“In about a fortnight thereafter, having occasion for a few barrels more, they returned to Glenlivat, taking the child along with them, which, however, they concealed on arriving at the father’s house. In the course of mutual inquiries for each other’s welfare, the goodwife took occasion to lament very bitterly a severe and protracted illness which seized her child on the night of their preceding visit, the nature of which illness could not be ascertained, but, at all events, certain death was the consequence to the child. During this lamentation, the impostor uttered the most piteous cries, and appeared in the last stage of his sufferings; upon this, the lads, without any preliminary remarks, produced their little charge, telling the mother to take courage, that they now presented her with her real child, as healthy and thriving as a trout, and that the object of her great solicitude was nothing more than a barefaced fairy impostor. A short statement of facts induced the happy mother to agree to an exchange, she receiving back her child, and the lads the stock or impostor, to whom his new proprietors proceeded to administer a warm specific commonly given to his kin on similar occasions. They procured an old creel and a bunch of straw, in order to try the effects the burning element would have in curing him of his grievous complaints. But at the appearance of those articles, the stock took the hint, and not choosing to wait a trial of its effects, flew out at the smoke-hole, telling the exulting spectators, on attaining the top of the ‘Lum,’ that, had it not been for the unfortunate arrival of the two travellers, he should have given the inmates very different entertainment.”
When we reflect upon the extreme covetousness manifested by the fairies for human children, the frequent instances of their embezzlement, and, on the other hand, the ease and simplicity by which these robberies can be foiled, we feel persuaded neither mother nor nurse will now neglect the safeguards prescribed for the preservation of children from such practices. It is universally allowed by people conversant in those important matters, that suspending the child’s head downwards, on its being dressed in the morning, is an excellent preservative from every species of supernatural agency, and this is certainly a cheap and simple process. A red thread tied about its neck, or a rowan cross, are said to be equally efficacious in preventing the influence of evil spirits, evil eyes, and other calamities of the same description.
But as it is natural to suppose that those precautions will still be sometimes neglected, as they have always too often been, it is fortunate that a remedy has been discovered for those desperate cases, where repentance for past imprudence would not avail. When a child has actually been stolen, and a stock or substitute left in its stead, the child may be recovered in the following manner:—Let the stock be carried to the junction of three shires, or the confluence of three rivers, where it is to be left for the night; and it is a certain fact, that if the child has been stolen by the fairies, they must, in the course of the night, return the genuine offspring, and take away the spurious one.[C]
But children are not the only objects of their envy. They are equally covetous of pregnant females at a certain juncture, when they embrace every opportunity of securing them, well knowing that, by such acquisitions, they obtain a double bargain. The process of stealing women is the same as that of stealing children, only their ranges in quest of such prizes are much more extensive, as the following story will show:
“There was once a courageous clever man, of the name of John Roy, who lived in Glenbrown, in the parish of Abernethy. One night, as John Roy was out traversing the hills for his cattle, he happened to fall in with a fairy banditti, whose manner of travelling indicated that they carried along with them some booty. Recollecting an old, and, it seems, a faithful saying, that the fairies are obliged to exchange any booty they may possess for any return, however unequal in value, on being challenged to that effect, John Roy took off his bonnet, and threw it towards them, demanding a fair exchange in the emphatic Gaelic phrase, Sluis sho slumus Sheen.[D] It was, no doubt, an unprofitable barter for the fairies. They, however, it would appear, had no other alternative but to comply with John Roy’s demand; and in room of the bonnet, they abandoned the burden, which turned out to be nothing more nor less than a fine fresh lady, who, from her dress and language, appeared to be a Sasonach. With great humanity, John Roy conducted the unfortunate lady to his house, where she was treated with the utmost tenderness for several years; and the endearing attentions paid to her by John and his family won so much her affections as to render her soon happy in her lot. Her habits became gradually assimilated to those of her new society; and the Saxon lady was no longer viewed in any other character than as a member of John Roy’s family.
“It happened, however, in the course of time, that the new king found it necessary to make the great roads through those countries by means of soldiers, for the purpose of letting coaches and carriages pass to the northern cities; and those soldiers had officers and commanders in the same way as our fighting army have now. Those soldiers were never great favourites in these countries, particularly during the time that our own kings were alive; and, consequently, it was no easy matter for them, either officers or men, to procure for themselves comfortable quarters. But John Roy forgot the national animosity of his countrymen to the Cotton Darg (red coat), when the latter appealed to his generosity as an individual; and he, accordingly, did not hesitate to offer an asylum under his roof to a Saxon captain and his son, who commanded a party employed in his immediate neighbourhood. His offer was thankfully accepted of, and while the strangers were highly delighted at the cleanliness and economy of the house and family of their host, the latter was quite satisfied with the frankness and urbanity of manners displayed by his guests. One thing, however, caused some feelings of uneasiness to John Roy, and that was the extreme curiosity manifested by them, whenever they were in the company or presence of his English foundling, on whom their eyes were continually rivetted, as if she were a ghost or a fairy. On one occasion, it happened that the captain’s son lapsed into a state of the profoundest meditation, gazing upon this lady with silent emotion. ‘My son,’ says the captain, his father, ‘tell me what is the cause of your deep meditation?’—‘Father,’ replies the sweet youth, ‘I think on the days that are gone; and of my dearest mother, who is now no more. I have been led into those reflections by the appearance of that lady who is now before me. Oh, father! does she not strikingly resemble the late partner of your heart; she for whom you so often mourn in secret?’—‘Indeed, my son,’ replied the father, ‘the resemblance has frequently recurred to me too forcibly. Never were twin sisters more like; and, were not the thing impossible, I should even say she was my dearest departed wife;’—pronouncing her name as he spoke, and also the names of characters nearly connected to both parties. Attracted by the mention of her real name, which she had not heard repeated for a number of years before, and attracted still more by the nature of their conversation, the lady, on strict examination of the appearance of the strangers, instantly recognised her tender husband and darling son. Natural instinct could be no longer restrained. She threw herself upon her husband’s bosom; and Ossian, the son of Fingal, could not describe in adequate terms the transports of joy that prevailed at the meeting. Suffice it to say, that the Saxon lady was again restored to her affectionate husband, pure and unblemished as when he lost her, and John Roy gratified by the only reward he would accept of—the pleasure of doing good.”
From the sequel of the story, it appears that some of the hordes of fairies, inhabiting the “Shian of Coir-laggack,” found it convenient, for purposes which may be easily guessed at, to take a trip to the south of England, and made no scruple to kidnap this lady in the absence of her husband, and on the occasion of her accouchement. A stock was, of course, deposited in her stead—which, of course, died in a few days after—and which, of course, was interred in the full persuasion of its being the lady in question, with all the splendour which her merits deserved. Thus would the perfidious fairies have enjoyed the fruits of their cunning, without even a suspicion of their knavery, were it not for the “cleverness and generosity of John Roy, who once lived in Glenbrown.”
The natural passions, lusts, and covetousness of which we have now shown the fairies to be possessed, are not, however, our only grounds for calling in question the fitness of their title to angelic nature and attributes. For it will be seen, from some traits in their character about to be detailed, that their appetites are as keen and voluptuous as their inclinations are corrupt and wicked. Our readers would be apt to believe, from the first outline of their character, that they were an amiable, harmless race of people, strictly honest, and given entirely to innocent amusements. But it is a fact too well known, that many of them are employed in very different avocations from mirth and dancing; for, to repeat an old Scottish proverb, “if a’ tales be true,” thieving and blackguarding occupy fully as much of their time as mirth and dancing. And what is still worse, it is much suspected that their proneness to theft and knavery is not so much the effect of necessity, as it is the effect of wanton depravity. However base and degrading in the eyes of society appears the thief, even when his deviation from honesty is the result of sheer necessity, he appears infinitely more so when he is solely led to the commission of crimes from wanton levity. Hence the indignation which a worthy man feels, whenever those pilfering depredators embezzle the fruits of his honest industry. The whirlwind is not the alone engine of robbery to which the fairies resort; they recur to others of a more direct and ruinous character; while the loser, from the speciousness of their artifices, is seldom conscious of the true cause of his loss. In order to expose the wantonness of such pillage as they will be shown to be guilty of, we need only call our reader’s attention to the extent of the indisputable perquisites which they derive from fire and other calamities incident to the estate of man, many of which calamities, we are told, are accomplished by their agency. As, however, we would not readily accuse them of crimes so atrocious, without some foundation, we submit the following particulars to the judgment of our readers, leaving them to draw their own inferences.
“One day a fairy woman, residing in the turrets of Craig-Aulnaic, called on one of the tenants’ wives in Delnabo, in her neighbourhood, and requested of her the loan of a firlot of oatmeal for meat to her family, promising she would return it in a very short time, as she herself hourly expected a considerable supply. Not choosing, for so small a trifle, to incur the fairy’s displeasure, the tenant’s wife complied with her request, from the same motives as if she had been the exciseman. After regaling the fairy with a dram and bread and cheese, as is the custom of the country, she went out to give her the customary convoy. On ascending the eminence above the town, the ‘Benshi’ paused, and, with apparent exultation, told the tenant’s wife that she might take her meal home with her, as she herself was now supplied as she expected. The woman, without putting any impertinent questions to the lady as to the source whence her supply proceeded, cheerfully agreed to receive back her meal, and took leave of her visitor. She was not a little surprised, however, to observe, in a few minutes thereafter, the corn-kiln of an adjacent farm in total conflagration, with all its contents.”
Over and above this, all liquids spilled on the ground are supposed to go to their use; and there are some people even so charitable as purposely to reserve for their participation a share of the best they possess. It is not unlikely that such generous actions were in some degree influenced by such returns as the following:—