Page images
PDF
EPUB

judges and rulers, and at the same time the merciless arm of fanaticism too often wielded the sword of justice. Two superstitions astrology and witchcraft have always been found connected with popular mythology. The elves and other spiritual beings were believed to be variously affected by different things and different combinations of things; and certain noises, as the ringing of bells, were sufficient in many instances to drive them away; while even the possession of particular herbs and stones was enough to defend the bodies and properties of men from their depredations. The agate, for instance, among the Anglo-Saxons, had various virtues; if a man had it about his person, or in his house, no fiend could remain there (ne mæg þær inne feond wesan), and the man who carried it constantly about with him was proof against all witchcraft and magic arts (pæt dry-cræft þam mon ne dereð se þe hine mid him hæfð.-Lib. Med. in Bibl. Reg.) Again, by certain spells, the performance of certain ceremonies, attended by particular combinations of words, the strongest charms which had been worked by means of these spirits might be dissolved. Other things and ceremonies were believed to be so potent as to bind down these spirits, and put them effectually under the disposal of those who possessed or performed them. To know these things, and how to perform these acts, was, as might be expected, the ambition of many; and those who had arrived at that wisdom became magicians and astrologers,— cunning, but sometimes weak and deluded men.

The astrologers made greater transformations in the popular creed than had been effected by any other causewe of course mean, after astrology had in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries been reduced to an extensive system; for they made new and artificial divisions of the spirits of earth, and air, and water, into tribes, and legions, which were placed under thrones and dominations, bearing names such as the ears of the peasant were never accustomed to. Thus we are told in Reginald Scott--to take a few names from among a host-that "the spirit Paymon is of the power of the air, the sixteenth in the rank of thrones, subordinate to Corban and Marbas. Bathin is of a deeper reach in the source of the fire, the second after Lucifer's familiar,

and hath not his fellow for agility and affableness in the whole infernal hierarchy. Barma is a mighty potentate of the order of seraphims, whom twenty legions of infernall spirits do obey." The incantation which must bind down these spirits is, as might naturally be expected, a very serious thing; and when, after various ceremonies performed, they first make their appearance, they address the magician, in their own language of course," Gil pragma burthon machatan dermah: to which the magician must boldly answer, Beral, Beroald, Corath, Kermiel," and so forth. Good Reginald Scott enlivens the recital of all these formidable proceedings by the following pleasant story of a worthy monk, Sir John, who was desired to utter some most efficient exorcism against the robbers of a miller's wear (p. 150, fol. 20).

"So it was, that a certain Sir John, with some of his company, once went abroad a jetting, and in a moonlight evening robbed a miller's weir, and stole all his eels. The poor miller made his moan to Sir John himself, who willed him to be quiet; for he would so curse the thief, and all his confederates, with bell, book, and candle, that they should have small joy of their fish. And therefore the next Sunday Sir John got him to the pulpit, with his surplice on his back, and his stole about his neck, and pronounced these words following in the audience of the people :

'All you that have stol'n the miller's eelis,
Laudate dominum de cælis ;
And all they that have consented thereto,
Benedicamus domino.

[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]

The following passage of an old writer, whose notions, like that of many of his contemporaries, were moulded in the astrological doctrines of the age, will shew sufficiently the connexion between that "science" and the fairy mythology. He is speaking of the different orders and classes of spirits.

"The spirits of the earth keepe for the most part in forrests and woods, and doe hunters much noyance; and sometime in the broad fields, where they leade trauellers out of the right way, or fright men with deformed apparitions, or make them run mad through excessiue melancholy, like Aiax Telamonius, and so proue hurtful to themselues and dangerous to others. The vnder-earth spirits are such as lurk in dens and little

cauernes of the earth, and hollow creuices of mountaines, that they may diue into the bowels of the earth at their pleasure : these dig metals and watch treasures, which they continually transport from place to place, that none should baue vse of them: they raise windes that uomit flames, and shake the foundation of buildings: they daunce in rounds in pleasant launds and greene meddowes, with noyses of musick and minstralsie, and uanish away when any comes neere them: they will take vpon them eny similitude but of a woman, and terrifie men in the likenes of dead mens' ghosts in the night-time."-Nashe's Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication to the Deuell, p. 34.

[ocr errors]

Similar ideas are evidently the groundwork of the following spell, from the History of Friar Bacon,' which is printed in Mr. Thom's Prose Romances. The fairies, it must be observed, were always believed to be dwellers in dens, and lakes, and trees; and it was them whom the astrologer conjured into his glass, or crystal, to direct him to the hidden treasures which they only knew.

"Now the owle is flowne abroad,
For I hear the croaking toade;
And the bat that shuns the day
Through the darke doth make her way.
Now the ghostes of men doe rise,
And with fearful hideous cryes,
Seeke revengement (from the goode)
On their heads that spilt their blood.
Come some spirit, quicke! I say,
Night's the devil's holyday;
Where ere you be, in dennes, or lake,
In the ivy, ewe, or brake,
Quickly come, and me attend,
That am Bacon's man and friend."

The witch differed from the astrologer in this, that her power over the spirits was believed to be the result of a compact with the spirit of darkness, whereby he bound himself to serve her for a time, on condition that he should afterwards be her master for ever. The witches were among the peasantry what the astrologer was in rather more refined society, in their intercourse with the spirits. But they had no invention of their own; and there seems to be little room for doubting that the systematic story of their dealings, which we find them made to confess to at their trials, was all put into their mouths by others; and when we do find an instance where, instead of being asked if they believed and had done and seen so and so, the question was, "What had they done or seen?" whatever confession is made may be traced to

the fairy superstitions which they had imbibed from their childhood. One new circumstance was brought in with the witchcraft of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries-the power of fairies to enter into people, and " possess" them. It is not difficult to see whence and how this notion came, and we might point out a hundred instances of it; but we will only mention one, which seems to have some allusion to the merry and mischievous Puck. It is observed of the celebrated Surrey demoniac," He stands upon his head, dances upon his knees, and runs of all fours like a dog, and barks. He seems sometimes extremely heavy, and at other times light, and was thought to be possessed with a merry ludicrous spirit."-Hutchinson's Hist. Essay on Witchcraft, p. 125.

Our space forbids further quotation than one more, with which to conclude our short survey of the history of the fairy mythology in England; it is an extract from "A Dialogue concerning Witches and Witchcrafts," written" by George Giffard, minister of God's word in Maldon" (1593). The dialogue is spiritedly written, and gives a curious view of the popular belief at that time. The interlocutors are Samuel, Daniel, and the wife of Samuel. Samuel and Daniel have met in their walk in the fields.

"Sam. These witches, these evill-fauoured old witches, doe trouble

me!

"Dan. What! doe you take yourselfe to be bewitched?

"Sam. No, no; I trust no euill spirite but I heare of much harme can hurt me; done by them: they lame men, and kill their cattle; yea, they destroy both men and children. They say there is scarce any towne or village in all this shire, but there is one or two witches at the least in it. In good sooth, I may tell it to you as to my friend, when I goe but into my closes I am afraide; for I see nowe and then a hare, which my conscience giueth me is a witch, or some witches spirite, shee stareth so vppon me. And sometime I see an vgly weasell runne through my yard; and there is a foule great catte sometimes in my barne, which I haue no liking vnto.

"Dan. You neuer had no hurt done

yet, had you, by any witch?

"Sam. Trust me, I cannot tell; but I feare me I haue: for there be two or three in our towne which I like not, but especially an old woman. I haue beene as careful to please her as euer I was to

please mine own mother, and to giue her euer anon one thing or other; and yet methinkes shee frownes at me now and then. And I had a hogge, which eate his meate with his fellowes, and was very well to our thinking ouer night, and in the morning he was starke dead. My wife hath had fiue or sixe hennes euen of late dead. Some of my neighbours wishe me to burne some thing aliue, as a henne or a hogge; others will me in time to seeke helpe at the handes of some cunning man, before I haue any further harme. I wold be glad to do for the best.

"Dan. Haue you any cunning man hereabout that doth helpe?

"Sam. There is one, they say here, a twenty miles off, at T. B., which hath holpe many. And thus much I know, there was one of my acquaintance but two miles hence which had great losses; he lost two or three kine, six hogs (he would not haue tooke fifteene shillings a hog for them), and a mare. He went to that same man, and told him hee suspected an old woman in the parish. And I think he told me that he shewed him her in a glasse, and tolde him shee had three or foure imps- some call them puckrels; one like a gray catte, an other like a weasell, an other like a mouse-a vengeance take them! it is great pitty the countrey is not ridde of them--and told him also what he shoulde doe. It is halfe a yeare agoe, and he neuer had any hurt since. There is also a woman at R. H., fiue-and-twenty miles hence, that hath a greate name; and great resort there is dayly vnto her. A neighbour of mine had his childe taken lame, a girle of ten yeares olde, and such a paine in her backe, that shee could not sit vpright. He went to that woman; she told him he had some hadde neighbour- the childe was forespoken, as he suspected. Marry, if he would goe home, and bring her some of the clothes which the child lay in all night, shee would tell him certainely. He went

home, and put a table-napkin about her necke all night, and in the morning tooke it with him; and shee told him the girle was bewitched in deede, and so told him what hee should doe: and he had remedy. The girle is as wel at this day, and a pretty quicke girle. There was another of my neighbours had his wife much troubled, and he went to her, and shee tolde him his wife was haunted with a fairy. I cannot tell what she bad him doe, but the woman is merry at this howre. I have heard- I dare not say it is so- that shee weareth about her Saint John's Gospel, or some part of it. If I had heard but of one [cunning person], I should have gone ere this

you.

time; and I am glad that I met with We haue a schoolmaister that is a good prettie scholler, they say, in the Latine tongue, one M. B.; he is gone to my house euen now; I pray you let me entreat you to go thither, you two may reason the matter. "Dan. Well, I will with goe you. "Sam. Wife, I haue brought an olde friende of mine; I pray thee, bid him welcome.

"The Wife. He is verie welcome. But trulie, man, I am angrie with you, and halfe out of patience, that you go not to seek helpe against yonder same olde beast: I haue another hen dead this night. Other men can seeke remedy. Here is M. B. tells me, that the goode wife R. all the laste weeke could not make her butter come. She neuer rested until she had got her husbande out to the woman at R. H.; and when he came home, they did but heat a spit red hotte, and thrust into the creame, vsing certaine wordes that she willed him, and it came as kindly as anie butter that euer she made. I met the olde filth this morning. Lord, how sowerlie she looked vpon me! and mumbled as she went: I heard part of her wordes. Ah!' quod she, you haue an honest man to your husband; I heare how he doth vse me.' In trueth, husband, my stomacke did so rise against her, that I could haue found in my heart to haue flowen vpon her and scratched her, but that I feared she would be too strong for me. It is a lustie olde queane."

[ocr errors]

But we must conclude. We will only add that, in looking back to the fairy mythology of former days, it is the more necessary to take into consideration the causes that have produced changes in the form of those superstitions, because our only source of information is the literature of the times, which generally came from those who were most apt to garble the superstitions of their countrymen. In them, therefore, the changes are by far greater and more perceptible than they would be at the same time in their true depositoriesthe oral legends of the peasant. On the latter, the causes which did effect them would act slowly and gradually ; and many of the tales of Gervase and Giraldus may very well be compared with those which we can still gather in the more retired parts of England, where perchance the schoolmaster, who is abroad, has not yet shewn his face, and where the baneful effects of political agitation on men's minds have not been felt.

THE AFRICAN DESERT.

Χθονος μὲν ἐς τηλουρον ἥκομεν πέδον

ἀβροτον εις ἐρημίαν.—scuvL. Prom. 1. 2.

"Loca exusta solis ardoribus."-SALL. Jug. c. 19.

FAR from those skies that ever softly smile
O'er lawn and stream in England's happy isle,
The muse now turns o'er Afric's sands to soar,
Where reddening whirlwinds rush from shore to shore;
Where torrid suns in ceaseless fervour glow,
And wastes untenanted are stretched below.

How blest those plains where laughing skies expand, And golden harvests wave along the land —

Where heaven's glad shower gives freshness to the soil,
And spring's bright promise cheers the labourer's toil!
See where Missouri gives its royal flood

To wide Savannah and the piny wood!

See Persia's mountains lift their heads of snow
To plead with summer for the vales below!
Yet man alone, 'mid all this pomp of love-
Whilst earth looks fair below and heaven above-
Man with cold heart abandons nature's smile,
For crimes which blacken, visions which beguile.
Nor heeds His care whose fostering hand bestows
The tree that blossoms and the stream that flows.

There is a clime to love-to hope-unknown,
Where the soul seeks no beauty save her own;
There a huge sun his lazy orb upturns,
And loiters long above the land he burns:
No river's crystal there reflects the sky,
No airs of freshness from the ocean fly;
No mountains glisten to the vernal shower,
Or blush with radiance of the western hour;
No tuneful woodlands spread their velvet shade,
For vow of saint or lover's sadness made;
No laughing lake expands its circling wave:
All sleeps-all there seems mighty nature's grave;
Breezes of flame have drunk the vital spring,
And fire-girt simooms move Destruction's wing!
The homeless Arab walks Zahara's plains,
Strength in his nerves and ardour in his veins;
Though changed in faith, his spirit still the same
Which sang of Antar's or raised Tobbah's fame.
In youth, all passion, energy,
and joy,
Visions of glory rouse the intrepid boy;
Swarthy of limb he mounts his generous steed,
Urges his flight and triumphs in his speed.
In sterner age he gathers statelier pride,
Views with wild joy his own on every side;
And often flashes his audacious spear
Where waters spring and travellers circle near:
Such desperate trade the desert steed employs,
And hence the Arab's wealth-the Arab's joys.
Yet, when the child of sorrow seeks his shed,
Even the fierce Arab breaks the social bread
Even he delights to wake the stranger's smile,
To aid his wants, his lonely hours beguile;
And, true to nature in her wildest mood,
In his career of crime dispenses good.

The camel's milk his frugal fare supplies,
Nor longs his bosom for more generous skies;
This is the land he loves-his empire here,-
A ring'd horizon, spacious, wild, and clear;
Here, too, when toil and border-trade are done,
His tented desert whitens to the sun.

Tis told in song, that earlier days saw here
All the fair changes of the circling year;

The flower-wing'd hours led on the ripening glow,
The heaving harvest and the age of snow;
Pomona, laughing, held her fruits to view,
And Flora gambol'd in the morning dew:
Then Phaeton, urged by man's unmeasured pride,
Το grasp the rein Apollo scarce could guide,
Sprang up exulting on the golden car,
Saw earth beneath and ocean's waves afar,
And gave the fiery steeds that slacken'd rein
Which human hand could never more regain;

They rush'd unsway'd--new power, new frenzy given,—
Forsook the path, and traversed all the heaven.

Then the lowered car on northern Afric roll'd,

Here touch'd the steeds, here whirl'd the fervid gold,—
Till Jove's red arm the falling driver hurl'd

In ruin'd splendour to the flaming world.
'Twas then that Afric's green luxuriance fled,-
Its fires were kindled then, its deserts spread;
The playful nymphs forsook their native plains,
And Echo falter'd in unfinish'd strains;

Storms swept the land where Zephyr breath'd her sighs,
And sands flew up and clouded all the skies.

Yet not the horrors of this direful way
Can frighten avarice from its sordid prey;
There with bold breast, in peril undismay'd,
The hardy merchant plies his toilsome trade,—

Spurns the mild joys that from contentment flow-
The hopes, the virtues, peace alone can know ;
And rescued oft, still turns from gentler charms
To sands on fire--the elements in arms!

Lo! toiling onwards from the distant plain,
While you still listen for the sounds in vain,
One lonely group their sultry way pursue,

[ocr errors]

With glittering sands still lengthening to their view;
Nor tree is there, nor mead, nor streamlet nigh,
To glad the heart or rest the wearied eye.
Last eve they gather'd in their hour of pride
A dauntless band on Niger's joyful side;
But now unsheltered o'er the waste they roam,
With thronging memories of forsaken home.
Hark! as they come the tinkling bells are heard
The trampling hoof, the chief's imperious word;
The camel seems his master's song to know,
And Echo startles in the sands below.
Full many a fear and saddening thought have they
Of hidden banditti and dire affray
Of travellers lost and never heard of more-
Of tracts unknown where hungry lions roar.
Eager they seek the date-tree's snowy head,
Near Tuarick town and Arab douar spread,
And fearful listen for the songs that rise
O'er the cool mountain when the daylight dies;
Whilst round their path the threatening surface swells,
And the bleach'd bone its tale of sadness tells.

« PreviousContinue »