Hogg.
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN AND GENEALOGY OF THE FAIRIES.
Though the ghost is confessedly entitled to no small degree of consideration from his intimate connection with our own species, no one will pretend to deny that the fairy is a character whose greatness of descent renders him equally interesting and respectable. The genealogy of the ghost can no doubt be traced back to the earliest ages of the world, and it is pretty certain that he has been amongst the first of its inhabitants; still, on the score of antiquity, he cannot pretend to compete with the fairy, who, it seems, existed long before the world itself. The origin and descent of the fairies, which had so long proved such knotty subjects of controversy in other quarters of the kingdom, are points which have been finally settled and disposed of in these countries. No doubt now remains, in the minds of those who have bestowed any attention on the important subject, of there being those unhappy angels whose diabolical deeds produced their expulsion from Paradise. In support of this rational theory, the wise men of the day never fail to quote the highest authority. Scripture, they say, tells us those angels were cast down; and although, indeed, it does not mention to what place, sad experience proves the fact, that the Highland mountains received an ample share of them. Here, wandering up and down, like the hordes of Tartary, they pitch their camp where spoil is most plentiful; and taking advantage of the obstinate incredulity of some of their human neighbours, contrive to make themselves perfectly comfortable at the latter’s expense. To dispel any doubt that may remain on the mind of the reader as to the soundness of this doctrine, we present him with the following particulars:
“Not long since, as a pious clergyman was returning home, after administering spiritual consolation to a dying member of his flock, it was late of the night, and he had to pass through a good deal of uncanny ground. He was, however, a good and conscientious minister of the gospel, and feared not all the spirits in the country. On his reaching the end of a lake which stretched alongst the road-side for some distance, he was a good deal surprised to have his attention arrested by the most melodious strains of music. Overcome by pleasure and curiosity, the minister coolly sat down to listen to the harmonious sounds, and try what new discoveries he could make with regard to their nature and source. He had not sitten many minutes when he could distinguish the approach of the music, and also observe a light in the direction from whence it proceeded, gliding across the lake towards him. Instead of taking to his heels, as any faithless wight would have done, the pastor, fearless, determined to await the issue of the phenomenon. As the light and music drew near, the clergyman could at length distinguish an object resembling a human being walking on the surface of the water, attended by a group of diminutive musicians, some of them bearing lights, and others of them instruments of music, on which they continued to perform those melodious strains which first attracted his attention. The leader of the band dismissed his attendants, landed on the beach, and afforded the minister the amplest opportunities of examining his appearance. He was a little primitive-looking grey-headed man, clad in the most grotesque habit he ever witnessed, and such as led the venerable minister all at once to suspect his real character. He walked up to the minister, whom he saluted with great grace, offering an apology for his intrusion. The pastor returned his compliments, and, without farther explanation, invited the mysterious stranger to sit down by his side. The invitation was complied with, upon which the minister proposed the following question: ‘Who art thou, stranger, and from whence?’ To this question the fairy, with downcast eye, replied, that he was one of those sometimes called ‘Doane Shee, or men of peace, or good men, though the reverse of this title was a more fit appellation for them. Originally angelic in his nature and attributes, and once a sharer of the indescribable joys of the regions of light, he was seduced by Satan to join him in his mad conspiracies; and as a punishment for his transgression, he was cast down from those regions of bliss, and was now doomed, along with millions of fellow-sufferers, to wander through seas and mountains, until the coming of the great day; what their fate would be then they could not divine, but they apprehended the worst. And,’ continued he, turning to the minister, with great anxiety, ‘the object of my present intrusion on you is to learn your opinion, as an eminent divine, as to our final condition on that dreadful day.’ Here the venerable pastor entered upon a long conversation with the fairy, (the particulars of which we shall be excused for omitting,) touching the principles of faith and repentance. Receiving rather unsatisfactory answers to his questions, the minister desired the ‘Sheech’ to repeat after him the Paternoster; in attempting to do which, it was not a little remarkable that he could not repeat the word ‘art,’ but ‘wert,’ in heaven. Inferring from every circumstance that their fate was extremely precarious, the minister resolved not to puff the fairies up with presumptuous and perhaps groundless expectations. Accordingly, addressing himself to the unhappy fairy, who was all anxiety to know the nature of his sentiments, the reverend gentleman told him that he could not take it upon him to give them any hopes of pardon, as their crime was of so deep a hue as scarcely to admit of it. On this the unhappy fairy uttered a shriek of despair, plunged headlong into the loch, and the minister resumed his course to his home.”
CHAPTER II.
SIMILITUDE OF THE FAIRY.
Of all the different species of supernatural tribes which inhabit those countries, none of them could ever vie with the fairy community for personal elegance. Indeed, this seems to be the only remaining vestige they possess of their primitive character. Though generally low in stature, they are exceedingly well proportioned, and prepossessing in their persons. The females, in particular, are said to be the most enchanting beings in the world, and far beyond what the liveliest fancy can paint. Eyes sparkling as the brightest of the stars, or the polished gem of Cairngorm,—cheeks in which the whiteness of the snow and red of the reddan are blended with the softness of the Cannoch down,—lips like the coral, and teeth like the ivory,—a redundant luxuriance of auburn hair hanging down the shoulders in lovely ringlets, and a gainly simplicity of dress, always of the colour of green, are prominent features in the description of a Highland fairy nymph.
But while we agree in some measure with our fellow historians who have described the fairy race as they exist in other quarters of the country, in so far as regards their personal beauty, we widely differ from those historians as to the splendour of their dress as exhibited in the character of the Highland fairies. Instead of the gorgeous habiliments of “white and gold dropped with diamonds, and coats of the threads of gold,” which we are told are worn by those more luxurious and refined fairies living within the sphere of splendour and fashion in the Lowlands of Scotland; the Highland fairies, more thrifty and less voluptuous, clothe themselves in plain worsted green, not woven by the “shuttle of Iris,” but by the greasy shuttle of some Highland weaver. This description, let it be understood, however, applies only to the portion of them inhabiting terra firma; for the dress of those whose lot it was to fall in the deep is of a very different nature, consisting entirely of seal-skins, and such other marine apparel as is most suitable and appropriate to their element.
The following story will throw some light upon the manners and habits of this portion of the fairy tribes.
There was once upon a time a man who lived on the northern coasts, not far from “Taigh Jan Crot Callow,”[B] and he gained his livelihood by catching and killing fish, of all sizes and denominations. He had a particular liking to the killing of those wonderful beasts, half dog half fish, called “Roane,” or Seals, no doubt because he got a long price for their skins, which are not less curious than they are valuable. The truth is, that most of these animals are neither dogs nor cods, but downright fairies, as this narration will show; and, indeed, it is easy for any man to convince himself of the fact by a simple examination of his tobacco-spluichdan,—for the dead skins of those beings are never the same for four-and-twenty hours together. Sometimes the “spluichdan” will erect its bristles almost perpendicularly, while, at other times, it reclines them even down; one time it resembles a bristly sow, at another time a sleekit cat; and what dead skin, except itself, could perform such cantrips? Now, it happened one day, as this notable fisher had returned from the prosecution of his calling, that he was called upon by a man who seemed a great stranger, and who said he had been dispatched for him by a person who wished to contract for a quantity of seal-skins, and that it was necessary for the fisher to accompany him (the stranger) immediately to see the person who wished to contract for the skins, as it was necessary that he should be served that evening. Happy in the prospect of making a good bargain, and never suspecting any duplicity in the stranger, he instantly complied. They both mounted a steed belonging to the stranger, and took the road with such velocity that, although the direction of the wind was towards their back, yet the fleetness of their movement made it appear as if it had been in their faces. On reaching a stupendous precipice which overhung the sea, his guide told him they had now reached the point of their destination. “Where is the person you spoke of?” inquired the astonished seal-killer. “You shall see that presently,” replied the guide. With that they immediately alighted, and, without allowing the seal-killer much time to indulge the frightful suspicions that began to pervade his mind, the stranger seized him with irresistible force, and plunged headlong with the seal-killer into the sea. After sinking down—down—nobody knows how far, they at length reached a door, which, being open, led them into a range of apartments, filled with inhabitants—not people, but seals, who could nevertheless speak and feel like human folk; and how much was the seal-killer surprised to find that he himself had been unconsciously transformed into the like image! If it were not so, he would probably have died, from the want of breath. The nature of the poor fisher’s thoughts may be more easily conceived than described. Looking on the nature of the quarters into which he was landed, all hopes of escape from them appeared wholly chimerical, whilst the degree of comfort and length of life which the barren scene promised him were far from being flattering. The “Roane,” who all seemed in very low spirits, appeared to feel for him, and endeavoured to soothe the distress which he evinced, by the amplest assurances of personal safety. Involved in sad meditation on his evil fate, he was quickly roused from his stupor, by his guide’s producing a huge gully or joctaleg, the object of which he supposed was to put an end to all his earthly cares. Forlorn as was his situation, however, he did not wish to be killed; and, apprehending instant destruction, he fell down, and earnestly implored for mercy. The poor generous animals did not mean him any harm, however much his former conduct deserved it; and he was accordingly desired to pacify himself, and cease his cries. “Did you ever see that knife before?” says the stranger to the fisher. The latter instantly recognising his own knife, which he had that day stuck into a seal, and with which it made its escape, acknowledged it was formerly his own, for what would be the use of denying it? “Well!” rejoins the guide, “the apparent seal, which made away with it, is my father, who lies dangerously ill ever since, and no means could stay his fleeting breath, without your aid. I have been obliged to resort to the artifice I have practised to bring you hither, and I trust that my filial duty to my father will readily operate my excuse.” Having said this, he led into another apartment the trembling seal-killer, who expected every minute a return of his own favour to the father; and here he found the identical seal, with which he had the encounter in the morning, suffering most grievously from a tremendous cut in its hind-quarter. The seal-killer was then desired, with his hand, to cicatrize the wound; upon doing which, it immediately healed, and the seal arose from its bed in perfect health. Upon this, the scene changed from mourning to rejoicing,—all was mirth and glee. Very different, however, were the feelings of the unfortunate seal-catcher, expecting, no doubt, to be a seal for the remainder of his life, until his late guide accosted him as follows: “Now, sir, you are at liberty to return to your wife and family, to whom I am about to conduct you; but it is on this express condition, to which you must bind yourself by a solemn oath, viz., that you shall never maim or kill a seal in all your lifetime hereafter.” To this condition, hard as it was, he joyfully acceded; and the oath being administered in all due form, he bade his new acquaintance most heartily and sincerely a long farewell. Taking hold of his guide, they issued from the place, and swam up—up—till they regained the surface of the sea; and, landing at the said stupendous pinnacle, they found their former riding steed ready for a second canter. The guide breathed upon the fisher, and they became like men. They mounted their horse; and fleet as was their course towards the precipice or pinnacle, their return from it was doubly swift; and the honest seal-killer was laid down at his own door-cheek, where his guide made him such a present as would have almost reconciled him to another similar expedition, and such as rendered his loss of profession, in so far as regarded the seals, a far less intolerable hardship than he had at first contemplated it.