Chapter 4

“Most of the gentlemen and ladies began to frown upon him, and murmur against him, as he walked to the lady of the house and begged her to give him some food, but she replied:

“‘Oh, thou spendthrift! thou fool of fools! if all fools were hanged, as they ought to be, you’d be the first.’

“Then the beggar’s countenance changed, a deep flush of anger overspread his features, and drawing himself up to his full height, he said, with solemn voice, addressing the host:

“‘Thou hast robbed my father all the days of his life, and thou hast robbed the orphan. May the curse of God be upon you!’

“The host grew furious; then he looked ashamed, and shouted angrily:

“‘Bring me £40,000, and you shall have your estate back. I never robbed you, but you lost your inheritance by your own follies.’

“‘Gentlemen,’ said the beggar, ‘I take you all to witness that this thief says I can have my estate back for £40,000.’

“The people murmured, and the three friends said: ‘We are witnesses.’

“The beggar ran out into the night, and returned with a man laden with sacks, and they began to count out £40,000 upon a side-table, where a haunch of venison still smoked.

“When they had counted out the money, the beggar said:

“‘There is your £40,000; sign this receipt.’

“The amazed factor drew back, when the three friends said:

“‘You must sign; you are a gentleman of your word, of course.’

“Mechanically John o’ Scales signed the paper.

“‘And now,’ said the former beggar, ‘leave my house at once, with your wife--you coward! you cur! You robbed my father, and then cheated me when I was a spendthrift. Begone, and may your name be accursed in the land!’

“And the son turned all out except his three friends.

“In a few months he married the daughter of one of his friends; but he never gambled again, only entertaining his three friends and their families, who came and went as they liked.

“And from that day John o’ Scales was called John o’ Groats.”

EVA’S LUCK.

As black-eyed, black-haired Eva Sauvet was walking one day in Jersey she saw a lozenge-marked snake, whereupon she ran away frightened.

When she got home and told her mother, the old woman said:

“Well, child, next time you see the snake give it your handkerchief.”

The next day Eva went out with beating heart, and ere long she saw the snake come gliding out from the bushes, so she threw down her handkerchief, for she was too frightened to hand it to the snake.

The snake’s eyes gleamed and twinkled, and taking the handkerchief into his fangs, he made off to an old ruin, whither Eva followed.

But when they got to the ruin the snake disappeared, and Eva ran home to tell her mother.

Next day, Père Sauvet and some men went to the ruin, where Eva showed the hole where the snake had disappeared.

Old Père Sauvet lit a fire, and smoked the snake out, killing it with a stick as it glided over the stones.

After that they dug out the hole, when they found the handkerchief. Digging still further along, they came upon a hollow place, at the bottom of which they found a lot of gold.

THE FISHERMEN OF SHETLAND.

There was a snug little cove in one of the Shetland Islands. At the head of the cove stood a fishing hamlet, containing some twenty huts. In these huts lived the fisher-folk, ruled by one man--the chief--who was the father of two beautiful daughters.

Now these fishermen for some years had been very lucky, for a fairy queen and her fairies had settled there, and she had given her power over to a merman, who was the chief of a large family of mermaids. The fairy queen had made the merman a belt of sea-weed, which he always wore round his body. The merman used to turn the water red, green, and white, at noon each day, so that the fishermen knew that if they cast their nets into the coloured waters they would make good hauls.

Amongst these fishermen were two brave brothers, who courted the chief’s daughters, but the old man would not let them get married until they became rich men.

Whenever the fishermen went off in the boats the merman was used to sit on a rock, and watch them fishing.

Close by the hamlet was a great wood, in which lived a wicked old witch and a dwarf.

Now this witch wished to get possession of the merman’s belt, and so gain the fairy’s power. Telling her scheme to the dwarf, she said to him:

“Now you must trap the merman when he is sitting on the rocks watching the fishing fleet. But I must change you into a bee, when you must suck of the juice in this magic basin, then fly off and alight on the merman’s head, when he will fall asleep.”

So the dwarf agreed, and it happened as she had said; and the merman fell asleep, and the dwarf stole the belt and brought it to the witch.

“Now you must wear the belt,” said the witch to the dwarf, “and you will have the power and the fairy will lose her power.”

They then translated the sleeping merman to the forest and laid him before the hut, when the witch got a copper vessel, saying:

“We must bury him in this.”

Then she got the magic pot, and told the dwarf to take a ladleful of the fluid in the pot, and pour it over the merman, which he did, and immediately the merman turned into smoke, that settled in the copper vessel. Then they sealed the copper vessel tightly.

“Now take this vessel, and heave it into the sea fifty miles from the land,” said the witch, and the dwarf did as he was bid.

“Now we’ll starve those old fishermen out this winter,” said the witch; and it happened as she had said--they could catch nothing.

In the spring the queen fairy came to one of the young fishermen who was courting one of the chief’s daughters, and said:

“You must venture for the sake of your love, and for the lives of the fishermen, or you will all starve--but I will be with you. Will you run the risk?”

“I will,” said the brave fisherman.

“Well, the dwarf has got my belt, he stole it from the merman, and so I have lost power over the world for twelve months and a day; but if you get back the belt I can settle the witch; if not, you will all starve and catch no fish.”

So the bold fisherman agreed to try.

“Now I must transform you into a bear, and you’ll have to watch the witch and the dwarf, and take your chance of getting the belt; and you must watch where he hides his treasure, for he is using the belt as a means to get gold, which he hides in a cave.”

And so the sailor was turned into a bear, and he went to the wood and watched the dwarf, and saw that he hid his treasure in a cave in some crags.

The bear had been given the power of making himself invisible, by sitting on his haunches and rubbing his ears with his paws.

One night, when it was very boisterous, the bear felt like going to see his sweetheart. So he went, and knocked at the door. The girl opened the door, and shrieked when she saw the bear.

“Oh, let him in,” said her old mother.

So the bear came in and asked for shelter from the storm, for he could speak.

And he went and sat by the fire, and asked his sweetheart to brush the snow from his coat, which she did.

“I won’t do you any harm,” he said; “let me sleep by the fire.”

He came again the next night, and they gave him some gruel, and played with him; for he was just like a dog.

So he came every night until the springtime, when, one morning, as he was going away, he said:

“You mustn’t expect me any more. Spring has come, and the snows have melted. I can’t come again till the summer is over.”

So he returned to the wood and watched the dwarf, but he could never catch him without his belt, until one day he saw him fishing for salmon without the belt, and at the same time his sweetheart and her sister came by picking flowers.

So the bear went up to the dwarf, and the dwarf, when he saw him coming, said:

“Ah! good bear! good bear! let me go. These two girls will be a more dainty morsel for you.”

But the bear smote him with his paw and killed him, and immediately the bear was turned into his former self, and the girls ran up and kissed him, and talked.

Then he took the two girls to the dwarf’s cave, and gave each of them a bag of treasure, keeping one for himself. And taking the belt, he put it on, and they all walked back to the hamlet, when he told the fishermen that their troubles would soon be over--but that he must kill the witch first.

Then he turned the belt three times, and said:

“I wish for the queen fairy.”

And she came, and was delighted, and said: “Now you must come and slay the witch,” and she handed him a bow and arrow, telling him to use it right and tight when he got to the hut.

So he went off to the wood, and found the witch in her hut, and she begged for mercy.

“Oh no, you have done too much mischief,” he said, and he shot her.

Then the queen fairy appeared, and sent him to gather dry wood to make a fire. When the fire was made she sent him to fetch the witch’s wand, which she cast into the flames, saying:

“Now, mark my word, all the devils of hell will be here.”

And when the wand began to burn all the devils came and tried to snatch it from the fire, but the queen raised her wand, saying:

“Through this powerful wand that I hold in my hand, Through this bow and arrow I have caused her to be slain, That she may leave our domain. Now take her up high into the sky, And let her burst asunder as a clap of thunder. Then take her to hell and there let her dwell, To all eternity.”

And the wand was burnt, and the devils carried the witch off in a noise like thunder.

The twelve months were up on that day, and the fairy said to the fisherman:

“Take your chief and your brother, and put out to sea half-a-mile, where you’ll see a red spot, bright as the sun on the water; cast in your net on the sea-side of the spot, and pull to the shore.”

They did as the queen commanded, and when they pulled the net on the shore they found the copper vessel.

“Now open it,” said the queen to the fisherman with the belt, “but cover your belt with your coat first.”

And he did so, and when he opened the copper a ball of smoke rose into the air, and suddenly the merman stood before them, and said:

“The first four months that I was in prison, I swore I’d make the man as rich as a king, The man who released me. But there was no release, no release, no release.

The second four months that I was in prison, I swore I’d make the water run red, But there was no release, no release, no release.

The last four months that I was in prison, I swore in my wrath I’d take my deliverer’s life, Whoever he might be.”

Whereupon the fisherman opened his coat and showed him the belt. Then the merman immediately cooled down, and said:

“Oh, that’s how I came into this trouble.”

Then he asked the fisherman with the belt what had happened, and he told him the whole story.

Then the queen told the fisherman to take the girdle off and put it back on the merman, and he did so; and suddenly the merman took to the sea, and began to sing from a rock:

_“As I sit upon the rock, I am like a statue block, And I straighten my hair, That is so long and fair. And now my eyes look bright, For I am in great delight, Because I am free in glee, To roam over the sea.”_

After that the hamlet was joyful again, for the fishermen began to catch plenty of fish; for the merman showed them where to cast their nets, by colouring the water as of old.

And the two brothers married the chief’s two beautiful daughters, and they lived happily ever afterwards.

THE PASTOR’S NURSE.

Mon père était très jeune encore quand il est entré au saint ministère et qu’il fut nommé pasteur à Hambach, village de la Lorraine. L’endroit était assez grand, mais de peu de ressources, et il était heureux de trouver quelqu’un qui, dans son inexpérience et loin de sa famille, fut capable de lui aider à fonder sa maison, selon les usages et les traditions d’un bon presbytère.

C’est Madame Catherine Reeb, personne d’un âge mûr, dont le mari avait été instituteur, mais qui d’une nature mécontente et orgueilleuse, se croyait au-dessus de sa sphère, et faisait sentir à sa pauvre femme, qui l’aimait d’un dévouement admirable, toutes les tortures que l’égoïsme peut inventer. Elle se donna à peine le nécessaire pour procurer à son seigneur et mâitre tous les soins que sa supériorité imaginaire pouvait exiger, et pourtant il ne fut jamais content, et un beau jour disparut, sans qu’on pût retrouver ses traces. La pauvre Catherine fut inconsolable, mais ne perdit pas l’espoir qu’un jour son mari ne revînt, chargé de tous les honneurs, qu’elle aussi, bonne âme crédule, lui croyait dûs.

C’est dans ces conditions qu’elle vint tenir le ménage de mon père, elle le fit avec beaucoup de tact et de douceur, mais tout en elle respirait la tristesse, l’abandon. Quand, après quelques années, mon père se maria, Catherine continua son activité dans la maison, mais avec son bon sens naturel, en référa la responsabilité à sa jeune maîtresse, qu’elle aimait beaucoup.

Ma mère chercha par bien des moyens à la distraire de son chagrin. Elle devint plus gaie, quand elle nous raconta des histoires et fit des jeux avec nous. Nos parents se faisaient un plaisir de l’observer parfois quand elle ne s’endouta pas, se disant: “Voilà ce qu’il fallait à notre vieille Catherine, ce sont les enfants qui lui ont porté l’oubli.”

Mais cela ne devait pas durer bien longtemps. Elle redevint peu à peu silencieuse, et ses profonds soupirs ne prouvèrent que trop que l’oubli du triste passé n’était qu’à la surfaçe; ses manières taciturnes et les manifestations d’une secrète inquiétude commençaient même à troubler mes parents, et mon père essaya par beaucoup de bonté à la persuader d’accepter les épreuves de sa vie comme venant de Dieu. Elle pleura beaucoup et s’efforça de se gagner un peu de calme, mais sans fruit.

Un beau jour elle vint trouver mon père et lui dit: “Mon cher maître, aidez-moi a exécuter mon projet, et surtout n’essayez pas de m’en dissuader. Je suis décidée à aller à la recherche de mon mari; je sais qu’il a besoin de moi, il m’appelle, et je vais partir. Procurez-moi les papiers et certificats nècessaires à cette entreprise, afin que je ne sois pas inquiétée par le police. J’irai où mes pieds me conduiront, je ne sais où je le retrouverai, mais je sais que je le reverrai. Je marcherai de jour, et de nuit je me logerai dans une auberge ou une ferme, et je vous donnerai de mes nouvelles.”

Mon père voyait qu’il ne pouvait ébranler sa résolution, fit ce qu’elle lui demanda, pourvoyant tant que possible aux besoins de la route, et c’est le coeur gros de sinistres présages que mes parents virent partir leur bonne et fidèle servante. Quand je lui dis: “Tu ne nous aimes donc plus, puisque tu pars?” elle m’embrassa en pleurant, et dit, “Je reviendrai!” Il y avait alors vingt ans depuis la disparition de son mari, pendant lesquel elle avait soigneusement entretenu son ménage dans une petite maison qui lui, appartenait.

Elle partit donc, ainsi qu’elle l’avait dit; marchant de jour et se reposant de nuit, se dirigeant vers la Prusse.

Elle fut absente sans que nous eussions de ses nouvelles pendant au-delà d’un mois quand un jour le facteur apporte une lettre à mon père de la part d’un collègue inconnu d’un village de la Prusse, qui lui dit: “Une femme de respectable apparence, munie de certificats identifiant ses dires, est venue me prier de procéder à l’humation de son mari qu’elle a trouvé mort dans un bois du village voisin. L’autorité municipale a comparé les papiers trouvés dans les poches de l’inconnu et a constaté qu’ils sont en rapport avec ceux que la femme Reeb porte sur elle, et sur ce fait, et voyant que l’homme était mort sans violence, a laissé ses restes à elle qui se dit sa veuve et qui lui a rendu les derniers honneurs au cimetière de notre village.”

Inutile de décrire la surprise de mes parents à la reception de cette lettre, qui fut bientôt suivie par le retour de Catherine. Elle compléta le récit du pasteur en disant qu’un matin en sortant de ce village, elle alla trouver un petit bois, quand elle vit au bord du chemin un homme étendu mort, mais qui venait seulement de cesser de vivre. Elle le regarda, l’examina et reconnut son mari; il lui parut évident qu’il faisait son retour vers la patrie et elle, mais que la mort l’avait surpris en route. Catherine fut bien plus calme après ces événements, mais ses forces déclinèrent et dans la même année on creusa pour elle une tombe au cimetière de Hambach. Elle n’avait plus de famille que celle qu’elle avait si fidèlement servie, et les larmes de deux jeunes enfants prouvèrent que quoique abandonnée elle avait été aimée.

NOTES.

(1) THE FAIRIES OF CARAGONAN.

Source: This story came from a Welsh pedlar--a woman. Its genuineness may be relied upon. I find it a common belief that fairies have power over witches, and the witch-hare is commonly believed in; also a witch-fox. I have heard of no evil fairies in Wales; all the mischief seems to be the work of witches. I have heard several variants of the witch-hare.

(2) THE CRAIG-Y-DON BLACKSMITH.

This story I have heard from four different persons.

(3) OLD GWILYM.

Source: This story came from an old Welshman who says he knew Gwilym, and heard the story from his lips. The narrator may be relied upon.

(4) THE BABY-FARMER.

Same source.

(5) THE OLD MAN AND THE FAIRIES.

Same source as 2. In Wales, so far as I have heard, the disappointed always find _cockle-shells_.

(6) TOMMY PRITCHARD.

Same source as 2.

(7) KADDY’S LUCK.

Same source as 2.

(8) STORY OF GELERT.

As told by an old fisherman. The variant of this well-known story may prove useful. Borrow’s “tent” theory is, I think, an invention of his own. I was fortunate enough to get possession of an old book (without title-page, title, or author’s name), in which the following remarks on this story occur:--

“Some say this should be written Bedd Gelert, or Gilert, signifying Gelert’s, or Gilert’s Grave. To this name is annexed a traditional story, which it is hardly worth while to mention. However, the substance of the tradition is, that Prince Llewelyn ap Iorwerth, in a fit of passion, killed a favourite greyhound in this place, named Gelert, or Gilert, and that, repenting of the deed, he caused a tomb to be erected over his grave, where afterwards the parish church was built. See the story at large in Mr. Edw. Jones’s _Welsh Music_. But we may reasonably conclude that this is all a fable, both when we consider the impiety of building a church for divine worship over the grave of a dog, an impiety not consistent with the genius of that age; and when we consider, also, that the establishment of parochial cures, and the building of our country churches in Wales, began soon after the dispersion of the British clergy, which happened at the time of the massacre at Bangor Iscoed, A.D. 603, at the instigation of Augustine the Monk, employed for that purpose by the See of Rome. Llewelyn ap Iorwerth governed Wales from A.D. 1194 to 1240, when he died; so that parish churches were built between five and six hundred years before the time of this prince.

“This Gelert, or Gilert, must, in all probability, have been some old monk or saint of that name, who was interred here, and was either the first founder of this church, or one to whose memory it was dedicated, if built after his time. Bethgelert, before the Reformation, was a priory. Lewis Dwnn, a bard of the fifteenth century, in a poem (the purport of which is to solicit David, the Prior of Bethgelert, to bestow on John Wynne, of Gwydwr, Esq., a fine bay horse which he possessed) extols the Prior for his liberality and learning. Hence we are led to suppose that this monk was very opulent, and a popular character in his time.”

The stories of a hunter killing his favourite greyhound (always a greyhound) are common to many districts. The book quoted is said to be written by a Mr. Williams, in 1800.

(9) ORIGIN OF THE WELSH.

Source: An old seaman, who avers he heard it on a ship, on the way home from Calcutta. I look with suspicion on the story. However, the Welsh always believed they were descended from the Trojans, and the author of the book cited says on this point:--

“Elen was a very common name among the ancient British ladies, and it seems to have been often bestowed out of compliment upon genteel and beautiful women; as we sometimes hear at this day _Ei Elen O--his Elen_ when a man has a young and beautiful wife; and there is hardly a love-song but the woman is called or compared in it to the Trojan Helena, or Elen, as the Welsh write and pronounce the word. The Welsh have had amongst them, time out of mind, a tradition that the first colony of Bretons came to these islands from Troy after the destruction of that city.”

(10) THE STORY OF THE CROWS.

Source: Told me by an old man, who knew the defunct.

(11) ROBERTS AND THE FAIRIES.

Source: Told me by another old man, and I believe it to be genuine.

There is another story of the same kind, of a man who was searching for treasure in Beaumaris Castle, and after he had told of his luck a stone fell on him, so that he had to go away.

(12) THE QUEEN OF THE DELL.

Came from the same old pedlar as No. 1. A genuine story. The narrator says you seldom hear a fairy story in Anglesea unless there is a witch in it.

(13) ELLEN’S LUCK.

Source: Told me by the same old man as No. 11. I believe it to be genuine, and the narrator trustworthy.

(14) THE PELLINGS.

Source: Taken _verbatim_ from the old book referred to. In the context the author says these people inhabited the districts about the foot of Snowdon, and were known by the nickname of Pellings, which is not yet extinct; and he says they tell the tale as given. After telling the story, which he entitles a fairy story, he makes the following suggestive comments:--

“Before the Reformation, when the Christian world was enveloped in Popish darkness and superstition, when the existence of fairies and other spectres was not questioned, and when such a swarm of idle people, under the names of minstrels, poets, begging friars, etc., were permitted to ramble about, it may be supposed that these vagrants had amongst themselves some kind of rule or government, if I may so term it, as we are assured those that now-a-days go under the name of gypsies have. Such people might, at appointed times on fine moonlight nights, assemble in some sequestered spot, to regulate their dark affairs and divide the spoil; and then perform their nightly _orgies_, so as to terrify people from coming near them, lest their tricks and cheats should be discovered. It is possible the men of Ystrad might have less superstition, and somewhat more courage, than their neighbours, and supposing such a one to come suddenly on these nightly revellers, he would of course cause great consternation amongst them; and, on finding a comely female in the group, it is not unnatural to imagine that he might, as the heroes of old have done before him, seize on a beauteous Helen, carry her home, and in process of time marry her--for many valorous knights have done the latter; but she, on account of some domestic jars, might afterwards have eloped from him, and returned to her former companions and occupation.”

The author makes the following remarks in a foot-note:--

“The English writers of romances feign the fairies to be of a smaller size than even the fabled pigmies; the Welsh people ever supposed them to be of the same stature with mankind. Shakespeare describes his fairy as less than a mite, riding through people’s brains to make the chase. This has not been my experience. I have had them described to me of all sizes, varying from a woman to little people two feet high. They have been described, when large, as dressed like ordinary ladies, when small, with short dresses; no hats, and hair in a plaited pigtail down the back.”

Finally, the writer says: