vomits fire in Islandia. That their speech was ancient Irish, and their

dwelling the caverns of the rocks and mountains, which relation is

recorded in the antiquities of Pomonia."[235]

Concerning Luridan, we are farther informed from the Book of

Vanagastus, the Norwegian, that it is his nature to be always at

enmity with fire; that he wages war with the fiery spirits of Hecla;

and that in this contest they do often anticipate and destroy one

another, killing and crushing when they meet in mighty and violent

troops in the air upon the sea. And at such times, many of the fiery

spirits are destroyed when the enemy hath brought them off the

mountains to fight upon the water. On the contrary, when the battle is

upon the mountain itself, the spirits of the air are often worsted,

and then great moanings and doleful noises are heard in Iceland, and

Russia, and Norway, for many days after.[236]

* * * * *

The Water-spirit called Tangie, from Tang, the sea-weed with which he

is covered, appears sometimes as a little horse, other times as a man.

FOOTNOTES:

[234] Description of Orkney, Zetland, &c. Edin. 1703.

[235] Reg. Scot. Discoverie of Witchcraft, b. 2. c. 4. Lond. 1665.

[236] Quarterly Review, vol. xxii. p. 367.

ISLE OF RÜGEN.

Des Tagscheins Blendung drückt,

Nur Finsterniss beglückt;

Drum hausen wir so gern

Tief in des Erdballs Kern.

MATTHISSON.

Day's dazzling light annoys

Us, darkness only joys;

We therefore love to dwell

Deep underneath earth's shell.

We now return to the Baltic, to the Isle of Rügen, once a chief seat

of the Vendish religion; but its priests were massacred by the

Scandinavians, and all traces of their system effaced. Its fairy

mythology now agrees with that of its Gothic neighbours, and Mr.

Arndt,[237] a native of the island, has enabled us to give the

following tolerably full account of it:--

The inhabitants of Rügen believe in three kinds of Dwarfs, or

underground people, the White, the Brown, and the Black; so named from

the colour of their several habiliments.[238]

The White are the most delicate and beautiful of all, and are of an

innocent and gentle disposition. During the winter, when the face of

nature is cold, raw, and cheerless, they remain still and quiet in

their hills, solely engaged in the fashioning of the finest works in

silver and gold, of too delicate a texture for mortal eyes to discern.

Thus they pass the winter; but no sooner does the spring return than

they abandon their recesses, and live through all the summer above

ground, in sunshine and starlight, in uninterrupted revelry and

enjoyment. The moment the trees and flowers begin to sprout and bud in

the early days of spring, they emerge from their hills, and get among

the stalks and branches, and thence to the blossoms and flowers, where

they sit and gaze around them. In the night, when mortals sleep, the

White Dwarfs come forth, and dance their joyous roundels in the green

grass, about the hills, and brooks, and springs, making the sweetest

and most delicate music, bewildering travellers, who hear and wonder

at the strains of the invisible musicians. They may, if they will, go

out by day, but never in company; these daylight rambles being allowed

them only when alone and under some assumed form. They therefore

frequently fly about in the shape of party-coloured little birds, or

butterflies, or snow-white doves, showing kindness and benevolence to

the good who merit their favour.

The Brown Dwarfs, the next in order, are less than eighteen inches high.

They wear little brown coats and jackets, and a brown cap on their head,

with a little silver bell in it. Some of them wear black shoes with red

strings in them; in general, however, they wear fine glass ones; at

their dances none of them wear any other. They are very handsome in

their persons, with clear light-coloured eyes, and small and most

beautiful hands and feet. They are on the whole of a cheerful,

good-natured disposition, mingled with some roguish traits. Like the

White Dwarfs, they are great artists in gold and silver, working so

curiously as to astonish those who happen to see their performances. At

night they come out of their hills and dance by the light of the moon

and stars. They also glide invisibly into people's houses, their caps

rendering them imperceptible by all who have not similar caps. They are

said to play all kinds of tricks, to change the children in the cradles,

and take them away. This charge is perhaps unfounded, but certainly,

children who fall into their hands must serve them for fifty years. They

possess an unlimited power of transformation, and can pass through the

smallest keyholes. Frequently they bring with them presents for

children, or lay gold rings and ducats, and the like, in their way, and

often are invisibly present, and save them from the perils of fire and

water. They plague and annoy lazy men-servants and untidy maids with

frightful dreams; oppress them as the nightmare; bite them as fleas; and

scratch and tear them like cats and dogs; and often in the night

frighten, in the shape of owls, thieves and lovers, or, like

Will-'o-the-wisps, lead them astray into bogs and marshes, and perhaps

up to those who are in pursuit of them.

The Black Dwarfs wear black jackets and caps, are not handsome like the

others, but on the contrary are horridly ugly, with weeping eyes, like

blacksmiths and colliers. They are most expert workmen, especially in

steel, to which they can give a degree at once of hardness and

flexibility which no human smith can imitate; for the swords they make

will bend like rushes, and are as hard as diamonds. In old times arms

and armour made by them were in great request: shirts of mail

manufactured by them were as fine as cobwebs, and yet no bullet would

penetrate them, and no helm or corslet could resist the swords they

fashioned; but all these things are now gone out of use.

These Dwarfs are of a malicious, ill disposition, and delight in doing

mischief to mankind; they are unsocial, and there are seldom more than

two or three of them seen together; they keep mostly in their hills,

and seldom come out in the daytime, nor do they ever go far from home.

People say that in the summer they are fond of sitting under the elder

trees, the smell of which is very grateful to them, and that any one

that wants anything of them must go there and call them. Some say they

have no music and dancing, only howling and whimpering; and that when

a screaming is heard in the woods and marshes, like that of crying

children, and a mewing and screeching like that of a multitude of cats

or owls, the sounds proceed from their midnight assemblies, and are

made by the vociferous Dwarfs.

The principal residence of the two first classes of the

underground-people in Rügen is what are called the Nine-hills, near

Rambin. These hills lie on the west point of the island, about a

quarter of a mile from the village of Rambin in the open country. They

are small mounds, or Giants' graves (_Hünengräber_), as such are

called, and are the subject of many a tale and legend among the

people. The account of their origin is as follows:--

"A long, long time ago there lived in Rügen a mighty Giant named

Balderich. He was vexed that the country was an island, and that he had

always to wade through the sea when he wanted to go to Pomerania and the

main land. He accordingly got an immense apron made, and he tied it

round his waist and filled it with earth, for he wanted to make a dam of

earth for himself from the island to the main-land. As he was going with

his load over Rodenkirchen, a hole tore in the apron, and the clay that

fell out formed the Nine-hills. He stopped the hole and went on; but

when he he had gotten to Gustau, another hole tore in the apron, and

thirteen little hills fell out. He proceeded to the sea with what he had

now remaining, and pouring the earth into the waters, formed the hook of

Prosnitz, and the pretty little peninsula of Drigge. But there still

remained a small space between Rügen and Pomerania, which so incensed

the Giant that he fell down in a fit and died, from which unfortunate

accident his dam was never finished."[239]

A Giant-maiden commenced a similar operation on the Pomeranian side

"in order," said she, "that I may be able to go over the bit of water

without wetting my little slippers." So she filled her apron with sand

and hurried down to the sea-side. But there was a hole in the apron

and just behind Sagard a part of the sand ran out and formed a little

hill named Dubbleworth. "Ah!" said she, "now my mother will scold me."

She stopped the hole with her hand and ran on as fast as she could.

But her mother looked over the wood and cried, "You nasty child, what

are you about? Come here and you shall get a good whipping." The

daughter in a fright let go the apron, and all the sand ran out and

formed the barren hills near Litzow.[240]

The Dwarfs took up their abode in the Nine-hills. The White ones own

two of them, and the Brown ones seven, for there are no Black ones

there. These dwell chiefly on the coast-hills, along the shore between

the Ahlbeck and Mönchgut, where they hold their assemblies, and

plunder the ships that are wrecked on the coast.

* * * * *

The Neck is called in Rügen Nickel. Some fishers once launched their

boat on a lonely lake. Next day when they came they saw it in a high

beech-tree. "Who the devil has put the boat in the tree?" cried one. A

voice replied, but they saw no one, "'Twas no devil at all, but I and

my brother Nickel."[241]

* * * * *

The following stories Mr. Arndt, who, as we have observed, is a native

of Rügen, says he heard in his boyhood from Hinrich Vieck, the

Statthalter or Bailiff of Grabitz, who abounded in these legends; "so

that it is, properly speaking," says he, "Hinrich Vieck, and not I,

that relates." we therefore see no reason to doubt of their

genuineness, though they may be a little embellished.[242]

_Adventures of John Dietrich._

There once lived in Rambin an honest, industrious man, named James

Dietrich. He had several children, all of a good disposition,

especially the youngest, whose name was John. John Dietrich was a

handsome, smart boy, diligent at school, and obedient at home. His

great passion was for hearing stories, and whenever he met any one who

was well stored, he never let them go till he had heard them all.

When John was about eight years old he was sent to spend a summer with

his uncle, a farmer in Rodenkirchen. Here John had to keep cows with

other boys, and they used to drive them to graze about the Nine-hills.

There was an old cowherd, one Klas (_i. e._ Nick) Starkwolt, who used

frequently to join the boys, and then they would sit down together and

tell stories. Klas abounded in these, and he became John Dietrich's

dearest friend. In particular, he knew a number of stories of the

Nine-hills and the undergroundpeople in the old times, when the Giants

disappeared from the country, and the little ones came into the hills.

These tales John swallowed so eagerly that he thought of nothing else,

and was for ever talking of golden cups, and crowns, and glass shoes,

and pockets full of ducats, and gold rings, and diamond coronets, and

snow-white brides, and such like. Old Klas used often to shake his

head at him and say, "John! John! what are you about? The spade and

sithe will be your sceptre and crown, and your bride will wear a

garland of rosemary and a gown of striped drill." Still John almost

longed to get into the Nine-hills; for Klas had told him that any one

who by luck or cunning should get the cap of one of the little ones

might go down with safety, and, instead of their making a servant of

him, he would be their master. The person whose cap he got would be

his servant, and obey all his commands.[243]

St. John's day, when the days are longest and the nights shortest, was

now come. Old and young kept the holiday, had all sorts of plays, and

told all kinds of stories. John could now no longer contain himself,

but the day after the festival he slipt away to the Nine-hills, and

when it grew dark laid himself down on the top of the highest of them,

where Klas had told him the undergroundpeople had their principal

dance-place. John lay quite still from ten till twelve at night. At

last it struck twelve. Immediately there was a ringing and a singing

in the hills, and then a whispering and a lisping and a whiz and a

buzz all about him; for the little people were now some whirling round

and round in the dance, and others sporting and tumbling about in the

moonshine, and playing a thousand merry pranks and tricks. He felt a

secret dread come over him at this whispering and buzzing, for he

could see nothing of them, as the caps they wore made them invisible;

but he lay quite still, with his face in the grass and his eyes fast

shut, snoring a little, just as if he was asleep. Yet now and then he

ventured to open his eyes a little and peep out, but not the slightest

trace of them could he see, though it was bright moonlight.

It was not long before three of the underground-people came jumping up

to where he was lying; but they took no heed of him, and flung their

brown caps up into the air, and caught them from one another. At

length one snatched the cap out of the hand of another and flung it

away. It flew direct, and fell upon John's head. The moment he felt it

he caught hold of it, and, standing up, bid farewell to sleep. He

swung his cap about for joy, and made the little silver bell of it

tingle, and then set it upon his head, and--O wonderful!--that instant

he saw the countless and merry swarm of the little people.

The three little men came slily up to him, and thought by their

nimbleness to get back the cap; but he held his prize fast, and they

saw clearly that nothing was to be done in this way with him; for in

size and strength John was a giant in comparison of these little

fellows, who hardly came up to his knee. The owner of the cap now came

up very humbly to the finder, and begged, in as supplicating a tone as

if his life depended upon it, that he would give him back his cap. But

"No," said John, "you sly little rogue, you'll get the cap no more.

That's not the sort of thing that one gives away for buttered cake: I

should be in a nice way with you if I had not something of yours; but

now you have no power over me, but must do what I please. And I will

go down with you, and see how you live below, and you shall be my

servant.--Nay, no grumbling, you know you must. I know that just as

well as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me often and often."

The little man looked as if he had not heard or understood one word of

all this; he began all his crying and whining over again, and wept,

and screamed, and howled most piteously for his little cap. But John

cut the matter short by saying to him, "Have done; you are my

servant, and I intend to take a trip with you." So he gave up,

especially as the others told him that there was no remedy.

John now flung away his old hat, and put on the cap, and set it firm on

his head, lest it should slip off or fly away, for all his power lay in

the cap. He lost no time in trying its virtues, and commanded his new

servant to fetch him food and drink. And the servant ran away like the

wind, and in a second was there again with bottles of wine, and bread,

and rich fruits. So John ate and drank, and looked on at the sports and

the dancing of the little ones, and it pleased him right well, and he

behaved himself stoutly and wisely, as if he was a born master.

When the cock had now crowed for the third time, and the little larks

had made their first twirl in the sky, and the infant light appeared

in solitary white streaks in the east, then it went hush, hush, hush,

through the bushes, and flowers, and stalks; and the hills rang again,

and opened up, and the little men went down. John gave close attention

to everything, and found that it was exactly as he had been told. And

behold! on the top of the hill, where they had just been dancing, and

where all was full of grass and flowers, as people see it by day,

there rose of a sudden, when the retreat was sounded, a bright glass

point. Whoever wanted to go in stepped upon this; it opened, and he

glided gently in, the glass closing again after him; and when they had

all entered it vanished, and there was no farther trace of it to be

seen. Those who descended through the glass point sank quite gently

into a wide silver tun, which held them all, and could have easily

harboured a thousand such little people. John and his man went down

into such a one along with several others, all of whom screamed out

and prayed him not to tread on them, for if his weight came on them

they were dead men. He was, however, careful, and acted in a very

friendly way toward them. Several tuns of this kind went up and down

after each other, until all were in. They hung by long silver chains,

which were drawn and held below.

In his descent John was amazed at the wonderful brilliancy of the

walls between which the tun glided down. They were all, as it were,

beset with pearls and diamonds, glittering and sparkling brightly, and

below him he heard the most beautiful music tinkling at a distance,

so that he did not know what was become of him, and from excess of

pleasure he fell fast asleep.

He slept a long time, and when he awoke he found himself in the most

beautiful bed that could be, such as he had never seen the like of in

his father's house, and it was in the prettiest little chamber in the

world, and his servant was beside him with a fan to keep away the

flies and gnats. He had hardly opened his eyes when his little servant

brought him a basin and towel, and held him the nicest new clothes of

brown silk to put on, most beautifully made; with these was a pair of

new black shoes with red ribbons, such as John had never beheld in

Rambin or in Rodenkirchen either. There were also there several pairs

of beautiful shining glass shoes, such as are only used on great

occasions. John was, we may well suppose, delighted to have such

clothes to wear, and he put them upon him joyfully. His servant then

flew like lightning and returned with a fine breakfast of wine and

milk, and beautiful white bread and fruits, and such other things as

little boys are fond of. He now perceived, every moment, more and

more, that Klas Starkwolt, the old cowherd, knew what he was talking

about, for the splendour and magnificence he saw here surpassed

anything he had ever dreamt of. His servant, too, was the most

obedient one possible: a nod or a sign was enough for him, for he was

as wise as a bee, as all these little people are by nature.

John's bed-chamber was all covered with emeralds and other precious

stones, and in the ceiling was a diamond as big as a nine-pin bowl,

that gave light to the whole chamber. In this place they have neither

sun, nor moon, nor stars to give them light; neither do they use lamps

or candles of any kind; but they live in the midst of precious stones,

and have the purest of gold and silver in abundance, and the skill to

make it light both by day and by night, though, indeed, properly

speaking, as there is no sun here, there is no distinction of day and

night, and they reckon only by weeks. They set the brightest and

clearest precious stones in their dwellings, and in the ways and

passages leading under the ground, and in the places where they have

their large halls, and their dances and feasts, where they sparkle so

as to make it eternal day.

When John had finished his breakfast, his servant opened a little door

in the wall, where was a closet with the most beautiful silver and

gold cups and dishes and other vessels, and baskets filled with

ducats, and boxes of jewels and precious stones. There were also

charming pictures, and the most delightful story-books he had seen in

the whole course of his life.

John spent the morning looking at these things; and, when it was

mid-day, a bell rang, and his servant said, "Will you dine alone, sir,

or with the large company?"--"With the large company, to be sure,"

replied John. So his servant led him out. John, however, saw nothing

but solitary halls, lighted up with precious stones, and here and

there little men and women, who appeared to him to glide out of the

clefts and fissures of the rocks. Wondering what it was the bells rang

for, he said to his servant, "But where is the company?" And scarcely

had he spoken when the hall they were in opened out to a great extent,

and a canopy set with diamonds and precious stones was drawn over it.

At the same moment he saw an immense throng of nicely-dressed little

men and women pouring in through several open doors: the floor opened

in several places, and tables, covered with the most beautiful ware,

and the most luscious meats, and fruits, and wines, placed themselves

beside each other, and the chairs arranged themselves along the

tables, and then the men and women took their seats.

The principal persons now came forward, bowed to John, and led him to

their table, where they placed him among their most beautiful

maidens,--a distinction which pleased John well. The party, too, was

very merry, for the underground people are extremely lively and

cheerful, and can never stay long quiet. Then the most charming music

sounded over their heads; and beautiful birds, flying about, sung most

sweetly; and these were not real birds but artificial ones, which the

little men make so ingeniously that they can fly about and sing like

natural ones.

The servants, of both sexes, who waited at table, and handed about the

gold cups, and the silver and crystal baskets with fruit, were

children belonging to this world, whom some casualty or other had

thrown among the undergroundpeople, and who, having come down without

securing any pledge, were fallen into the power of the little ones.

These were differently clad from them. The boys and girls were dressed

in snow-white coats and jackets, and wore glass shoes, so fine that

their steps could never be heard, with blue caps on their heads, and

silver belts round their waists.

John at first pitied them, seeing how they were forced to run about

and wait on the little people; but as they looked cheerful and happy,

and were handsomely dressed, and had such rosy cheeks, he said to

himself, "After all, they are not so badly off, and I was myself much

worse when I had to be running after the cows and bullocks. To be

sure, I am now a master here, and they are servants; but there is no

help for it: why were they so foolish as to let themselves be taken

and not get some pledge beforehand? At any rate, the time must come

when they shall be set at liberty, and they will certainly not be

longer than fifty years here." With these thoughts he consoled

himself, and sported and played away with his little play-fellows, and

ate, and drank, and made his servant and the others tell him stories,

for he would know every thing exactly.

They sat at table about two hours; the principal person then rang a

little bell, and the tables and chairs all vanished in a whiff,

leaving the company all on their feet. The birds now struck up a most

lively air, and the little people danced their rounds most merrily.

When they were done, the joyous sets jumped, and leaped, and whirled

themselves round and round, as if the world was grown dizzy. And the

pretty little girls that sat next John caught hold of him and whirled

him about; and, without making any resistance, he danced round and

round with them for two good hours. Every afternoon while he remained

there, he used to dance thus merrily with them; and, to the last hour

of his life, he used to speak of it with the greatest glee. His

language was--that the joys of heaven, and the songs and music of the

angels, which the righteous hoped to enjoy there, might be excessively

beautiful, but that he could conceive nothing to equal the music and

the dancing under the earth, the beautiful and lively little men, the

wonderful birds in the branches, and the tinkling silver bells on

their caps. "No one," said he, "who has not seen and heard it, can

form any idea whatever of it."

When the music and dancing were over, it might be about four o'clock.

The little people then disappeared, and went each about their work or

their pleasure. After supper they sported and danced in the same way;

and at midnight, especially on starlight nights, they slipped out of

their hills to dance in the open air. John used then, like a good boy,

to say his prayers and go to sleep, a duty he never neglected either

in the evening or in the morning.

For the first week that John was in the glass-hill, he only went from

his chamber to the great hall and back again. After the first week,

however, he began to walk about, making his servant show and explain

everything to him. He found that there were in that place the most

beautiful walks, in which he might ramble along for miles, in all

directions, without ever finding an end of them, so immensely large

was the hill that the little people lived in, and yet outwardly it

seemed but a little hill, with a few bushes and trees growing on it.

It was extraordinary that, between the meads and fields, which were

thick sown with hills, and lakes, and islands, and ornamented with

trees and flowers in the greatest variety, there ran, as it were,

small lanes, through which, as through crystal rocks, one was obliged

to pass to come to any new place; and the single meads and fields were

often a mile long, and the flowers were so brilliant and so fragrant,

and the song of the numerous birds so sweet, that John had never seen

anything on earth at all like it. There was a breeze, and yet one did

not feel the wind; it was quite clear and bright, and yet there was no

heat; the waves were dashing, still there was no danger; and the most

beautiful little barks and canoes came, like white swans, when one

wanted to cross the water, and went backwards and forwards of

themselves. Whence all this came no one knew, nor could his servant

tell anything about it; but one thing John saw plainly, which was,

that the large carbuncles and diamonds that were set in the roof and

walls gave light instead of the sun, moon, and stars.

These lovely meads and plains were, for the most part, quite lonesome.

Few of the undergroundpeople were to be seen upon them, and those that

were, just glided across them, as if in the greatest hurry. It very

rarely happened that any of them danced out here in the open air;

sometimes about three of them did so; at the most half a dozen: John

never saw a greater number together. The meads were never cheerful,

except when the corps of servants, of whom there might be some

hundreds, were let out to wait. This, however, happened but twice

a-week, for they were mostly kept employed in the great hall and

adjoining apartments, or at school.

For John soon found they had schools there also; he had been there about

ten months, when one day he saw something snow-white gliding into a

rock, and disappearing. "What!" said he to his servant, "are there some

of you too that wear white, like the servants?" He was informed that

there were; but they were few in number, and never appeared at the large

tables or the dances, except once a year, on the birthday of the great

Hill-king, who dwelt many thousand miles below in the great deep. These

were the oldest men among them, some of them many thousand years old,

who knew all things, and could tell of the beginning of the world, and

were called the Wise. They lived all alone, and only left their chambers

to instruct the underground children and the attendants of both sexes,

for whom there was a great school.

John was greatly pleased with this intelligence, and he determined to

take advantage of it: so next morning he made his servant conduct him

to the school, and was so well pleased with it that he never missed a

day going there. They were taught there reading, writing, and

accounts, to compose and relate histories and stories, and many

elegant kinds of work; so that many came out of the hills, both men

and women, very prudent and knowing people, in consequence of what

they were taught there. The biggest, and those of best capacity,

received instruction in natural science and astronomy, and in poetry

and riddle-making, arts highly esteemed by the little people. John was

very diligent, and soon became extremely clever at painting and

drawing; he wrought, too, most ingeniously in gold, and silver, and

stones, and in verse and riddle-making he had no fellow.

John had spent many a happy year here without ever thinking of the

upper world, or of those he had left behind, so pleasantly passed the

time--so many an agreeable play-fellow he had among the children.

Of all his playfellows there was none of whom he was so fond as of a

little fair-haired girl, named Elizabeth Krabbin. She was from his own

village, and was the daughter of Frederick Krabbe, the minister of

Rambin. She was but four years old when she was taken away, and John

had often heard tell of her. She was not, however, stolen by the

little people, but came into their power in this manner. One day in

summer, she, with other children, ran out into the fields: in their

rambles they went to the Nine-hills, where little Elizabeth fell

asleep, and was forgotten by the rest. At night, when she awoke, she

found herself under the ground among the little people. It was not

merely because she was from his own village that John was so fond of

Elizabeth, but she was a most beautiful child, with clear blue eyes

and ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile.

Time flew away unperceived: John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth

sixteen. Their childish fondness had become love, and the little

people were pleased to see it, thinking that by means of her they

might get John to renounce his power, and become their servant; for

they were fond of him, and would willingly have had him to wait upon

them; for the love of dominion is their vice. But they were mistaken.

John had learned too much from his servant to be caught in that way.

John's chief delight was in walking about alone with Elizabeth; for he

now knew every place so well that he could dispense with the attendance

of his servant. In these rambles he was always gay and lively, but his

companion was frequently sad and melancholy, thinking on the land above,

where men lived, and where the sun, moon, and stars, shine. Now it

happened in one of their walks, that as they talked of their love, and

it was after midnight, they passed under the place where the tops of the

glass-hills used to open and let the undergroundpeople in and out. As

they went along they heard of a sudden the crowing of several cocks

above. At this sound, which she had not heard for twelve years, little

Elizabeth felt her heart so affected that she could contain herself no

longer, but throwing her arms about John's neck, she bathed his cheeks

with her tears. At length she spake--

"Dearest John," said she, "everything down here is very beautiful, and

the little people are kind, and do nothing to injure me, but still I

have always been uneasy, nor ever felt any pleasure till I began to love

you; and yet that is not pure pleasure, for this is not a right way of

living, such as it should be for human beings. Every night I dream of my

dear father and mother, and of our church-yard, where the people stand

so piously at the church-door waiting for my father, and I could weep

tears of blood that I cannot go into the church with them, and worship

God as a human being should; for this is no Christian life we lead down

here, but a delusive half heathen one. And only think, dear John, that

we can never marry, as there is no priest to join us. Do, then, plan

some way for us to leave this place; for I cannot tell you how I long to

get once more to my father, and among pious Christians."

John, too, had not been unaffected by the crowing of the cocks, and he

felt what he had never felt here before, a longing after the land

where the sun shines, and he replied,

"Dear Elizabeth, all you say is true, and I now feel that it is a sin

for Christians to stay here; and it seems to me as if our Lord said to

us in that cry of the cocks, 'Come up, ye Christian children, out of

those abodes of illusion and magic; come to the light of the stars,

and act as children of light.' I now feel that it was a great sin for

me to come down here, but I trust I shall be forgiven on account of my

youth; for I was a child and knew not what I did. But now I will not

stay a day longer. They cannot keep _me_ here."

At these last words, Elizabeth turned pale, for she recollected that

she was a servant, and must serve her fifty years. "And what will it

avail me," cried she, "that I shall continue young and be but as of

twenty years when I go out, for my father and mother will be dead, and

all my companions will be old and gray; and you, dearest John, will be

old and gray also," cried she, throwing herself on his bosom.

John was thunderstruck at this, for it had never before occurred to him;

he, however, comforted her as well as he could, and declared he would

never leave the place without her. He spent the whole night in forming

various plans; at last he fixed on one, and in the morning he

despatched his servant to summon to his apartment six of the principal

of the little people. When they came, John thus mildly addressed them:

"My friends, you know how I came here, not as a prisoner or servant,

but as a lord and master over one of you, and consequently, over all.

You have now for the ten years I have been with you treated me with

respect and attention, and for that I am your debtor. But you are

still more my debtors, for I might have given you every sort of

annoyance and vexation, and you must have submitted to it. I have,

however, not done so, but have behaved as your equal, and have sported

and played with you rather than ruled over you. I now have one request

to make. There is a girl among your servants whom I love, Elizabeth

Krabbin, of Rambin, where I was born. Give her to me, and let us

depart. For I will return to where the sun shines and the plough goes

through the land. I ask to take nothing with me but her, and the

ornaments and furniture of my chamber."

He spoke in a determined tone, and they hesitated and cast their eyes

to the ground; at last the oldest of them replied:

"Sir, you ask what we cannot grant. It is a fixed law, that no servant

shall leave this place before the appointed time. Were we to break

through this law, our whole subterranean empire would fall. Anything

else you desire, for we love and respect you, but we cannot give up

Elizabeth."

"You can and you shall give her up," cried John in a rage; "go think of

it till to-morrow. Return here at this hour. I will show you whether or

not I can triumph over your hypocritical and cunning stratagems."

The six retired. Next morning, on their return, John addressed them in

the kindest manner, but to no purpose; they persisted in their

refusal. He gave them till the next day, threatening them severely in

case of their still proving refractory.

Next day, when the six little people appeared before him, John looked at

them sternly, and made no return to their salutations, but said to them

shortly, "Yes, or No?" And they answered with one voice, "No." He then

ordered his servant to summon twenty-four more of the principal persons

with their wives and children. When they came, they were in all five

hundred, men, women, and children. John ordered them forthwith to go and

fetch pickaxes, spades, and bars, which they did in a second.

He now led them out to a rock in one of the fields, and ordered them

to fall to work at blasting, hewing, and dragging stones. They toiled

patiently, and made as if it were only sport to them. From morning

till night their task-master made them labour without ceasing,

standing over them constantly, to prevent their resting. Still their

obstinacy was inflexible; and at the end of some weeks his pity for

them was so great, that he was obliged to give over.

He now thought of a new species of punishment for them. He ordered

them to appear before him next morning, each provided with a new whip.

They obeyed, and John commanded them to strip and lash one another

till the blood should run down on the ground, and he stood looking on

as grim and cruel as an eastern tyrant. Still the little people cut

and slashed themselves, and mocked at John, and refused to comply with

his wishes. This he did for three or four days.

Several other courses did he try, but all in vain; his temper was too

gentle to struggle with their obstinacy, and he began now to despair

of ever accomplishing his dearest wish. He began even to hate the

little people whom he was before so fond of; he kept away from their

banquets and dances, and associated alone with Elizabeth, and ate and

drank quite solitary in his chamber. In short, he became almost a

perfect hermit, and sank into moodiness and melancholy.

While in this temper, as he was taking a solitary walk in the evening,

and, to divert his melancholy, was flinging the stones that lay in his

path against each other, he happened to break a tolerably large one,

and out of it jumped a toad. The moment John saw the ugly animal, he

caught him up in ecstasy, and put him into his pocket and ran home,

crying, "Now I have her! I have my Elizabeth! Now you shall get it,

you little mischievous rascals!" And on getting home he put the toad

into a costly silver casket, as if it was the greatest treasure.

To account for John's joy you must know that Klas Starkwolt had often

told him that the underground people could not endure any ill smell, and

that the sight or even the smell of a toad made them faint and suffer

the most dreadful tortures, and that by means of stench and these odious

ugly animals, one could compel them to anything. Hence there are no bad

smells to be found in the whole glass empire, and a toad is a thing

unheard of there; this toad must therefore have been inclosed in the

stone from the creation, as it were for the sake of John and Elizabeth.

Resolved to try the effect of his toad, John took the casket under his

arm and went out, and on the way he met two of the little people in a

lonesome place. The moment he approached them they fell to the ground,

and whimpered and howled most lamentably, as long as he was near them.

Satisfied now of his power, he next morning summoned the fifty

principal persons, with their wives and children, to his apartment.

When they came, he addressed them, reminding them once again of his

kindness and gentleness toward them, and of the good terms on which

they had hitherto lived. He reproached them with their ingratitude in

refusing him the only favour he had ever asked of them, but firmly

declared he would not give way to their obstinacy. "Wherefore," said

he, "for the last time, think for a minute, and if you then say No,

you shall feel that pain which is to you and your children the most

terrible of all pains."

They did not take long to deliberate, but unanimously replied "No;"

and they thought to themselves what new scheme has the youth hit on,

with which he thinks to frighten wise ones like us, and they smiled as

they said No. Their smiling enraged John above all, and he ran back a

few hundred paces, to where he had laid the casket with the toad,

under a bush.

He was hardly come within a hundred paces of them when they all fell to

the ground as if struck with a thunderbolt, and began to howl and

whimper, and to writhe, as if suffering the most excruciating pain. They

stretched out their hands, and cried, "Have mercy! have mercy! we feel

you have a toad, and there is no escape for us. Take the odious beast

away, and we will do all you require." He let them kick a few seconds

longer, and then took the toad away. They then stood up and felt no more

pain. John let all depart but the six chief persons, to whom he said:--

"This night between twelve and one Elizabeth and I will depart. Load

then for me three waggons, with gold, and silver, and precious stones.

I might, you know, take all that is in the hill, and you deserve it,

but I will be merciful. Farther, you must put all the furniture of my

chamber in two waggons, and get ready for me the handsomest

travelling-carriage that is in the hill, with six black horses.

Moreover, you must set at liberty all the servants who have been so

long here that on earth they would be twenty years old and upwards,

and you must give them as much silver and gold as will make them rich

for life, and make a law that no one shall be detained here longer

than his twentieth year."

The six took the oath, and went away quite melancholy, and John buried

his toad deep in the ground. The little people laboured hard and

prepared everything. At midnight everything was out of the hill, and

John and Elizabeth got into the silver tun, and were drawn up.

It was then one o'clock, and it was midsummer, the very time that

twelve years before John had gone down into the hill. Music sounded

around them, and they saw the glass hill open, and the rays of the

light of heaven shine on them after so many years; and when they got

out they saw the first streaks of dawn already in the east. Crowds of

the undergroundpeople were around them busied about the waggons. John

bid them a last farewell, waved his brown cap three times in the air,

and then flung it among them. And at the same moment he ceased to see

them; he beheld nothing but a green hill, and the well-known bushes

and fields, and heard the church clock of Rambin strike two. When all

was still, save a few larks, who were tuning their morning songs, they

all fell on their knees and worshiped God, resolving henceforth to

lead a pious and a Christian life.

When the sun rose, John arranged the procession, and they set out for

Rambin. Every well-known object that they saw awaked pleasing

recollections in the bosom of John and his bride; and as they passed

by Rodenkirchen, John recognised, among the people that gazed at and

followed them, his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd, and his dog

Speed. It was about four in the morning when they entered Rambin, and

they halted in the middle of the village, about twenty paces from the

house where John was born. The whole village poured out to gaze on

these Asiatic princes, for such the old sexton, who had in his youth

been at Moscow and Constantinople, said they were. There John saw his

father and mother, and his brother Andrew, and his sister Trine. The

old minister, Krabbe, stood there too, in his black slippers and white

night cap, gaping and staring with the rest.

John discovered himself to his parents, and Elizabeth to hers, and the

wedding-day was soon fixed, and such a wedding was never seen before

or since in the island of Rügen; for John sent to Stralsund and

Greifswald for whole boatloads of wine, and sugar, and coffee, and

whole herds of oxen, sheep, and pigs were driven to the wedding. The

quantity of harts, and roes, and hares that were shot on the occasion,

it were vain to attempt to tell, or to count the fish that was caught.

There was not a musician in Rügen and Pomerania that was not engaged,

for John was immensely rich, and he wished to display his wealth.

John did not neglect his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd. He gave

him enough to make him comfortable the rest of his days, and insisted on

his coming and staying with him as often and as long as he wished.

After his marriage, John made a progress through the country with his

beautiful Elizabeth, and they purchased towns, and villages, and

lands, until he became master of nearly half Rügen, and a very

considerable count in the country. His father, old James Dietrich, was

made a nobleman, and his brothers and sisters gentlemen and

ladies--for what cannot money do?

John and his wife spent their days in doing acts of piety and charity.

They built several churches, and they had the blessing of every one that

knew them, and died universally lamented. It was Count John Dietrich

that built and richly endowed the present church of Rambin. He built it

on the site of his father's house, and presented to it several of the

cups and plates made by the underground people, and his own and

Elizabeth's glass shoes, in memory of what had befallen them in their

youth. But they were all taken away in the time of the great Charles the

Twelfth of Sweden, when the Russians came on the island, and the

Cossacks plundered even the churches, and took away everything.

_The Little Glass Shoe._

A peasant, named John Wilde, who lived in Rodenkirchen, found one time

a glass shoe on one of the hills where the little people used to

dance. He clapped it instantly into his pocket and ran away with it,

keeping his hand as close on his pocket as if he had a dove in it; for

he knew that he had found a treasure which the underground people must

redeem at any price.

Others say that John Wilde lay in ambush one night for the underground

people, and gained an opportunity of pulling off one of their shoes,

by stretching himself there with a brandy-bottle beside him, and

acting like one that was dead drunk; for he was a very cunning man,

not over scrupulous in his morals, and had taken in many a one by his

craftiness, and, on this account, his name was in no good repute among

his neighbours, who, to say the truth, were willing to have as little

to do with him as possible. Many hold, too, that he was acquainted

with forbidden arts, and used to carry on an intercourse with the

fiends and old women that raised storms, and such like.

However, be this as it may, when John had gotten the shoe, he lost no

time in letting the folk that dwell under the ground know that he had

it. So at midnight he went to the Nine-hills, and cried with all his

might, "John Wilde, of Rodenkirchen, has got a beautiful glass shoe.

Who will buy it? Who will buy it?" For he knew that the little one who

had lost the shoe must go barefoot till he got it again, and that is

no trifle, for the little people have generally to walk upon very hard

and stony ground.

John's advertisement was speedily attended to. The little fellow who

had lost the shoe made no delay in setting about redeeming it. The

first free day he got, that he might come out into the daylight, he

came as a respectable merchant, and knocked at John Wilde's door, and

asked if John had not a glass shoe to sell? "For," says he, "they are

an article now in great demand, and are sought for in every market."

John replied that it was true he had a very little little, nice,

pretty little glass shoe, but it was so small that even a Dwarf's foot

would be squeezed in it; and that God Almighty must make people on

purpose for it before it could be of any use; but that, for all that,

it was an extraordinary shoe, and a valuable shoe, and a dear shoe,

and it was not every merchant that could afford to pay for it.

The merchant asked to see it, and when he had examined it, "Glass

shoes," said he, "are not by any means such rare articles, my good

friend, as you think here in Rodenkirchen, because you do not happen to

go much into the world. However," said he, after hemming a little, "I

will give you a good price for it, because I happen to have the very

fellow of it." And he bid the countryman a thousand dollars for it.

"A thousand dollars are money, my father used to say when he drove fat

oxen to market," replied John Wilde, in a mocking tone; "but it will not

leave my hands for that shabby price; and, for my own part, it may

ornament the foot of my daughter's doll. Harkye, friend: I have heard a

sort of little song sung about the glass shoe, and it is not for a

parcel of dirt that it will go out of my hands. Tell me now, my good

fellow, should you happen to know the knack of it, that in every furrow

I make when I am ploughing I should find a ducat? If not, the shoe is

still mine, and you may inquire for glass shoes at those other markets."

The merchant made still a great many attempts, and twisted and turned

in every direction to get the shoe; but when he found the farmer

inflexible, he agreed to what John desired, and swore to the

performance of it. Cunning John believed him, and gave him up the

glass shoe, for he knew right well with whom he had to do. So the

business being ended, away went the merchant with his glass shoe.

Without a moment's delay, John repaired to his stable, got ready his

horses and his plough, and drove out to the field. He selected a piece

of ground where he would have the shortest turns possible, and began

to plough. Hardly had the plough turned up the first sod, when up

sprang a ducat out of the ground, and it was the same with every fresh

furrow he made. There was now no end of his ploughing, and John Wilde

soon bought eight new horses, and put them into the stable to the

eight he already had--and their mangers were never without plenty of

oats in them--that he might be able every two hours to yoke two fresh

horses, and so be enabled to drive them the faster.

John was now insatiable in ploughing; every morning he was out before

sunrise, and many a time he ploughed on till after midnight. Summer

and winter it was plough, plough with him evermore, except when the

ground was frozen as hard as a stone. But he always ploughed by

himself, and never suffered any one to go out with him, or to come to

him when he was at work, for John understood too well the nature of

his crop to let people see what it was he ploughed so constantly for.

But it fared far worse with himself than with his horses, who ate good

oats and were regularly changed and relieved, while he grew pale and

meagre by reason of his continual working and toiling. His wife and

children had no longer any comfort of him; he never went to the

alehouse or the club; he withdrew himself from every one, and scarcely

ever spoke a single word, but went about silent and wrapped up in his

own thoughts. All the day long he toiled for his ducats, and at night

he had to count them and to plan and meditate how he might find out a

still swifter kind of plough.

His wife and the neighbours lamented over his strange conduct, his

dullness and melancholy, and began to think that he was grown foolish.

Everybody pitied his wife and children, for they imagined that the

numerous horses that he kept in his stable, and the preposterous mode

of agriculture that he pursued, with his unnecessary and superfluous

ploughing, must soon leave him without house or land.

But their anticipations were not fulfilled. True it is, the poor man

never enjoyed a happy or contented hour since he began to plough the

ducats up out of the ground. The old saying held good in his case,

that he who gives himself up to the pursuit of gold is half way in

the claws of the evil one. Flesh and blood cannot bear perpetual

labour, and John Wilde did not long hold out against this running

through the furrows day and night. He got through the first spring,

but one day in the second, he dropped down at the tail of the plough

like an exhausted November fly. Out of the pure thirst after gold he

was wasted away and dried up to nothing; whereas he had been a very

strong and hearty man the day the shoe of the little underground man

fell into his hands.

His wife, however, found after him a considerable treasure, two great

nailed up chests full of good new ducats, and his sons purchased large

estates for themselves, and became lords and noblemen. But what good

did all that do poor John Wilde?

_The Wonderful Plough._

There was once a farmer who was master of one of the little black

ones, that are the blacksmiths and armourers; and he got him in a very

curious way. On the road leading to this farmer's ground there stood a

stone cross, and every morning as he went to his work he used to stop

and kneel down before this cross, and pray for some minutes.

On one of these occasions he noticed on the cross a pretty bright

insect, of such a brilliant hue that he could not recollect having

ever before seen the like with an insect. He wondered greatly at this,

yet still he did not disturb it; but the insect did not remain long

quiet, but ran without ceasing backwards and forwards on the cross, as

if it was in pain, and wanted to get away. Next morning the farmer

again saw the very same insect, and again it was running to and fro,

in the same state of uneasiness. The farmer began now to have some

suspicions about it, and thought to himself, "Would this now be one of

the little black enchanters? For certain, all is not right with that

insect; it runs about just like one that had an evil conscience, as

one that would, yet cannot, go away:" and a variety of thoughts and

conjectures passed through his mind; and he called to mind what he had

often heard from his father, and other old people, that when the under

groundpeople chance to touch anything holy, they are held fast and

cannot quit the spot, and are therefore extremely careful to avoid all

such things. But he also thought it may as well be something else; and

you would perhaps be committing a sin in disturbing and taking away

the little animal; so he let it stay as it was.

But when he had found it twice more in the same place, and still

running about with the same marks of uneasiness, he said, "No, it is

not all right with it. So now, in the name of God!" and he made a

grasp at the insect, that resisted and clung fast to the stone; but he

held it tight, and tore it away by main force, and lo! then he found

he had, by the top of the head, a little ugly black chap, about six

inches long, screeching and kicking at a most furious rate.

The farmer was greatly astounded at this sudden transformation; still

he held his prize fast and kept calling to him, while he administered

to him a few smart slaps on the buttocks: "Be quiet, be quiet, my

little man! if crying was to do the business, we might look for heroes

in swaddling clothes. We'll just take you with us a bit, and see what

you are good for."

The little fellow trembled and shook in every limb, and then began to

whimper most piteously, and to beg hard of the farmer to let him go. But

"No, my lad," replied the farmer, "I will not let you go till you tell

me who you are, and how you came here, and what trade you know, that

enables you to earn your bread in the world." At this the little man

grinned and shook his head, but said not a word in reply, only begged

and prayed the more to get loose; and the farmer found that he must now

begin to entreat him if he would coax any information out of him. But it

was all to no purpose. He then adopted the contrary method, and whipped

and slashed him till the blood run down, but just to as little purpose;

the little black thing remained as dumb as the grave, for this species

is the most malicious and obstinate of all the underground race.

The farmer now got angry, and he said, "Do but be quiet, my child; I

should be a fool to put myself into a passion with such a little

brat. Never fear, I shall soon make you tame enough."

So saying, he ran home with him, and clapped him into a black, sooty,

iron pot, and put the iron lid upon it, and laid on the top of the lid

a great heavy stone, and set the pot in a dark cold room, and as he

was going out he said to him, "Stay there, now, and freeze till you

are black! I'll engage that at last you will answer me civilly."

Twice a-week the farmer went regularly into the room and asked his

little black captive if he would answer him now; but the little one

still obstinately persisted in his silence. The farmer had now,

without success, pursued this course for six weeks, at the end of

which time his prisoner at last gave up. One day as the farmer was

opening the room door, he, of his own accord, called out to him to

come and take him out of his dirty stinking dungeon, promising that he

would now cheerfully do all that was wanted of him.

The farmer first ordered him to give him his history. The black one

replied, "My dear friend you know it just as well as I, or else you

never had had me here. You see I happened by chance to come too near

the cross, a thing we little people may not do, and there I was held

fast and obliged instantly to let my body become visible; so, then,

that people might not recognise me, I turned myself into an insect.

But you found me out. For when we get fastened to holy or consecrated

things, we never can get away from them unless a man takes us off.

That, however, does not happen without plague and annoyance to us,

though, indeed, to say the truth, the staying fastened there is not

over pleasant. And so I struggled against you, too, for we have a

natural aversion to let ourselves be taken into a man's hand." "Ho,

ho! is that the tune with you?" cried the farmer: "you have a natural

aversion, have you? Believe me, my sooty friend, I have just the same

for you; and so you shall be away without a moment's delay, and we

will lose no time in making our bargain with each other. But you must

first make me some present." "What you will, you have only to ask,"

said the little one: "silver and gold, and precious stones, and costly

furniture--all shall be thine in less than an instant."--"Silver and

gold, and precious stones, and all such glittering fine things will I

none," said the farmer; "they have turned the heart and broken the

neck of many a one before now, and few are they whose lives they make

happy. I know that you are handy smiths, and have many a strange thing

with you that other smiths know nothing about. So come, now, swear to

me that you will make me an iron plough, such that the smallest foal

may be able to draw it without being tired, and then run off with you

as fast as your legs can carry you." So the black swore, and the

farmer then cried out, "Now, in the name of God; there, you are at

liberty," and the little one vanished like lightning.

Next morning, before the sun was up, there stood in the farmer's yard

a new iron plough, and he yoked his dog Water to it, and though it was

of the size of an ordinary plough, Water drew it with ease through the

heaviest clay-land, and it tore up prodigious furrows. The farmer used

this plough for many years, and the smallest foal or the leanest

little horse could draw it through the ground, to the amazement of

every one who beheld it, without turning a single hair. And this

plough made a rich man of the farmer, for it cost him no horse-flesh,

and he led a cheerful and contented life by means of it. Hereby we may

see that moderation holds out the longest, and that it is not good to

covet too much.

_The Lost Bell_

A shepherd's boy belonging to Patzig, about half a mile from Bergen,

where there are great numbers of the underground people in the hills,

found one morning a little silver bell on the green heath, among the

Giants'-graves, and fastened it on him. It happened to be the bell

belonging to the cap of one of the little Brown ones, who had lost it

while he was dancing, and did not immediately miss it, or observe that

it was no longer tinkling in his cap. He had gone down into the hill

without his bell, and having discovered his loss, was filled with

melancholy. For the worst thing that can befall the underground people

is to lose their cap, then their shoes; but even to lose the bell

from their caps, or the buckle from their belts, is no trifle to them.

Whoever loses his bell must pass some sleepless nights, for not a wink

of sleep can he get till he has recovered it.

The little fellow was in the greatest trouble, and searched and looked

about everywhere; but how could he learn who had the bell? For only on a

very few days in the year may they come up to the daylight; nor can they

then appear in their true form. He had turned himself into every form of

birds, beasts, and men; and he had sung and rung, and groaned and

moaned, and lamented and inquired about his bell, but not the slightest

tidings, or trace of tidings, had he been able to get. For what was

worst of all, the shepherd's boy had left Patzig the very day he found

the little bell, and was now keeping sheep at Unruh, near Gingst: so it

was not till many a day after, and then by mere chance, that the little

underground fellow recovered his bell, and with it his peace of mind.

He had thought it not unlikely that a raven, or a crow, or a jackdaw,

or a magpie, had found his bell, and from his thievish disposition,

which is caught with anything bright and shining, had carried it into

his nest; with this thought he had turned himself into a beautiful

little bird, and searched all the nests in the island, and had sung

before all kinds of birds, to see if they had found what he had lost,

and could restore him his sleep; but nothing had he been able to learn

from the birds. As he now, one evening, was flying over the waters of

Ralov and the fields of Unruh, the shepherd's boy, whose name was

Fritz Schlagenteufel (_Smite-devil_), happened to be keeping his sheep

there at the very time. Several of the sheep had bells about their

necks, and they tinkled merrily, when the boy's dog set them trotting.

The little bird, who was flying over them thought of his bell, and

sung, in a melancholy tone,

Little bell, little bell,

Little ram as well,

You, too, little sheep,

If you've my Tingletoo,

No sheep's so rich as you

My rest you keep.

The boy looked up and listened to this strange song which came out

of the sky, and saw the pretty bird, which seemed to him still more

strange:--"Odds bodikins!" said he to himself, "if one but had that

bird that's singing up there, so plain that one of us would hardly

match him! What can he mean by that wonderful song? The whole of it

is, it must be a feathered witch. My rams have only pinchbeck bells,

he calls them rich cattle; but I have a silver bell, and he sings

nothing about me." And with these words he began to fumble in his

pocket, took out his bell, and rang it.

The bird in the air instantly saw what it was, and was rejoiced beyond

measure. He vanished in a second--flew behind the nearest

bush--alighted and drew off his speckled feather-dress, and turned

himself into an old woman dressed in tattered clothes. The old dame,

well supplied with sighs and groans, tottered across the field to the

shepherd's boy, who was still ringing his bell, and wondering what was

become of the beautiful bird. She cleared her throat, and coughing up

from the bottom of her chest, bid him a kind good evening, and asked

him which was the way to Bergen. Pretending then that she had just

seen the little bell, she exclaimed, "Good Lord! what a charming

pretty little bell! Well! in all my life I never beheld anything more

beautiful Harkye, my son, will you sell me that bell? And what may be

the price of it? I have a little grandson at home, and such a nice

plaything as it would make for him!" "No," replied the boy, quite

short, "the bell is not for sale. It is a bell, that there is not such

another bell in the whole world. I have only to give it a little

tinkle, and my sheep run of themselves wherever I would have them go.

And what a delightful sound it has! Only listen, mother!" said he,

ringing it: "is there any weariness in the world that can hold out

against this bell? I can ring with it away the longest time, so that

it will be gone in a second."

The old woman thought to herself, "We will see if he can hold out

against bright shining money." And she took out no less than three

silver dollars, and offered them to him: but he still replied, "No, I

will not sell my bell." She then offered him five dollars. "The bell is

still mine," said he. She stretched out her hand full of ducats: he

replied, this third time, "Gold is dirt and does not ring." The old

dame then shifted her ground, and turned the discourse another way. She

grew mysterious, and began to entice him by talking of secret arts, and

of charms by which his cattle might be made to thrive prodigiously,

relating to him all kinds of wonders of them. It was then the young

shepherd began to long, and he now lent a willing ear to her tales.

The end of the matter was, that she said to him, "Harkye, my child!

give me the bell and see! here is a white stick for you," said she,

taking out a little white stick which had Adam and Eve very

ingeniously cut on it, as they were feeding the herds of Paradise,

with the fattest sheep and lambs dancing before them; and there was

the shepherd David too, as he stood with his sling against the giant

Goliath. "I will give you," said the old woman, "this stick for the

bell, and as long as you drive the cattle with it they will be sure to

thrive. With this you will become a rich shepherd: your wethers will

always be fat a month sooner than the wethers of other shepherds, and

every one of your sheep will have two pounds of wool more than others,

and yet no one will be ever able to see it on them."

The old woman handed him the stick. So mysterious was her gesture, and

so strange and bewitching her smile, that the lad was at once in her

power. He grasped eagerly at the stick, gave her his hand, and cried,

"Done! Strike hands! The bell for the stick!" And cheerfully the old

woman struck hands, and took the bell, and went like a light breeze

over the field and the heath. He saw her vanish, and she seemed to

float away before his eyes like a mist, and to go off with a slight

whiz and whistle that made the shepherd's hair stand on end.

The underground one, however, who, in the shape of an old woman, had

wheedled him out of his bell, had not deceived him. For the under

groundpeople dare not lie, but must ever keep their word; a breach of

it being followed by their sudden change into the shape of toads,

snakes, dunghill-beetles, wolves and apes; forms in which they wander

about, objects of fear and aversion for a long course of years before

they are freed. They, therefore, have naturally a great dread of

lying. Fritz Schlagenteufel gave close attention and made trial of his

new shepherd's-staff, and he soon found that the old woman had told

him the truth, for his flocks, and his work, and all the labour of his

hands prospered with him and had wonderful luck, so that there was not

a sheep-owner or head shepherd but was desirous of having Fritz

Schlagenteufel in his employment.

It was not long, however, that he remained an underling. Before he was

eighteen years of age, he had gotten his own flocks, and in the course

of a few years was the richest sheep-master in the whole island of

Rügen; until at last, he was able to purchase a knight's estate for

himself, and that estate was Grabitz, close by Rambin, which now

belongs to the lords of Sunde. My father[244] knew him there, and how

from a shepherd's boy he was become a nobleman, and he always

conducted himself like a prudent, honest and pious man, who had a good

word from every one. He brought up his sons like gentlemen, and his

daughters like ladies, some of whom are still alive and accounted

people of great consequence. And well may people who hear such stories

wish that they had met with such an adventure, and had found a little

silver bell which the underground people had lost.

_The Black Dwarfs of Granitz._

Not far from the Ahlbeck lies a little mansion called Granitz, just

under the great wood on the sea-coast called the wood of Granitz. In

this little seat lived, not many years ago, a nobleman named Von

Scheele. Toward the close of his life he sank into a state of

melancholy, though hitherto a very cheerful and social man, and a

great sportsman. People said that the old man took to his lonesome way

of living from the loss of his three beautiful daughters, who were

called the three fair-haired maidens, and who grew up here in the

solitude of the woods, among the herds and the birds, and who had all

three gone off in the same night and never returned. The old man took

this greatly to heart, and withdrew himself from the world, and all

cheerful society. He had great intercourse with the little black

people, and he was many a night out of the house, and no one knew

where he had been; but when he came home in the gray of the morning,

he would whisper his housekeeper, and say to her, "Ha, ha! I was at a

grand table last night."

This old gentleman used to relate to his friends, and confirm it with

many a stout trooper's and sportsman's oath, that the underground

people swarmed among the fir-trees of Granitz, about the Ahlbeck, and

along the whole shore. He used often, also, to show to those whom he

took to walk there, a great number of little foot-prints, like those

of very small children, in the sand, and he has suddenly called out to

his companions, "Hush! Listen how they are, buzzing and whispering!"

Going once with some friends along the sea-shore, he all of a sudden

stood still, as if in amazement, pointed to the sea, and cried out, "My

soul! there they are again at full work, and there are several thousands

of them employed about a few sunken casks of wine that they are rolling

to the shore; oh! what a jovial carouse there will be to-night!" He then

told his companions that he could see them both by day and by night, and

that they did nothing to him; nay, they were his most particular

friends, and one of them had once saved his house from being burnt by

waking him in the night out of a profound sleep, when a firebrand, that

had fallen out on the floor, was just on the point of setting fire to

some wood and straw that lay there. He said that almost every day some

of them were to be seen on the sea-shore, but that during high storms,

when the sea was uncommonly rough, almost all of them were there looking

after amber and shipwrecks, and for certain no ship ever went to pieces

but they got the best part of the cargo, and hid it safe under the

ground. And how grand a thing, he added, it is to live under the

sand-hills with them, and how beautiful their crystal palaces are, no

one can have any conception who has not been there.

FOOTNOTES:

[237] Arndt, Märchen und Jugenderinnerungen. Berlin, 1818.

[238] See above p. 96.

[239] A Danish legend (Thiele, i. 79) tells the same of the sand-hills

of Nestved in Zealand. A Troll who dwelt near it wished to destroy it,

and for that purpose he went down to the sea-shore and filled his

wallet with sand and threw it on his back. Fortunately there was a

hole in the wallet, and so many sand-hills fell out of it, that when

he came to Nestved there only remained enough to form one hill more.

Another Troll, to punish a farmer filled one of his gloves with sand,

which sufficed to cover his victim's house completely. With what

remained in the fingers he formed a row of hillocks near it.

[240] Grimm, Deut. Myth., p. 502.

[241] Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, i. p. 70.

[242] Grimm also appears to regard them as genuine.

[243] The population of Lusatia (_Lausatz_) is like that of Pomerania

and Rügen, Vendish. Hence, perhaps, it is that in the Lusatian tale of

the Fairy-sabbath, we meet with caps with bells, and a descent into

the interior of a mountain in a kind of boat as in this tale: Wilcomm,

Sagen und Märchen aus der Oberlausitz. Hanov. 1843. Blackwood's

Magazine for June, 1844.

[244] Hinrich Vick's of course, for he is the narrator.

GERMANY.

Von wilden getwergen han ich gehöret sagen

Si sin in holren bergen; unt daz si ze scherme tragen

Einez heizet tarnkappen, von wunderlicher art--

Swerz hat an sime libe, der sol vil wohl sin bewart

Vor slegen unt vor stichen. NIBELUNGEN, LIED st. 342.

Of wild dwarfs I oft have heard men declare

They dwell in hollow mountains; and for defence they wear

A thing called a Tarn-cloke, of wonderful nature--

Who has it on his body will ever be secure

'Gainst cutting and 'gainst thrusting.

The religion of the ancient Germans, probably the same with that of

the Scandinavians, contained, like it, Alfs, Dwarfs, and Giants. The

Alfs have fallen from the popular creed,[245] but the Dwarfs still

retain their former dominion. Unlike those of the North, they have put

off their heathen character, and, with their human neighbours, have

embraced a purer faith. With the creed they seem to have adopted the

spirit of their new religion also. In most of the traditions

respecting them we recognise benevolence as one of the principal

traits of their character.

The oldest monuments of German popular belief are the poems of the

Heldenbuch (_Hero-book_) and the spirit-stirring Nibelungen Lied.[246]

In these poems the Dwarfs are actors of importance.

In this last-named celebrated poem the Dwarf Albrich appears as the

guardian of the celebrated Hoard which Sifrit (Siegfried) won from the

Nibelungen. The Dwarf is twice vanquished by the hero who gains his

Tarn-kappe, or Mantle of Invisibility.[247]

In the Heldenbuch we meet with the Dwarf-king Laurin, whose garden

Dietrich of Bern and his warriors broke into and laid waste. To repel

the invader the Dwarf appears in magnificent array: twenty-three

stanzas are occupied with the description of his banner, helmet,

shield, and other accoutrements. A furious combat ensues, in which the

Dwarf has long the advantage, as his magic ring and girdle endow him

with the strength of twenty-four men, and his Hel Keplein[248]

(Tarnkappe) renders him invisible at pleasure. At length, by the

advice of Hildebrand, Dietrich strikes off the Dwarf's finger, breaks

his girdle, and pulls off his Hel Keplein, and thus succeeds in

vanquishing his enemy. Laurin is afterwards reconciled to the heroes,

and prevails on them to enter the mountain in which he dwelt, and

partake of a banquet. Having them now in his power, he treacherously

makes them all his prisoners. His queen, however, Ditlaub's sister,

whom he had stolen away from under a linden, releases them: their

liberation is followed by a terrific engagement between them and

Laurin, backed by a numerous host of Dwarfs. Laurin is again overcome;

he loses his queen; his hill is plundered of its treasures, and

himself led to Bern, and there reduced to the extremity of earning his

bread by becoming a buffoon.

In the poem named Hürnen Sifrit[249] the Dwarf Eugel[250] renders the

hero good service in his combat with the enchanted Dragon who had

carried off the fair Chrimhild from Worms, and enclosed her in the

Drachenstein. When Sifrit is treacherously attacked by the Giant

Kuperan, the ally of the Dragon, the Dwarf flings his Nebelkappe over

him to protect him.

* * * * *

But the most celebrated of Dwarfs is Elberich,[251] who aided the

emperor Otnit or Ortnit to gain the daughter of the Paynim Soldan of

Syria.

Otnit ruled over Lombardy, and had subdued all the neighbouring nations.

His subjects wishing him to marry, he held a council to consider the

affair. No maiden mentioned was deemed noble enough to share his bed. At

last his uncle Elias, king of the "wild Russians," says:--

"I know of a maiden, noble and high-born,

Her no man yet hath wooed, his life who hath not lorn.

"She shineth like the roses, and the gold ruddý,

She fair is in her person, thou must credit me;

She shines o'er other women, as bright roses do,

So fair a child was never; they say she good is too."

The monarch's imagination is inflamed, and, regardless of the

remonstrances of his council, he determines to brave all dangers, to

sail with a powerful army to Syria, where the maiden dwelt, and to win

her or to die. He regulates his kingdom, and says to his uncle:--

As soon as May appeareth, with her days so clear,

Then pray thou of thy friends all, their warriors to cheer,

To hold themselves all ready; go things as they may,

We will, with the birds' singing, sail o'er the sea away.

The queen now endeavours to dissuade her son, but finding her efforts

vain, resolves to aid him as far as she can. She gives him a ring, and

desires him to ride toward Rome till he comes to where a linden stands

before a hill, from which runs a brook, and there he will meet with an

adventure. She farther tells him to keep the ring uncovered, and the

stone of it will direct him.

Obeying his directions, Otnit rides alone from his palace at Garda,

continually looking at his ring:

Unto a heath he came then, close by the Garda lake,

Where everywhere the flowers and clover out did break;

The birds were gaily singing, their notes did loudly ring,

He all the night had waked, he was weary with riding.

The sun over the mountains and through the welkin shone,

Then looked he full oft on the gold and on the stone;

Then saw he o'er the meadow, down trodden the green grass,

And a pathway narrow, where small feet used to pass.

Then followed he downwards, the rocky wall boldlý,

Till he had found the fountain, and the green linden-tree,

And saw the heath wide spreading, and the linden branching high.

It had upon its boughs full many a guest worthy.

The birds were loudly singing, each other rivalling,

"I have the right way ridden," spake Otnit the king;

Then much his heart rejoiced, when he saw the linden spread;

He sprang down from his courser, he held him by the head.

And when the Lombarder had looked on the linden

He began to laugh loud; now list what he said then:

"There never yet from tree came so sweet breathing a wind."

Then saw he how an infant was laid beneath the lind,

Who had himself full firmly rolled in the grass;

Then little the Lombarder knew who he was:

He bore upon his body so rich and noble a dress,

No king's child upon earth e'er did the like possess.

His dress was rich adorned with gold and precious stone;

When he beneath the linden the child found all alone:

"Where now is thy mother?" king Otnit he cries;

"Thy body unprotected beneath this tree here lies."

This child was Elberich, whom the ring rendered visible. After a hard

struggle, Otnit overcomes him. As a ransom, Elberich promises him a

magnificent suit of armour--

"I'll give thee for my ransom the very best harnéss

That either young or old in the world doth possess.

"Full eighty thousand marks the harness is worth well,

A sword too I will give thee, with the shirt of mail,

That every corselet cuts through as if steel it were not;

There ne'er was helm so strong yet could injure it a jot.

"I ween in the whole world no better sword there be,

I brought it from a mountain is called Almari;

It is with gold adorned, and clearer is than glass;

I wrought it in a mountain is called Göickelsass.

"The sword I will name to thee, it is bright of hue,

Whate'er thou with it strikest no gap will ensue,

It is Rossè called, I tell to thee its name;

Wherever swords are drawing it never will thee shame.

"With all the other harness I give thee leg armoúr,

In which there no ring is, my own hand wrought it sure;

And when thou hast the harness thou must it precious hold,

There's nothing false within it, it all is of pure gold.

"With all the armour rich I give thee a helmét,

Upon an emperor's head none a better e'er saw yet;

Full happy is the man who doth this helmet bear,

His head is recognised, a mile off though he were.

"And with the helmet bright I will give to thee a shield,

So strong and so good too, if to me thanks thou'lt yield;

It never yet was cut through by any sword so keen,

No sort of weapon ever may that buckler win."

Elberich persuades the king to lend him his ring; when he gets it he

becomes invisible, and amuses himself by telling him of the whipping

he will get from his mother for having lost it. At last when Otnit is

on the point of going away, Elberich returns the ring, and, to his no

small surprise, informs him that he is his father, promising him, at

the same time, if he is kind to his mother, to stand his friend, and

assist him to gain the heathen maid.

When May arrives Otnit sails from Messina with his troops. As they

approach Sunders,[252] they are a little in dread of the quantity of

shipping they see in the port, and the king regrets and bewails having

proceeded without his dwarf-sire. But Elberich has, unseen, been

sitting on the mast. He appears, and gives his advice, accompanied by

a stone, which, by being put into the mouth, endows its possessor with

the gift of all languages. On the heathens coming alongside the

vessel, Otnit assumes the character of a merchant, and is admitted to

enter the port. He forthwith proposes to murder the inhabitants in the

night, an act of treachery which is prevented by the strong and

indignant rebukes of the Dwarf.

Elberich sets off to Muntabur,[253] the royal residence, to demand the

princess. The Soldan, enraged at the insolence of the invisible envoy,

in vain orders his men to put him to death; the "little man" returns

unscathed to Otnit, and bids him prepare for war. By the aid of

Elberich, Otnit wins, after great slaughter on both sides, the city of

Sunders. He then, under the Dwarf's advice, follows up his conquest by

marching for Muntabur, the capital. Elberich, still invisible, except

to the possessor of the ring, offers to act as guide.

"Give me now the horse here they lead by the hand,

And I will guide thine army unto the heathens' land;

If any one should ask thee, who on the horse doth ride?

Thou shalt say nothing else, but--an angel is thy guide."

The army, on seeing the horse and banner advancing as it were of

themselves, blessed themselves, and asked Otnit why he did not likewise.

"It is God's messenger!" Otnit then cried:

"Who unto Muntabur will be our trusty guide;

Him ye should believe in, who like Christians debate,

Who in the fight them spare not, he leads to heaven straight."

Thus encouraged, the troops cheerfully follow the invisible

standard-bearer, and soon appear before Muntabur, where Elberich

delivers the banner to king Elias, and directs them to encamp. He

meanwhile enters the city, flings down the artillery from the walls,

and when the Soldan again refuses to give his daughter, plucks out

some of his majesty's beard[254] and hair, in the midst of his

courtiers and guards, who in vain cut and thrust at the viewless

tormentor. A furious battle ensues. The queen and princess resort to

prayers to their gods Apollo and Mahomet for the safety of the Soldan

The princess is thus described:

Her mouth flamed like a rose, and like the ruby stone,

And equal to the full moon her lovely eyes they shone.

With roses she bedecked had well her head,

And with pearls precious,--no one comforted the maid:

She was of exact stature, slender in the waist,

And turned like a taper was her body chaste.

Her hands and her arms, you nought in them could blame,

Her nails they so clear were, people saw themselves in them;

And her hair ribbons were of silk costly,

Which she left down hanging, the maiden fair and free.

She set upon her head high a crown of gold red,--

Elberich the little, he grieved for the maid;--

In front of the crown lay a carbuncle stone,

That in the royal palace like a taper shone.

Elberich endeavours to persuade her to become a Christian, and espouse

Otnit; and to convince her of the incapacity of her gods, he tumbles

their images into the fosse. Overcome by his representations and her

father's danger, the princess, with her mother's consent, agrees to wed

the monarch whom Elberich points out to her in the battle, and she gives

her ring to be conveyed to him. The Dwarf, unperceived, leads her out of

the city, and delivers her to her future husband, strictly forbidding

all intercourse between them, previous to the maiden's baptism.[255]

When the old heathen misses his daughter he orders out his troops to

recover her. Elberich hastens to king Elias, and brings up the

Christians. A battle ensues: the latter are victorious, and the princess

is brought to Sunders;--ere they embark Elberich and Elias baptise her,

and ere they reached Messina "the noble maiden was a wife."

As yet not intimately acquainted with Christianity, the young empress

asks Otnit about his god, giving him to understand that she knew his

deity, who had come to her father's to demand her for him. Otnit

corrects her mistake, telling her that the envoy was Elberich, whom

she then desires to see. At the request of Otnit the Dwarf reveals

himself to the queen and court.

Long time he refused,--he showed him then a stone,

That like unto the sun, with the gold shone;

Ruby and carbuncle was the crown so rich,

Which upon his head bare the little Elberich.

The Dwarf let the people all see him then,

They began to look upon him, both women and men;

Many a fair woman with rosy mouth then said,

"I ween a fairer person no eye hath e'er survey'd."

* * * * *

Then Elberich the little a harp laid hold upon;

Full rapidly he touched the strings every one

In so sweet a measure that the hall did resound;

All that him beheld then, they felt a joy profound.

After giving Otnit abundance of riches, and counselling him to

remunerate those who had lost their relatives in his expedition,

Elberich takes leave of the king. He then vanishes, and appears no more.

Otnit is the most pleasing poem in the Heldenbuch. Nothing can be more

amiable than the character of the Dwarf, who is evidently the model of

Oberon. We say this, because the probability is much greater that a

French writer should have taken a Dwarf from a German poet, than that

the reverse should have occurred. The connexion between the two works

appears indubitable.

* * * * *

An attempt has already been made to trace the origin of Dwarfs, and

the historical theory respecting those of the North rejected. A

similar theory has been given of those of Germany, as being a people

subdued between the fifth and tenth centuries by a nation of greater

power and size. The vanquished fled to the mountains, and concealed

themselves in caverns, only occasionally venturing to appear; and

hence, according to this theory, the origin of Dwarf stories. As we

regard them as an integrant part of Gotho-German religion, we must

reject this hypothesis in the case of Germany also.

Beside the Dwarfs, we meet in the Nibelungen Lied with beings

answering to the Nixes or Water-spirits. When[256] the Burgundians on

their fatal journey to the court of Ezel (Attila) reached the banks of

the Danube, they found that it could not be crossed without the aid of

boats. Hagene then proceeded along the bank in search of a ferry.

Suddenly he heard a plashing in the water, and on looking more closely

he saw some females who were bathing. He tried to steal on them, but

they escaped him and went hovering over the river. He succeeded,

however, in securing their clothes, and in exchange for them the

females, who were Watermaids (_Merewiper_) promised to tell him the

result of the visit to the court of the Hunnish monarch. One of them

then named Hadeburch assured him of a prosperous issue, on which he

restored the garments. But then another, named Sigelint told him that

Hadeburch had lied for the sake of the clothes; for that in reality

the event of the visit would be most disastrous, as only one of the

party would return alive. She also informed him where the ferry was,

and told him how they might outwit the ferryman and get over.

We cannot refrain from suspecting that in the original legend these were

Valkyrias and not Water-nymphs, for these last would hardly strip to go

into the water, their native element. In the prose introduction to the

Eddaic poem of Völundr we are told that he and his two elder brothers

went to Wolfdale and built themselves a house by the water named Wolfsea

or lake, and one morning early they found on the shore of the lake three

women who were spinning flax: beside them were lying their

_swan-dresses_. They were "Valkyrias, and king's daughters." The three

brothers took them home and made them their wives, but after seven years

they flew away and returned no more. It is remarkable, that in the poem

there is not the slightest allusion to the swan-dresses, though it

relates the coming and the departure of the maidens. We are then to

suppose either that there were other poems on the subject, or that these

dresses were so well known a vehicle that it was deemed needless to

mention them. We are to suppose also that it was by securing these

dresses that the brothers prevented the departure of the maidens, and

that it was by recovering them that they were enabled to effect their

escape. In effect in the German legend of Wielant (Völundr), the hero

sees three _doves_ flying to a spring, and as soon as they touch the

ground they become maidens. He then secures their clothes, and will not

return them till one of them consents to become his wife.[257]

This legend resembles the tale of the Stolen Veil in Musæus, and those

of the Peri-wife and the Mermaid-wife related above.[258] In the Breton

tale of Bisclavaret, or the Warwolf, we learn that no one who became a

wolf could resume his human form, unless he could recover the clothes

which he had put off previous to undergoing the transformation.[259]

Our readers may like to see how the preface to the old editions of the

Heldenbuch accounts for the origin of the Dwarfs.

"God," says it, "gave the Dwarfs being, because the land and the

mountains were altogether waste and uncultivated, and there was much

store of silver and gold, and precious stones and pearls still in the

mountains. Wherefore God made the Dwarfs very artful and wise, that

they might know good and evil right well, and for what everything was

good. They knew also for what stones were good. Some stones give great

strength; some make those who carry them about them invisible, that is

called a mist-cloke (_nebelkap_); and therefore did God give the

Dwarfs skill and wisdom. Therefore they built handsome hollow hills,

and God gave them riches, etc.

"God created the Giants, that they might kill the wild beasts, and the

great dragons (_würm_), that the Dwarfs might thereby be more secure.

But in a few years the Giants would too much oppress the Dwarfs, and

the Giants became altogether wicked and faithless.

"God then created the Heroes; 'and be it known that the Heroes were for

many years right true and worthy, and they then came to the aid of the

Dwarfs against the faithless Giants;'--God made them strong, and their

thoughts were of manhood, according to honour, and of combats and war."

* * * * *

We will divide the objects of German popular belief at the present day,

into four classes:--1. Dwarfs; 2. Wild-women; 3. Kobolds; 4. Nixes.

FOOTNOTES:

[245] The only remnant is _Alp_, the nightmare; the _elfen_ of modern

writers is merely an adoption of the English _elves_.

[246] The edition of this poem which we have used, is that by

Schönhuth, Leipzig, 1841.

[247] Tarn from _taren_, to dare, says Dobenek, because it gave

courage along with invisibility. It comes more probably we think from

the old German _ternen_, to hide. Kappe is properly a cloak, though

the Tarnkappe or Nebelkappe is generally represented as a cap, or hat.

[248] From _hehlen_, to conceal.

[249] _Horny Siegfred_; for when he slew the dragon, he bathed himself

in his blood, and became horny and invulnerable everywhere except in

one spot between his shoulders, where a linden leaf stuck. In the

Nibelungen Lied, (_st. 100_), Hagene says,

Yet still more know I of him--this to me is certaín,

A terrible Lind-dragon the hero's hand hath slain;

He in the blood him bathed, and horny grew his skin;

Hence woundeth him no weapon, full oft it hath been seen.

[250] MM. Grimm thought at one time that this name was properly Engel,

and that it was connected with the chances of Alp, Alf, to Engel (see

above, p. 67). They query at what time the dim _Engelein_ first came

into use, and when the angels were first represented under the form of

children--a practice evidently derived from the idea of the Elves. In

Otfried and other writers of the ninth and tenth centuries, they say,

the angels are depicted as young men; but in the latter half of the

thirteenth, a popular preacher named Berthold, says: _Ir schet wol daz

si allesamt sint juncliche gemälet; als ein kint daz dá vünf jâr all

ist swâ man sie mâlet._

[251] Elberich, (the Albrich of the Nibelungen Lied,) as we have said

(above p. 40), is Oberon. From the usual change of _l_ into _u_ (as

_al_, _au_, _col_, _cou_, etc.), in the French language, Elberich or

Albrich (derived from Alp, Alf) becomes Auberich; and _ich_ not being

a French termination, the diminutive _on_ was substituted, and so it

became Auberon, or Oberon; a much more likely origin than the usual

one from _L'aube du jour_. For this derivation of Oberon we are

indebted to Dr. Grimm.

[252] Probably Saida, _i.e._ Sidon.

[253] _i. e._ Mount Tabor.

[254] This may have suggested the well-known circumstance in Huon de

Bordeaux.

[255] So Oberon in Huon de Bordeaux.

[256] Str. 1564, _seq._

[257] Grimm, Deut. Mythol., p. 398, _seq._

[258] See above, pp. 19, 169; below, _Ireland_; and Grimm, _ut sup._

p. 1216. The swan-dresses also occur in the Arabian tales of Jahânshâh

and Hassan of Bassora in Trebutien's Arabian Nights.

[259] Poésies de Marie de France, i. 177, _seq._

DWARFS.

Fort, fort! Mich schau' die Sonne nicht,

Ich darf nicht langer harren;

Mich Elfenkind vor ihren Licht

Sähst du sum Fels erstarren.

LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ.

Away! let not the sun view me,

I dare no longer stay;

An Elfin-child thou wouldst me see,

To stone turn at his ray.

These beings are called Zwerge (_Dwarfs_), Berg- and Erd-mänlein (_Hill_

and _Ground-mannikins_), the Stille Volk (_Still-people_), and the

Kleine Volk (_Little-people_).[260] The following account of the

Still-people at Plesse will give the popular idea respecting them.[261]

At Plesse, a castle in the mountains in Hesse, are various springs,

wells, clefts and holes in the rocks, in which, according to popular

tradition, the Dwarfs, called the Still-people, dwell. They are silent

and beneficent, and willingly serve those who have the good fortune to

please them. If injured they vent their anger, not on mankind, but on

the cattle, which they plague and torment. This subterranean race has

no proper communication with mankind, but pass their lives within the

earth, where their apartments and chambers are filled with gold and

precious stones. Should occasion require their visit to the surface of

the earth, they accomplish the business in the night, and not by day.

This Hill-people are of flesh and bone, like mankind, they bear

children and die, but in addition to the ordinary faculties of

humanity, they have the power of making themselves invisible, and of

passing through rocks and walls, with the same facility as through the

air. They sometimes appear to men, lead them with them into clifts,

and if the strangers prove agreeable to them, present them with

valuable gifts.[262]

_The Hill-Man at the Dance._

Old people have positively asserted that some years ago, at the

celebration of a wedding in the village of Glass, a couple of miles from

the Wunderberg, and the same distance from the city of Saltzburg, there

came toward evening a little Hill-man out of the Wunderberg. He desired

all the guests to be merry and cheerful, and begged to be permitted to

join in their dance, which request was not refused. He accordingly

danced three dances with some of the maidens of good repute, and with a

gracefulness that inspired all present with admiration and delight.

After the dance he returned them his thanks, accompanied by a present to

each of the bridal party of three pieces of money of an unknown coin,

each of which they estimated to be worth four creutzers. Moreover, he

recommended them to dwell in peace and concord, to live like Christians,

and, by a pious education, to bring up their children in goodness. He

told them to lay up these coins with their money, and constantly to

think of him, and so they would rarely come to distress; but warned them

against becoming proud, and advised them, on the contrary, to relieve

their neighbours with their superfluities.

The Hill-man remained with them till night, and took some meat and

drink from each as they offered it to him, but only very little. He

then renewed his thanks, and concluded by begging of one of the

company to put him over the river Satzach, opposite the mountain.

There was at the wedding a boatman, named John Ständl, who got ready

to comply with the dwarf's request, and they went together to the

water's-edge. As they were crossing, the man asked for his payment,

and the Hill-man humbly presented him threepence. The boatman utterly

rejected this paltry payment; but the little man gave him for answer,

that he should not let that annoy him, but keep the threepence safe,

and he would never suffer want, provided he put a restraint on

arrogance. He gave him at the same time, a little stone with these

words: "Hang this on your neck, and you will never be drowned in the

water." And of this he had a proof that very year. Finally, the

Hill-man exhorted him to lead a pious and humble life, and being

landed on the opposite bank, departed speedily from the place.[263]

_The Dwarf's Feast._

There appeared in the night to one of the Counts von Hoya, an

extremely small little man. The count was utterly amazed at him, but

he bid him not to be frightened; said he had a request to make of him,

and entreated that he might not be refused. The count gave a willing

assent, qualified with the provision, that the thing requested should

be a matter which lay in his power, and would not be injurious to him

or his. The little man then said, "There will come tomorrow night

some people to thy house, and make a feast, if thou will lend them thy

kitchen, and hall for as long as they want them, and order thy

servants to go to sleep, and no one to look at what they are doing or

are about; and also let no one know of it but thyself; only do this

and we shall be grateful to thee for thy courtesy: thou and thy family

will be the better of it; nor will it be in any way hurtful to thee or

thine." The count readily gave his consent, and on the following night

there came, as if they were a travelling party, over the bridge into

the house a great crowd of little people, exactly such as the

Hill-mannikins are described to be. They cooked, cut up wood, and laid

out the dishes in the kitchen, and had every appearance of being about

preparing a great entertainment.

When it drew near the morning, and they were about to take their

departure, the little man came again up to the count, and with many

thanks, presented him a sword, a salamander-cloth, and a golden ring,

in which there was inserted a red-lion, with directions for himself

and his descendants to keep these three articles safe; and so long as

they kept them together all would be at unity and well in the county,

but as soon as they were separated from each other it would be a token

that there was evil coming on the county: the red lion too would

always become pale when one of the family was to die.

They were long preserved in the family; but in the time when count Jobst

and his brothers were in their minority, and Francis von Halle was

governor of the land, two of the articles, the sword and the

salamander-cloth, were taken away, but the ring remained with the family

until they became extinct. What has become of it since is unknown.[264]

_The Friendly Dwarfs._

Close to the little town of Dardesheim, between Halberstadt and

Brunswick, is a spring of the finest water called the Smansborn, and

which flows out of a hill in which in old times the dwarfs dwelt. When

the former inhabitants of the country were in want of a holiday-dress,

or, at a family festival, of any rare utensils, they went and stood

before this Dwarf-hill, knocked three times, and pronounced their

petition in a distinct and audible tone, adding,

Before the sun is up to-morrow.

At the hill shall be the things we borrow.[265]

The Dwarfs thought themselves sufficiently compensated if there was

only some of the festive victuals set down before the hill.

_Wedding Feast of the Little People._

The little people of the Eilenburg in Saxony had occasion to celebrate

a wedding, and with that intent passed one night through the key-hole

and the window-slits into the castle-hall, and jumped down on the

smooth level floor like peas on a barn floor. The noise awoke the old

count, who was sleeping in the hall in his high four-post bed, and on

opening his eyes, he wondered not a little at the sight of such a

number of the little fellows.

One of them appareled as a herald came up to him, and addressing him

with the utmost courtesy and in very polite terms invited him to share

in their festivity. "We, however," added he, "have one request to

make, which is, that you alone should be present, and that none of

your people should presume to look on with you, or to cast so much as

one glance." The old count answered in a friendly tone, "Since you

have disturbed my sleep, I will join your company." A little small

woman was now introduced to him; little torch-bearers took their

places; and cricket-music struck up. The count found great difficulty

to keep from losing the little woman in the dance, she jumped away

from him so lightly, and at last whirled him about at such a rate that

he could with difficulty recover his breath.

But in the very middle of their spritely dance, suddenly all became

still, the music ceased, and the whole company hurried to the slits of

the doors, mouse-holes, and everywhere else where there was a corner to

slip into. The bride-pair, the heralds, and dancers, looked upwards to a

hole that was in the ceiling of the hall, and there discovered the face

of the old countess, who overflowing with curiosity, was looking down on

the joyous assembly. They then bowed themselves before the count, and

the person who had invited him stept forward again and thanked him for

the hospitality he had shown them: "But," said he, "since our wedding

and our festivity has been thus disturbed by another eye gazing on it,

your race shall henceforward never count more than seven Eilenburgs."

They then pressed out after one another with great speed, and soon all

was silent, and the old count alone in the dark hall. The curse has

lasted till the present time, and one of six living knights of Eilenburg

has always died before the seventh was born.[266]

_Smith Riechert._

On the east side of the Dwarf-hill of Dardesheim there is a piece of

arable land. A smith named Riechert had sown this field with peas; but

he observed that when they were just in perfection they were pulled in

great quantities. Riechert built himself a little hut on his ground,

there to lie in wait for the thief; and there he watched day and night.

In the daytime he could see no alteration, but every morning he found

that, notwithstanding all his watchfulness, the field had been plundered

during the night. Vexed to the heart at seeing that all his labour was

in vain, he determined to thresh out on the ground what remained of the

peas. So with the daybreak Smith Riechert commenced his work. Hardly was

one half of his peas threshed when he heard a piteous wailing, and on

going to look for the cause, he found on the ground under the peas one

of the dwarfs whose skull he had rapped with his flail, and who was now

visible, having lost his mist-cap with the blow. The Dwarf ran back into

the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

However, little tiffs like this disturbed but for a very short time

the good understanding of the Dwarf-people and the inhabitants. But

the Dwarfs emigrated at last, because the tricks and scoffs of several

of the inhabitants were become no longer bearable, as well as their

ingratitude for several services they had rendered them. Since that

time no one has ever heard or seen anything of the Dwarfs in the

neighbourhood.

_Dwarfs Stealing Corn._

'Tis not very long since there were Dwarfs at Jüne near Göttingen, who

used to go into the fields and steal the sheaves of corn. This they

were able to do the more easily by means of a cap they wore, which

made them invisible. They did much injury to one man in particular who

had a great deal of corn. At length he hit on a plan to catch them. At

noon one day he put a rope round the field, and when the Dwarfs went

to creep under it, it knocked off their caps. Being now visible, they

were caught. They gave him many fair words, promising if he would take

away the rope to give him a peck (_mette_) of money if he came to that

same place _before sunrise_. He agreed, but a friend whom he consulted

told him to go not at sunrise but a little before twelve at night, as

it was at that hour that the day really began. He did as directed, and

there he found the Dwarfs, who did not expect him, with the peck of

money. The name of the family that got it is Mettens.

A farmer in another part of the country being annoyed in a similar

manner, was told to get willow-rods and beat the air with them, and he

thus would knock of some of their caps and discover them. He and his

people did so, and they captured one of the Dwarfs, who told the

farmer that if he would let him go, he would give him a waggon-load of

money, but he must come for it before sunrise. At the same time he

informed him where his abode was. The farmer having enquired when the

sun really rose, and being told at twelve o'clock, yoked his waggon

and drove off, but when he came to the Dwarfs' hole, he heard them

shouting and singing within:

It is good that the bumpkin doth not know

That up at twelve the sun doth go.[267]

When he asked for something, they showed him a dead horse, and bade

him take it with him, as they could give him nothing else. He was very

angry at this, but as he wanted food for his dogs, he cut off a large

piece and laid it on his waggon. But when he came home, lo! it was all

pure gold. Others then went to the place, but both hole and horse had

vanished.[268]

_Journey of the Dwarfs over the Mountain._

On the north side of the Hartz there dwelt several thousand Dwarfs in

the clefts of the rocks, and in the Dwarf-caves that still remain. It

was, however, but rarely that they appeared to the inhabitants in a

visible form; they generally went about among them protected by their

mist-caps, unseen and unnoticed.

Many of these Dwarfs were good-natured, and, on particular occasions,

very obliging to the inhabitants, who used, for instance, in case of a

wedding or a christening, to borrow various articles for the table out

of the caves of the Dwarfs, It was, however, highly imprudent to

provoke their resentment; as when injured or offended, they were

malicious and wicked, and did every possible injury to the offender.

A baker, who lived in the valley between Blenkenburg and Quedlinburg,

used to remark that a part of the loaves he baked was always missing,

though he never could find out the thief. This continual secret theft

was gradually reducing him to poverty. At last he began to suspect the

Dwarfs of being the cause of his misfortune. He accordingly got a bunch

of little twigs, and beating the air with them in all directions, at

length struck the mist-caps off some Dwarfs, who could now conceal

themselves no longer. There was a great noise made about it; several

other Dwarfs were caught in the act of committing theft, and at last the

whole of the Dwarf-people were forced to quit the country. In order, in

some degree, to indemnify the inhabitants for what had been stolen, and

at the same time to be able to estimate the number of those that

departed, a large cask was set up on what is now called Kirchberg, near

the village of Thele, into which each Dwarf was to cast a piece of

money. This cask was found, after the departure of the Dwarfs, to be

quite filled with ancient coins, so great was their number.

The Dwarf-people went by Warnstadt, a village not far from

Quedlinburg, still going toward the east. Since that time the Dwarfs

have disappeared out of this country; and it is only now and then that

a solitary one may be seen.

* * * * *

The Dwarfs on the south side of the Hartz were, in a similar manner,

detected plundering the corn-fields. They also agreed to quit the

country, and it was settled that they should pass over a small bridge

near Neuhof, and that each, by way of transit-duty, should cast a

certain portion of his property into a cask to be set there. The

peasants, on their part, covenanted not to appear or look at them.

Some, however, had the curiosity to conceal themselves under the bridge,

that they might at least hear them departing. They succeeded in their

design, and heard during several hours, the trampling of the little men,

sounding exactly as if a large flock of sheep was going over the bridge.

* * * * *

Other accounts of the departure of the Dwarfs relate as follows:--

The Dosenberg is a mountain in Hesse on the Schwalm, in which, not far

from the bank of the stream, are two holes by which the Dwarfs[269] used

to go in and out. One of them came frequently in a friendly way to the

grandfather of Tobi in Singlis, when he was out in his fields. As he was

one day cutting his corn he asked him if he would the next night, for a

good sum of money, take a freight over the river. The farmer agreed, and

in the evening the Dwarf brought him a sack of wheat as an earnest. Four

horses were then put to the waggon, and the farmer drove to the

Dosenberg, out of the holes of which the Dwarf brought heavy, but

invisible loads to the waggon, which the farmer then drove through the

water over to the other side. He thus kept going backwards and forwards

from ten at night till four in the morning, by which time the horses

were quite tired. Then said the Dwarf, "It is enough, now you shall see

what you have been carrying!" He bade him look over his right shoulder,

and then he saw the country far and near filled with the Dwarfs. "These

thousand years," then said the Dwarf, "have we dwelt in the Dosenberg;

our time is now up, and we must go to another land. But the hill is

still so full of money that it would suffice for the whole country." He

then loaded Tobi's waggon with money and departed. The farmer had

difficulty in bringing home so heavy a load, but he became a rich man.

His posterity are still wealthy people, but the Dwarfs have disappeared

out of the country for ever.

* * * * *

At Offensen on the Aller in Lower Saxony, lived a great farmer, whose

name was Hövermann. He had a boat on the river; and one day two little

people came to him and asked him to put them over the water. They went

twice over the Aller to a great tract of land that is called the

Allerô,[270] which is an uncultivated plain extending so wide and far

that one can hardly see over it. When the farmer had crossed the second

time one of the Dwarfs said to him, "Will you have now a sum of money or

so much a head?" "I'd rather have a sum of money," said the farmer. One

of them took off his hat and put it on the farmer's head, and said,

"You'd have done better to have taken so much a head." The farmer, who

had as yet seen nothing and whose boat had gone as if there was nothing

in it, now beheld the whole Allerô swarming (_krimmeln un wimmeln_) with

little men. These were the Dwarfs that he had brought over. From that

time forward the Hövermanns had the greatest plenty of money, but they

are all now dead and gone, and the place is sold. But when was this? Oh!

in the old time when the Dwarfs were in the world, but now there's no

more of them, thirty or forty years ago.[271]

_The Dwarfs' Borrowing Bread._

Albert Steffel, aged seventy years, who died in the year 1680, and

Hans Kohmann, aged thirty-six, who died in 1679, two honest, veracious

men, frequently declared that as one time Kohmann's grandfather was

working in his ground which lay in the neighbourhood of the place

called the Dwarfs' hole, and his wife had brought out to the field to

him for his breakfast some fresh baked bread, and had laid it, tied up

in a napkin, at the end of the field, there came up soon after a

little Dwarf-woman, who spoke to him about his bread, saying, that

her own was in the oven, and that her children were hungry and could

not wait for it, but that if he would give her his, she would be

certain to replace it by noon. The man consented, and at noon she

returned, spread out a very white little cloth, and laid on it a

smoking hot loaf, and with many thanks and entreaties told him he

might eat the bread without any apprehension, and that she would

return for the cloth. He did as she desired, and when she returned she

told him that there had been so many forges erected that she was quite

annoyed, and would be obliged to depart and abandon her favourite

dwelling. She also said that the shocking cursing and swearing of the

people drove her away, as also the profanation of Sunday, as the

country people, instead of going to church, used to go look at their

fields, which was altogether sinful.[272]

_The Changeling._

It was the belief, in some parts of Germany, that if a child that was

not thriving were taken to a place named Cyriac's Mead, near