“——gelidum nemus
Nympharumque leves cum Satyris chori.”
(_Carmina_, I., O. 1, v. 30.)
and, still more frequently, in Ovid.
Not far from Rome, as we are told by Chorier, was a place formerly
called “Ad Nymphas,” and, at this day, “Santa Ninfa,” which without
doubt, he adds, in the language of our ancestors, would have been
called “The Place of Fays” (_Recherches des Antiquitez, de Vienne_,
Lyon, 1659).
The word _faée_, or _fée_, among the French, is derived, according
to Du Cange, from the barbarous Latin _fadus_ or _fada_, in Italian
_fata_. Gervase of Tilbury, in his _Otia Imperialia_ (D. 3, c. 88),
speaks of “some of this kind of _larvæ_, which they named _fadœ_, we
have heard to be lovers,” and in his relation of a nocturnal contest
between two knights (c. 94) he exclaims, “What shall I say? I know not
if it were a true _horse_, or if it were a fairy (_fadus_), as men
assert.” From the _Roman de Partenay_, or _de Lezignan_, MS. Du Cange
cites—
“Le chasteau fut fait d’une fée
Si comme il est partout retrait.”
Hence, he says, _faërie_ for spectres:
“Plusieurs parlant de Guenart,
Du Lou, de l’Asne, et de Renart,
De faëries, et de songes,
De fantosmes, et de mensonges.”
The same Gervase explains the Latin _fata_ (_fée_, French) a divining
woman, an enchantress, or a witch (D. 3, c. 88).
Master Wace, in his _Histoire des Ducs de Normendie_ (confounded by
many with the _Roman de Rou_), describing the fountain of Berenton, in
Bretagne, says—
“En la forest et environ,
Mais jo ne sais par quel raison
La scut l’en les fées veeir,
Se li Breton nos dient veir, etc.”
(In the forest and around,
I wot not by what reason found,
There may a man the fairies spy,
If Britons do not tell a lie.)
but it may be difficult to conceive an accurate idea, from the mere
name, of the popular French _fays_ or _fairies_ of the twelfth century.
In Vienne, in Dauphiny, is _Le puit des fées_, or Fairy–well. These
_fays_, it must be confessed, have a strong resemblance to the nymphs
of the ancients, who inhabited caves and fountains. Upon a little rock
which overlooks the Rhone are three round holes which nature alone has
formed, although it seem, at first sight, that art has laboured after
her. They say that they were formerly frequented by Fays; that they
were full of water when it rained; and that they there frequently took
the pleasure of the bath; than which they had not one more charming
(Chorier, _Recherches_, etc.).
Pomponius Mela, an eminent geographer, and, in point of time, far
anterior to Pliny, relates, that beyond a mountain in Æthiopia, called
by the Greeks the “High Mountain,” burning, he says, with perpetual
fire, is a hill spread over a long tract by extended shores, whence
they rather go to see wide plains than to behold [the habitations]
of Pans and Satyrs. Hence, he adds, this opinion received faith,
that, whereas, in these parts is nothing of culture, no seats of
inhabitants, no footsteps—a waste solitude in the day, and a mere waste
silence—frequent fires shine by night; and camps, as it were, are seen
widely spread; cymbals and tympans sound; and sounding pipes are heard
more than human (B. 3, c. 9). These invisible essences, however, are
both anonymous and nondescript.
The _penates_ of the Romans, according to honest Reginald Scot, were
“the domesticall gods, or rather divels, that were said to make men
live quietlie within doores. But some think that _Lares_ are such as
trouble private houses. _Larvæ_ are said to be spirits that walk onelie
by night. _Vinculi terrei_ are such as was Robin Goodfellowe, that
would supplie the office of servants, speciallie of maides, as to make
a fier in the morning, sweepe the house, grind mustard and malt, drawe
water, etc. These also rumble in houses, drawe latches, go up and down
staiers,” etc. (_Discoverie of Witchcraft_, London, 1584, p. 521). A
more modern writer says “The Latins have called the fairies _lares_
and _larvæ_, frequenting, as they say, houses, delighting in neatness,
pinching the slut, and rewarding the good housewife with money in her
shoe” (_Pleasaunt Treatise of Witches_, 1673, p. 53). This, however, is
nothing but the character of an English fairy applied to the name of a
Roman _lar_ or _larva_. It might have been wished, too, that Scot, a
man unquestionably of great learning, had referred, by name and work
and book and chapter, to those ancient authors from whom he derived his
information upon the Roman _penates_, etc.
What idea our Saxon ancestors had of the fairy which they called _œlf_,
a word explained by Lye as equivalent to _lamia_, _larva_, _incubus_,
_ephialtes_, we are utterly at a loss to conceive.
The nymphs, the satyrs, and the fauns, are frequently noticed
by the old traditional historians of the north; particularly
_Saxo–grammaticus_, who has a curious story of three nymphs of the
forest, and Hother, King of Sweden and Denmark, being apparently the
originals of the weird, or wizard, sisters of Macbeth (B. 3, p. 39).
Others are preserved by Olaus Magnus, who says they had so deeply
impressed into the earth, that the place they have been used to, having
been (apparently) eaten up in a circular form with flagrant heat, never
brings forth fresh grass from the dry turf. This nocturnal sport of
monsters, he adds, the natives call The Dance of the Elves (B. 3, c.
10).
“In John Milesius any man may reade
Of divels in Sarmatia honored,
Call’d _Kottri_, or _Kibaldi_; such as wee
Pugs and Hob–goblins call. Their dwellings bee
In corners of old houses least frequented,
Or beneath stacks of wood: and these convented,
Make fearfull noise in buttries and in dairies;
Robin Goodfellowes some, some call them fairies.
In solitarie roomes these uprores keepe,
And beat at dores to wake men from their sleepe;
Seeming to force locks, be they ne’re so strong,
And keeping Christmasse gambols all night long.
Pots, glasses, trenchers, dishes, pannes, and kettles,
They will make dance about the shelves and settles,
As if about the kitchen tost and cast,
Yet in the morning nothing found misplac’t.”
(Heywood’s _Hierarchie of Angells_, 1635, fo. p. 574.)
Milton, a prodigious reader of romance, has, likewise, given an apt
idea of the ancient fays—
“Fairer than famed of old, or fabled since
Of fairy damsels met in forest wide,
By knights of Logres, and of Liones,
Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.”
These ladies, in fact, are by no means unfrequent in those fabulous, it
must be confessed, but, at the same time, ingenious and entertaining
histories; as, for instance, _Melusine_, or _Merlusine_, the heroine of
a very ancient romance in French verse, and who was occasionally turned
into a serpent; _Morgan–la–faée_, the reputed half–sister of King
Arthur; and _the Lady of the Lake_, so frequently noticed in Sir Thomas
Malory’s old history of that monarch.
Le Grand is of opinion that what is called Fairy comes to us from
the Orientals, and that it is their _génies_ which have produced our
_fairies_; a species of nymphs, of an order superior to those women
magicians, to whom they nevertheless gave the same name. In Asia, he
says, where the women imprisoned in the harems, prove still, beyond the
general servitude, a particular slavery, the romancers have imagined
the _Peris_, who, flying in the air, come to soften their captivity,
and render them happy (_Fabliaux_, 12mo. i. 112). Whether this be so
or not, it is certain that we call the _auroræ boreales_, or active
clouds, in the night, _perry–dancers_.
After all, Sir William Ouseley finds it impossible to give an accurate
idea of what the Persian poets designed by a Perie, this aërial being
not resembling our fairies. The strongest resemblance he can find is
in the description of Milton in _Comus_. The sublime idea which Milton
entertained of a fairy vision corresponds rather with that which the
Persian poets have conceived of the Peries.
“Their port was more than human as they stood;
I took it for a faëry vision
Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live
And play i’ th’ plighted clouds.”
(D’Israeli’s _Romances_, p. 13.)
It is by no means credible, however, that Milton had any knowledge of
the Oriental Peries, though his enthusiastic or poetical imagination
might have easily peopled the air with spirits.
There are two sorts of _fays_, according to M. Le Grand. The one
a species of nymphs or divinities; the other more properly called
sorceresses, or women instructed in magic. From time immemorial, in
the abbey of Poissy, founded by St. Lewis, they said every year a mass
to preserve the nuns from the power of the _fays_. When the process of
the Damsel of Orleans was made, the doctors demanded, for the first
question, “If she had any knowledge of those who went to the Sabbath
with the _fays_? or if she had not assisted at the assemblies held
at the fountain of the _fays_, near Domprein, around which dance
malignant spirits?” The Journal of Paris, under Charles VI. and Charles
VII. pretends that she confessed that, at the age of twenty–seven
years, she frequently went, in spite of her father and mother, to a
fair fountain in the county of Lorraine, which she named the “Good
Fountain to the Fays Our Lord” (_Ib._ p. 75).
Gervase of Tilbury, in his chapter “of Fauns and Satyrs,” says,—“there
are likewise others, whom the vulgar call _Follets_, who inhabit the
houses of the simple rustics, and can be driven away neither by holy
water, nor exorcisms; and because they are not seen, they afflict
those, who are entering, with stones, billets, and domestic furniture,
whose words for certain are heard in the human manner, and their forms
do not appear” (_Otia imperialia_, D. i. c. 18). He is speaking of
England.
This Follet seems to resemble Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, whose pranks
were recorded in an old song and who was sometimes useful, and
sometimes mischievous. Whether or not he was the fairy–spirit of whom
Milton
“Tells how the drudging goblin swet,
To ern his cream–bowle duly set,
When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail hath thresh’d the corn,
That ten day–labourers could not end,
Then lies him down, the lubbar fend;
And stretch’d out all the chimney’s length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
And crop–full out of dores he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.”
(_L’Allegro_).
is a matter of some difficulty. Perhaps the giant son of the witch,
that had the devil’s mark about her (of whom “there is a pretty
tale”), that was called _Lob–lye–by–the–fire_, was a very different
personage from Robin Goodfellow, whom, however, he in some respects
appears to resemble. A near female relation of the compiler, who was
born and brought up in a small village in the bishopric of Durham,
related to him many years ago, several circumstances which confirmed
the exactitude of Milton’s description; she particularly told of his
threshing the corn, churning the butter, drinking the milk, etc., and,
when all was done, “lying before the fire like a great rough hurgin
bear.”
In another chapter Gervase says—“As among men, nature produces certain
wonderful things, so spirits, in airy bodies, who assume by divine
permission the mocks they make. For, behold! England has certain dæmons
(dæmons, I call them, though I know not, but I should say secret forms
of unknown generation), whom the French call _Neptunes_, the English
_Portunes_. With these it is natural that they take advantage of the
simplicity of fortunate peasants; and when, by reason of their domestic
labours, they perform their nocturnal vigils, of a sudden, the doors
being shut, they warm themselves at the fire, and eat little frogs,
cast out of their bosoms and put upon the burning coals; with an
antiquated countenance; a wrinkled face; diminutive in stature, not
having [in length] half a thumb. They are clothed with rags patched
together; and if anything should be to be carried on in the house, or
any kind of laborious work to be done, they join themselves to the
work, and expedite it with more than human facility. It is natural
to these, that they may be obsequious, and may not be hurtful. But
one little mode, as it were, they have of hurting. For when, among
the ambiguous shades of night, the English occasionally ride alone,
the _Portune_, sometimes, unseen, couples himself to the rider; and,
when he has accompanied him, going on, a very long time, at length,
the bridle being seized, he leads him up to the hand in the mud, in
which while, infixed, he wallows, the _Portune_, departing, sets up a
laugh; and so, in this kind of way, derides human simplicity” (_Otia
imperialia_, D. 3, c. 61).
This spirit seems to have some resemblance to the _Picktree–brag_, a
mischievous barguest that used to haunt that part of the country, in
the shape of different animals, particularly of a little galloway; in
which shape a farmer, still or lately living thereabout, reported that
it had come to him one night as he was going home; that he got upon it,
and rode very quietly till it came to a great pond, to which it ran and
threw him in, and went laughing away.
He further says there is, in England, a certain species of demons,
which in their language they call _Grant_, like a one–year old foal,
with straight legs, and sparkling eyes. This kind of demon very often
appears in the streets, in the very heat of the day, or about sunset;
and as often as it makes its appearance, portends that there is about
to be a fire in that city or town. When, therefore, in the following
day or night the danger is urgent, in the streets, running to and fro,
it provokes the dogs to bark, and, while it pretends flight invites
them, following, to pursue, in the vain hope of overtaking it. This
kind of illusion provokes caution to the watchmen who have the custody
of fire, and so the officious race of demons, while they terrify the
beholders, are wont to secure the ignorant by their arrival (Gervase,
D. 3, c. 62).