"There is Mab, the mistress fairy,
That doth nightly rob the dairy,
And can help or hurt the churning
As she please, without discerning;
She that pinches country wenches
If they rub not clean their benches,
And with sharper nails remembers
When they rake not up their embers;
But if so they chance to feast her,
In their shoe she drops a tester;
This is she that empties cradles,
Takes out children, puts in ladles,
Trains forth midwives in their slumber,
With a sieve the holes to number,
And then leads them from their boroughs
Thorough ponds and water furrows."
They took particular fancies to certain people and families. Sometimes their favour was obtained by compulsion, as in the case of Musgrave of Edenhall, near Penrith, in Cumberland. The legend is, that the butler of the family, having gone one night to draw water at the well of St Cuthbert, a copious spring in the garden of the mansion of Edenhall, surprised a group of fairies disporting themselves beside the well, at the margin of which stood a drinking glass. He seized hold of it, when the elves took to flight, kindly informing him, however, as they went, that
"If this glass do break or fall,
Farewell the luck of Edenhall."
It is still in existence, but had at one time nearly been destroyed by the wild and hair-brained Duke of Wharton, who let it drop from his hands. The luck of Edenhall was, however, preserved by the presence of mind of the butler, who, standing by, caught it in a napkin. Lloyd, a boon companion of the Duke, wrote a burlesque poem on it, as a parody of "Chevy Chase," beginning
"God prosper long from being broke
The luck of Edenhall;"
and Uhland, the German poet, has a ballad, "Das Glück von Edenhall," on the same legend. The glass is of a peculiar shape, very thin, and painted outside with various devices, including the letters "I.H.S." (Iesus Hominum Salvator). Most probably, it had originally been a chalice used in the chapel dedicated to St Cuthbert, which stood in the neighbourhood of Edenhall.
Another description of fairy was the brownie—so called from their complexion—a sort of domestic elf, who was extremely useful and performed all sorts of domestic drudgery, and was repaid by meat, a bowl of milk, or wort, but who, if offered clothes, departed in sorrow and great distress, returning no more. At one time, every family of substance had their brownie. Milton, in his "L'Allegro," describes the brownie, and
"Tells how the drudging goblin swet
To earn his cream-bowl duly set;
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flale hath threshed the corn
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down, the lubbar fiend,
And stretched out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings."
Notwithstanding the progressive increase of knowledge, and proportional decay of superstition in the Highlands, these genii are still supposed by many of the people to exist in the woods and sequestered valleys of the mountains, where they frequently appear to the lonely traveller, clothed in green, with dishevelled hair floating over their shoulders, and with faces more blooming than the vermeil blush of a summer evening. At night, in particular, when fancy assimilates to its own preconceived ideas every appearance and every sound, the wandering enthusiast is frequently entertained by their music, more melodious than he ever heard. It is curious to observe how much this agreeable delusion corresponds with the superstitious opinion of the Romans concerning the same class of genii represented under different names. Lucretius, an acute philosopher, brilliant poet, and most accomplished disciple of Zeno, after describing the predisposing causes of echoes, sums up their effects on uncultivated minds in the following beautiful lines:—
"Sex etiam, aut septem loca vidi reddere voces.
Unam cùm jaceres: ita colles collibus ipsis
Verba repulsantes iterabant dicta referre.
Hæc loca capripedes Satyros, Nymphasque tenere
Finitimi fingunt, et Faunos esse loquuntur:
Quorum noctivago strepitu, ludoque jocanti
Adfirmant volgo taciturna silentia rumpi,
Chordarumque sonos fieri, dulceisque querelas,
Tibia quas fundit, digitis pulsata canentum:
Et genus agricolûm latè sentiscere, cùm Pan
Pinea semiferi capitis velamina quassans,
Unco sæpè labro calamos percurrit hianteis,
Fistula sylvestrem ne cesset fundere Musam.
Cætera de genere hoc monstra, ac portenta loquuntur,
Ne loca deserta ab Divis quoque fortè putentur
Sola tenere: idèo jactant miracula dictis:
Aut aliquâ ratione aliâ dicuntur, ut omne
Humanum genus est avidum nimis auricularum."[B]