 he islanders, like all the Irish, believe that the fairies are the fallen angels who were cast down by the Lord God out of heaven for their sinful pride. And some fell into the sea, and some on the dry land, and some fell deep down into hell, and the devil gives to these knowledge and power, and sends them on earth where they work much evil. But the fairies of the earth and the sea are mostly gentle and beautiful creatures, who will do no harm if they are let alone, and allowed to dance on the fairy raths in the moonlight to their own sweet music, undisturbed by the presence of mortals. As a rule, the people look on fire as the great preservative against witchcraft, for the devil has no power except in the dark. So they put a live coal under the churn, and they wave a lighted wisp of straw above the cow's head if the beast seems sickly. But as to the pigs, they take no trouble, for they say the devil has no longer any power over them now. When they light a candle they cross themselves, because the evil spirits are then clearing out of the house in fear of the light. Fire and Holy Water they hold to be sacred, and are powerful; and the best safe guard against all things evil, and the surest test in case of suspected witchcraft.The above story: The Fairies as Fallen Angels Lady Wilde, Ancient Legends of Ireland, pages 48-49. |
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 nce, there was a traveller who lost his way and did not know where he was going. At last he came to a farm which he did not recognize at all; there he knocked, and a mature woman came to the door and asked him in, which he accepted. All the furnishings of this farm were excellent. The woman led him into the main room, where two pretty young girls were sitting, but he saw no one else on the farm except for this woman and the two girls. He was welcomed courteously, given food and drink, and later shown to a bed. The man asked if he might sleep with one of the girls, and was told that he could. They lay down together and the man wanted to turn towards her, but he could feel no body where the girl was. He caught hold of her, but there was nothing between his arms, though all the while she lay quietly beside him and he could see her perfectly well. So then he asks her the reason for this. She says he need not be surprised at it, for I am a spirit with no body, says she. Long ago, when the Devil raised a revolt in Heaven, he and all who fought for him were driven into outer darkness. But those who were neither for him nor against him and would join neither army were driven down to Earth, and it was decreed that they should live in knolls, hills, and rocks, and they are called elves, or Hidden People. They cannot live with other people, only on their own. They can do both good and evil, and both in the hightest degree. They have no bodies such as you humans have, yet they can show themselves to you when they wish. I am one of this band of fallen spirits, so it is not surprising that you cannot get pleasure from me.The man had to rest content with that, and later he told the story of what had happened to him. The story above: The Origin of the Elves; Collected by Johannes Jonsson Lund (b. 1804). From Jacqueline Simpson, Icelandic Folktales and Legends (Berkeley, 1972). According to Simpson, the incapability of the hidden people to engage in sexual intercourse is a theory of the clergy, and counter to normal Icelandic folklore. |
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 any years since, there lived a housekeeper with a celebrated squire, whose name is associated with the history of his native country, one Nancy Tregier. There were many peculiarities about Nancy; and she was, being a favourite with her master, allowed to do much as she pleased. She was in fact a petted, and, consequently, a spoiled servant. Nancy left Pendeen one Saturday afternoon to walk to Penzance, for the purpose of buying a pair of shoes. There was an old woman, Jenny Trayer, living in Pendeen Cove--who had the reputation of being a witch--or, as some people mildly put it, who had strange dealings; and with her Nancy desired, for sundry reasons best known to herself, to keep on the closest of terms. So on this Saturday, Nancy first called on the old woman to inquire if she wished to have anything brought home from Penzance. Tom, the husband of Nancy's friend, did no work; but now and then he would go to sea for an hour or two and fish. It is true everbody gave Jenny just what she asked for her fish, out of pure fear. Sometimes they had a venture with the smugglers, who, in those days, carried on a roaring trade in Pendeen Cove. The old Squire was a justice; but he winked very hard, and didn't know anything about the smugglers. Indeed, some ill-natured people--and there are always such to be found in any nook or corner--said Nancy often took her master home a choice bottle of Cognac; even a case of Hollands now and then; and, especially when there was to be a particularly great run, there were some beautiful silk handkerchiefs to be seen at the Squire's. But this is beyond our story.When Nancy went into Jenny's cottage, Tom was there, and right busy was she in preparing some ointment, and touching her husband's eyes with it: this Jenny tried to hide in the mouth of the oven at the side of the chimney. Tom got up and said he must be off, and left the two women together. After a few idle compliments, Jenny said that Nancy must have something to drink before she started to Penzance, and she went to the spence for the bottles. Nancy, ever curious, seized the moment, dipped her finger into the pot of green ointment, and, thinking it was good for the eyes, she just touched her right eye with it before Jenny returned. They took a horn or two together, and being thus spliced, Nancy started for Penzance. Penzance Market was in those days entirely in the street; even the old-market-house had not yet an existence. Nancy walked about doing a little business and a great deal of gossiping; when amongst the standings in Market-Jew Street, whom should Nancy see but Tom Trayer, picking off the standings, shoes, stockings, banks of yarn, and pewter spoons--indeed, some of all the sorts of things which were for sale. Nancy walked up to him, and taking him by the arm, said, Tom! Ar'then't ashamed to be here carrying on such a game? However thee canst have the impudence, I can't think, to be picking the things from the standings and putting them in thy pocket in broad daylight, and the people all around thee. Tom looked very much surprised when Nancy spoke to him. At last he said, Is that you, Nancy?--which eye can you see me upon? Nancy shut her left eye, this made no difference; she then shut her right eye, and, greatly to her surprise, she saw all the people, but she no longer saw Tom. She opened her right eye, and there was Tom as before. She winked, and winked, and was surprised, you may be sure, to find that she could not see Tom with either eye. Now, Nancy, said Tom, right or left? Well, said Nancy, 'tis strange; but there is something wrong with my left eye. Oh, then, you see me with the right, do you? Then Tom put his finger on her right eye, and from that moment she was blind on that side. On her way home, Nancy was always going off the road on her blind side; but the hedges kept her from wandering far away. On the downs near Pendeen there were no hedges, so Nancy wandered into a furze brake, --night came on, she could not find her way out, and she was found in it the next morning fast asleep. The old Squire was out hunting in the early morning, according to his usual custom. In passing along the road leading to Carnyorth, he saw a woman's knitting-work hanging on a bramble, and the yarn from the stocking leading away into the brake. He took the yarn in his hand and followed it until he came to the old woman, who had the ball in her pocket. When the Squire awakened the old woman, she told him the story which I have told you. Her master, however, said that he didn't believe she had been into Penzance at all, but that she had stayed in the Cove and got drunk: that when dark night came, she had endevoured to find her way home,--lost her road,--fallen down, and probed her eye out on a furze bush, and then gone off in drunken unconsciousness. Nancy told her master that he was no better than an unbelieving heathen; and to the day of her death she protested that Tom Trayer put her eye out. Jenny's ointment is said to have been made with a four-leaved clover, gathered at a certain time of the moon. This rendered Fairyland visible, and made men invisible. |
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Background by Lady Java.