The only relic of the giant which was left was the head, which Jack cut off in the first instance, and which we must suppose rolled away from the influence of the enchanted castle, or it would have "vanished into thin air" with the body. It was fortunate that it did so, for it proved an inestimable trophy at the court of King Arthur, where Jack the Giant-killer was shortly afterwards united to the duke's daughter whom he had freed from enchantment, "not only to the joy of the court, but of all the kingdom." To complete his happiness, he was endowed with a noble house and estates, and his penchant for giant-killing having subsided, or, what is more probable, no more monsters appearing to interrupt his tranquillity, he accomplished the usual conclusion to these romantic narratives, by passing the remainder of his life in the enjoyment of every domestic felicity.
[I have alluded to the quotation from this primitive romance made by Shakespeare in King Lear, but if the story of Rowland, published by Mr. Jamieson, is to be trusted, it would seem that the great dramatist was indebted to a ballad of the time. This position would, however, compel us to adopt the belief that the words of the giant are also taken from the ballad; a supposition to which I am most unwilling to assent. In fact, I believe that Edgar quotes from two different compositions, the first line from a ballad on Rowland, the second from Jack and the Giants. "And Rowland into the castle came" is a line in the second ballad of Rosmer Hafmand, or the Merman Rosmer, in the Danish Koempe Viser, p. 165. The story alluded to above may be briefly given as follows.
The sons of King Arthur were playing at ball in the merry town of Carlisle, and their sister, "Burd [28] Ellen" was in the midst of them. Now it happened that Child Rowland gave the ball such a powerful kick with his foot that "o'er the kirk he gar'd it flee." Burd Ellen went round about in search of the ball, but what was the consternation of her brothers when they found that she did not return, although "they bade lang and ay langer,"—
They sought her east, they sought her west,
They sought her up and down;
And wae were the hearts in merry Carlisle,
For she was nae gait found.
At last her eldest brother went to the Warlock or Wizard Merlin, and asked him if he knew where his sister, the fair Burd Ellen, was. "The fair Burd Ellen," said the Warlock Merlin, "is carried away by the fairies, and is now in the castle of the King of Elfland; and it were too bold an undertaking for the stoutest knight in Christendom to bring her back." The brother, however, insisted upon undertaking the enterprise, and after receiving proper instructions from Merlin, which he failed in observing, he set out on his perilous expedition, and was never more seen.
The other brothers took the same course, and shared a similar fate, till it came to the turn of Child Rowland, who with great difficulty obtained the consent of his mother, for Queen Guinever began to be afraid of losing all her children. Rowland, having received her blessing, girt on his father's celebrated sword Excaliber, that never struck in vain, and repaired to Merlin's cave. The wizard gave him all necessary instructions for his journey and conduct, the most important of which were that he should kill every person he met with after entering the land of Faerie, and should neither eat nor drink of what was offered him in that country, whatever his hunger or thirst might be; for if he tasted or touched in Elfland, he must remain in the power of the elves, and never see middle-earth again.
Child Rowland faithfully promised to observe the instructions of Merlin, and he accordingly went to Elfland, where he found, as the wizard had foretold, the king's horseherd feeding his horses. "Canst thou tell me," said Rowland, "where the castle of the king of Elfland is?" "I cannot," replied the horseherd, "but go a little further, and thou wilt come to a cowherd, and perhaps he will know." When he had made this answer, Rowland, remembering his instructions, took his good sword, and cut off the head of the horseherd. He then went a little further, and met with a cowherd, to whom he repeated the same question, and obtained the same answer. Child Rowland then cut off the cowherd's head, and having pursued exactly the same course with a shepherd, goatherd, and a swineherd, he is referred by the last to a hen-wife, who, in reply to his question, said, "Go on yet a little farther till you come to a round green hill, surrounded with terraces from the bottom to the top: go round it three times widershins, [29] and every time say, "Open door, open door, and let me come in!' and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." Child Rowland immediately cut off the hen-wife's head in return for her intelligence, and following her directions, a door in the hill opened, and he went in. As soon as he entered, the door closed behind him, and he traversed a long passage, which was dimly but pleasantly lighted by crystallized rock, till he came to two wide and lofty folding-doors, which stood ajar. He opened them, and entered an immense hall, which seemed nearly as big as the hill itself. It was the most magnificent apartment in all the land of Faerie, for the pillars were of gold and silver, and the keystones ornamented with clusters of diamonds. A gold chain hung from the middle of the roof, supporting an enormous lamp composed of one hollowed transparent pearl, in the midst of which was a large magical carbuncle that beautifully illumined the whole of the hall.
At the upper end of the hall, seated on a splendid sofa, under a rich canopy, was his sister the Burd Ellen, "kembing her yellow hair wi' a silver kemb," who immediately perceiving him, was sorrow-struck at the anticipation of his being destroyed by the king of Elfland,—
And hear ye this, my youngest brither,
Why badena ye not at hame?
Had ye a hunder and thousand lives,
Ye canna brook ane o' them.
And she informs him that he will certainly lose his life if the king finds him in the hall. A long conversation then takes place, and Rowland tells her all his adventures, concluding his narrative with the observation that, after his long journey, he is very hungry.
On this the Burd Ellen shook her head, and looked sorrowfully at him; but, impelled by her enchantment, she rose up, and procured him a golden bowl full of bread and milk. It was then that the Child Rowland remembered the instructions of the Warlock Merlin, and he passionately exclaimed, "Burd Ellen, I will neither eat nor drink till I set thee free!" Immediately this speech was uttered, the folding-doors of the hall burst open with tremendous violence, and in came the king of Elfland,—
With, Fe, fi, fo, fum,
I smell the blood of a Christian man!
Be he dead, be he living, wi' my brand
I'll clash his harns frae his harn-pan! [30]
"Strike, then, Bogle, if thou darest," exclaimed the undaunted Child Rowland, and a furious combat ensued, but Rowland, by the help of his good sword, conquered the elf-king, sparing his life on condition that he would restore to him his two brothers and sister. The king joyfully consented, and having disenchanted them by the anointment of a bright red liquor, they all four returned in triumph to merry Carlisle.]
| [28] | It is almost unnecessary to observe that burd was an ancient term for lady. |
| [29] | The contrary way to the course of the sun. |
| [30] | Literally, "I will dash his brains from his skull with my sword." |
[TOM HICKATHRIFT.]
[Tom Hickathrift belongs to the same series as Jack the Giant-killer, one of the popular corruptions of old northern romances. It seems to allude to some of the insurrections in the Isle of Ely, such as that of Hereward, described in Wright's Essays, ii. 91. Spelman, however, describes a tradition, which he says was credited by the inhabitants of Tylney, in which Hickifric appears as the assertor of the rights of their ancestors, and the means he employed on the occasion correspond with incidents in the following tale. The entire passage is worth transcription. "In Marslandia sitæ sunt Walsoka, Waltona, et Walpola. In viciniis jacent Terrington et St. Maries—adjacet Tylney veteris utique Tylneiorum familiæ radix. Hic se expandit insignis area quæ a planicie nuncupatur Tylney Smeeth, pinguis adeo et luxurians ut Paduana pascua videatur superasse. Tuentur eam indigenæ velut aras et focos, fabellamque recitant longa petitam vetustate de Hickifrico (nescio quo) Haii illius instar in Scotorum Chronicis qui civium suorum dedignatus fuga, aratrum quod agebat solvit; arreptoque temone furibundus insiliit in hostes victoriamque ademit exultantibus. Sic cum de agri istius possessione acriter olim dimicatum esset, inter fundi dominum et villarum incolas, nec valerent hi adversus eum consistere, redeuntibus occurrit Hickifrickus, axemque excutiens a curru quem agebat, eo vice gladii usus; rota, clypei; invasores repulit ad ipsos quibus nunc funguntur terminos. Ostendunt in coemeterio Tilniensi sepulchrum sui pugilis, axem cum rota insculptum exhibens."—Icenia, Descriptio Norfolciæ, p. 138. Hearne mentions this gravestone, and perhaps some Norfolk topographer will tell us if it now exists.]
The author of the renowned History of Tom Hickathrift prefaces his narrative with the following consolatory exordium:—
And if thou dost buy this book,
Be sure that you do on it look,
And read it o'er, then thou wilt say
Thy money is not thrown away.
In the reign before William the Conqueror, I have read in ancient history that there dwelt a man in the parish of the Isle of Ely, in the county of Cambridge, named Thomas Hickathrift, a poor labouring man, but so strong that he was able to do in one day the ordinary work of two. He had an only son, whom he christened Thomas, after his own name. The old man put his son "to good learning," but he would take none, for he was, as we call them in this age, none of the wisest, but something soft, and had no docility at all in him. God calling this good man, the father, to his rest, his mother, being tender of him, maintained him by her hard labour as well as she could; but this was no easy matter, for Tom would sit all day in the chimney-corner, instead of doing anything to assist her, and although at the period we are speaking of, he was only ten years old, he would eat more than four or five ordinary men, and was five feet and a half in height, and two feet and a half broad. His hand was more like a shoulder of mutton than a boy's hand, and he was altogether like a little monster, "but yet his great strength was not known."