Legends & Romances of Brittany Part 8

[Ill.u.s.tration: FAIRIES IN A BRETON 'HOULE']

The fisherman waited until they were well out of sight, and then entered the cavern, where the first object that met his gaze was the pot of ointment which had effected the marvellous change he had witnessed. Taking some of the pomade on his forefinger, he smeared it around his left eye. He afterward found that he could penetrate the various disguises a.s.sumed by the fairies wherever he met them, and that these were for the most part adopted for the purposes of trickery. Thus he was able to see a fairy in the a.s.sumed shape of a beggar-woman going from door to door demanding alms, seeking an opportunity to steal or work mischief, and all the while casting spells upon those who were charitable enough to a.s.sist her. Again, he could distinguish real fish caught in his net at sea from merwomen disguised as fish, who were desirous of entangling the nets or otherwise distressing and annoying the fishermen.

But nowhere was the disguised fairy race so much in evidence as at the fair of Ploubalay, where he recognized several of the elusive folk in the semblance of raree-showmen, fortune-tellers, and the like, who had taken these shapes in order to deceive. He was quietly smiling at their pranks, when some of the fairies who composed a troupe of performers in front of one of the booths regarded him very earnestly.

He felt certain that they had penetrated his secret, but ere he could make off one of them threw a stick at him with such violence that it struck and burst the offending left eye.

Fairies in all lands have a const.i.tutional distaste for being recognized, but those of Brittany appear to visit their vengeance upon the members with which they are actually beheld. "See what thieves the fairies are!" cried a woman, on beholding one abstract apples from a countrywoman's pocket. The predatory elf at once turned round and tore out the eye that had marked his act.

A Cornish woman who chanced to find herself the guardian of an elf-child was given certain water with which to wash its face. The liquid had the property of illuminating the infant's face with a supernatural brightness, and the woman ventured to try it upon herself, and in doing so splashed a little into one eye. This gave her the fairy sight. One day in the market-place she saw a fairy man stealing, and gave the alarm, when the enraged sprite cried:

"Water for elf, not water for self.

You've lost your eye, your child, and yourself."

She was immediately stricken blind in the right eye, her fairy foster-child vanished, and she and her husband sank into poverty and want.

Another Breton tale recounts how a mortal woman was given a polished stone in the form of an egg wherewith to rub a fairy child's eyes. She applied it to her own right eye, and became possessed of magic sight so far as elves were concerned. Still another case, alluded to in the _Revue Celtique_,[30] arose through 'the sacred bond' formed between a fairy man and a mortal woman where both stood as G.o.dparents to a child. The a.s.sociation enabled the woman to see magically. The fairy maiden Rockflower bestows a similar gift on her lover in a Breton tale from Saint-Cast, and speaks of "clearing his eyes like her own."[31]

_Changelings_

The Breton fairies, like others of their race, are fond of kidnapping mortal children and leaving in their places wizened elves who cause the greatest trouble to the distressed parents. The usual method of ridding a family of such a changeling is to surprise it in some manner so that it will betray its true character. Thus, on suspicion resting upon a certain Breton infant who showed every sign of changeling nature, milk was boiled on the fire in egg-sh.e.l.ls, whereupon the impish youngster cried: "I shall soon be a hundred years old, but I never saw so many sh.e.l.ls boiling! I was born in Pif and Paf, in the country where cats are made, but I never saw anything like it!" Thus self-revealed, the elf was expelled from the house. In most Northern tales where the changeling betrays itself it at once takes flight and a train of elves appears, bringing back the true infant. Again, if the wizened occupant of the cradle can be made to laugh that is accepted as proof of its fairy nature.

"Something ridiculous," says Simrock, "must be done to cause him to laugh, for laughter brings deliverance."[32] The same stratagem appears to be used as the cure in English and Scots changeling tales.

_The King of the Fishes_

The Breton fays were p.r.o.ne, too, to take the shape of animals, birds, and even of fish. As we have seen, the sea-fairies of Saint-Jacut-de-la-Mer were in the habit of taking the shape of fish for the purpose of annoying fishermen and damaging their gear.

Another Breton tale from Saint-Cast ill.u.s.trates their penchant for the fish shape. A fisherman of that town one day was lucky enough to catch the King of the Fishes disguised as a small golden fish. The fish begged hard to be released, and promised, if he were set free, to sacrifice as many of his subjects as would daily fill the fisherman's nets. On this understanding the finny monarch was given his liberty, and fulfilled his promise to the letter. Moreover, when the fisherman's boat was capsized in a gale the Fish King appeared, and, holding a flask to the drowning man's lips, made him drink a magic fluid which ensured his ability to exist under water. He conveyed the fisherman to his capital, a place of dazzling splendour, paved with gold and gems. The rude caster of nets instantly filled his pockets with the spoil of this marvellous causeway. Though probably rather disturbed by the incident, the Fish King, with true royal politeness, informed him that whenever he desired to return the way was open to him. The fisherman expressed his sorrow at having to leave such a delightful environment, but added that unless he returned to earth his wife and family would regard him as lost. The Fish King called a large tunny-fish, and as Arion mounted the dolphin in the old Argolian tale, so the fisherman approached the tunny, which

Hollowed his back and shaped it as a selle.[33]

The fisherman at once

Seized the strange sea-steed by his bristling fin And vaulted on his shoulders; the fleet fish Swift sought the shallows and the friendly sh.o.r.e.[34]

Before dismissing the fisherman, however, the Fish King presented him with an inexhaustible purse--probably as a hint that it would be unnecessary for him on a future visit to disturb his paving arrangements.

_Fairy Origins_

Two questions which early obtrude themselves in the consideration of Breton fairy-lore are: Are all the fays of Brittany malevolent? And, if so, whence proceeds this belief that fairy-folk are necessarily malign? Example treads upon example to prove that the Breton fairy is seldom beneficent, that he or she is p.r.o.ne to ill-nature and spitefulness, not to say fiendish malice on occasion. There appears to be a deep-rooted conviction that the elfish race devotes itself to the annoyance of mankind, practising a species of peculiarly irritating trickery, wanton and destructive. Only very rarely is a spirit of friendliness evinced, and then a motive is usually obvious. The 'friendly' fairy invariably has an axe to grind.

Two reasons may be advanced to account for this condition of things.

First, the fairy-folk--in which are included house and field spirits--may be the traditional remnant of a race of real people, perhaps a prehistoric race, driven into the remote parts of the country by strange immigrant conquerors. Perhaps these primitive folk were elfish, dwarfish, or otherwise peculiar in appearance to the superior new-comers, who would in pride of race scorn the small, swarthy aborigines, and refuse all communion with them. We may be sure that the aborigines, on their part, would feel for their tall, handsome conquerors all the hatred of which a subject race is capable, never approaching them unless under compulsion or necessity, and revenging themselves upon them by every means of annoyance in their power. We may feel certain, too, that the magic of these conquered and discredited folk would be made full use of to plague the usurpers of the soil, and trickery, as irritating as any elf-pranks, would be brought to increase the discomfort of the new-comers.

There are, however, several good objections to this view of the origin of the fairy idea. First and foremost, the smaller prehistoric aboriginal peoples of Europe themselves possessed tales of little people, of spirits of field and forest, flood and fell. It is unlikely that man was ever without these.

Yea, I sang, as now I sing, when the Prehistoric Spring Made the piled Biscayan ice-pack split and shove, And the troll, and gnome, and dwerg, and the G.o.ds of cliff and berg Were about me and beneath me and above.[35]

The idea of animism, the belief that everything had a personality of its own, certainly belonged to the later prehistoric period, for among the articles which fill the graves of aboriginal peoples, for use on the last journey, we find weapons to enable the deceased to drive off the evil spirits which would surround his own after death. Spirits, to early man, are always relatively smaller than himself. He beholds the "picture of a little man" in his comrade's eyes, and concludes it to be his 'soul.' Some primitive peoples, indeed, believe that several parts of the body have each their own resident soul. Again, the spirit of the corn or the spirit of the flower, the savage would argue, must in the nature of things be small. We can thus see how the belief in 'the little folk' may have arisen, and how they remained little until a later day.

A much more scientific theory of the origin of the belief in fairies is that which sees in them the deities of a discredited religion, the G.o.ds of an aboriginal people, rather than the people themselves. Such were the Irish _Daoine Sidhe_, and the Welsh _y Mamau_ ('the Mothers')--undoubtedly G.o.ds of the Celts. Again, although in many countries, especially in England, the fairies are regarded as small of stature, in Celtic countries the fay proper, as distinct from the brownie and such goblins, is of average mortal height, and this would seem to be the case in Brittany. Whether the gorics and courils of Brittany, who seem sufficiently small, are fairies or otherwise is a moot point. They seem to be more of the field spirit type, and are perhaps cla.s.sed more correctly with the gnome race; we thus deal with them in our chapter on sprites and demons. It would seem, too, as if there might be ground for the belief that the normal-sized fairy race of Celtic countries had become confounded with the Teutonic idea of elves (Teut. _Elfen_) in Germany and England, from which, perhaps, they borrowed their diminutive size.

But these are only considerations, not conclusions. Strange as it may seem, folk-lore has by no means solved the fairy problem, and much remains to be accomplished ere we can write 'Finis' to the study of fairy origins.

_The Margots_

Another Breton name for the fairies is _les Margots la fee_, a t.i.tle which is chiefly employed in several districts of the Cotes-du-Nord, princ.i.p.ally in the _arrondiss.e.m.e.nts_ of Saint-Brieuc and Loudeac, to describe those fairies who have their abode in large rocks and on the wild and extensive moorlands which are so typical of the country.

These, unlike the _fees houles_, are able to render themselves invisible at pleasure. Like human beings, they are subject to maladies, and are occasionally glad to accept mortal succour. They return kindness for kindness, but are vindictive enemies to those who attempt to harm them.

But fairy vindictiveness is not lavished upon those unwitting mortals who do them harm alone. If one chances to succeed in a task set by the immortals of the forest, one is in danger of death, as the following story shows.

_The Boy who Served the Fairies_

A poor little fellow was one day gathering f.a.ggots in the forest when a gay, handsomely dressed gentleman pa.s.sed him, and, noticing the lad's ragged and forlorn condition, said to him: "What are you doing there, my boy?"

"I am looking for wood, sir," replied the boy. "If I did not do so we should have no fire at home."

"You are very poor at home, then?" asked the gentleman.

"So poor," said the lad, "that sometimes we only eat once a day, and often go supperless to bed."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE POOR BOY AND THE THREE FAIRY DAMSELS]

"That is a sad tale," said the gentleman. "If you will promise to meet me here within a month I will give you some money, which will help your parents and feed and clothe your small brothers and sisters."

Prompt to the day and the hour, the boy kept the tryst in the forest glade, at the very spot where he had met the gentleman. But though he looked anxiously on every side he could see no signs of his friend. In his anxiety he pushed farther into the forest, and came to the borders of a pond, where three damsels were preparing to bathe. One was dressed in white, another in grey, and the third in blue. The boy pulled off his cap, gave them good-day, and asked politely if they had not seen a gentleman in the neighbourhood. The maiden who was dressed in white told him where the gentleman was to be found, and pointed out a road by which he might arrive at his castle.

"He will ask you," said she, "to become his servant, and if you accept he will wish you to eat. The first time that he presents the food to you, say: 'It is I who should serve you.' If he asks you a second time make the same reply; but if he should press you a third time refuse brusquely and thrust away the plate which he offers you."

The boy was not long in finding the castle, and was at once shown into the gentleman's presence. As the maiden dressed in white had foretold, he requested the youth to enter his service, and when his offer was accepted placed before him a plate of viands. The lad bowed politely, but refused the food. A second time it was offered, but he persisted in his refusal, and when it was proffered to him a third time he thrust it away from him so roughly that it fell to the ground and the plate was broken.

"Ah," said the gentleman, "you are just the kind of servant I require.

You are now my lackey, and if you are able to do three things that I command you I will give you one of my daughters for your wife and you shall be my son-in-law."

The next day he gave the boy a hatchet of lead, a saw of paper, and a wheelbarrow made of oak-leaves, bidding him fell, bind up, and measure all the wood in the forest within a radius of seven leagues. The new servant at once commenced his task, but the hatchet of lead broke at the first blow, the saw of paper buckled at the first stroke, and the wheelbarrow of oak-leaves was broken by the weight of the first little branch he placed on it. The lad in despair sat down, and could do nothing but gaze at the useless implements. At midday the damsel dressed in white whom he had seen at the pond came to bring him something to eat.

"Alas!" she cried, "why do you sit thus idle? If my father should come and find that you have done nothing he would kill you."

"I can do nothing with such wretched tools," grumbled the lad.

"Do you see this wand?" said the damsel, producing a little rod. "Take it in your hand and walk round the forest, and the work will take care of itself. At the same time say these words: 'Let the wood fall, tie itself into bundles, and be measured.'"

The boy did as the damsel advised him, and matters proceeded so satisfactorily that by a little after midday the work was completed.

In the evening the gentleman said to him:

"Have you accomplished your task?"