SOUTHERN EUROPE.

Dilun, Dimeurs, Dimerc'her.Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

Dilun, Dimeurs, Dimerc'her.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

Peric, weary of the monotony, when there was a slight pause at the last word, added

Ha Diriaou, ha Digwener.And Thursday and Friday.

Ha Diriaou, ha Digwener.

And Thursday and Friday.

Mat! mat!(good! good!) cried they, and gathering round him, they offered him his choice of beauty, rank, or riches. He laughed, and only asked them to remove his hump and change the colour of his hair. They forthwith took hold of him and tossed him up into the air, throwing him from hand to hand till at last he lighted on his feet with a flat back and fine long black hair.

When Jean saw and heard of the change he resolved to try whathecould get from the potent Korred, so a few evenings after he went and was admitted to the dance, which now went to the words as enlarged by Peric. To make his addition he shouted out,

Ha Disadarn, ha Disul.And Saturday and Sunday.

Ha Disadarn, ha Disul.

And Saturday and Sunday.

"What more? what more?" cried the Korred, but he only went on repeating the words. They then asked him what he would have, and he replied riches. They tossed him up, and kept bandying him about till he cried for mercy, and on coming to the ground, he found he had got Peric's hump and red hair.

It seems that the Korred were condemned to this continual dancing, which was never to cease till a mortal should join in their dance, and after naming all the days of the week, should add,Ha cetu chu er sizun, "And now the week is ended." They punished Jean for coming so near the end and then disappointing them.[493]

We add the following circumstances from other authorities:

At Carnac, near Quiberon, says M. de Cambry, in the department of Morbihan, on the sea-shore, is the Temple of Carnac, called in Breton "Ti Goriquet" (House of the Gorics), one of the most remarkable Celtic monuments extant. It is composed of more than four thousand large stones, standing erect in an arid plain, where neither tree nor shrub is to be seen, and not even a pebble is to be found in the soil on which they stand. If the inhabitants are asked concerning this wonderful monument, they say it is an old camp of Cæsar's, an army turned into stone, or that it is the work of the Crions or Gorics. These they describe as little men between two and three feet high, who carried these enormous masses on their hands; for, though little, they are stronger than giants. Every night they dance around the stones;and woe betide the traveller who approaches within their reach! he is forced to join in the dance, where he is whirled about till, breathless and exhausted, he falls down, amidst the peals of laughter of the Crions. All vanish with the break of day.[494]

In the ruins of Tresmalouen dwell the Courils.[495]They are of a malignant disposition, but great lovers of dancing. At night they sport around the Druidical monuments. The unfortunate shepherd that approaches them must dance their rounds with them till cock-crow; and the instances are not few of persons thus ensnared who have been found next morning dead with exhaustion and fatigue. Woe also to the ill-fated maiden who draws near the Couril dance! nine months after, the family counts one member more. Yet so great is the power and cunning of these Dwarfs, that the young stranger bears no resemblance to them, but they impart to it the features of some lad of the village.

A number of little men, not more than a foot high, dwell under the castle of Morlaix. They live in holes in the ground, whither they may often be seen going, and beating on basins. They possess great treasures, which they sometimes bring out; and if any one pass by at the time, allow him to take one handful, but no more. Should any one attempt to fill his pockets, the money vanishes, and he is instantly assailed by a shower of boxes in the ear from invisible hands.

The Bretons also say that there are spirits who silently skim the milk-pans in the dairies. They likewise speak of Sand Yan y Tad (St. John and Father), who carry five lights at their finger-ends, which they make spin round and round like a wheel.[496]

There is a species of malignant beings, called Night-washers(Eur cunnerez noz), who appear on the banks of streams, and call on the passers-by to aid them to wash the linen of the dead. If any one refuses, they drag him into the water and break his arms.

About Morlaix the people are afraid of evil beings they call Teurst. One of these, called Teursapouliet, appears in the likeness of some domestic animal.[497]In the district of Vannes is a colossal spirit called Teus,[498]or Bugelnoz, who appears clothed in white between midnight and two in the morning. His office is to rescue victims from the Devil. He spreads his mantle over them, and they are secure. The Devil comes over the ocean; but, unable to endure the look of the good spirit, he sinks down again, and, the object of the spirit accomplished, he vanishes.

O faretrate Ninfe, o agresti Pani,O Satiri e Silvani, o Fauni e Driadi,Najadi ed Amadriadi, e Semidee,Oreadi, e Napee, or siete sole.Sanazzaro.

Under the title of Southern Europe, we comprise Greece and those nations whose languages are derived from the Latin; Italy, Spain, and France. Of the Fairy-system, if there ever was one, of Portugal we have met with nothing, at least in the works of Camoens, Bernardes, and Lobo.

The reader will, in this part of our work, find little corresponding to the Gothic Dwarfs who have hitherto been our companions. The only one of our former acquaintances that will attend us is honest Hob-goblin, Brownie, Kobold, Nis, or however else he may style himself. And it is very remarkable that we shall meet with him only in those places where the Northmen, the Visigoths or other Scandinavian tribes settled. Whence perhaps it might be concluded that they brought him with them to the South of Europe.

Ὡς τερεινα Νυμφαδροσερων εσωθεν αντρων.Euripides.Like a tender NymphWithin the dewy caves.

Ὡς τερεινα Νυμφαδροσερων εσωθεν αντρων.Euripides.

Like a tender NymphWithin the dewy caves.

The Grecian mythology, like its kindred systems, abounded in personifications.[499]Modified by scenery so beautiful, rich,and various as Hellas presented, it in general assigned the supposed intelligences who presided over the various parts of external nature more pleasing attributes than they elsewhere enjoyed. They were mostly conceived to be of the female sex, and were denominated Nymphs, a word originally signifying a new-married woman.

Whether it be owing to soil, climate, or to an original disposition of mind and its organ, the Greeks have above all other people possessed a perception of beauty of form, and a fondness for representing it. The Nymphs of various kinds were therefore always presented to the imagination, in the perfection of female youth and beauty. Under the various appellations of Oreades, Dryades, Naïdes, Limniades, Nereides, they dwelt in mountains, trees, springs, lakes, the sea, where, in caverns and grottos, they passed a life whose occupations resembled those of females of human race. The Wood-nymphs were the companions and attendants of the huntress goddess Artemis; the Sea-nymphs averted shipwreck from pious navigators; and the Spring- and River-nymphs poured forth fruitfulness on the earth. All of them were honoured with prayer and sacrifice; and all of them occasionally 'mingled in love' with favoured mortals.

In the Homeric poems, the most ancient portion of Grecian literature, we meet the various classes of Nymphs. In the Odyssey, they are the attendants of Calypso, herself a goddess and a nymph. Of the female attendants of Circe, the potent daughter of Helios, also designated as a goddess and a nymph, it is said,

They spring from fountains and from sacred groves,And holy streams that flow into the sea.

Yet these nymphs are of divine nature, and when Zeus, the father of the gods, calls together his council,

None of the streams, save Ocean, stayed away,Nor of the Nymphs, who dwell in beauteous groves,And springs of streams, and verdant grassy slades.

The good Eumæus prays to the Nymphs to speed the return of his master, reminding them of the numerous sacrificesUlysses had offered to them. In another part of the poem, their sacred cave is thus described:—

But at the harbour's head a long-leafed oliveGrows, and near to it lies a lovely cave,Dusky and sacred to the Nymphs, whom menCall Naïdes. In it large craters lie,And two-eared pitchers, all of stone, and thereBees build their combs. In it, too, are long loomsOf stone, and there the Nymphs do weave their robes,Sea-purple, wondrous to behold. Aye-flowingWaters are there; two entrances it hath;That to the north is pervious unto men;That to the south more sacred is, and thereMen enter not, but 'tis the Immortals' path.

Yet though thus exalted in rank, the Homeric Nymphs frequently 'blessed the bed' of heroes; and many a warrior who fought before Troy could boast descent from a Naïs or a Nereis.

The sweet, gentle, pious, Ocean-nymphs, who in the Prometheus of Æschylus appear as the consolers and advisers of its dignified hero, seem to hold a nearly similar relation with man to the supernal gods. Beholding the misery inflicted on Prometheus by the power of Zeus, they cry,—

May never the all-rulingZeus set his rival powerAgainst my thoughts;Nor may I ever failThe gods, with holy feastsOf sacrifices, drawing near,Beside the ceaseless streamOf father Ocëan:Nor may I err in words;But this abide with meAnd never fade away.

One of the most interesting species of Nymphs is the Dryads, or Hamadryads, those personifications of the vegetable life of plants. In the Homeric hymn to Aphroditè, we find the following full and accurate description of them. Aphroditè, when she informs Anchises of her pregnancy,and her shame to have it known among the gods, says of the child:—

But him, when first he sees the sun's clear light,The Nymphs shall rear, the mountain-haunting Nymphs,Deep-bosomed, who on this mountain greatAnd holy dwell, who neither goddessesNor women are. Their life is long; they eatAmbrosial food, and with the deathless frameThe beauteous dance. With them, in the recessOf lovely caves, well-spying Argos-slayerAnd the Sileni mix in love. Straight pinesOr oaks high-headed spring with them uponThe earth man-feeding, soon as they are born;Trees fair and flourishing; on the high hillsLofty they stand; the Deathless' sacred groveMen call them, and with iron never cut.But when the fate of death is drawing near,First wither on the earth the beauteous trees,The bark around them wastes, the branches fall,And the Nymph's soul at the same moment leavesThe sun's fair light.

They possessed power to reward and punish these who prolonged or abridged the existence of their associate-tree. In the Argonautics of Apollonius Rhodius, Phineus thus explains to the heroes the cause of the poverty of Peræbius:—

But he was paying the penalty laid onHis father's crime; for one time, cutting treesAlone among the hills, he spurned the prayerOf the Hamadryas Nymph, who, weeping sore,With earnest words besought him not to cutThe trunk of an oak tree, which, with herselfCoeval, had endured for many a year.But, in the pride of youth, he foolishlyCut it; and to him and to his race the NymphGave ever after a lot profitless.

The Scholiast gives on this passage the following tale from Charon of Lampsacus:

A man, named Rhœcus, happening to see an oak just ready to fall to the ground, ordered his slaves to prop it. The Nymph, who had been on the point of perishing with the tree, came to him and expressed her gratitude to him for having saved her life, and at the same time desired himto ask what reward he would. Rhœcus then requested her to permit him to be her lover, and the Nymph acceded to his wishes. She at the same time charged him strictly to avoid the society of every other woman, and told him that a bee should be her messenger. One time the bee happened to come to Rhœcus as he was playing at draughts, and he made a rough reply. This so incensed the Nymph that she deprived him of sight.

Similar was the fate of the Sicilian Daphnis.[500]A Naïs loved him and forbade him to hold intercourse with any other woman under pain of loss of sight. Long he abstained, though tempted by the fairest maids of Sicily. At length a princess contrived to intoxicate him: he broke his vow, and the threatened penalty was inflicted.

Faune Nympharum fugientum amator,Per meos fines et aprica ruraLenis incedas, abeasque parvisÆquus alumnis.Horatius.

Unfortunately for our knowledge of the ancient Italian mythology, the ballad-poetry of Rome is irrecoverably lost. A similar fate has befallen the literature of Etruria, Umbria, and other parts of the peninsula. The powerful influence exercised by Grecian genius over the conquerors of the Grecian states utterly annihilated all that was national and domestic in literature. Not but that Latin poetry abounds in mythologic matter; but it is the mythology of Greece, not of Italy; and the reader of Virgil and Ovid will observe with surprise how little of what he meets in their works is Italian.

So much however of the population of ancient Italy,particularly of Latium, was Pelasgian, that it is natural to suppose a great similarity between the religious systems of Latium and Hellas. The Latins do not, however, appear to have believed in choirs of Nymphs. Those we read of, such as Egeria, Anna Perenna, Juturna, are all solitary, all dwellers of fountains, streams, and lakes. The Italian Diana did not, like the Grecian Artemis, speed over the mountains attended by a train of buskined nymphs. No Dryads sought to avert the fate of their kindred trees—no Nereides sported on the waves.

Dwarfish deities they had none. We are indeed told of the Lars, particularly the rural Lars, as answering to the Gothic Dwarfs; but no proofs are offered except the diminutive size of their statues. This we hold to amount to nothing. Are we to suppose the following lines of Plautus to have been delivered by an "eyas?"

Lest any marvel who I am, I shallBriefly declare it. I am the family LarOf this house whence you see me coming out.'Tis many years now that I keep and guardThis family; both father and grandsireOf him that has it now, I aye protected.Now his grandsire intrusted me a treasureOf gold, that I, unknown to all, should keep it.

He has one daughter, who, each day with wineOr incense, or with something, worships me.She gives me crowns, and I in recompenseHave now made Euclio find the treasure out,That if he will, he may more readilyGet her a match.[501]

The Lars were a portion of the Etrurian religion. The Etruscan word Lar signifies Lord, with which it has a curious but casual resemblance.[502]The Lars were regarded, like the Grecian heroes, as being the souls of men who, after death, still hovered about their former abodes, averting dangers from, and bestowing blessings on, the inhabitants. They differed from the Penates, who were, properly speaking,Gods, beings of a higher nature, personifications of natural powers, the givers of abundance and wealth.

The old Italians, it appears, believed in a being, we know not of what size, called an Incubo, that watched over treasure. "But what they say I know not," says Petronius,[503]"but I have heard how he snatched the cap of an Incubo and found a treasure."

Respecting the Fairy mythology of the modern Italians, what we have been able to collect is very little.

The people of Naples, we are told,[504]believe in a being very much resembling the Incubo, whom they call the Monaciello, or Little Monk. They describe him as a short, thick kind of little man, dressed in the long garments of a monk, with a broad-brimmed hat. He appears to people in the dead of the night, and beckons to them to follow him. If they have courage to do so, he leads them to some place where treasure is concealed. Several are said to have made sudden fortunes through him. In the Neapolitan story-book, named the Pentamerone, of which we shall presently give an account, we meet with a Monaciello of a very different character from this guardian of hidden treasure.

In the second tale of the first day of that work, when the prince in the night heard the noise made by the Fairy in his room, "he thought it was some chamber-boy coming to lighten his purse for him, or some Monaciello to pull the clothes off him." And in the seventh tale of the third day of the same collection, when Corvetto had hidden himself under the Ogre's[505]bed to steal his quilt, "he began to pullquite gently, when the Ogre awoke, and bid his wife not to pull the clothes that way, or she'd strip him, and he would get his death of cold." "Why, it's you that are stripping me," replied the Ogress, "and you have not left a stitch on me." "Where the devil is the quilt?" says the Ogre; and putting his hand to the ground, he happened to touch the face of Corvetto, and immediately began to shout out, "The Monaciello, the Monaciello, hola! candles! run, run!" Corvetto, meanwhile, got off with his prize through the window.[506]

It is quite clear that the Monaciello is the same kind of being as the House-spirit of the Gotho-German nations. He seems to belong peculiarly to Naples, for we have not heard of him in any other part of Italy. Now we are to recollect that this was the very place in which the Normans settled, and so he may be their Nis or Kobold;[507]or, as he is so very like the Spanish Duende, he may be that being introduced by the Aragonese, who seem to have exercised so much influence over the language and manners of the people of Naples.

The belief in Mermaids also prevailed in modern Italy. In the reign of Roger, king of Sicily, a young man happening to be bathing in the sea late in the evening, perceived that something was following him. Supposing it to be one of his companions, he caught it by the hair, and dragged it on shore. But finding it to be a maiden of great beauty and of most perfect form, he threw his cloak about her, and took her home, where she continued with him till they had a son. There was one thing however which greatly grieved him, which was the reflection that so beautiful a form should be dumb, for he had never heard her speak. One day he was reproached by one of his companions, who said that itwas a spectre, and not a real woman, that he had at home: being both angry and terrified, he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, and urged her with vehemence to tell him who or what she was, threatening if she did not do so, to kill the child before her eyes. The spirit only saying, that he had lost a good wife by forcing her to speak, instantly vanished, leaving her son behind. A few years after, as the boy was playing on the sea-shore with his companions, the spirit his mother dragged him into the sea, where he was drowned.[508]

We now come to the Fate of romance and tale.

The earliest notice that we can recollect to have seen of these potent ladies is in the Orlando Innamorato, where we meet the celebrated Fata Morgana, who would at first appear to be, as a personification of Fortune, a being of a higher order.

Ivi è una fata nomata Morgana,Che a le genti diverse dona l'oro;Quanto e per tutto il mondo or se ne spandeConvien che ad essa prima si dimande.L.i.c. xxv. st. 5. ed. 1831.

But we afterwards find her in her proper station, subject, with the Fate and Witches, to the redoubtable Demogorgon.[509]When Orlando, on delivering Zilante from her, makes her swear by that awful power, the poet says:

Sopra ogni fata è quel Demogorgone(Non so se mai l'odiste raccontare)E giudica tra loro e fa ragione,E quel che piace a lui può di lor fare.La notte si cavalea ad un montone,Travarca le montagne e passa il mare,Estrigie, efate, e fantasime vaneBatte con serpi vive ogni dimane.Se le ritrova la dimane al mondo,Perchè non ponno al giorno comparire,Tanto le batte al colpo furibondoChe volentier vorrien poter morire.Or le incatena giù nel mar profondo,Or sopra il vento scalze la fa gire,Or per il fuoco dietro a sè le mena;A cui dà questa, a cui quell' altra pena.L.ii.c. xiii. st. 27, 28.

Se le ritrova la dimane al mondo,Perchè non ponno al giorno comparire,Tanto le batte al colpo furibondoChe volentier vorrien poter morire.Or le incatena giù nel mar profondo,Or sopra il vento scalze la fa gire,Or per il fuoco dietro a sè le mena;A cui dà questa, a cui quell' altra pena.L.ii.c. xiii. st. 27, 28.

According to Ariosto,[510]Demogorgon has a splendid temple palace in the Himalaya mountains, whither every fifth year the Fate are all summoned to appear before him, and give an account of their actions. They travel through the air in various strange conveyances, and it is no easy matter to distinguish between their convention and a Sabbath of the Witches.

We meet with another Fata in Bojardo,[511]the beautiful Silvanella, who raised a tomb over Narcissus, and then dissolved away into a fountain.

When Brandamarte opens the magnificent tomb and kisses the hideous serpent that thrusts out its head, it gradually becomes a beautiful maiden.

Questa era Febosilla quella fata,Che edificato avea l'alto palaccioE'l bel giardino e quella sepoltura,Ove un gran tempo è stata in pena dura.Perchè una fata non può morir mai,Sin che non giunge il giorno del giudizio,Ma ben ne la sua forma dura assai,Mill' anni o più, sì come io aggio indizio.Poi (siccome di questa io vi contaiQual fabbricato avea il bell' edifizio)In serpe si tramuta e stavvi tantoChe di baciarla alcun si doni il vanto.L.ii.c. xxvi. st. 14, 15

Questa era Febosilla quella fata,Che edificato avea l'alto palaccioE'l bel giardino e quella sepoltura,Ove un gran tempo è stata in pena dura.

Perchè una fata non può morir mai,Sin che non giunge il giorno del giudizio,Ma ben ne la sua forma dura assai,Mill' anni o più, sì come io aggio indizio.Poi (siccome di questa io vi contaiQual fabbricato avea il bell' edifizio)In serpe si tramuta e stavvi tantoChe di baciarla alcun si doni il vanto.L.ii.c. xxvi. st. 14, 15

The other Fate who appear in this poem are Le Fate Nera and Bianca, the protectresses of Guidone and Aquilante; the Fata della Fonte, from whom Mandricardo obtains the arms of Hector, and finally Alcina, the sister of Morgana, who carries off Astolfo. Dragontina and Falerina, the owners of such splendid gardens, may also have been Fate, though they are not called so by the poet.

Alcina re-appears in great splendour in the Orlando Furioso, where she is given a sister named Logistilla, and both, like Morgana in the preceding poem, are in a great measure allegorical. We also obtain there a glimpse of the White and Black Fate. The Maga Manto of Dante becomes here a Fata, and we meet her in the form of a serpent; to account for which she says,

Nascemmo ad un punto che d' ogni altro maleSiamo capaci fuor che della morte.Ma giunta è con questo essere immortaleCondizion non men del morir forte;Ch' ogni settimo giorno ognuna è certaChe la sua forma in biscia si converta.C. xliii. st. 98.

Elsewhere (x. 52) the poet tells us that

Morir non puote alcuna fata maiFin che il Sol gira, o il ciel non muta stilo.

In the Amadigi of Bernardo Tasso the Fate appear for the last time in Italian poetry;[512]but in greater number, and, we may say, greater splendour than elsewhere. There are two classes of them, the beneficent and protective, and the seductive and injurious. The terms Maga and Incantatrice, as well as Fata, are applied to them all indifferently. The good Fairy-ladies are Urganda, termedLa saviaandLa sconosciuta,[513]the guardian of Amadigi, and the fair Oriana; Silvana or Silvanella who stands in a similar relation to Alidoro; Lucina, also named La Donna del Lago, another protectress of Alidoro and of his lady-love, the fair warrior Mirinda, sister of Amadigi; Eufrosina, the sister of Lucina; Argea, called La Reina della Fate, the protectress of Floridante, to whom, after making him undergo various trials, she gives her daughter Filidora in marriage; finally, Argea's sister Filidea. The Fate whose character resembles that of Alcina are Morganetta, Nivetta, and Carvilia, thethree daughters of Morgana. Beside these then are two Fate of neutral character, Dragontina, who formed a palace, temple and gardens, in which, at the desire of her father, she enchanted a young prince and his wife; and Montana, who, to avenge the fate of her lover, slain by Alidoro, enchanted that warrior in a temple which she had raised to the memory of the fallen.[514]

Ma veggiam ch' io non stessi troppo a badaCon queste Alcine e Morgane.

The earliest collections of European Fairy-tales in prose belong to Italy. In 1550, Straparola, a native of Caravaggio, in the Milanese, published at Venice his Notti Piacevoli, a collection of tales, jokes, and riddles, of which several, and those the best, are Fairy-tales. These were translated into French in 1560-76, and seem to have been the origin of the so well known Contes des Feés. Perrault's Puss in Boots (Le Chat Botté,) and the Princess Fairstar (Belle Etoile,) and many others of Madame D'Aulnoy's, who borrowed largely from the Notti Piacevoli, are to be found in Straparola. In 1637, eighty-seven years after the Notti Piacevoli appeared at Naples, and in the Neapolitan dialect, the Pentamerone, the best collection of Fairy-tales ever written.[515]The author, Giambattista Basile,[516]had spent his youth in Candia, and then passed several years rambling through Italy. He seems to have carefully treasured up all the taleshe heard, and he wrote and published them, under the feigned name of Gian Alesio Abbatutis, in his native dialect, not long before his death.

In the Tales and Popular Fictions we gave some translations from the Notti Piacevoli, the only ones in English, and they will probably remain such, as the work is not one likely ever to be translated. In the same work we gave two from the Pentamerone, and three (the Dragon, Gagliuso, and the Goatface) in the former edition of the present work. Most certainly we were the first to render any of these curious tales into English, and we look back with a mixture of pleasure and surprise at our success in the unaided struggle with an idiom so different from the classic Italian.[517]We fancied that we had been the first to make translations from it into any language, but we afterwards learned that of the two tales in our other work, the one, Peruonto, had been translated into French (probably by the Abbé Galiani) for the Cabinet des Fées, the other, the Serpent into German, by M. Grimm.[518]Of late, this most original work has been brought within the reach of ordinary readers by two translations, the one in German by Felix Liebrecht, who has given the work complete with few omissions; the other in English by Mr. J. E. Taylor, who has made a selection of thirty tales, and these most carefully expurgated, in order that agreeably to its second title, it might form a book of amusement even for children—a most difficult task, and in which his success has been far greater than might have been anticipated. All our own translations have been incorporated in it, and we can safely refer to it those who wish to know the real character and nature of the Pentamerone.

Whatever name Basile might give his book it is quite plain that he never could have meant it merely for children. The language alone is proof enough on that head. It is, besides, full of learned allusions and of keen satire, so that itcould only be understood and relished by grown persons, for whose amusement it was apparently designed; and its tales are surely not much more extravagant than some of those in Ariosto and the other romantic poets. It in fact never was a child's book like the Contes de ma Mère l' Oie. It has now become very scarce; we could not at Naples meet with a copy of it, or even with any one who had read it.

Duendecillo, duendecillo,Quien quiera que seas ó fueras,El dinero que tú dasEn lo que mandares vuelve.Calderon,La Dama Duende.

When we inquired after the fairy-system of Spain, we were told that there was no such thing, for that the Inquisition had long since eradicated all such ideas. Most certainly we would not willingly be regarded as partisans of the Holy Office, yet still we must express our doubt of the truth of this charge. In Señor Llorente's work, as far as we can recollect, there is no account of prosecutions for Duende-heresy; and even to the Holy Office we should give its due. Still, with all our diligence, our collection of Iberian fairy-lore is extremely scanty.

Our earliest authority for Spain, as for other countries, is the celebrated marshall of Champagne, Gervase of Tilbury, who thus relates:—

In the bishoprick of Gerunda (i. e.Gerona), and the province of Catalonia, stands a mountain which the natives call Convagum. It is very steep, and on its summit is a lake ofdark water, so deep that it cannot be fathomed. The abode of the Demons is in this lake; and if a stone, or anything else, be thrown into it, there rises from it an awful tempest.

Not far from this mountain, in a village named Junchera, lived a man named Peter de Cabinam, who being one day annoyed by the crying of his little girl, wished in his anger that the Demons might fetch her away. The child instantly vanished—snatched away by invisible hands—and was seen no more. Time passed on; and it was seven years after this event, when a man belonging to the village, as he was one day rambling about the foot of the mountain, met a man weeping bitterly, and bewailing his hard fate. On inquiry, he said that he had now been seven years in the mountain under the power of the Demons, who employed him as a beast of burden. He added, that there was also a girl in the mountain, the daughter of Peter de Cabinam of Junchera, a servant like himself; but that they were tired of her, and would restore her to her father if he came to claim her. When this information came to Peter de Cabinam, he forthwith ascended the mountain, and going to the edge of the lake, he besought the Demons to give him back his child. Like a sudden gust of wind she came, tall in stature, but wasted and dirty, her eyes rolling wildly, and her speech inarticulate. The father, not knowing what to do with her, applied to the Bishop of Gerunda, who took this opportunity of edifying his people by exhibiting the girl to them, and warning them against the danger of wishing that the Demons had their children. Some time after the man also was released, and from him the people learned that at the bottom of the lake there was a large palace, with a wide gate, to which palace the Demons repaired from all parts of the world, and which no one could enter but themselves, and those they brought thither.[519]

As Don Diego Lopez, lord of Biscay, was one day lying in wait for the wild boar, he heard the voice of a woman who was singing. On looking around, he beheld on the summit of a rock a damsel, exceedingly beautiful, and richly attired. Smitten with her charms, he proffered her his hand. In reply, she assured him that she was of high descent, but frankly accepted his proffered hand; making, however, one condition—he was never to pronounce a holy name. Tradition says that the fair bride had only one defect, which was, that one of her feet was like that of a goat. Diego Lopez, however, loved her well, and she bore him two children, a daughter, and a son named Iniguez Guerra.

Now it happened one day, as they were sitting at dinner, that the lord of Biscay threw a bone to the dogs, and a mastiff and a spaniel quarrelled about it, and the spaniel griped the mastiff by the throat, and throttled him. "Holy Mary!" exclaimed Don Diego, "who ever saw the like?" Instantly the lady caught hold of the hands of her children; Diego seized and held the boy, but the mother glided through the air with the daughter, and sought again the mountains whence she had come. Diego remained alone with his son; and some years after, when he invaded the lands of the Moors, he was made captive by them, and led to Toledo. Iniguez Guerra, who was now grown up, was greatly grieved at the captivity of his father, and the men of the land told him that his only hope was to find his mother, and obtain her aid. Iniguez made no delay; he rode alone to the well-known mountains, and when he reached them, behold! his fairy-mother stood there before him on the summit of a rock. "Come unto me," said she, "for well do I know thy errand." And she called to her Pardalo, the horse that ran without a rider in the mountains, and she put a bridle into his mouth, and bade Iniguez mount him, and told him that he must notgive him either food or water, or unsaddle or unbridle him, or put shoes upon his feet, and that in one day the demon-steed would carry him to Toledo. And Iniguez obeyed the injunctions of his mother, and succeeded in liberating his father; but his mother never returned.[520]

In the large collection of Spanish ballads named El Romancero Castellano, the only one that treats of fairy-lore is the following, which tells of the enchantment of the King of Castille's daughter by seven fairies,[521]for a period of seven years. It is of the same character as the fairy-tales of France and Italy.

Á cazar va el caballero,Á cazar como solia.—Los perros lleva cansados,El falcon perdido avia.Arrimarase á un roble,Alto es á maravilla,En un ramo mas altoViera estar una Infantina.Cabellos de su cabezaTodo aquel roble cobrian;"No te espantes, caballeroNi tengas tamaña grima."Hija soy del buen reyY de la reina de Castilla;Siete fadas me fadaron,[522]En brazos de una ama mia,"Que andase los siete añosSola en esta montina.[523]Hoy se cumplan los añosO mañana, en aquel dia."Por Dios te ruego, caballeroLlevesme en tu compañia,Si quisieres por muger,Si no sea por amiga.""Espereis me vos, señora,Esta mañana, aquel dia;Iré yo tomar consejoDe una madre que tenia."La niña le respondiera,Y estas palabras, decia:"O mal haya el caballeroQue sola deja la niña!"El se va á tomar consejo,Y ella queda en la montina.Aconsejóle su madreQue la tomase por amiga.Quando volvió el caballeroNo la hallara en la montina.Vió la que la llevaban,Com muy grande caballeria.El caballero, que lo ha visto,En el suelo se caia.Desque en si hubo tornadoEstas palabras decia:"Caballero que tal pierdeMuy grandes penas merecia.Yo mismo seré el alcalde,Yo me seré la justicia,Que me cortan pies y manos,Y me arrastran por la villa."[524]

Á cazar va el caballero,Á cazar como solia.—Los perros lleva cansados,El falcon perdido avia.

Arrimarase á un roble,Alto es á maravilla,En un ramo mas altoViera estar una Infantina.

Cabellos de su cabezaTodo aquel roble cobrian;"No te espantes, caballeroNi tengas tamaña grima.

"Hija soy del buen reyY de la reina de Castilla;Siete fadas me fadaron,[522]En brazos de una ama mia,

"Que andase los siete añosSola en esta montina.[523]Hoy se cumplan los añosO mañana, en aquel dia.

"Por Dios te ruego, caballeroLlevesme en tu compañia,Si quisieres por muger,Si no sea por amiga."

"Espereis me vos, señora,Esta mañana, aquel dia;Iré yo tomar consejoDe una madre que tenia."

La niña le respondiera,Y estas palabras, decia:"O mal haya el caballeroQue sola deja la niña!"

El se va á tomar consejo,Y ella queda en la montina.Aconsejóle su madreQue la tomase por amiga.

Quando volvió el caballeroNo la hallara en la montina.Vió la que la llevaban,Com muy grande caballeria.

El caballero, que lo ha visto,En el suelo se caia.Desque en si hubo tornadoEstas palabras decia:

"Caballero que tal pierdeMuy grandes penas merecia.Yo mismo seré el alcalde,Yo me seré la justicia,Que me cortan pies y manos,Y me arrastran por la villa."[524]

Pepito el Corcovado,[525]a gay lively little hunchback, used to gain his living by his voice and his guitar; for he was a general favourite, and was in constant request at weddings and other festivities. He was going home one night from one of these festive occasions, being under engagement for another in the morning, and, as it was in the celebrated Sierra Morena, he contrived to lose his way. After trying in vain to find it, he wrapped his cloak about him, and lay down for the night at the foot of a cork-tree. He had hardly, however, gone to sleep, when he was awakened by the sound of a number of little voices singing to an old air with which he was well acquainted,

Back to Index Next