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Title: The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries

Author: W. Y. Evans-Wentz

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Most recently updated: January 7, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAIRY-
FAITH IN CELTIC COUNTRIES ***

Larger Image

From Photograph by the Author
THE MYSTIC CENTRE OF THE CELTIC WORLD CARNAC IN A. D. 1909
LOOKING TOWARD THE SUNRISE, FROM WITHIN THE CROMLECH, LES ALIGNEMENTS
DU MÉNEC

THE FAIRY-FAITH
IN
CELTIC COUNTRIES

BY

W. Y. EVANS WENTZ
M.A. STANFORD UNIVERSITY CALIFORNIA U.S.A.
DOCTEUR-ÈS-LETTRES UNIVERSITY OF RENNES BRITTANY
B.SC. JESUS COLLEGE OXON.

HENRY FROWDE
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE
1911

OXFORD: HORACE HART
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

THIS BOOK
DEPENDS CHIEFLY UPON THE ORAL AND WRITTEN TESTIMONY
SO FREELY CONTRIBUTED BY ITS MANY CELTIC AUTHORS,—
THE PEASANT AND THE SCHOLAR, THE PRIEST AND THE
SCIENTIST,
THE POET AND THE BUSINESS MAN, THE SEER AND THE NON-
SEER,—
AND IN HONOUR OF THEM
I DEDICATE
IT TO
TWO OF THEIR BRETHREN IN IRELAND:

A. E.,

WHOSE UNWAVERING LOYALTY TO THE FAIRY-FAITH
HAS INSPIRED MUCH THAT I HAVE HEREIN WRITTEN,
WHOSE FRIENDLY GUIDANCE IN MY STUDY OF IRISH
MYSTICISM
I MOST GRATEFULLY ACKNOWLEDGE;

AND

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,
WHO BROUGHT TO ME AT MY OWN ALMA MATER IN
CALIFORNIA
THE FIRST MESSAGE FROM FAIRYLAND,
AND WHO AFTERWARDS IN HIS OWN COUNTRY
LED ME THROUGH THE HAUNTS OF FAIRY KINGS AND QUEENS.

Oxford
November 1911.

‘It remains for ever true that the proper study
of mankind is man; and even early man is not
beneath contempt, especially when he proves
to have had within him the makings of a
great race, with its highest notions of duty
and right, and all else that is noblest in the
human soul.’
The Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs.

CONTENTS
PAGES

xi-
Preface
xiii
xv-
Introduction
xxviii

SECTION I
THE LIVING FAIRY-FAITH

CHAPTER I
Environment 1-16
Psychical Interpretation—The
Mysticism of Erin and
Armorica—In Ireland—In
Scotland—In the Isle of Man
—In Wales—In Cornwall—In
Brittany.

CHAPTER II
17-
The Taking of Evidence
225
Method of Presentation—The
Logical Verdict—
Trustworthiness of Legends—
The Fairy-Faith held by the
highly educated Celt as well
as by the Celtic Peasant—The
Evidence is complete and

adequate—Its Analysis—The
Fairy Tribes dealt with—
Witnesses and their
Testimony: from Ireland, with
Introduction by Dr. Douglas
Hyde; from Scotland, with
Introduction by Dr. Alexander
Carmichael; from the Isle of
Man, with Introduction by
Miss Sophia Morrison; from
Wales, with Introduction by
the Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs;
from Cornwall, with
Introduction by Mr. Henry
Jenner; and from Brittany,
with Introduction by Professor
Anatole Le Braz.

CHAPTER III
An Anthropological Examination of the 226-
Evidence 82
The Celtic Fairy-Faith as Part
of a World-wide Animism—
Shaping Influence of Social
Psychology—Smallness of
Elvish Spirits and Fairies,
according to Ethnology,
Animism, and Occult
Sciences—The Changeling,
Belief and its Explanation
according to the Kidnap,
Human-Sacrifice, Soul-
Wandering, and Demon-
Possession Theory—Ancient
and Modern Magic and
Witchcraft shown to be based

on definite psychological laws
—Exorcisms—Taboos, of
Name, Food, Iron, Place—
Taboos among Ancient Celts
—Food-Sacrifice—Legend of
the Dead—Conclusion: the
Background of the Modern
Belief in Fairies is Animistic.

SECTION II
THE RECORDED FAIRY-FAITH

CHAPTER IV
The People of the Goddess Dana or the 283-
Sidhe 307
The Goddess Dana and the
Modern Cult of St. Brigit—
The Tuatha De Danann or
Sidhe conquered by the Sons
of Mil—But Irish Seers still
see the Sidhe—Old Irish
Manuscripts faithfully
represent the Tuatha De
Danann—The Sidhe as a
Spirit Race—Sidhe Palaces—
The ‘Taking’ of Mortals—Hill
Visions of Sidhe Women—
Sidhe Minstrels and Musicians
—Social Organization and
Warfare among the Sidhe—
The Sidhe War-Goddesses, the
Badb—The Sidhe at the Battle
of Clontarf, a. d. 1014—
Conclusion.

CHAPTER V
Brythonic Divinities and the Brythonic 308-
Fairy-Faith 31
The God Arthur and the Hero
Arthur—Sevenfold Evidence
to show Arthur as an Incarnate
Fairy King—Lancelot the
Foster-son of a Fairy Woman
—Galahad, the Offspring of
Lancelot and the Fairy
Woman Elayne—Arthur as a
Fairy King in Kulhwch and
Olwen—Gwynn ab Nudd—
Arthur like Dagda, and like
Osiris—Brythonic Fairy
Romances: their Evolution
and Antiquity—Arthur in
Nennius, Geoffrey, Wace, and
in Layamon—Cambrensis’
Otherworld Tale—Norman-
French writers of the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries—
Romans d’Aventure and
Romans Bretons—Origins of
the ‘Matter of Britain’—Fairy
Romance Episodes in Welsh
Literature—Brythonic
Origins.

CHAPTER VI
332-
The Celtic Otherworld
57
General Ideas of the
Otherworld; its Location; its
Subjectivity; its Names; its

Extent; Tethra one of its kings
—The Silver Branch and the
Golden Bough; and Initiations
—The Otherworld the
Heaven-World of all Religions
—Voyage of Bran—Cormac
in the Land of Promise—
Magic Wands—Cuchulainn’s
Sick-Bed—Ossian’s Return
from Fairyland—Lanval’s
going to Avalon—Voyage of
Mael-Duin—Voyage of
Teigue—Adventures of Art—
Cuchulainn’s and Arthur’s
Otherworld Quests—Literary
Evolution of idea of Happy
Otherworld.

CHAPTER VII
358-
The Celtic Doctrine of Re-Birth
96
Re-birth and Otherworld—As
a Christian Doctrine—General
Historical Survey—According
to the Barddas MSS.;
according to Ancient and
Modern Authorities—Re-
incarnation of the Tuatha De
Danann—King Mongan’s Re-
birth—Etain’s Birth—
Dermot’s Pre-existence—
Tuan’s Re-birth—Re-birth
among Brythons—Arthur as a
Re-incarnate Hero—Non-
Celtic Parallels—Re-birth
among Modern Celts: in

Ireland; in Scotland; in the
Isle of Man; in Wales; in
Cornwall; in Brittany—Origin
and Evolution of Celtic Re-
birth Doctrine.

SECTION III
THE CULT OF GODS, SPIRITS, FAIRIES,
AND THE DEAD

CHAPTER VIII
397-
The Testimony of Archaeology
426
Inadequacy of Pygmy Theory
—According to the Theories
concerning Divine Images and
Fetishes, Gods, Daemons, and
Ancestral Spirits haunt
Megaliths—Megaliths are
religious and funereal, as
shown chiefly by Cenn
Cruaich, Stonehenge,
Guernsey menhirs,
Monuments in Brittany, by the
Circular Fairy-Dance as an
Ancient Initiatory Sun-Dance,
by Breton Earthworks,
Archaeological Excavations
generally, and by present-day
Worship at Indian Dolmens—
New Grange and Celtic
Mysteries: Evidence of
manuscripts; Evidence of
Tradition—The Aengus Cult
—New Grange compared with

Great Pyramid: both have
Astronomical Arrangement
and same Internal Plan—Why
they open to the Sunrise—
Initiations in both—Great
Pyramid as Model for Celtic
Tumuli—Gavrinis and New
Grange as Spirit Temples.

CHAPTER IX
427-
The Testimony of Paganism
41
Edicts against Pagan Cults—
Cult of Sacred Waters and its
Absorption by Christianity—
Celtic Water Divinities—
Druidic Influence on Fairy-
Faith—Cult of Sacred Trees—
Cult of Fairies, Spirits, and the
Dead—Feasts of the Dead—
Conclusion.

CHAPTER X
442-
The Testimony of Christianity
55
Lough Derg a Sacred Lake
originally—Purgatorial Rites
as Christianized Survivals of
Ancient Celtic Rites—
Purgatory as Fairyland—
Purgatorial Rites parallel to
Pagan Initiation Ceremonies
—The Death and Resurrection
Rite—Breton Pardons
compared—Relation to

Aengus Cult and Celtic Cave-
Temples—Origin of
Purgatorial Doctrine pre-
Christian—Celtic and Roman
Feasts of dead shaped
Christian ones—Fundamental
Unity of Mythologies,
Religions, and the Fairy-Faith.

SECTION IV
MODERN SCIENCE AND THE FAIRY-
FAITH; AND CONCLUSIONS

CHAPTER XI
456-
Science and Fairies
91
Method of Examination:
Exoteric and Esoteric aspects
—The X-quantity—Scientific
attitudes toward the Animistic
Hypothesis: Materialistic
Theory; Pathological Theory;
Delusion and Imposture
Theory; Problems of
Consciousness: Dreams;
Supernormal Lapse of Time—
Psychical Research and
Fairies: Myers’s researches—
Present Position of Psychical
Research—Psychical
Research and Anthropology in
Relation to the Fairy-Faith,
according to a special
contribution from Mr. Andrew
Lang—Final Testing of the X-

quantity—Conclusion: the
Celtic Belief in Fairies and in
Fairyland is scientific.

CHAPTER XII
The Celtic Doctrine of Re-Birth and 492-
Otherworld Scientifically Examined 515
The Extension of the Terms
Fairy and Fairyland—The
Real Man as an Invisible
Force acting through a Body-
Conductor—A Psychical
Organ essential for Memory—
Pre-existence a Scientific
Necessity—The Vitalistic
View of Evolution—Old
Theory of Heredity disproved
—Embryology supports Re-
birth Doctrine—Psycho-
physical Evolution—Memory
of previous Existences in
Subconsciousness—Examples
—Dream Psychology
furnishes clearest Illustrations
—No Post-existence without
Pre-existence—Resurrection
as Re-birth—The Circle of
Life—The Mystical Corollary
—Conclusion: the Celtic
Doctrine of Re-birth and
Otherworld is essentially
scientific.

516-
Index
24

PREFACE

During the years 1907-9 this study first took shape, being then based mainly
on literary sources; and during the latter year it was successfully presented
to the Faculty of Letters of the University of Rennes, Brittany, for the
Degree of Docteur-ès-Lettres. Since then I have re-investigated the whole
problem of the Celtic belief in Fairies, and have collected very much fresh
material. Two years ago the scope of my original research was limited to the
four chief Celtic countries, but now it includes all of the Celtic countries.
In the present study, which has profited greatly by criticisms of the first
passed by scholars in Britain and in France, the original literary point of
view is combined with the broader point of view of anthropology. This
study, the final and more comprehensive form of my views about the
‘Fairy-Faith’, would never have been possible had I not enjoyed during
many months the kindly advice and constant encouragement of Mr. R. R.
Marett, Reader in Social Anthropology in the University of Oxford, and
Fellow of Exeter College.
During May 1910 the substance of this essay in its pan-Celtic form was
submitted to the Board of the Faculty of Natural Science of Oxford
University for the Research Degree of Bachelor of Science, which was duly
granted. But the present work contains considerable material not contained
in the essay presented to the Oxford examiners, the Right Hon. Sir John
Rhŷs and Mr. Andrew Lang; and, therefore, I alone assume entire
responsibility for all its possible shortcomings, and in particular for some of
its more speculative theories, which to some minds may appear to be in
conflict with orthodox views, whether of the theologian or of the man of
science. These theories, however venturesome they may appear, are put
forth in almost every case with the full approval of some reliable, scholarly
Celt; and as such they are chiefly intended to make the exposition of the
belief in fairies as completely and as truly Celtic as possible, without much
regard for non-Celtic opinion, whether this be in harmony with Celtic
opinion or not.

As the new manuscript of the ‘Fairy-Faith’ lies before me revised and
finished, I realize even more fully than I did two years ago with respect to
the original study, how little right I have to call it mine. Those to whom the
credit for it really belongs are my many kind friends and helpers in Ireland,
Scotland, Isle of Man, Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany, and many others who
are not Celts, in the three great nations—happily so intimately united now
by unbreakable bonds of goodwill and international brotherhood—Britain,
France, and the United States of America; for without the aid of all these
Celtic and non-Celtic friends the work could never have been
accomplished. They have given me their best and rarest thoughts as so
many golden threads; I have only furnished the mental loom, and woven
these golden threads together in my own way according to what I take to be
the psychological pattern of the Fairy-Faith.
I am under a special obligation to the following six distinguished Celtic
scholars who have contributed, for my second chapter, the six introductions
to the fairy-lore collected by me in their respective countries:—Dr. Douglas
Hyde (Ireland); Dr. Alexander Carmichael (Scotland); Miss Sophia
Morrison (Isle of Man); the Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs (Wales); Mr. Henry
Jenner (Cornwall); Professor Anatole Le Braz (Brittany).
I am also greatly indebted to the Rev. J. Estlin Carpenter, Principal of
Manchester College, for having aided me with the parts of this book
touching Christian theology; to Mr. R. I. Best, M.R.I.A., Assistant
Librarian, National Library, Dublin, for having aided me with the parts
devoted to Irish mythology and literature; and to Mr. William McDougall,
Wilde Reader in Mental Philosophy in the University of Oxford, for a
similar service with respect to Section IV, entitled ‘Science and Fairies’.
And to these and to all the other scholars whose names appear in this
preface, my heartiest thanks are due for the assistance which they have so
kindly rendered in reading different parts of the Fairy-Faith when in proof.
With the deep spirit of reverence which a student feels towards his
preceptors, I acknowledge a still greater debt to those among my friends
and helpers who have been my Celtic guides and teachers. Here in Oxford
University I have run up a long account with the Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs,
the Professor of Celtic, who has introduced me to the study of Modern Irish,
and of Arthurian romance and mythology, and has guided me both during

the year 1907-8 and ever since in Celtic folk-lore generally. To Mr. Andrew
Lang, I am likewise a debtor, more especially in view of the important
suggestions which he has given me during the past two years with respect to
anthropology and to psychical research. In my relation to the Faculty of
Letters of the University of Rennes, I shall always remember the friendly
individual assistance offered to me there during the year 1908-9 by
Professor Joseph Loth, then Dean in that University, but now of the College
of France, in Paris, particularly with respect to Brythonic mythology,
philology, and archaeology; by Professor Georges Dottin, particularly with
respect to Gaelic matters; and by Professor Anatole Le Braz, whose
continual good wishes towards my work have been a constant source of
inspiration since our first meeting during March 1908, especially in my
investigation of La Légende de la Mort, and of the related traditions and
living folk-beliefs in Brittany—Brittany with its haunted ground of Carnac,
home of the ancient Brythonic Mysteries.
W. Y. E. W.
Jesus College, Oxford.
All Saints’ Day, 1911.

‘There, neither turmoil nor silence....
‘Though fair the sight of Erin’s plains, hardly
will they seem so after you have known the
Great Plain....
‘A wonder of a land the land of which I
speak; no youth there grows to old age....

‘We behold and are not beheld.’—The God
Midir, in Tochmarc Etaine.

INTRODUCTION
‘I have told what I have seen, what I have
thought, and what I have learned by
inquiry.’—Herodotus.

I. The Religious Nature of the Fairy-Faith
There is probably no other place in Celtic lands more congenial, or more
inspiring for the writing down of one’s deeper intuitions about the Fairy-
Faith, than Carnac, under the shadow of the pagan tumulus and mount of
the sacred fire, now dedicated by triumphant Christianity to the Archangel
Michael. The very name of Carnac is significant;[1] and in two continents,
Africa and Europe—to follow the certain evidence of archaeology alone[2]
—there seem to have been no greater centres for ancient religion than
Karnak in Egypt and Carnac in Brittany. On the banks of the Nile the
Children of Isis and Osiris erected temples as perfect as human art can
make them; on the shores of the Morbihan the mighty men who were, as it
seems, the teachers of our own Celtic forefathers, erected temples of
unhewn stone. The wonderful temples in Yucatan, the temple-caves of
prehistoric India, Stonehenge in England, the Parthenon, the Acropolis, St.
Peter’s at Rome, Westminster Abbey, or Notre-Dame, and the Pyramids and
temples of Egypt, equally with the Alignements of Carnac, each in their
own way record more or less perfectly man’s attempt to express materially
what he feels spiritually. Perfected art can beautify and make more
attractive to the eye and mind, but it cannot enhance in any degree the
innate spiritual ideals which men in all ages have held; and thus it is that we
read amid the rough stone menhirs and dolmens in Brittany, as amid the
polished granite monoliths and magnificent temples in Egypt, the same
silent message from the past to the present, from the dead to the living. This
message, we think, is fundamentally important in understanding the Celtic
Fairy-Faith; for in our opinion the belief in fairies has the same origin as all
religions and mythologies.

And there seems never to have been an uncivilized tribe, a race, or nation of
civilized men who have not had some form of belief in an unseen world,
peopled by unseen beings. In religions, mythologies, and the Fairy-Faith,
too, we behold the attempts which have been made by different peoples in
different ages to explain in terms of human experience this unseen world,
its inhabitants, its laws, and man’s relation to it. The Ancients called its
inhabitants gods, genii, daemons, and shades; Christianity knows them as
angels, saints, demons, and souls of the dead; to uncivilized tribes they are
gods, demons, and spirits of ancestors; and the Celts think of them as gods,
and as fairies of many kinds.

II. The Interpretation of the Fairy-Faith
By the Celtic Fairy-Faith we mean that specialized form of belief in a
spiritual realm inhabited by spiritual beings which has existed from
prehistoric times until now in Ireland, Scotland, Isle of Man, Wales,
Cornwall, Brittany, or other parts of the ancient empire of the Celts. In
studying this belief, we are concerned directly with living Celtic folk-
traditions, and with past Celtic folk-traditions as recorded in literature. And
if fairies actually exist as invisible beings or intelligences, and our
investigations lead us to the tentative hypothesis that they do, they are
natural and not supernatural, for nothing which exists can be supernatural;
and, therefore, it is our duty to examine the Celtic Fairy Races just as we
examine any fact in the visible realm wherein we now live, whether it be a
fact of chemistry, of physics, or of biology. However, as we proceed to
make such an examination, we shall have to remember constantly that there
is a new set of ideas to work with, entirely different from what we find in
natural sciences, and often no adequate vocabulary based on common
human experiences. An American who has travelled in Asia and an
Englishman who has travelled in Australia may meet in Paris and exchange
travelling experiences with mutual understanding, because both of them
have experienced travel; and they will have an adequate vocabulary to
describe each experience, because most men have also experienced travel.
But a saint who has known the spiritual condition called ecstasy cannot
explain ecstasy to a man who has never known it, and if he should try to do
so would discover at once that no modern language is suitable for the

purpose. His experience is rare and not universal, and men have developed
no complete vocabulary to describe experiences not common to the
majority of mankind, and this is especially true of psychical experiences. It
is the same in dealing with fairies, as these are hypothetically conceived, for
only a few men and women can assert that they have seen fairies, and hence
there is no adequate vocabulary to describe fairies. Among the Ancients,
who dealt so largely with psychical sciences, there seems to have been a
common language which could be used to explain the invisible world and
its inhabitants; but we of this age have not yet developed such a language.
Consequently, men who deny human immortality, as well as men with
religious faith who have not through personal psychical experiences
transformed that faith into a fact, nowadays when they happen to read what
Plato, Iamblichus, or any of the Neo-Platonists have written, or even what
moderns have written in attempting to explain psychic facts, call it all
mysticism. And to the great majority of Europeans and Americans,
mysticism is a most convenient noun, applicable to anything which may
seem reasonable yet wholly untranslatable in terms of their own individual
experience; and mysticism usually means something quite the reverse of
scientific simply because we have by usage unwisely limited the meaning
of the word science to a knowledge of things material and visible, whereas
it really means a knowing or a knowledge of everything which exists. We
have tried to deal with the rare psychical experiences of Irish, Scotch,
Manx, Welsh, or Breton seers, and psychics generally, in the clearest
language possible; but if now and then we are charged with being mystical,
this is our defence.

III. The Method of Studying the Fairy-faith
In this study, which is first of all a folk-lore study, we pursue principally an
anthropo-psychological method of interpreting the Celtic belief in fairies,
though we do not hesitate now and then to call in the aid of philology; and
we make good use of the evidence offered by mythologies, religions,
metaphysics, and physical sciences. Folk-lore, a century ago was
considered beneath the serious consideration of scholars; but there has
come about a complete reversal of scholarly opinion, for now it is seen that
the beliefs of the people, their legends, and their songs are the source of

nearly all literatures, and that their institutions and customs are the origin of
those of modern times. And, to-day, to the new science of folk-lore,—
which, as Mr. Andrew Lang says, must be taken to include psychical
research or psychical sciences,—archaeology, anthropology, and
comparative mythology and religion are indispensable. Thus folk-lore
offers the scientific means of studying man in the sense meant by the poet
who declared that the proper study of mankind is man.

IV. Divisions of the Study
This study is divided into four sections or parts. The first one deals with the
living Fairy-Faith among the Celts themselves; the second, with the
recorded and ancient Fairy-Faith as we find it in Celtic literature and
mythology; the third, with the Fairy-Faith in its religious aspects; and in the
fourth section an attempt has been made to suggest how the theories of our
newest science, psychical research, explain the belief in fairies.
I have set forth in the first section in detail and as clearly as possible the
testimony communicated to me by living Celts who either believe in fairies,
or else say that they have seen fairies; and throughout other sections I have
preferred to draw as much as possible of the material from men and women
rather than from books. Books too often are written out of other books, and
too seldom from the life of man; and in a scientific study of the Fairy-Faith,
such as we have undertaken, the Celt himself is by far the best, in fact the
only authority. For us it is much less important to know what scholars think
of fairies than to know what the Celtic people think of fairies. This is
especially true in considering the Fairy-Faith as it exists now.

V. The Collecting of Material
In June, 1908, after a year’s preparatory work in things Celtic under the
direction of the Oxford Professor of Celtic, Sir John Rhŷs, I began to travel
in Wales, Ireland, Scotland, and Brittany, and to collect material there at
first hand from the people who have shaped and who still keep alive the
Fairy-Faith; and during the year 1909-10 fresh folk-lore expeditions were
made into Brittany, Ireland, and Wales, and then, finally, the study of the

Fairy-Faith was made pan-Celtic by similar expeditions throughout the Isle
of Man, and into Cornwall. Many of the most remote parts of these lands
were visited; and often there was no other plan to adopt, or any method
better, or more natural, than to walk day after day from one straw-thatched
cottage to another, living on the simple wholesome food of the peasants.
Sometimes there was the picturesque mountain-road to climb, sometimes
the route lay through marshy peat-lands, or across a rolling grass-covered
country; and with each change of landscape came some new thought and
some new impression of the Celtic life, or perhaps some new description of
a fairy.
This immersion in the most striking natural and social environment of the
Celtic race, gave me an insight into the mind, the religion, the mysticism,
and the very heart of the Celt himself, such as no mere study in libraries
ever could do. I tried to see the world as he does; I participated in his
innermost thoughts about the great problem of life and death, with which he
of all peoples is most deeply concerned; and thus he revealed to me the
source of his highest ideals and inspirations. I daily felt the deep and innate
seriousness of his ancestral nature; and, living as he lives, I tried in all ways
to be like him. I was particularly qualified for such an undertaking: partly
Celtic myself by blood and perhaps largely so by temperament, I found it
easy to sympathize with the Celt and with his environments. Further, being
by birth an American, I was in many places privileged to enter where an
Englishman, or a non-Celt of Europe would not be; and my education under
the free ideals of a new-world democracy always made it possible for me to
view economic, political, religious, and racial questions in Celtic lands
apart from the European point of view, and without the European prejudices
which are so numerous and so greatly to be regretted. But without any
doubt, during my sojourn, extending over three years, among the Celts,
these various environments shaped my thoughts about fairies and Fairyland
—as they ought to have done if truth is ever to be reached by research.
These experiences of mine lead me to believe that the natural aspects of
Celtic countries, much more than those of most non-Celtic countries,
impress man and awaken in him some unfamiliar part of himself—call it
the Subconscious Self, the Subliminal Self, the Ego, or what you will—
which gives him an unusual power to know and to feel invisible, or
psychical, influences. What is there, for example, in London, or Paris, or

Berlin, or New York to awaken the intuitive power of man, that
subconsciousness deep-hidden in him, equal to the solitude of those magical
environments of Nature which the Celts enjoy and love?
In my travels, when the weather was too wild to venture out by day, or
when the more favourable hours of the night had arrived, with fires and
candles lit, or even during a road-side chat amid the day’s journey, there
was gathered together little by little, from one country and another, the mass
of testimony which chapter ii contains. And with all this my opinions began
to take shape; for when I set out from Oxford in June, I had no certain or
clear ideas as to what fairies are, nor why there should be belief in them. In
less than a year afterwards I found myself committed to the Psychological
Theory, which I am herein setting forth.

VI. Theories of the Fairy-Faith
We make continual reference throughout our study to this Psychological
Theory of the Nature and Origin of the Celtic Fairy-Faith, and it is one of
our purposes to demonstrate that this is the root theory which includes or
absorbs the four theories already advanced to account for the belief in
fairies. To guide the reader in his own conclusions, we shall here briefly
outline these four theories.
The first of them may be called the Naturalistic Theory, which is, that in
ancient and in modern times man’s belief in gods, spirits, or fairies has been
the direct result of his attempts to explain or to rationalize natural
phenomena. Of this theory we accept as true that the belief in fairies often
anthropomorphically reflects the natural environment as well as the social
condition of the people who hold the belief. For example, amid the
beautiful low-lying green hills and gentle dells of Connemara (Ireland), the
‘good people’ are just as beautiful, just as gentle, and just as happy as their
environment; while amid the dark-rising mountains and in the mysterious
cloud-shadowed lakes of the Scotch Highlands there are fiercer kinds of
fairies and terrible water-kelpies, and in the Western Hebrides there is the
much-dreaded ‘spirit-host’ moving through the air at night.

The Naturalistic Theory shows accurately enough that natural phenomena
and environment have given direction to the anthropomorphosing of gods,
spirits, or fairies, but after explaining this external aspect of the Fairy-Faith
it cannot logically go any further. Or if illogically it does attempt to explain
the belief in gods, spirits, or fairies as due entirely to material causes, it
becomes, in our opinion, like the psychology of fifty years ago, obsolete;
for now the new psychology or psychical research has been forced to admit
—if only as a working hypothesis—the possibility of invisible intelligences
or entities able to influence man and nature. We seem even to be
approaching a scientific proof of the doctrines of such ancient philosophical
scientists as Pythagoras and Plato,—that all external nature, animated
throughout and controlled in its phenomena by daemons acting by the will
of gods, is to men nothing more than the visible effects of an unseen world
of causes.
In the internal aspects of the Fairy-Faith the fundamental fact seems clearly
to be that there must have been in the minds of prehistoric men, as there is
now in the minds of modern men, a germ idea of a fairy for environment to
act upon and shape. Without an object to act upon, environment can
accomplish nothing. This is evident. The Naturalistic Theory examines only
the environment and its effects, and forgets altogether the germ idea of a
fairy to be acted upon; but the Psychological Theory remembers and
attempts to explain the germ idea of a fairy and the effect of nature upon it.
The second theory may be called the Pygmy Theory, which Mr. David
MacRitchie, who is definitely committed to it, has so clearly set forth in his
well-known work, entitled The Testimony of Tradition. This theory is that
the whole fairy-belief has grown up out of a folk-memory of an actual
Pygmy race. This race is supposed to have been a very early, prehistoric,
probably Mongolian race, which inhabited the British Islands and many
parts of Continental Europe. When the Celtic nations appeared, these
pygmies were driven into mountain fastnesses and into the most
inaccessible places, where a few of them may have survived until
comparatively historical times.
Over against the champions of the Pygmy Theory may be set two of its
opponents, Dr. Bertram C. A. Windle and Mr. Andrew Lang.[3] Dr. Windle,
in his Introduction to Tyson’s Philological Essay concerning the Pygmies of

the Ancients, makes these six most destructive criticisms or points against
the theory: (1) So far as our present knowledge teaches us, there never was
a really Pygmy race inhabiting the northern parts of Scotland; (2) the
mounds with which the tales of little people are associated have not, in
many cases, been habitations, but were natural or sepulchral in their nature;
(3) little people are not by any means associated entirely with mounds; (4)
the association of giants and dwarfs in traditions confuses the theory; (5)
there are fairies where no pygmies ever were, as, for example, in North
America; (6) even Eskimos and Lapps have fairy beliefs, and could not
have been the original fairies of more modern fairy-lore. Altogether, as we
think our study will show, the evidence of the Fairy-Faith itself gives only a
slender and superficial support to the Pygmy Theory. We maintain that the
theory, so far as it is provable, and this is evidently not very far, is only one
strand, contributed by ethnology and social psychology, in the complex
fabric of the Fairy-Faith, and is, as such, woven round a psychical central
pattern—the fundamental pattern of the Fairy-Faith. Therefore, from our
point of view, the Pygmy Theory is altogether inadequate, because it
overlooks or misinterprets the most essential and prominent elements in the
belief which the Celtic peoples hold concerning fairies and Fairyland.
The Druid Theory to account for fairies is less widespread. It is that the
folk-memory of the Druids and their magical practices is alone responsible
for the Fairy-Faith. The first suggestion of this theory seems to have been
made by the Rev. Dr. Cririe, in his Scottish Scenery, published in 1803.[4]
Three years later, the Rev. Dr. Graham published an identical hypothesis in
his Sketches Descriptive of Picturesque Scenery on the Southern Confines
of Perthshire. Mr. MacRitchie suggests, with all reason, that the two writers
probably had discussed together the theory, and hence both put it forth.
Alfred Maury, in Les Fées du Moyen-Age, published in 1843 at Paris,
appears to have made liberal use of Patrick Graham’s suggestions in
propounding his theory that the fées or fairy women of the Middle Ages are
due to a folk-memory of Druidesses. Maury seems to have forgotten that
throughout pagan Britain and Ireland, both much more important for the
study of fairies than Celtic Europe during the Middle Ages, Druids rather
than Druidesses had the chief influence on the people, and that yet, despite
this fact, Irish and Welsh mythology is full of stories about fairy women
coming from the Otherworld; nor is there any proof, or even good ground

for argument, that the Irish fairy women are a folk-memory of Druidesses,
for if there ever were Druidesses in Ireland they played a subordinate and
very insignificant rôle. As in the case of the Pygmy Theory, we maintain
that the Druid Theory, also, is inadequate. It discovers a real
anthropomorphic influence at work on the outward aspects of the Fairy-
Faith, and illogically takes that to be the origin of the Fairy-Faith.
The fourth theory, the Mythological Theory, is of very great importance. It
is that fairies are the diminished figures of the old pagan divinities of the
early Celts; and many modern authorities on Celtic mythology and folk-lore
hold it. To us the theory is acceptable so far as it goes. But it is not adequate
in itself nor is it the root theory, because a belief in gods and goddesses
must in turn be explained; and in making this explanation we arrive at the
Psychological Theory, which this study—perhaps the first one of its kind—
attempts to set forth.

VII. The Importance of Studying the Fairy-faith
I have made a very careful personal investigation of the surviving Celtic
Fairy-Faith by living for many months with and among the people who
preserve it; I have compared fairy phenomena and the phenomena said to be
caused by gods, genii, daemons, or spirits of different kinds and recorded in
the writings of ancient, mediaeval, and modern metaphysical philosophers,
Christian and pagan saints, mystics, and seers, and now more or less clearly
substantiated by from thirty to forty years of experimentation in psychical
sciences by eminent scientists of our own times, such as Sir William
Crookes and Sir Oliver Lodge in England, and M. Camille Flammarion in
France. As a result, I am convinced of the very great value of a serious
study of the Fairy-Faith. The Fairy-Faith as the folk-religion of the Celts
ought, like all religions, to be studied sympathetically as well as
scientifically. To those who take a materialistic view of life, and
consequently deny the existence of spirits or invisible intelligences such as
fairies are said to be, we should say as my honoured American teacher in
psychology, the late Dr. William James, of Harvard, used to say in his
lectures at Stanford University, ‘Materialism considered as a system of
philosophy never tries to explain the Why of things.’ But in our study of the

Fairy-Faith we shall attempt to deal with this Why of things; and, then,
perhaps the value of studying fairies and Fairyland will be more apparent,
even to materialists.
The great majority of men in cities are apt to pride themselves on their own
exemption from ‘superstition’, and to smile pityingly at the poor
countrymen and countrywomen who believe in fairies. But when they do so
they forget that, with all their own admirable progress in material invention,
with all the far-reaching data of their acquired science, with all the vast
extent of their commercial and economic conquests, they themselves have
ceased to be natural. Wherever under modern conditions great multitudes of
men and women are herded together there is bound to be an unhealthy
psychical atmosphere never found in the country—an atmosphere which
inevitably tends to develop in the average man who is not psychically
strong enough to resist it, lower at the expense of higher forces or qualities,
and thus to inhibit any normal attempts of the Subliminal Self (a well-
accredited psychological entity) to manifest itself in consciousness. In this
connexion it is highly significant to note that, as far as can be determined,
almost all professed materialists of the uncritical type, and even most of
those who are thinking and philosophizing sceptics about the existence of a
supersensuous realm or state of conscious being, are or have been city-
dwellers—usually so by birth and breeding. And even where we find
materialists of either type dwelling in the country, we generally find them
so completely under the hypnotic sway of city influences and mould of
thought in matters of education and culture, and in matters touching
religion, that they have lost all sympathetic and responsive contact with
Nature, because unconsciously they have thus permitted conventionality
and unnaturalness to insulate them from it. The Celtic peasant, who may be
their tenant or neighbour, is—if still uncorrupted by them—in direct
contrast unconventional and natural. He is normally always responsive to
psychical influences—as much so as an Australian Arunta or an American
Red Man, who also, like him, are fortunate enough to have escaped being
corrupted by what we egotistically, to distinguish ourselves from them, call
‘civilization’. If our Celtic peasant has psychical experiences, or if he sees
an apparition which he calls one of the ‘good people’, that is to say a fairy,
it is useless to try to persuade him that he is under a delusion: unlike his
materialistically-minded lord, he would not attempt nor even desire to make

himself believe that what he has seen he has not seen. Not only has he the
will to believe, but he has the right to believe; because his belief is not a
matter of being educated and reasoning logically, nor a matter of faith and
theology—it is a fact of his own individual experiences, as he will tell you.
Such peasant seers have frequently argued with me to the effect that ‘One
does not have to be educated in order to see fairies’.
Unlike the natural mind of the uncorrupted Celt, Arunta, or American Red
Man, which is ever open to unusual psychical impressions, the mind of the
business man in our great cities tends to be obsessed with business affairs
both during his waking and during his dream states, the politician’s with
politics similarly, the society-leader’s with society; and the unwholesome
excitement felt by day in the city is apt to be heightened at night through a
satisfying of the feeling which it morbidly creates for relaxation and change
of stimuli. In the slums, humanity is divorced from Nature under even
worse conditions, and becomes wholly decadent. But in slum and in palace
alike there is continually a feverish nerve-tension induced by unrest and
worry; there is impure and smoke-impregnated air, a lack of sunshine, a
substitution of artificial objects for natural objects, and in place of solitude
the eternal din of traffic. Instead of Nature, men in cities (and paradoxically
some conventionalized men in the country) have ‘civilization’—and
‘culture’.
Are city-dwellers like these, Nature’s unnatural children, who grind out
their lives in an unceasing struggle for wealth and power, social position,
and even for bread, fit to judge Nature’s natural children who believe in
fairies? Are they right in not believing in an invisible world which they
cannot conceive, which, if it exists, they—even though they be scientists—
are through environment and temperament alike incapable of knowing? Or
is the country-dwelling, the sometimes ‘unpractical’ and ‘unsuccessful’, the
dreaming, and ‘uncivilized’ peasant right? These questions ought to arouse
in the minds of anthropologists very serious reflection, world-wide in its
scope.
At all events, and equally for the unbeliever and for the believer, the study
of the Fairy-Faith is of vast importance historically, philosophically,
religiously, and scientifically. In it lie the germs of much of our European
religions and philosophies, customs, and institutions. And it is one of the

chief keys to unlock the mysteries of Celtic mythology. We believe that a
greater age is coming soon, when all the ancient mythologies will be
carefully studied and interpreted, and when the mythology of the Celts will
be held in very high esteem. But already an age has come when things
purely Celtic have begun to be studied; and the close observer can see the
awakening genius of the modern Celt manifesting itself in the realm of
scholarship, of literature, and even of art—throughout Continental Europe,
especially France and Germany, throughout Great Britain and Ireland, and
throughout the new Celtic world of America, as far west as San Francisco
on the great calm ocean of the future facing Japan and China. In truth the
Celtic empire is greater than it ever was before Caesar destroyed its
political unity; and its citizens have not forgotten the ancient faith of their
ancestors in a world invisible.
W. Y. E. W.

SECTION I

THE LIVING FAIRY-FAITH

CHAPTER I

ENVIRONMENT

‘In the Beauty of the World lies the ultimate
redemption of our mortality. When we shall
become at one with nature in a sense
profounder even than the poetic imaginings
of most of us, we shall understand what now
we fail to discern.’—Fiona Macleod.

Psychical interpretation—The mysticism of Erin and Armorica—In Ireland
—In Scotland—In the Isle of Man—In Wales—In Cornwall—In
Brittany.

As a preliminary to our study it is important, as we shall see later, to give
some attention to the influences and purely natural environment under
which the Fairy-Faith has grown up. And in doing so it will be apparent to
what extent there is truth in the Naturalistic Theory; though from the first
our interpretation of Environment is fundamentally psychical. In this first
chapter, then, in so far as they can be recorded, we shall record a few
impressions, which will, in a way, serve as introductory to the more definite
and detailed consideration of the Fairy-Faith itself.
Ireland and Brittany, the two extremes of the modern Celtic world, are for
us the most important points from which to take our initial bearings. Both
washed by the waters of the Ocean of Atlantis, the one an island, the other a
peninsula, they have best preserved their old racial life in its simplicity and

beauty, with its high ideals, its mystical traditions, and its strong spirituality.
And, curious though the statement may appear to some, this preservation of
older manners and traditions does not seem to be due so much to
geographical isolation as to subtle forces so strange and mysterious that to
know them they must be felt; and their nature can only be suggested, for it
cannot be described. Over Erin and Armorica, as over Egypt, there hovers a
halo of romance, of strangeness, of mysticism real and positive; and, if we
mistake not the language of others, these phrases of ours but echo opinions
common to many Celts native of the two countries—they who have the first
right to testify; and not only are there poets and seers among them, but men
of the practical world as well, and men of high rank in scholarship, in
literature, in art, and even in science.

In Ireland
If anyone would know Ireland and test these influences—influences which
have been so fundamental in giving to the Fairy-Faith of the past something
more than mere beauty of romance and attractive form, and something
which even to-day, as in the heroic ages, is ever-living and ever-present in
the centres where men of the second-sight say that they see fairies in that
strange state of subjectivity which the peasant calls Fairyland—let him
stand on the Hill of Tara silently and alone at sunset, in the noonday, in the
mist of a dark day. Let him likewise silently and alone follow the course of
the Boyne. Let him enter the silence of New Grange and of Dowth. Let him
muse over the hieroglyphics of Lough Crew. Let him feel the mystic beauty
of Killarney, the peacefulness of Glendalough, of Monasterboise, of
Clonmacnois, and the isolation of Aranmore. Let him dare to enter the rings
of fairies, to tempt the ‘good folk’ at their raths and forts. Let him rest on
the ancient cairn above the mountain-palace of Finvara and look out across
the battlefields of Moytura. Let him wander amid the fairy dells of gentle
Connemara. Let him behold the Irish Sea from the Heights of Howth, as
Fionn Mac Cumhail used to do. Let him listen to the ocean-winds amid Dun
Aengus. Let him view the stronghold of Cuchulainn and the Red Branch
Knights. Let him linger beside that mysterious lake which lies embosomed
between two prehistoric cairns on the summit of enchanted Slieve Gullion,
where yet dwells invisible the mountain’s Guardian, a fairy woman. Let him

then try to interpret the mysticism of an ancient Irish myth, in order to
understand why men have been told that in the plain beneath this magic
mountain of Ireland mighty warfare was once waged on account of a Bull,
by the hosts of Queen Meave against those of Cuchulainn the hero of
Ulster. Let him be lost in the mists on the top of Ben Bulbin. Let him know
the haunts of fairy kings and queens in Roscommon. Let him follow in the
footsteps of Patrick and Bridgit and Columba. When there are dark days
and stormy nights, let him sit beside a blazing fire of fragrant peat in a
peasant’s straw-thatched cottage listening to tales of Ireland’s golden age—
tales of gods, of heroes, of ghosts, and of fairy-folk. If he will do these
things, he will know Ireland, and why its people believe in fairies.
As yet, little has been said concerning the effects of clouds, of natural
scenery, of weird and sudden transformations in earth and sky and air,
which play their part in shaping the complete Fairy-Faith of the Irish; but
what we are about to say concerning Scotland will suggest the same things
for Ireland, because the nature of the landscape and the atmospheric
changes are much the same in the two countries, both inland and on their
rock-bound and storm-swept shores.

In Scotland
In the moorlands between Trossachs and Aberfoyle, a region made famous
by Scott’s Rob Roy, I have seen atmospheric changes so sudden and so
contrasted as to appear marvellous. What shifting of vapours and clouds,
what flashes of bright sun-gleams, then twilight at midday! Across the
landscape, shadows of black dense fog-banks rush like shadows of flocks of
great birds which darken all the earth. Palpitating fog-banks wrap
themselves around the mountain-tops and then come down like living
things to move across the valleys, sometimes only a few yards above the
traveller’s head. And in that country live terrible water-kelpies. When black
clouds discharge their watery burden it is in wind-driven vertical water-
sheets through which the world appears as through an ice-filmed window-
pane. Perhaps in a single day there may be the bluest of heavens and the
clearest air, the densest clouds and the darkest shadows, the calm of the
morning and the wind of the tempest. At night in Aberfoyle after such a day,

I witnessed a clear sunset and a fair evening sky; in the morning when I
arose, the lowlands along the river were inundated and a thousand cascades,
large and small, were leaping down the mountain-highlands, and rain was
falling in heavy masses. Within an hour afterwards, as I travelled on
towards Stirling, the rain and wind ceased, and there settled down over all
the land cloud-masses so inky-black that they seemed like the fancies of
some horrible dream. Then like massed armies they began to move to their
mountain-strongholds, and stood there; while from the east came perfect
weather and a flood of brilliant sunshine.
And in the Highlands from Stirling to Inverness what magic, what changing
colours and shadows there were on the age-worn treeless hills, and in the
valleys with their clear, pure streams receiving tribute from unnumbered
little rills and springs, some dropping water drop by drop as though it were
fairy-distilled; and everywhere the heather giving to the mountain-
landscape a hue of rich purplish-brown, and to the air an odour of aromatic
fragrance.
On to the north-west beyond Inverness there is the same kind of a treeless
highland country; and then after a few hours of travel one looks out across
the water from Kyle and beholds Skye, where Cuchulainn is by some
believed to have passed his young manhood learning feats of arms from
fairy women,—Skye, dark, mountainous, majestic, with its waterfalls
turning to white spray as they tumble from cliff to cliff into the sound, from
out the clouds that hide their mountain-summit sources.
In the Outer Hebrides, as in the Aranmore Islands off West Ireland,
influences are at work on the Celtic imagination quite different from those
in Skye and its neighbouring islands. Mountainous billows which have
travelled from afar out of the mysterious watery waste find their first
impediment on the west of these isolated Hebridean isles, and they fling
themselves like mad things in full fury against the wild rocky islets fringing
the coast. White spray flashes in unearthly forms over the highest cliff, and
the unrestrained hurricane whirls it far inland. Ocean’s eternally murmuring
sounds set up a responsive vibration in the soul of the peasant, as he in
solitude drives home his flocks amid the weird gloaming at the end of a
December day; and, later, when he sits brooding in his humble cottage at
night, in the fitful flickering of a peat fire, he has a mystic consciousness

that deep down in his being there is a more divine music compared with
which that of external nature is but a symbol and an echo; and, as he stirs
the glowing peat-embers, phantoms from an irretrievable past seem to be
sitting with him on the edge of the half-circle of dying light. Maybe there
are skin-clad huntsmen of the sea and land, with spears and knives of bone
and flint and shaggy sleeping dogs, or fearless sea-rovers resting wearily on
shields of brilliant bronze, or maybe Celtic warriors fierce and bold; and
then he understands that his past and his present are one.
Commonly there is the thickest day-darkness when the driving storms come
in from the Atlantic, or when dense fog covers sea and land; and, again,
there are melancholy sea-winds moaning across from shore to shore,
bending the bushes of the purple heather. At other times there is a sparkle of
the brightest sunshine on the ocean waves, a fierceness foreign to the more
peaceful Highlands; and then again a dead silence prevails at sunrise and at
sunset if one be on the mountains, or, if on the shore, no sound is heard save
the rhythmical beat of the waves, and now and then the hoarse cry of a sea-
bird. All these contrasted conditions may be seen in one day, or each may
endure for a day; and the dark days last nearly all the winter. And then it is,
during the long winter, that the crofters and fisher-folk congregate night
after night in a different neighbour’s house to tell about fairies and ghosts,
and to repeat all those old legends so dear to the heart of the Celt. Perhaps
every one present has heard the same story or legend a hundred times, yet it
is always listened to and told as though it were the latest bulletin of some
great world-stirring event. Over those little islands, so far away to the north,
out on the edge of the world, in winter-time darkness settles down at four
o’clock or even earlier; and the islanders hurry through with their dinner of
fish and oat-bread so as not to miss hearing the first story. When the
company has gathered from far and near, pipes are re-filled and lit and the
peat is heaped up, for the story-telling is not likely to end before midnight.
‘The house is roomy and clean, if homely, with its bright peat fire in the
middle of the floor. There are many present—men and women, boys and
girls. All the women are seated, and most of the men. Girls are crouched
between the knees of fathers or brothers or friends, while boys are perched
wherever—boy-like—they can climb. The houseman is twisting twigs of
heather into ropes to hold down thatch, a neighbour crofter is twining
quicken root into cords to tie cows, while another is plaiting bent grass into

baskets to hold meal. The housewife is spinning, a daughter is carding,
another daughter is teazing, while a third daughter, supposed to be working,
is away in the background conversing in low whispers with the son of a
neighbouring crofter. Neighbour wives and neighbour daughters are
knitting, sewing, or embroidering.’[5] Then when the bad weather for
fishing has been fully discussed by the men, and the latest gossip by the
women, and the foolish talk of the youths and maidens in the corners is
finished, the one who occupies the chair of honour in the midst of the
ceilidh[6] looks around to be sure that everybody is comfortable and ready;
and, as his first story begins, even the babes by instinct cease their noise
and crying, and young and old bend forward eagerly to hear every word. It
does not matter if some of the boys and girls do topple over asleep, or even
some of the older folk as the hour gets late; the tales meet no interruption in
their even, unbroken flow. And here we have the most Celtic and the most
natural environments which the Fairy-Faith enjoys in Scotland.
There are still the Southern Highlands in the country around Oban, and the
islands near them; and of all these isles none is so picturesque in history as
the one Columba loved so well. Though Iona enjoys less of the wildness of
the Hebrides furthest west, it has their storm-winds and fogs and dark days,
and their strangeness of isolation. On it, as Adamnan tells us, the holy man
fought with black demons who came to invade his monastery, and saw
angelic hosts; and when the angels took his soul at midnight in that little
chapel by the sea-shore there was a mystic light which illuminated all the
altar like the brightest sunshine. But nowadays, where the saint saw demons
and angels the Islanders see ghosts and ‘good people’, and when one of
these islanders is taken in death it is not by angels—it is by fairies.

In the Isle of Man
In the midst of the Irish Sea, almost equidistant from Ireland, Scotland, and
Wales, and concentrating in itself the psychical and magnetic influences
from these three Celtic lands, and from Celto-Saxon England too, lies the
beautiful kingdom of the great Tuatha De Danann god, Manannan Mac Lir,
or, as his loyal Manx subjects prefer to call him, Mannanan-Beg-Mac-y-
Leir. In no other land of the Celt does Nature show so many moods and

contrasts, such perfect repose at one time and at another time the mightiness
of its unloosed powers, when the baffled sea throws itself angrily against a
high rock-bound coast, as wild and almost as weather-worn as the western
coasts of Ireland and the Hebrides.
But it is Nature’s calmer moods which have greater effect upon the Manx
people: on the summit of his ancient stronghold, South Barrule Mountain,
the god Manannan yet dwells invisible to mortal eyes, and whenever on a
warm day he throws off his magic mist-blanket with which he is wont to
cover the whole island, the golden gorse or purple heather blossoms
become musical with the hum of bees, and sway gently on breezes made
balmy by the tropical warmth of an ocean stream flowing from the far
distant Mexican shores of a New World. Then in many a moist and sweet-
smelling glen, pure and verdant, land-birds in rejoicing bands add to the
harmony of sound, as they gather on the newly-ploughed field or dip
themselves in the clear water of the tinkling brook; and from the cliffs and
rocky islets on the coast comes the echo of the multitudinous chorus of sea-
birds. At sunset, on such a day, as evening calmness settles down, weird
mountain shadows begin to move across the dimly-lighted glens; and when
darkness has fallen, there is a mystic stillness, broken only by the ceaseless
throbbing of the sea-waves, the flow of brooks, and the voices of the night.
In the moorland solitudes, even by day, there sometimes broods a deeper
silence, which is yet more potent and full of meaning for the peasant, as
under its spell he beholds the peaceful vision, happy and sunlit, of sea and
land, of gentle mountains falling away in land-waves into well-tilled plains
and fertile valleys; and he comes to feel instinctively the old Druidic Fires
relit within his heart, and perhaps unconsciously he worships there in
Nature’s Temple. The natural beauty without awakens the divine beauty
within, and for a second of time he, out of his subconsciousness, is
conscious that in Nature there are beings and inaudible voices which have
no existence for the flippant pleasure-seeking crowds who come and go. To
the multitude, his ancestral beliefs are foolishness, his fairies but the
creatures of a fervid Celtic imagination which readily responds to unusual
phenomena and environments. They will not believe with him that all
beauty and harmony in the world are but symbolic, and that behind these
stand unseen sustaining forces and powers which are conscious and eternal;
and though by instinct they willingly personify Nature they do not know the

secret of why they do so: for them the outer is reality, the inner non-
existent.
From the Age of Stone to the civilized era of to-day, the Isle of Man has
been, in succession, the home of every known race and people who have
flourished in Western Europe; and though subject, in turn, to the Irish Gael
and to the Welsh Brython, to Northmen and to Danes, to Scots and to
English, and the scene of sweeping transformations in religion, as pagan
cults succeeded one another, to give way to the teaching of St. Patrick and
his disciples St. German and St. Maughold, and this finally to the Protestant
form of Christianity, the island alone of Celtic lands has been strangely
empowered to maintain in almost primitive purity its ancient constitution
and freedom, and though geographically at the very centre of the United
Kingdom, is not a part of it. The archaeologist may still read in mysterious
symbols of stone and earth, as they lie strewn over the island’s surface, the
history of this age-long panoramic procession of human evolution; while
through these same symbols the Manx seer reads a deeper meaning; and
sometimes in the superhuman realm of radiant light, to which since long
ago they have oft come and oft returned, he meets face to face the gods and
heroes whose early tombs stand solitary on the wind-swept mountain-top
and moorland, or hidden away in the embrace of wild flowers and verdure
amid valleys; and in the darker mid-world he sees innumerable ghosts of
many of these races which have perished.

In Wales
Less can be said of Wales than of Ireland, or of Scotland as a whole. It has,
it is true, its own peculiar psychic atmosphere, different, no doubt, because
its people are Brythonic Celts rather than Gaelic Celts. But Wales, with
conditions more modernized than is the case in Ireland or in the Western
Hebrides of Scotland, does not now exhibit in a vigorous or flourishing
state those Celtic influences which, when they were active, did so much to
create the precious Romances of Arthur and his Brotherhood, and to lay the
foundations for the Welsh belief in the Tylwyth Teg, a fairy race still
surviving in a few favoured localities.

Wales, like all Celtic countries, is a land of long sea-coasts, though there
seems to be, save in the mountains of the north, less of mist and darkness
and cloud effects than in Ireland and Scotland. In the south, perhaps the
most curious influences are to be felt at St. David’s Head, and in St. David’s
itself—once the goal for thousands of pilgrims from many countries of
mediaeval Europe, and, probably, in pagan times the seat of an oracle. And
a place of like character is the peninsula of Gower, south of Swansea.
Caerphilly Castle, where the Green Lady reigns now amid its ruined acres,
is a strange place; and so is the hill near Carmarthen, where Merlin is asleep
in a cave with the fairy-woman Vivian. But in none of these places to-day is
there a strong living faith in fairies as there is, for example, in West Ireland.
The one region where I found a real Celtic atmosphere—and it is a region
where everybody speaks Welsh—is a mountainous country rarely visited by
travellers, save archaeologists, a few miles from Newport; and its centre is
the Pentre Evan Cromlech, the finest cromlech in Wales if not in Britain. By
this prehistoric monument and in the country round the old Nevern Church,
three miles away, there is an active belief in the ‘fair-folk’, in ghosts, in
death-warnings, in death-candles and phantom-funerals, and in witchcraft
and black magic. Thence on to Newcastle-Emlyn and its valley, where
many of the Mabinogion stories took form, or at least from where they drew
rich material in the way of folk-lore,[7] are environments purely Welsh and
as yet little disturbed by the commercial materialism of the age.
There remain now to be mentioned three other places in Wales to me very
impressive psychically. These are: ancient Harlech, so famous in recorded
Welsh fairy-romance—Harlech with its strange stone-circles, and old castle
from which the Snowdon Range is seen to loom majestically and clear, and
with its sun-kissed bay; Mount Snowdon, with its memories of Arthur and
Welsh heroes; and sacred Anglesey or Mona, strewn with tumuli, and
dolmens, and pillar-stones—Mona, where the Druids made their last stand
against the Roman eagles—and its little island called Holyhead, facing
Ireland.
However, when all is said, modern Wales is poorer in its fairy atmosphere
than modern Ireland or modern Brittany. Certainly there is a good deal of
this fairy atmosphere yet, though it has become less vital than the similar
fairy atmosphere in the great centres of Erin and Armorica. But the purely
social environment under which the Fairy-Faith of Wales survives is a

potent force which promises to preserve underneath the surface of Welsh
national life, where the commercialism of the age has compelled it to retire
in a state of temporary latency, the ancestral idealism of the ancient
Brythonic race. In Wales, as in Lower Brittany and in parts of Ireland and
the Hebrides, one may still hear in common daily use a language which has
been continuously spoken since unknown centuries before the rise of the
Roman empire. And the strong hold which the Druidic Eisteddfod (an
annual national congress of bards and literati) continues to have upon the
Welsh people, in spite of their commercialism, is, again, a sign that their
hearts remain uncorrupted, that when the more favourable hour strikes they
will sweep aside the deadening influences which now hold them in spiritual
bondage, and become, as they were in the past, true children of Arthur.

In Cornwall
Strikingly like Brittany in physical aspects, Southern and Western Cornwall
is a land of the sea, of rolling plains and moorlands rather than of high hills
and mountains, a land of golden-yellow furze-bloom, where noisy crowds
of black crows and white sea-gulls mingle together over the freshly-turned
or new-sown fields, and where in the spring-time the call of the cuckoo is
heard with the song of the skylark. Like the Isle of Man, from the earliest
ages Cornwall has been a meeting-place and a battle-ground for contending
races. The primitive dark Iberian peoples gave way before Aryan-Celtic
invaders, and these to Roman and then to Germanic invaders.
Nature has been kind to the whole of Cornwall, but chiefly upon the
peninsula whose ancient capital is Penzance (which possibly means ‘the
Holy Headland’), and upon the land immediately eastward and northward
of it, she has bestowed her rarest gifts. Holding this territory embosomed in
the pure waters of Ocean, and breathing over it the pure air of the Atlantic
in spring and in summer calm, when the warm vapours from the Gulf
Stream sweep over it freely, and make it a land of flowers and of singing-
birds, Nature preserves eternally its beauty and its sanctity. There are there
ruined British villages whose builders are long forgotten, strange prehistoric
circular sun-temples like fortresses crowning the hill-tops, mysterious
underground passage-ways, and crosses probably pre-Christian.

Everywhere are the records of the mighty past of this thrice-holy Druid land
of sunset. There are weird legends of the lost kingdom of Fair Lyonesse,
which seers sometimes see beneath the clear salt waves, with all its ancient
towns and flowery fields; legends of Phoenicians and Oriental merchants
who came for tin; legends of gods and of giants, of pixies and of fairies, of
King Arthur in his castle at Tintagel, of angels and of saints, of witches and
of wizards.
On Dinsul, ‘Hill dedicated to the Sun,’ pagan priests and priestesses kept
kindled the Eternal Fire, and daily watched eastward for the rising of the
God of Light and Life, to greet his coming with paeans of thanksgiving and
praise. Then after the sixth century the new religion had come proclaiming
a more mystic Light of the World in the Son of God, and to the pious half-
pagan monks who succeeded the Druids the Archangel St. Michael
appeared in vision on the Sacred Mount.[8] And before St. Augustine came
to Britain the Celts of Cornwall had already combined in their own mystical
way the spiritual message of primitive Christianity with the pure nature-
worship of their ancestors; and their land was then, as it most likely had
been in pagan days, a centre of pilgrimages for their Celtic kinsmen from
Ireland, from Wales, from England, and from Brittany. When in later times
new theological doctrines were superimposed on this mysticism of Celtic
Christianity, the Sacred Fires were buried in ashes, and the Light and
Beauty of the pagan world obscured with sackcloth.
But there in that most southern and western corner of the Isle of Britain, the
Sacred Fires themselves still burn on the divine hill-tops, though smothered
in the hearts of its children. The Cornishman’s vision is no longer clear. He
looks upon cromlech and dolmen, upon ancient caves of initiation, and
upon the graves of his prehistoric ancestors, and vaguely feels, but does not
know, why his land is so holy, is so permeated by an indefinable magic; for
he has lost his ancestral mystic touch with the unseen—he is ‘educated’ and
‘civilized’. The hand of the conqueror has fallen more heavily upon the
people of Cornwall than upon any other Celtic people, and now for a time,
but let us hope happily only for this dark period of transition, they sleep—
until Arthur comes to break the spell and set them free.

In Brittany
As was pointed out at the beginning of this chapter, Ireland and Brittany are
to be regarded as the two poles of the modern Celtic world, but it is
believed by Celtic mystics that they are much more than this, that they are
two of its psychic centres, with Tara and Carnac as two respective points of
focus from which the Celtic influence of each country radiates.[9] With such
a psychical point of view, it makes no difference at all whether one scholar
argues Carnac to be Celtic and another pre-Celtic, for if pre-Celtic, as it
most likely is, it has certainly been bequeathed to the people who were and
are Celtic, and its influence has been an unbroken thing from times
altogether beyond the horizon of history. According to this theory (and in
following it we are merely trying to put on record unique material
transmitted to us by the most learned of contemporary Celtic mystics and
seers) there seem to be certain favoured places on the earth where its
magnetic and even more subtle forces are most powerful and most easily
felt by persons susceptible to such things; and Carnac appears to be one of
the greatest of such places in Europe, and for this reason, as has been
thought, was probably selected by its ancient priest-builders as the great
centre for religious practices, for the celebration of pagan mysteries, for
tribal assemblies, for astronomical observations, and very likely for
establishing schools in which to educate neophytes for the priesthood. Tara,
with its tributary Boyne valley, is a similar place in Ireland, so selected and
so used, as, in our study of the cult of fairies and the cult of the dead,
manuscript evidence will later indicate. And thus to such psychical and
magnetic, or, according perhaps to others, religious or traditional influences
as focus themselves at Tara and Carnac, though in other parts of the two
countries as well, may be due in a great, even in an essential measure, the
vigorous and ever-living Fairy-Faith of Ireland, and the innate and ever-
conscious belief of the Breton people in the Legend of the Dead and in a
world invisible. For fairies and souls of the dead, though, strictly speaking,
not confused, are believed to be beings of the subjective world existing to-
day, and influencing mortals, as they have always existed and influenced
them according to ancient and modern traditions, and as they appear now in
the eyes even of science through the work of a few pioneer scientists in
psychical research. And it seems probable that subjective beings of this
kind, granting their existence, were made use of by the ancient Druids, and

even by Patrick when the old and new religions met to do battle on the Hill
of Tara. The control of Tara, as a psychical centre, meant the psychical
control of all Ireland. To-day on the Hill of Tara the statue of St. Patrick
dwarfs the Liath Stone beside it; at Carnac the Christian Cross overshadows
dolmens and menhirs.
A learned priest of the Roman Church told me, when I met him in Galway,
that in his opinion those places in Ireland where ancient sacrifices were
performed to pagan or Druid gods are still, unless they have been regularly
exorcized, under the control of demons (daemons). And what the Druids
were at Tara and throughout Erin and most probably at Carnac as well, the
priests were in Egypt, and the pythonesses in Greece. That is to say, Druids,
Egyptian priests, priestesses in charge of Greek oracles, are said to have
foretold the future, interpreted omens, worked all miracles and wonders of
magic by the aid of daemons, who were regarded as an order of invisible
beings, intermediary between gods and men, and as sometimes including
the shades from Hades.
I should say as before, if he who knowing Ireland, the Land of Faerie,
would know in the same manner Brittany, the Land of the Dead, let him
silently and alone walk many times—in sun, in wind, in storm, in thick mist
—through the long, broad avenues of stone of the Alignements at Carnac.
Let him watch from among them the course of the sun from east to west.
Let him stand on St. Michael’s Mount on the day of the winter solstice, or
on the day of the summer solstice. Let him enter the silence of its ancient
underground chamber, so dark and so mysterious. Let him sit for hours
musing amid cromlechs and dolmens, and beside menhirs, and at holy
wells. Let him marvel at the mightiest of menhirs now broken and prostrate
at Locmariaquer, and then let him ponder over the subterranean places near
it. Let him try to read the symbolic inscriptions on the rocks in Gavrinis.
Let him stand on the Île de Sein at sunrise and at sunset. Let him penetrate
the solitudes of the Forest of Brocéliande, and walk through the Val-Sans-
Retour (Vale-Without-Return). And then let him wander in footpaths with
the Breton peasant through fields where good dames sit on the sunny side of
a bush or wall, knitting stockings, where there are long hedges of furze,
golden-yellow with bloom—even in January—and listen to stories about
corrigans, and about the dead who mingle here with the living. Let him
enter the peasant’s cottage when there is fog over the land and the sea-

winds are blowing across the shifting sand-dunes, and hear what he can tell
him. Let him, even as he enjoys the picturesque customs and dress of the
Breton folk and looks on at their joyous ronde (perhaps the relic of a long-
forgotten sun-dance), observe the depth of their nature, their almost ever-
present sense of the seriousness of human life and effort, their beautiful
characters as their mystic land has shaped them without the artificiality of
books and schools, their dreaminess as they look out across the ocean, their
often perfect physique and fine profiles and rosy cheeks, and yet withal
their brooding innate melancholy. And let him know that there is with them
always an overshadowing consciousness of an invisible world, not in some
distant realm of space, but here and now, blending itself with this world; its
inhabitants, their dead ancestors and friends, mingling with them daily, and
awaiting the hour when the Ankou (a King of the Dead) shall call each to
join their invisible company.

SECTION I

THE LIVING FAIRY-FAITH

CHAPTER II

THE TAKING OF EVIDENCE

‘During all these centuries the Celt has kept
in his heart some affinity with the mighty
beings ruling in the Unseen, once so evident
to the heroic races who preceded him. His
legends and faery tales have connected his
soul with the inner lives of air and water and
earth, and they in turn have kept his heart
sweet with hidden influence.’—A. E.

Method of presentation—The logical verdict—Trustworthiness of legends
—The Fairy-Faith held by the highly educated Celt as well as by the
Celtic peasant—The evidence is complete and adequate—Its analysis
—The Fairy-Tribes dealt with—Witnesses and their testimony: from
Ireland, with introduction by Dr. Douglas Hyde; from Scotland, with
introduction by Dr. Alexander Carmichael; from the Isle of Man, with
introduction by Miss Sophia Morrison; from Wales, with introduction
by the Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs; from Cornwall, with introduction by
Mr. Henry Jenner; and from Brittany, with introduction by Professor
Anatole Le Braz.

I. GENERAL INTRODUCTION
Various possible plans have presented themselves for setting forth the living
Fairy-Faith as I have found it during my travels in the six Celtic countries

among the people who hold it. To take a bit here and a bit there from a
miscellaneous group of psychological experiences, fairy legends and stories
which are linked together almost inseparably in the mind of the one who
tells them, does not seem at all satisfactory, nor even just, in trying to arrive
at a correct result. Classification under various headings, such, for example,
as Fairy Abductions, Changelings, or Appearances of Fairies, seems equally
unsatisfactory; for as soon as the details of folk-lore such as I am presenting
are isolated from one another—even though brought together in related
groups—they must be rudely torn out of their true and natural environment,
and divorced from the psychological atmosphere amidst which they were
first presented by the narrator. The same objection applies to any plan of
dividing the evidence into (1) that which is purely legendary; (2) that which
is second-hand or third-hand evidence from people who claim to have seen
fairies, or to have been in Fairyland or under fairy influences; and (3) that
which is first-hand evidence from actual percipients: these three classes of
evidence are so self-evident that every reader will be able to distinguish
each class for himself as it occurs, and a mechanical classification by us is
unnecessary. So no plan seems so good as the plan I have adopted of
permitting all witnesses to give their own testimony in their own way and in
its native setting, and then of classifying and weighing such testimony
according to the methods of comparative religion and the anthropological
sciences.
In most cases, as examination will show, the evidence is so clear that little
or no comment is necessary. Most of the evidence also points so much in
one direction that the only verdict which seems reasonable is that the Fairy-
Faith belongs to a doctrine of souls; that is to say, that Fairyland is a state or
condition, realm or place, very much like, if not the same as, that wherein
civilized and uncivilized men alike place the souls of the dead, in company
with other invisible beings such as gods, daemons, and all sorts of good and
bad spirits. Not only do both educated and uneducated Celtic seers so
conceive Fairyland, but they go much further, and say that Fairyland
actually exists as an invisible world within which the visible world is
immersed like an island in an unexplored ocean, and that it is peopled by
more species of living beings than this world, because incomparably more
vast and varied in its possibilities.

We should be prepared in hearing the evidence to meet with some
contradictions and a good deal of confusion, for many of the people who
believe in such a strange world as we have just described, and who think
they sometimes have entered it or have seen some of its inhabitants, have
often had no training at all in schools or colleges. But when we hear
legendary tales which have never been recorded save in the minds of
unnumbered generations of men, we ought not on that account to
undervalue them; for often they are better authorities and more trustworthy
than many an ancient and carefully inscribed manuscript in the British
Museum; and they are probably far older than the oldest book in the world.
Let us, then, for a time, forget that there are such things as libraries and
universities, and betake ourselves to the Celtic peasant for instruction,
living close to nature as he lives, and thinking the things which he thinks.
But the peasant will not be our only teacher, for we shall also hear much of
first importance from city folk of the highest intellectual training. It has
become, perhaps always has been in modern times, a widespread opinion,
even among some scholars, that the belief in fairies is the property solely of
simple, uneducated country-folk, and that people who have had ‘a touch of
education and a little common sense knocked into their heads’, to use the
ordinary language, ‘wouldn’t be caught believing in such nonsense.’ This
same class of critics used to make similar remarks about people who said
there were ghosts, until the truth of another ‘stupid superstition’ was
discovered by psychical research. So in this chapter we hope to correct this
erroneous opinion about the Fairy-Faith, an opinion chiefly entertained by
scholars and others who know not the first real fact about fairies, because
they have never lived amongst the people who believe in fairies, but derive
all their information from books and hearsay. In due order the proper sort of
witnesses will substantiate this position, but before coming to their
testimony we may now say that there are men and women in Dublin, in
other parts of Ireland, in Scotland, in the Isle of Man, and in Brythonic
lands too, whom all the world knows as educated leaders in their respective
fields of activity, who not only declare their belief that fairies were, but that
fairies are; and some of these men and women say that they have the power
to see fairies as real spiritual beings.
In the evidence about to be presented there has been no selecting in favour
of any one theory; it is presented as discovered. The only liberty taken with

some of the evidence has been to put it into better grammatical form, and
sometimes to recast an ambiguous statement when I, as collector, had in my
own mind no doubt as to its meaning. Translations have been made as
literal as possible; though sometimes it has been found better to offer the
meaning rather than what in English would be an obscure colloquialism or
idiomatic expression. The method pursued in seeking the evidence has been
to penetrate as deeply and in as natural a way as possible the thoughts of the
people who believe in fairies and like beings, by living among them and
observing their customs and ways of thought, and recording what seemed
relevant to the subject under investigation—chance expressions, and
legends told under various ordinary conditions—rather than to collect long
legends or literary fairy-stories. For these last the reader is referred to the
many excellent works on Celtic folk-lore. We have sought to bring together,
as perhaps has not been done before, the philosophy of the belief in fairies,
rather than the mere fairy-lore itself, though the two cannot be separated. In
giving the evidence concerning fairies, we sometimes give evidence which,
though akin to it and thus worthy of record, is not strictly fairy-lore. All that
we have omitted from the materials in the form first taken down are stories
and accounts of things not sufficiently related to the world of Faerie to be of
value here.
In no case has testimony been admitted from a person who was known to be
unreliable, nor even from a person who was thought to be unreliable.
Accordingly, the evidence we are to examine ought to be considered good
evidence so far as it goes; and since it represents almost all known elements
of the Fairy-Faith and contains almost all the essential elements upon which
the advocates of the Naturalistic Theory, of the Pygmy Theory, of the Druid
Theory, of the Mythological Theory, as well as of our own Psychological
Theory, must base their arguments, we consider it very adequate evidence.
Nearly every witness is a Celt who has been made acquainted with the
belief in fairies through direct contact with people who believe in them, or
through having heard fairy-traditions among his own kindred, or through
personal psychological experiences. And it is exceedingly fortunate for us
that an unusually large proportion of these Celtic witnesses are actual
percipients and natural seers, because the eliminations from the Fairy-Faith
to be brought about in chapter iii by means of an anthropological analysis of
evidence will be so extensive that, scientifically and strictly speaking, there

will remain as a residual or unknown quantity, upon which our final
conclusion must depend, solely the testimony of reliable seer-witnesses.
That is to say, no method of anthropological dissection of the evidence can
force aside consideration of the ultimate truth which may or may not reside
in the testimony of sane and thoroughly reliable seer-witnesses.
Old and young, educated and uneducated, peasant and city-bred, testify to
the actual existence of the Celtic Fairy-Faith; and the evidence from Roman
Catholics stands beside that from Protestants, the evidence of priests
supports that of scholars and scientists, peasant seers have testified to the
same kind of visions as highly educated seers; and what poets have said
agrees with what is told by business men, engineers, and lawyers. But the
best of witnesses, like ourselves, are only human, and subject to the
shortcomings of the ordinary man, and therefore no claim can be made in
any case to infallibility of evidence: all the world over men interpret visions
pragmatically and sociologically, or hold beliefs in accord with their own
personal experiences; and are for ever unconsciously immersed in a sea of
psychological influences which sometimes may be explainable through the
methods of sociological inquiry, sometimes may be supernormal in origin
and nature, and hence to be explained most adequately, if at all, through
psychical research. Our study is a study of human nature itself, and,
moreover, often of human nature in its most subtle aspects, which are called
psychical; and the most difficult problem of all is for human nature to
interpret and understand its own ultimate essence and psychological
instincts. Our whole aim is to discover what reasonableness may or may not
stand behind a belief so vast, so ancient, so common (contrary to popular
non-Celtic opinion) to all classes of Celts, and so fundamental a shaping
force in European history, religion, and social institutions.
When we state our conviction that the Fairy-Faith is common to all classes
of Celts, we do not state that it is common to all Celts. The materialization
of the age has affected the Fairy-Faith as it has affected all religious beliefs
the world over. This has been pointed out by Dr. Hyde, by Dr. Carmichael,
and by Mr. Jenner in their respective introductions for Ireland, Scotland,
and Cornwall. Nevertheless, the Fairy-Faith as the folk-religion of the
Celtic peoples is still able to count its adherents by hundreds of thousands.
Even in many cases where Christian theology has been partially or wholly
discarded by educated Celts, in the country or in the city, as being to them

in too many details out of harmony with accepted scientific truths, the belief
in fairies has been jealously retained, and will, so it would seem, be retained
in the future.
We are now prepared to hear about the Daoine Maithe, the ‘Good People’,
as the Irish call their Sidhe race; about the ‘People of Peace’, the ‘Still-
Folk’ or the ‘Silent Moving Folk’, as the Scotch call their Sìth who live in
green knolls and in the mountain fastnesses of the Highlands; about various
Manx fairies; about the Tylwyth Teg, the ‘Fair-Family’ or ‘Fair-Folk’, as the
Welsh people call their fairies; about Cornish Pixies; and about Fées
(fairies), Corrigans, and the Phantoms of the Dead in Brittany. And along
with these, for they are very much akin, let us hear about ghosts—
sometimes about ghosts who discover hidden treasure, as in our story of the
Golden Image—about goblins, about various sorts of death-warnings
generally coming from apparitions of the dead, or from banshees, about
death-candles and phantom-funerals, about leprechauns, about hosts of the
air, and all kinds of elementals and spirits—in short, about all the orders of
beings who mingle together in that invisible realm called Fairyland.

II. IN IRELAND
Introduction by Douglas Hyde, LL.D., D. Litt., M.R.I.A. (An
Craoibhín Aoibhinn), President of the Gaelic League; author of
A Literary History of Ireland, &c.
Whatever may be thought of the conclusions drawn by Mr. Wentz from his
explorations into the Irish spirit-world, there can be no doubt as to the
accuracy of the data from which he draws them. I have myself been for
nearly a quarter of a century collecting, off and on, the folk-lore of Western
Ireland, not indeed in the shape in which Mr. Wentz has collected it, but
rather with an eye (partly for linguistic and literary purposes) to its songs,
sayings, ballads, proverbs, and sgéalta, which last are generally the
equivalent of the German Märchen, but sometimes have a touch of the saga
nature about them. In making a collection of these things I have naturally
come across a very large amount of folk-belief conversationally expressed,
with regard to the ‘good people’ and other supernatural manifestations, so
that I can bear witness to the fidelity with which Mr. Wentz has done his

work on Irish soil, for to a great number of the beliefs which he records I
have myself heard parallels, sometimes I have heard near variants of the
stories, sometimes the identical stories. So we may, I think, unhesitatingly
accept his subject-matter, whatever, as I said, be the conclusions we may
deduce from them.
The folk-tale (sean-sgéal) or Märchen, which I have spent so much time in
collecting, must not be confounded with the folk-belief which forms the
basis of Mr. Wentz’s studies. The sgéal or story is something much more
intricate, complicated, and thought-out than the belief. One can quite easily
distinguish between the two. One (the belief) is short, conversational,
chiefly relating to real people, and contains no great sequence of incidents,
while the other (the folk-tale) is long, complicated, more or less
conventional, and above all has its interest grouped around a single central
figure, that of the hero or heroine. I may make this plainer by an example.
Let us go into a cottage on the mountain-side, as Mr. Wentz and I have done
so often, and ask the old man of the house if he ever heard of such things as
fairies, and he will tell you that ‘there is fairies in it surely. Didn’t his own
father see the “forth”[10] beyond full of them, and he passing by of a
moonlight night and a little piper among them, and he playing music that
mortal man never heard the like?’ or he’ll tell you that ‘he himself wouldn’t
say agin fairies for it’s often he heard their music at the old bush behind the
house’. Ask what the fairies are like, and he will tell you—well, pretty
much what Mr. Wentz tells us. From this and the like accounts we form our
ideas of fairies and fairy music, of ghosts, mermaids, púcas, and so on, but
there is no sequence of incidents, no hero, no heroine, no story.
Again, ask the old man if he knows e’er a sean-sgéal (story or Märchen),
and he will ask you at once, ‘Did you ever hear the Speckled Bull; did you
ever hear the Well at the end of the world; did you ever hear the Tailor and
the Three Beasts; did you ever hear the Hornless Cow?’ Ask him to relate
one of these, and if you get him in the right vein, which may be perhaps one
time in ten, or if you induce the right vein, which you may do perhaps nine
times out of ten, you will find him begin with a certain gravity and
solemnity at the very beginning, thus, ‘There was once, in old times and in
old times it was, a king in Ireland’; or perhaps ‘a man who married a second
wife’; or perhaps ‘a widow woman with only one son’: and the tale
proceeds to recount the life and adventures of the heroes or heroines, whose

biographies told in Irish in a sort of stereotyped form may take from ten
minutes to half an hour to get through. Some stories would burn out a dip
candle in the telling, or even last the whole night. But these stories have
little or nothing to say to the questions raised in this book.
The problem we have to deal with is a startling one, as thus put before us by
Mr. Wentz. Are these beings of the spirit world real beings, having a
veritable existence of their own, in a world of their own, or are they only
the creation of the imagination of his informants, and the tradition of
bygone centuries? The newspaper, the ‘National’ School, and the Zeitgeist
have answered to their own entire satisfaction that these things are
imagination pure and simple. Yet this off-hand condemnation does not
always carry with it a perfect conviction. We do not doubt the existence of
tree-martins or kingfishers, although nine hundred and ninety-nine people
out of every thousand pass their entire lives without being vouchsafed a
glimpse of them in their live state; and may it not be the same with the
creatures of the spirit world, may not they also exist, though to only one in a
thousand it be vouchsafed to behold them? The spirit creatures cannot be
stuffed and put into museums, like rare animals and birds, whose existence
we might doubt of if we had not seen them there; yet they may exist just as
such animals and birds do, though we cannot see them. I, at least, have
often been tempted to think so. But the following considerations, partly
drawn from comparative folk-lore, have made me hesitate about definitely
accepting any theory.
In the first place, then, viewing the Irish spirit-world as a whole, we find
that it contains, even on Mr. Wentz’s showing, quite a number of different
orders of beings, of varying shapes, appearances, size, and functions. Are
we to believe that all those beings equally exist, and, on the principle that
there can be no smoke without a fire, are we to hold that there would be no
popular conception of the banshee, the leprechaun, or the Maighdean-
mhara (sea-maiden, mermaid), and consequently no tales told about them,
if such beings did not exist, and from time to time allow themselves to be
seen like the wood-martin and the kingfisher? This question is, moreover,
further complicated by the belief in the appearance of things that are or
appear to be inanimate objects, not living beings, such as the deaf coach or
the phantom ship in full sail, the appearance of which Mr. Yeats has
immortalized in one of his earliest and finest poems.

Again, although the bean-sidhe (banshee), leprechaun, púca, and the like
are the most commonly known and usually seen creatures of the spirit
world, yet great quantities of other appearances are believed to have been
also sporadically met with. I very well remember sitting one night some
four or five years ago in an hotel in Indianapolis, U.S.A., and talking to four
Irishmen, one or two of them very wealthy, and all prosperous citizens of
the United States. The talk happened to turn upon spirits—the only time
during my entire American experiences in which such a thing happened—
and each man of the four had a story of his own to tell, in which he was a
convinced believer, of ghostly manifestations seen by him in Ireland. Two
of these manifestations were of beings that would fall into no known
category; a monstrous rabbit as big as an ass, which plunged into the sea
(rabbits can swim), and a white heifer which ascended to heaven, were two
of them. I myself, when a boy of ten or eleven, was perfectly convinced that
on a fine early dewy morning in summer when people were still in bed, I
saw a strange horse run round a seven-acre field of ours and change into a
woman, who ran even swifter than the horse, and after a couple of courses
round the field disappeared into our haggard. I am sure, whatever I may
believe to-day, no earthly persuasion would, at the time, have convinced me
that I did not see this. Yet I never saw it again, and never heard of any one
else seeing the same.
My object in mentioning these things is to show that if we concede the real
objective existence of, let us say, the apparently well-authenticated banshee
(Bean-sidhe, ‘woman-fairy’), where are we to stop? for any number of
beings, more or less well authenticated, come crowding on her heels, so
many indeed that they would point to a far more extensive world of
different shapes than is usually suspected, not to speak of inanimate objects
like the coach and the ship. Of course there is nothing inherently impossible
in all these shapes existing any more than in one of them existing, but they
all seem to me to rest upon the same kind of testimony, stronger in the case
of some, less strong in the case of others, and it is as well to point out this
clearly.
My own experience is that beliefs in the Sidhe (pronounced Shee) folk, and
in other denizens of the invisible world is, in many places, rapidly dying. In
reading folk-lore collections like those of Mr. Wentz and others, one is
naturally inclined to exaggerate the extent and depth of these traditions.

They certainly still exist, and can be found if you go to search for them; but
they often exist almost as it were by sufferance, only in spots, and are
ceasing to be any longer a power. Near my home in a western county
(County Roscommon) rises gently a slope, which, owing to the flatness of
the surrounding regions, almost becomes a hill, and is a conspicuous object
for many miles upon every side. The old people called it in Irish Mullach na
Sidhe. This name is now practically lost, and it is called Fairymount. So
extinct have the traditions of the Sidhe-folk, who lived within the hill,
become, that a high ecclesiastic recently driving by asked his driver was
there an Irish name for the hill, and what was it, and his driver did not
know. There took place a few years ago a much talked of bog-slide in the
neighbouring townland of Cloon-Sheever (Sidhbhair or Siabhra), ‘the
Meadow of the Fairies,’ and many newspaper correspondents came to view
it. One of the natives told a sympathetic newspaper reporter, ‘Sure we
always knew it was going to move, that’s why the place is named Cloon-
Sheever, the bog was always in a “shiver”!’ I have never been able to hear
of any legends attached to what must have at one time been held to be the
head-quarters of the Sidhe for a score of miles round it.
Of all the beings in the Irish mythological world the Sidhe are, however,
apparently the oldest and the most distinctive. Beside them in literature and
general renown all other beings sink into insignificance. A belief in them
formerly dominated the whole of Irish life. The Sidhe or Tuatha De Danann
were a people like ourselves who inhabited the hills—not as a rule the
highest and most salient eminences, but I think more usually the pleasant
undulating slopes or gentle hill-sides—and who lived there a life of their
own, marrying or giving in marriage, banqueting or making war, and
leading there just as real a life as is our own. All Irish literature, particularly
perhaps the ‘Colloquy of the Ancients’ (Agallamh na Senórach) abounds
with reference to them. To inquire how the Irish originally came by their
belief in these beings, the Sidhe or Tuatha De Danann, is to raise a question
which cannot be answered, any more than one can answer the question,
Where did the Romans obtain their belief in Bacchus and the fauns, or the
Greeks their own belief in the beings of Olympus?
But granting such belief to have been indigenous to the Irish, as it certainly
seems to have been, then the tall, handsome fairies of Ben Bulbin and the
Sligo district, about whom Mr. Wentz tells us so much interesting matter,

might be accounted for as being a continuation of the tradition of the
ancient Gaels, or a piece of heredity inherent in the folk-imagination. I
mean, in other words, that the tradition about these handsome dwellers
within the hill-sides having been handed down for ages, and having been
perhaps exceptionally well preserved in those districts, people saw just what
they had always been told existed, or, if I may so put it, they saw what they
expected to see.
Fin Bheara, the King of the Connacht Fairies in Cnoc Meadha (or
Castlehacket) in the County Galway, his Queen Nuala, and all the beautiful
forms seen by Mr. Wentz’s seer-witness (pp. 60 ff.), all the banshees and all
the human figures, white women, and so forth, who are seen in raths and
moats and on hill-sides, are the direct descendants, so to speak, of the
Tuatha De Danann or the Sidhe. Of this, I think, there can be no doubt
whatever.
But then how are we to account for the little red-dressed men and women
and the leprechauns? Yet, are they any more wonderful than the pygmies of
classic tradition? Is not the Mermaid to be found in Greece, and is not the
Lorelei as Germanic as the Kelpy is Caledonian. If we grant that all these
are creatures of primitive folk-belief, then how they come to be so ceases to
be a Celtic problem, it becomes a world problem. But granted, as I say, that
they were all creatures of primitive folk-belief, then their occasional
appearances, or the belief in such, may be accounted for in exactly the same
way as I have suggested to be possible in the case of the Ben Bulbin fairies.
As for the belief in ghosts or revenants (in Irish tais or taidhbhse), it seems
to me that this may possibly rest to some extent upon a different footing
altogether. Here we are not confronted by a different order of beings of
different shapes and attributes from our own, but only with the appearances,
amongst the living, of men who were believed or known to be dead or far
away from the scene of their appearances. Even those who may be most
sceptical about the Sidhe-folk and the leprechauns are likely to be
convinced (on the mere evidence) that the existence of ‘astral bodies’ or
‘doubles’, or whatever we may call them, and the appearances of people,
especially in the hour of their death, to other people who were perhaps
hundreds of miles away at the time, is amply proven. Yet whatever may
have been the case originally when man was young, I do not think that this

had in later times any more direct bearing upon the belief in the Sidhe, the
leprechauns, the mermaid, and similar beings than upon the belief in the
Greek Pantheon, the naiads, the dryads, or the fauns; all of which beliefs,
probably arising originally from an animistic source, must have
differentiated themselves at a very early period. Of course every real
apparition, every ‘ghost’ apparition, tends now, and must have tended at all
times, to strengthen every spirit belief. For do not ghost apparitions belong,
in a way, to the same realm as all the others we have spoken of, that is, to a
realm equally outside our normal experience?
Another very interesting point, and one hitherto generally overlooked, is
this, that different parts of the Irish soil cherish different bodies of
supernatural beings. The North of Ireland believes in beings unknown in the
South, and North-East Leinster has spirits unknown to the West. Some
places seem to be almost given up to special beliefs. Any outsider, for
instance, who may have read that powerful and grisly book, La Légende de
la Mort, by M. Anatole Le Braz, in two large volumes, all about the awful
appearances of Ankou (Death), who simply dominates the folk-lore of
Brittany, will probably be very much astonished to know that, though I have
been collecting Irish folk-lore all my life, I have never met Death figuring
as a personality in more than two or three tales, and these mostly of a trivial
or humorous description, though the Deaf Coach (Cóiste Bodhar), the belief
in which is pretty general, does seem a kind of parallel to the creaking cart
in which Ankou rides.
I would suggest, then, that the restriction of certain forms of spirits, if I may
so call them, to certain localities, may be due to race intermixture. I would
imagine that where the people of a primitive tribe settled down most
strongly, they also most strongly preserved the memory of those
supernatural beings who were peculiarly their own. The Sidhe-folk appear
to be pre-eminently and distinctively Milesian, but the geancanach (name
of some little spirit in Meath and portion of Ulster) may have been believed
in by a race entirely different from that which believed in the clúracaun (a
Munster sprite). Some of these beliefs may be Aryan, but many are
probably pre-Celtic.
Is it not strange that while the names and exploits of the great semi-
mythological heroes of the various Saga cycles of Ireland, Cuchulainn,

Conor mac Nessa, Finn, Osgar, Oisin, and the rest, are at present the
inheritance of all Ireland, and are known in every part of it, there should
still be, as I have said, supernatural beings believed in which are unknown
outside of their own districts, and of which the rest of Ireland has never
heard? If the inhabitants of the limited districts in which these are seen still
think they see them, my suggestion is that the earlier race handed down an
account of the primitive beings believed in by their own tribe, and later
generations, if they saw anything, saw just what they were told existed.
Whilst far from questioning the actual existence of certain spiritual forms
and apparitions, I venture to throw out these considerations for what they
may be worth, and I desire again to thank Mr. Wentz for all the valuable
data he has collected for throwing light upon so interesting a question.
Ratra, Frenchpark,
County Roscommon, Ireland,
September 1910.

The Fairy Folk of Tara
On the ancient Hill of Tara, from whose heights the High Kings once ruled
all Ireland, from where the sacred fires in pagan days announced the annual
resurrection of the sun, the Easter Tide, where the magic of Patrick
prevailed over the magic of the Druids, and where the hosts of the Tuatha
De Danann were wont to appear at the great Feast of Samain, to-day the
fairy-folk of modern times hold undisputed sovereignty. And from no point
better than Tara, which thus was once the magical and political centre of the
Sacred Island, could we begin our study of the Irish Fairy-Faith. Though the
Hill has lain unploughed and deserted since the curses of Christian priests
fell upon it, on the calm air of summer evenings, at the twilight hour,
wondrous music still sounds over its slopes, and at night long, weird
processions of silent spirits march round its grass-grown raths and forts.[11]
It is only men who fear the curse of the Christians; the fairy-folk regard it
not.
The Rev. Father Peter Kenney, of Kilmessan, had directed me to John
Graham, an old man over seventy years of age, who has lived near Tara

most of his life; and after I had found John, and he had led me from rath to
rath and then right through the length of the site where once stood the
banquet hall of kings and heroes and Druids, as he earnestly described the
past glories of Tara to which these ancient monuments bear silent testimony,
we sat down in the thick sweet grass on the Sacred Hill and began talking of
the olden times in Ireland, and then of the ‘good people’:—
The ‘Good People’s’ Music.—‘As sure as you are sitting down I heard the
pipes there in that wood (pointing to a wood on the north-west slope of the
Hill, and west of the banquet hall). I heard the music another time on a hot
summer evening at the Rath of Ringlestown, in a field where all the grass
had been burned off; and I often heard it in the wood of Tara. Whenever the
good people play, you hear their music all through the field as plain as can
be; and it is the grandest kind of music. It may last half the night, but once
day comes, it ends.’
Who the ‘Good People’ are.—I now asked John what sort of a race the
‘good people’ are, and where they came from, and this is his reply:
—‘People killed and murdered in war stay on earth till their time is up, and
they are among the good people. The souls on this earth are as thick as the
grass (running his walking-stick through a thick clump), and you can’t see
them; and evil spirits are just as thick, too, and people don’t know it.
Because there are so many spirits knocking (going) about they must appear
to some people. The old folk saw the good people here on the Hill a
hundred times, and they’d always be talking about them. The good people
can see everything, and you dare not meddle with them. They live in raths,
and their houses are in them. The opinion always was that they are a race of
spirits, for they can go into different forms, and can appear big as well as
little.’

Evidence from Kilmessan, near Tara
John Boylin, born in County Meath about sixty years ago, will be our
witness from Kilmessan, a village about two miles from Tara; and he, being
one of the men of the vicinity best informed about its folk-lore, is able to
offer testimony of very great value:—

The Fairy Tribes.—‘There is said to be a whole tribe of little red men living
in Glen Odder, between Ringlestown and Tara; and on long evenings in
June they have been heard. There are other breeds or castes of fairies; and it
seems to me, when I recall our ancient traditions, that some of these fairies
are of the Fir Bolgs, some of the Tuatha De Danann, and some of the
Milesians. All of them have been seen serenading round the western slope
of Tara, dressed in ancient Irish costumes. Unlike the little red men, these
fairy races are warlike and given to making invasions. Long processions of
them have been seen going round the King’s Chair (an earthwork on which
the Kings of Tara are said to have been crowned); and they then would
appear like soldiers of ancient Ireland in review.’
The Fairy Procession.—‘We were told as children, that, as soon as night
fell, the fairies from Rath Ringlestown would form in a procession, across
Tara road, pass round certain bushes which have not been disturbed for
ages, and join the gangkena (?) or host of industrious folk, the red fairies.
We were afraid, and our nurses always brought us home before the advent
of the fairy procession. One of the passes used by this procession happened
to be between two mud-wall houses; and it is said that a man went out of
one of these houses at the wrong time, for when found he was dead: the
fairies had taken him because he interfered with their procession.’[12]
Death through Cutting Fairy-Bushes.—‘A man named Caffney cut as fuel
to boil his pot of potatoes some of these undisturbed bushes round which
the fairies pass. When he put the wood under the pot, though it spat fire, and
fire-sparkles would come out of it, it would not burn. The man pined away
gradually. In six months after cutting the fairy-bushes, he was dead. Just
before he died, he told his experiences with the wood to his brother, and his
brother told me.’
The Fairies are the Dead.—‘According to the local belief, fairies are the
spirits of the departed. Tradition says that Hugh O’Neil in the sixteenth
century, after his march to the south, encamped his army on the Rath or
Fort of Ringlestown, to be assisted by the spirits of the mighty dead who
dwelt within this rath. And it is believed that Gerald Fitzgerald has been
seen coming out of the Hill of Mollyellen, down in County Louth, leading
his horse and dressed in the old Irish costume, with breastplate, spear, and
war outfit.’

Fairy Possession.—‘Rose Carroll was possessed by a fairy-spirit. It is
known that her father held communion with evil spirits, and it appears that
they often assisted him. The Carrolls’ house was built at the end of a fairy
fort, and part of it was scooped out of this fort. Rose grew so peculiar that
her folks locked her up. After two years she was able to shake off the fairy
possession by being taken to Father Robinson’s sisters, and then to an old
witch-woman in Drogheda.’

In the Valley of the Boyne
In walking along the River Boyne, from Slane to Knowth and New Grange,
I stopped at the cottage of Owen Morgan, at Ross-na-Righ, or ‘the Wood of
the Kings’, though the ancient wood has long since disappeared; and as we
sat looking out over the sunlit beauty of Ireland’s classic river, and in full
view of the first of the famous moats, this is what Owen Morgan told me:—
How the Shoemaker’s Daughter became the Queen of Tara.—‘In olden
times there lived a shoemaker and his wife up there near Moat Knowth, and
their first child was taken by the queen of the fairies who lived inside the
moat, and a little leprechaun left in its place. The same exchange was made
when the second child was born. At the birth of the third child the fairy
queen came again and ordered one of her three servants to take the child;
but the child could not be moved because of a great beam of iron, too heavy
to lift, which lay across the baby’s breast. The second servant and then the
third failed like the first, and the queen herself could not move the child.
The mother being short of pins had used a needle to fasten the child’s
clothes, and that was what appeared to the fairies as a beam of iron, for
there was virtue in steel in those days.
‘So the fairy queen decided to bestow gifts upon the child; and advised each
of the three servants to give, in turn, a different gift. The first one said,
“May she be the grandest lady in the world”; the second one said, “May she
be the greatest singer in the world”; and the third one said, “May she be the
best mantle-maker in the world.” Then the fairy queen said, “Your gifts are
all very good, but I will give a gift of my own better than any of them: the
first time she happens to go out of the house let her come back into it under

the form of a rat.” The mother heard all that the fairy women said, and so
she never permitted her daughter to leave the house.
‘When the girl reached the age of eighteen, it happened that the young
prince of Tara, in riding by on a hunt, heard her singing, and so entranced
was he with the music that he stopped to listen; and, the song ended, he
entered the house, and upon seeing the wonderful beauty of the singer asked
her to marry him. The mother said that could not be, and taking the
daughter out of the house for the first time brought her back into it in an
apron under the form of a rat, that the prince might understand the refusal.
‘This enchantment, however, did not change the prince’s love for the
beautiful singer; and he explained how there was a day mentioned with his
father, the king, for all the great ladies of Ireland to assemble in the Halls of
Tara, and that the grandest lady and the greatest singer and the best mantle-
maker would be chosen as his wife. When he added that each lady must
come in a chariot, the rat spoke to him and said that he must send to her
home, on the day named, four piebald cats and a pack of cards, and that she
would make her appearance, provided that at the time her chariot came to
the Halls of Tara no one save the prince should be allowed near it; and, she
finally said to the prince, “Until the day mentioned with your father, you
must carry me as a rat in your pocket.”
‘But before the great day arrived, the rat had made everything known to one
of the fairy women, and so when the four piebald cats and the pack of cards
reached the girl’s home, the fairies at once turned the cats into the four most
splendid horses in the world, and the pack of cards into the most wonderful
chariot in the world; and, as the chariot was setting out from the Moat for
Tara, the fairy queen clapped her hands and laughed, and the enchantment
over the girl was broken, so that she became, as before, the prettiest lady in
the world, and she sitting in the chariot.
‘When the prince saw the wonderful chariot coming, he knew whose it was,
and went out alone to meet it; but he could not believe his eyes on seeing
the lady inside. And then she told him about the witches and fairies, and
explained everything.
‘Hundreds of ladies had come to the Halls of Tara from all Ireland, and
every one as grand as could be. The contest began with the singing, and

ended with the mantle-making, and the young girl was the last to appear;
but to the amazement of all the company the king had to give in (admit) that
the strange woman was the grandest lady, the greatest singer, and the best
mantle-maker in Ireland; and when the old king died she became the Queen
of Tara.’
After this ancient legend, which Owen Morgan heard from the old folks
when he was a boy, he told me many anecdotes about the ‘good people’ of
the Boyne, who are little men usually dressed in red.
The ‘Good People’ at New Grange.—Between Knowth and New Grange I
met Maggie Timmons carrying a pail of butter-milk to her calves; and when
we stopped on the road to talk, I asked her, in due time, if any of the ‘good
people’ ever appeared in the region, or about New Grange, which we could
see in the field, and she replied, in reference to New Grange:—‘I am sure
the neighbours used to see the good people come out of it at night and in the
morning. The good people inherited the fort.’
Then I asked her what the ‘good people’ are, and she said:—‘When they
disappear they go like fog; they must be something like spirits, or how
could they disappear in that way? I knew of people,’ she added, ‘who would
milk in the fields about here and spill milk on the ground for the good
people; and pots of potatoes would be put out for the good people at night.’
(See chap. viii for additional New Grange folk-lore.)

The Testimony of an Irish Priest
We now pass directly to West Ireland, in many ways our most important
field, and where of all places in the Celtic world the Fairy-Faith is
vigorously alive; and it seems very fitting to offer the first opportunity to
testify in behalf of that district to a scholarly priest of the Roman Church,
for what he tells us is almost wholly the result of his own memories and
experiences as an Irish boy in Connemara, supplemented in a valuable way
by his wider and more mature knowledge of the fairy-belief as he sees it
now among his own parishioners:—
Knock Ma Fairies.—‘Knock Ma, which you see over there, is said to
contain excavated passages and a palace where the fairies live, and with

them the people they have taken. And from the inside of the hill there is
believed to be an entrance to an underground world. It is a common opinion
that after consumptives die they are there with the fairies in good health.
The wasted body is not taken into the hill, for it is usually regarded as not
the body of the deceased but rather as that of a changeling, the general
belief being that the real body and the soul are carried off together, and
those of an old person from Fairyland substituted. The old person left soon
declines and dies.’
Safeguards against Fairies.—‘It was proper when having finished milking
a cow to put one’s thumb in the pail of milk, and with the wet thumb to
make the sign of the cross on the thigh of the cow on the side milked, to be
safe against fairies. And I have seen them when churning put a live coal
about an inch square under the churn, because it was an old custom
connected with fairies.’
Milk and Butter for Fairies.—‘Whatever milk falls on the ground in
milking a cow is taken by the fairies, for fairies need a little milk. Also,
after churning, the knife which is run through the butter in drying it must
not be scraped clean, for what sticks to it belongs to the fairies. Out of three
pounds of butter, for example, an ounce or two would be left for the fairies.
I have seen this several times.’
Crossing a Stream, and Fairies.—‘When out on a dark night, if pursued by
fairies or ghosts one is considered quite safe if one can get over some
stream. I remember coming home on a dark night with a boy companion
and hearing a noise, and then after we had run to a stream and crossed it
feeling quite safe.’
Fairy Preserves.—‘A heap of stones in a field should not be disturbed,
though needed for building—especially if they are part of an ancient
tumulus. The fairies are said to live inside the pile, and to move the stones
would be most unfortunate. If a house happens to be built on a fairy
preserve, or in a fairy track, the occupants will have no luck. Everything
will go wrong. Their animals will die, their children fall sick, and no end of
trouble will come on them. When the house happens to have been built in a
fairy track, the doors on the front and back, or the windows if they are in
the line of the track, cannot be kept closed at night, for the fairies must

march through. Near Ballinrobe there is an old fort which is still the
preserve of the fairies, and the land round it. The soil is very fine, and yet
no one would dare to till it. Some time ago in laying out a new road the
engineers determined to run it through the fort, but the people rose almost
in rebellion, and the course had to be changed. The farmers wouldn’t cut
down a tree or bush growing on the hill or preserve for anything.’
Fairy Control over Crops.—‘Fairies are believed to control crops and their
ripening. A field of turnips may promise well, and its owner will count on
so many tons to the acre, but if when the crop is gathered it is found to be
far short of the estimate, the explanation is that the fairies have extracted so
much substance from it. The same thing is the case with corn.’
November Eve and Fairies.—‘On November Eve it is not right to gather or
eat blackberries or sloes, nor after that time as long as they last. On
November Eve the fairies pass over all such things and make them unfit to
eat. If one dares to eat them afterwards one will have serious illness. We
firmly believed this as boys, and I laugh now when I think how we used to
gorge ourselves with berries on the last day of October, and then for weeks
after pass by bushes full of the most luscious fruit, and with mouths
watering for it couldn’t eat it.’
Fairies as Flies.—‘There is an old abbey on the river, in County Mayo, and
people say the fairies had a great battle near it, and that the slaughter was
tremendous. At the time, the fairies appeared as swarms of flies coming
from every direction to that spot. Some came from Knock Ma, and some
from South Ireland, the opinion being that fairies can assume any form they
like. The battle lasted a day and a night, and when it was over one could
have filled baskets with the dead flies which floated down the river.’
Those who Return from Faerie.—‘Persons in a short trance-state of two or
three days’ duration are said to be away with the fairies enjoying a festival.
The festival may be very material in its nature, or it may be purely spiritual.
Sometimes one may thus go to Faerie for an hour or two; or one may
remain there for seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years. The mind of a person
coming out of Fairyland is usually a blank as to what has been seen and
done there. Another idea is that the person knows well enough all about
Fairyland, but is prevented from communicating the knowledge. A certain

woman of whom I knew said she had forgotten all about her experiences in
Faerie, but a friend who heard her objected, and said she did remember, and
wouldn’t tell. A man may remain awake at night to watch one who has been
to Fairyland to see if that one holds communication with the fairies. Others
say in such a case that the fairies know you are on the alert, and will not be
discovered.’

The Testimony of a Galway Piper
Fairies=Sidheóga.—According to our next witness, Steven Ruan, a piper of
Galway, with whom I have often talked, there is one class of fairies ‘who
are nobody else than the spirits of men and women who once lived on
earth’; and the banshee is a dead friend, relative, or ancestor who appears to
give a warning. ‘The fairies’, he says, ‘never care about old folks. They
only take babies, and young men and young women. If a young wife dies,
she is said to have been taken by them, and ever afterwards to live in
Fairyland. The same things are said about a young man or a child who dies.
Fairyland is a place of delights, where music, and singing, and dancing, and
feasting are continually enjoyed; and its inhabitants are all about us, as
numerous as the blades of grass.’
A Fairy Dog.—In the course of another conversation, Steven pointed to a
rocky knoll in a field not far from his home, and said:—‘I saw a dog with a
white ring around his neck by that hill there, and the oldest men round
Galway have seen him, too, for he has been here for one hundred years or
more. He is a dog of the good people, and only appears at certain hours of
the night.’
An Old Piper in Fairyland.—And before we had done talking, the subject
of fairy-music came up, and the following little story coming from one of
the last of the old Irish pipers himself, about a brother piper, is of more than
ordinary value:—‘There used to be an old piper called Flannery who lived
in Oranmore, County Galway. I imagine he was one of the old generation.
And one time the good people took him to Fairyland to learn his profession.
He studied music with them for a long time, and when he returned he was
as great a piper as any in Ireland. But he died young, for the good people
wanted him to play for them.’

The Testimony of ‘Old Patsy’ of Aranmore
Our next witness is an old man, familiarly called ‘Old Patsy’, who is a
native of the Island of Aranmore, off the coast from Galway, and he lives on
the island amid a little group of straw-thatched fishermen’s homes called
Oak Quarter. As ‘Old Patsy’ stood beside a rude stone cross near Oak
Quarter, in one of those curious places on Aranmore, where each passing
funeral stops long enough to erect a little memorial pile of stones on the
smooth rocky surface of the roadside enclosure, he told me many anecdotes
about the mysteries of his native island.
Aranmore Fairies.—Twenty years or so ago round the Bedd of Dermot and
Grania, just above us on the hill, there were seen many fairies, ‘crowds of
them,’ said ‘Old Patsy’, and a single deer. They began to chase the deer, and
followed it right over the island. At another time similar little people chased
a horse. ‘The rocks were full of them, and they were small fellows.’
A Fairy Beating—in a Dream.—‘In the South Island,’ he continued, ‘as
night was coming on, a man was giving his cow water at a well, and, as he
looked on the other side of a wall, he saw many strange people playing
hurley. When they noticed him looking at them, one came up and struck the
cow a hard blow, and turning on the man cut his face and body very badly.
The man might not have been so badly off, but he returned to the well after
the first encounter and got five times as bad a beating; and when he reached
home he couldn’t speak at all, until the cock crew. Then he told about his
adventures, and slept a little. When he woke up in the daylight he was none
the worse for his beating, for the fairies had rubbed something on his face.’
Patsy says he knew the man, who if still alive is now in America, where he
went several years ago.
Where Fairies Live.—When I asked Patsy where the fairies live, he turned
half around, and pointing in the direction of Dun Aengus, which was in full
view on the sharp sky-line of Aranmore, said that there, in a large tumulus
on the hill-side below it, they had one of their favourite abodes. But, he
added, ‘The rocks are full of them, and they are small fellows.’ Just across
the road from where we were standing, in a spot near Oak Quarter, another
place was pointed out where the fairies are often seen dancing. The name of

it is Moneen an Damhsa, ‘the Little Bog of the Dance.’ Other sorts of fairies
live in the sea; and some of them who live on Aranmore (probably in
conjunction with those in the sea) go out over the water and cause storms
and wind.

The Testimony of a Roman Catholic Theologian
The following evidence, by the Rev. Father ——, came out during a
discussion concerning spirits and fairies as regarded by Roman Catholic
theology, which he and I enjoyed when we met as fellow travellers in
Galway Town:—
Of Magic and Place-spirits.—‘Magic, according to Catholic theology, is
nothing else than the solicitation of spiritual powers to help us. If evil spirits
are evoked by certain irrational practices it is unholy magic, and this is
altogether forbidden by our Church. All charms, spells, divination,
necromancy, or geomancy are unholy magic. Holy magic is practised by
carrying the Cross in Christ. Now evil magic has been practised here in
Ireland: butter has been taken so that none came from the churning; cows
have been made to die of maladies; and fields made unproductive. A cow
was bought from an old woman in Connemara, and no butter was ever had
from the cow until exorcism with holy water was performed. This is
reported to me as a fact.’ And in another relation the Rev. Father —— said
what for us is highly significant:—‘My private opinion is that in certain
places here in Ireland where pagan sacrifices were practised, evil spirits
through receiving homage gained control, and still hold control, unless
driven out by exorcisms.’

The Testimony of the Town Clerk of Tuam
To the town clerk of Tuam, Mr. John Glynn, who since his boyhood has
taken a keen interest in the traditions of his native county, I am indebted for
the following valuable summary of the fairy creed in that part of North
Galway where Finvara rules:—

Fairies of the Tuam Country.—‘The whole of Knock Ma (Cnoc
Meadha[13]), which probably means Hill of the Plain, is said to be the
palace of Finvara, king of the Connaught fairies. There are a good many
legends about Finvara, but very few about Queen Meave in this region.’
Famine of 1846-7 caused by Fairies.—‘During 1846-7 the potato crop in
Ireland was a failure, and very much suffering resulted. At the time, the
country people in these parts attributed the famine to disturbed conditions in
the fairy world. Old Thady Steed once told me about the conditions then
prevailing, “Sure, we couldn’t be any other way; and I saw the good people
and hundreds besides me saw them fighting in the sky over Knock Ma and
on towards Galway.” And I heard others say they saw the fighting also.’
Fairyland; and the Seeress.—‘Fairies are said to be immortal, and the fairy
world is always described as an immaterial place, though I do not think it is
the same as the world of the dead. Sick persons, however, are often said to
be with the fairies, and when cured, to have come back. A woman who died
here about thirty years ago was commonly believed to have been with the
fairies during her seven years’ sickness when she was a maiden. She
married after coming back, and had children; and she was always able to
see the good people and to talk with them, for she had the second-sight.
And it is said that she used to travel with the fairies at night. After her
marriage she lived in Tuam, and though her people were six or seven miles
out from Tuam in the country, she could always tell all that was taking place
with them there, and she at her own home at the time.’
Fairies on May Day.—‘On May Day the good people can steal butter if the
chance is given them. If a person enters a house then, and churning is going
on, he must take a hand in it, or else there will be no butter. And if fire is
given away on May Day nothing will go right for the whole year.’
The Three Fairy Drops.—‘Even yet certain things are due the fairies; for
example, two years ago, in the Court Room here in Tuam, a woman was on
trial for watering milk, and to the surprise of us all who were conducting the
proceedings, and, it can be added, to the great amusement of the onlookers,
she swore that she had only added “the three fairy drops”.’
Food of Fairies.—‘Food, after it has been put out at night for the fairies, is
not allowed to be eaten afterwards by man or beast, not even by pigs. Such

food is said to have no real substance left in it, and to let anything eat it
wouldn’t be thought of. The underlying idea seems to be that the fairies
extract the spiritual essence from food offered to them, leaving behind the
grosser elements.’
Fairy Warfare.—‘When the fairy tribes under the various kings and queens
have a battle, one side manages to have a living man among them, and he
by knocking the fairies about turns the battle in case the side he is on is
losing. It is always usual for the Munster fairy king to challenge Finvara,
the Connaught fairy king.’

County Sligo, and the Testimony of a Peasant Seer[14]
The Ben Bulbin country in County Sligo is one of those rare places in
Ireland where fairies are thought to be visible, and our first witness from
there claims to be able to see the fairies or ‘gentry’ and to talk with them.
This mortal so favoured lives in the same townland where his fathers have
lived during four hundred years, directly beneath the shadows of Ben
Bulbin, on whose sides Dermot is said to have been killed while hunting the
wild-boar. And this famous old mountain, honeycombed with curious
grottoes ages ago when the sea beat against its perpendicular flanks, is the
very place where the ‘gentry’ have their chief abode. Even on its broad level
summit, for it is a high square tableland like a mighty cube of rock set down
upon the earth by some antediluvian god, there are treacherous holes,
wherein more than one hunter may have been lost for ever, penetrating to
unknown depths; and by listening one can hear the tides from the ocean
three or four miles away surging in and out through ancient subterranean
channels, connected with these holes. In the neighbouring mountains there
are long caverns which no man has dared to penetrate to the end, and even
dogs, it is said, have been put in them never to emerge, or else to come out
miles away.
One day when the heavy white fog-banks hung over Ben Bulbin and its
neighbours, and there was a weird almost-twilight at midday over the
purple heather bog-lands at their base, and the rain was falling, I sat with
my friend before a comfortable fire of fragrant turf in his cottage and heard
about the ‘gentry’:—

Encounters with the ‘Gentry’.—‘When I was a young man I often used to
go out in the mountains over there (pointing out of the window in their
direction) to fish for trout, or to hunt; and it was in January on a cold, dry
day while carrying my gun that I and a friend with me, as we were walking
around Ben Bulbin, saw one of the gentry for the first time. I knew who it
was, for I had heard the gentry described ever since I could remember; and
this one was dressed in blue with a head-dress adorned with what seemed to
be frills.[15] When he came up to us, he said to me in a sweet and silvery
voice, “The seldomer you come to this mountain the better. A young lady
here wants to take you away.” Then he told us not to fire off our guns,
because the gentry dislike being disturbed by the noise. And he seemed to
be like a soldier of the gentry on guard. As we were leaving the mountains,
he told us not to look back, and we didn’t. Another time I was alone trout-
fishing in nearly the same region when I heard a voice say, “It is ——
barefooted and fishing.” Then there came a whistle like music and a noise
like the beating of a drum, and soon one of the gentry came and talked with
me for half an hour. He said, “Your mother will die in eleven months, and
do not let her die unanointed.” And she did die within eleven months. As he
was going away he warned me, “You must be in the house before sunset.
Do not delay! Do not delay! They can do nothing to you until I get back in
the castle.” As I found out afterwards, he was going to take me, but
hesitated because he did not want to leave my mother alone. After these
warnings I was always afraid to go to the mountains, but lately I have been
told I could go if I took a friend with me.’
‘Gentry’ Protection.—‘The gentry have always befriended and protected
me. I was drowned twice but for them. Once I was going to Durnish Island,
a mile off the coast. The channel is very deep, and at the time there was a
rough sea, with the tide running out, and I was almost lost. I shrieked and
shouted, and finally got safe to the mainland. The day I talked with one of
the gentry at the foot of the mountain when he was for taking me, he
mentioned this, and said they were the ones who saved me from drowning
then.’
‘Gentry’ Stations.—‘Especially in Ireland, the gentry live inside the
mountains in beautiful castles; and there are a good many branches of them
in other countries. Like armies, they have various stations and move from
one to another. Some live in the Wicklow Mountains near Dublin.’

‘Gentry’ Control Over Human Affairs.—‘The gentry take a great interest in
the affairs of men, and they always stand for justice and right. Any side they
favour in our wars, that side wins. They favoured the Boers, and the Boers
did get their rights. They told me they favoured the Japanese and not the
Russians, because the Russians are tyrants. Sometimes they fight among
themselves. One of them once said, “I’d fight for a friend, or I’d fight for
Ireland.”’
The ‘Gentry’ Described.—In response to my wish, this description of the
‘gentry’ was given:—‘The folk are the grandest I have ever seen. They are
far superior to us, and that is why they are called the gentry. They are not a
working class, but a military-aristocratic class, tall and noble-appearing.
They are a distinct race between our own and that of spirits, as they have
told me. Their qualifications are tremendous. “We could cut off half the
human race, but would not,” they said, “for we are expecting salvation.”
And I knew a man three or four years ago whom they struck down with
paralysis. Their sight is so penetrating that I think they could see through
the earth. They have a silvery voice, quick and sweet. The music they play
is most beautiful. They take the whole body and soul of young and
intellectual people who are interesting, transmuting the body to a body like
their own. I asked them once if they ever died, and they said, “No; we are
always kept young.” Once they take you and you taste food in their palace
you cannot come back. You are changed to one of them, and live with them
for ever. They are able to appear in different forms. One once appeared to
me, and seemed only four feet high, and stoutly built. He said, “I am bigger
than I appear to you now. We can make the old young, the big small, the
small big.” One of their women told all the secrets of my family. She said
that my brother in Australia would travel much and suffer hardships, all of
which came true; and foretold that my nephew, then about two years old,
would become a great clergyman in America, and that is what he is now.
Besides the gentry, who are a distinct class, there are bad spirits and ghosts,
which are nothing like them. My mother once saw a leprechaun beside a
bush hammering. He disappeared before she could get to him, but he also
was unlike one of the gentry.’[16]

Evidence from Grange

Our next witness, who lives about three miles from our last witness, is
Hugh Currid, the oldest man in Grange; and so old is he that now he does
little more than sit in the chimney-corner smoking, and, as he looks at the
red glow of the peat, dreaming of the olden times. Hugh knows English
very imperfectly, and so what he narrated was in the ancient Gaelic which
his fathers spoke. When Father Hines took me to Hugh’s cottage, Hugh was
in his usual silent pose before the fire. At first he rather resented having his
thoughts disturbed, but in a few minutes he was as talkative as could be, for
there is nothing like the mention of Ireland to get him started. The Father
left us then; and with the help of Hugh’s sister as an interpreter I took down
what he said:—
The Flax-Seller’s Return from Faerie.—‘An old woman near Lough More,
where Father Patrick was drowned,[17] who used to make her living by
selling flax at the market, was taken by the gentry, and often came back
afterwards to her three children to comb their hair. One time she told a
neighbour that the money she saved from her dealings in flax would be
found near a big rock on the lake-shore, which she indicated, and that she
wanted the three children to have it.’
A Wife Recovered from the ‘Gentry’.—‘A man’s young wife died in
confinement while he was absent on some business at Ballingshaun, and
one of the gentry came to him and said she had been taken. The husband
hurried home, and that night he sat with the body of his wife all alone. He
left the door open a little, and it wasn’t long before his wife’s spirit came in
and went to the cradle where her child was sleeping. As she did so, the
husband threw at her a charm of hen’s dung which he had ready, and this
held her until he could call the neighbours. And while they were coming,
she went back into her body, and lived a long time afterwards. The body
was stiff and cold when the husband arrived home, though it hadn’t been
washed or dressed.’

A Tailor’s Testimony
Our next witness is Patrick Waters, by trade a tailor, living in
Cloontipruckilish, a cross-road hamlet less than two miles from Hugh

Currid’s home. His first story is a parallel to one told about the minister of
Aberfoyle who was taken by the ‘good people’ (pp. 89 ff.):—
The Lost Bride.—‘A girl in this region died on her wedding-night while
dancing. Soon after her death she appeared to her husband, and said to him,
“I’m not dead at all, but I am put from you now for a time. It may be a long
time, or a short time, I cannot tell. I am not badly off. If you want to get me
back you must stand at the gap near the house and catch me as I go by, for I
live near there, and see you, and you do not see me.” He was anxious
enough to get her back, and didn’t waste any time in getting to the gap.
When he came to the place, a party of strangers were just coming out, and
his wife soon appeared as plain as could be, but he couldn’t stir a hand or
foot to save her. Then there was a scream and she was gone. The man
firmly believed this, and would not marry again.’
The Invisible Island.—‘There is an enchanted island which is an invisible
island between Innishmurray and the mainland opposite. It is only seen
once in seven years. I saw it myself, and so did four or five others with me.
A boatman from Sligo named Carr took two strange men with him towards
Innishmurray, and they disappeared at the spot where the island is, and he
thought they had fallen overboard and been drowned. Carr saw one of the
same men in Connelly (County Donegal), some six months or so after, and
with great surprise said to him, “Will you tell me the wonders of the world?
Is it you I saw drowned near Innishmurray?” “Yes,” he said; and then asked,
“Do you see me?” “Yes,” answered Carr. “But,” said the man again, “you
do not see me with both eyes?” Then Carr closed one eye to be sure, and
found that he saw him with one eye only. And he told the man which one it
was. At this information the fairy man blew on Carr’s face, and Carr never
saw him again.’
A Dream.—‘My father dreamt he saw two armies coming in from the sea,
walking on the water. Reaching the strand, they lined up and commenced a
battle, and my father was in great terror. The fighting was long and bloody,
and when it was over every fighter vanished, the wounded and dead as well
as the survivors. The next morning an old woman who had the reputation of
talking with the fairies came in the house to my father, who, though greatly
disturbed over the dream, had told us nothing of it, and asked him, “Have
you anything to tell? I couldn’t but laugh at you,” she added, and before my

father could reply, continued, “Well, Jimmy, you won’t tell the news, so I
will.” And then she began to tell about the battle. “Ketty!” exclaimed my
father at this, “can it be true? And who were the men beside me?” When
Ketty told him, they turned out to be some of his dead friends. She received
her information from a drowned man whom she met on the spot where the
gentry armies had come ashore; and, in the place where they fought, the
sand was all burnt red, as from fire.’
As the narrator reflected on this dream story, he remarked about dreams
generally:—‘The reason our dreams appear different from what they are is
because while in them we can’t touch the body and transform it. People
believe themselves to be with the dead in dreams.’
During September 1909, when I had several fresh interviews with Patrick
Waters, I verified all of his 1908 testimony such as it appears above; and
among unimportant anecdotes I have omitted from the matter taken down in
1908 one anecdote about our seer-witness from County Sligo, because it
proved to be capable of opposite interpretations. Patrick Waters, however,
like many of his neighbours, thoroughly supports Hugh Currid’s opinion
that our seer-witness ‘surely sees something, and it must be the gentry’; and
of Hugh Currid himself, Patrick Waters said, ‘Hugh Currid did surely see
the gentry; he saw them passing this way like a blast of wind.’ Patrick’s
fresh testimony now follows, the story about Father Patrick and Father
Dominick coming first:—
Father Patrick and Father Dominick.—‘Father Patrick Noan while bathing
in the harbour at Carns (about three miles north-west of Grange) was
drowned. His body was soon brought ashore, and his brother, Father
Dominick Noan, was sent for. When Father Dominick arrived, one of the
men who had collected around the body said to him, “Why don’t you do
something for your brother Patrick?” “Why don’t somebody ask me?” he
replied, “for I must be asked in the name of God.” So Jimmy McGowan
went on his knees and asked for the honour of God that Father Dominick
should bring Father Patrick back to life; and, at this, Father Dominick took
out his breviary and began to read. After a time he whistled, and began to
read again. He whistled a second time, and returned to the reading. Upon
his whistling the third time, Father Patrick’s spirit appeared in the doorway.

‘“Where were you when I whistled the first time?” Father Dominick asked.
“I was at a hurling match with the gentry on Mulloughmore strand.” “And
where were you at the second whistle?” “I was coming over Corrick Fadda;
and when you whistled the third time I was here at the door.” Father
Patrick’s spirit had gone back into the body, and Father Patrick lived round
here as a priest for a long time afterwards.
‘There was no such thing as artificial respiration known hereabouts when
this happened some fifty or sixty years ago. I heard this story, which I know
is true, from many persons who saw Father Dominick restore his brother to
life.’
A Druid Enchantment.—After this strange psychical narrative, there
followed the most weird legend I have heard in Celtic lands about Druids
and magic. One afternoon Patrick Waters pointed out to me the field, near
the sea-coast opposite Innishmurray, in which the ancient menhir containing
the ‘enchantment’ used to stand; and, at another time, he said that a bronze
wand covered with curious marks (or else interlaced designs) was found not
far from the ruined dolmen and allée couverte on the farm of Patrick Bruan,
about two miles southward. This last statement, like the story itself, I have
been unable to verify in any way.
‘In times before Christ there were Druids here who enchanted one another
with Druid rods made of brass, and metamorphosed one another into stone
and lumps of oak. The question is, Where are the spirits of these Druids
now? Their spirits are wafted through the air, and the man or beast they
meet is smitten, while their own bodies are still under enchantment. I had
such a Druid enchantment in my hand; it wasn’t stone, nor marble, nor flint,
and had human shape. It was found in the centre of a big rock on Innis-na-
Gore; and round this rock light used to appear at night. The man who
owned the stone decided to blast it up, and he found at its centre the
enchantment—just like a man, with head and legs and arms.[18] Father
Healy took the enchantment away, when he was here on a visit, and said
that it was a Druid enchanted, and that to get out of the rock was one part of
the releasement, and that there would be a second and complete releasement
of the Druid.’

The Fairy Tribes Classified.—Finally I asked Patrick to classify, as far as he
could, all the fairy tribes he had ever heard about, and he said:—‘The
leprechaun is a red-capped fellow who stays round pure springs, generally
shoemaking for the rest of the fairy tribes. The lunantishees are the tribes
that guard the blackthorn trees or sloes; they let you cut no stick on the
eleventh of November (the original November Day), or on the eleventh of
May (the original May Day). If at such a time you cut a blackthorn, some
misfortune will come to you. Pookas are black-featured fellows mounted on
good horses; and are horse-dealers. They visit racecourses, but usually are
invisible. The gentry are the most noble tribe of all; and they are a big race
who came from the planets—according to my idea; they usually appear
white. The Daoine Maithe (though there is some doubt, the same or almost
the same as the gentry) were next to Heaven at the Fall, but did not fall;
they are a people expecting salvation.’

Bridget O’Conner’s Testimony
Our next witness is Bridget O’Conner, a near neighbour to Patrick Waters,
in Cloontipruckilish. When I approached her neat little cottage she was
cutting sweet-pea blossoms with a pair of scissors, and as I stopped to tell
her how pretty a garden she had, she searched out the finest white bloom
she could find and gave it to me. After we had talked a little while about
America and Ireland, she said I must come in and rest a few minutes, and so
I did; and it was not long before we were talking about fairies:—
The Irish Legend of the Dead.—‘Old Peggy Gillin, dead these thirty years,
who lived a mile beyond Grange, used to cure people with a secret herb
shown to her by her brother, dead of a fairy-stroke. He was drowned and
taken by the fairies, in the big drowning here during the herring season. She
would pull the herb herself and prepare it by mixing spring water with it.
Peggy could always talk with her dead relatives and friends, and continually
with her brother, and she would tell everybody that they were with the
fairies. Her daughter, Mary Short, who inherited some of her mother’s
power, died here about three or four years ago.
‘I remember, too, about Mary Leonard and her daughter, Nancy Waters.
Both of them are dead now. The daughter was the first to die, as it

happened, and in child-birth. When she was gone, her mother used to wail
and cry in an awful manner; and one day the daughter appeared to her in the
garden, and said, “The more you wail for me, the more I am in torment.
Pray for me, but do not wail.”’
A Midwife Story.—‘A country nurse was requested by a strange man on
horseback to go with him to exercise her profession; and she went with him
to a castle she didn’t know. When the baby was born, every woman in the
place where the event happened put her finger in a basin of water and
rubbed her eyes, and so the nurse put her finger in and rubbed it on one of
her eyes. She went home and thought no more about it. But one day she was
at the fair in Grange and saw some of the same women who were in the
castle when the baby was born; though, as she noticed, she only could see
them with the one eye she had wet with the water from the basin. The nurse
spoke to the women, and they wanted to know how she recognized them;
and she, in reply, said it was with the one eye, and asked, “How is the
baby?” “Well,” said one of the fairy women; “and what eye do you see us
with?” “With the left eye,” answered the nurse. Then the fairy woman blew
her breath against the nurse’s left eye, and said, “You’ll never see me
again.” And the nurse was always blind in the left eye after that.’

The Spirit World at Carns
The Carns or Mount Temple country, about three miles from Grange,
County Sligo, has already been mentioned by witnesses as a ‘gentry’ haunt,
and so now we shall hear what one of its oldest and most intelligent native
inhabitants says of it. John McCann had been referred to, by Patrick Waters,
as one who knows much about the ‘gentry’ at first hand, and we can be sure
that what he offers us is thoroughly reliable evidence. For many years, John
McCann, born in 1830, by profession a carpenter and boat-builder, has been
official mail-carrier to Innishmurray; and he knows quite as much about the
strange little island and the mainland opposite it as any man living. His neat
little cottage is on the shore of the bay opposite the beautiful fairy-haunted
Darnish Island; and, as we sat within it beside a brilliant peat fire, and
surrounded by all the family, this is what was told me:—

A ‘Gentry’ Medium.—‘Ketty Rourk (or Queenan) could tell all that would
happen—funerals, weddings, and so forth. Sure some spirits were coming
to her. She said they were the gentry; that the gentry are everywhere; and
that my drowned uncles and grandfather and other dead are among them. A
drowned man named Pat Nicholson was her adviser. He used to live just a
mile from here; and she knew him before he was drowned.’
Here we have, clearly enough, a case of ‘mediumship’, or of
communication with the dead, as in modern Spiritualism. And the following
story, which like this last has numerous Irish parallels, illustrates an ancient
and world-wide animistic belief, that in sickness—as in dreams—the soul
goes out of the body as at death, and meets the dead in their own fairy
world.
The Clairvoyance of Mike Farrell.—‘Mike Farrell, too, could tell all about
the gentry, as he lay sick a long time. And he told about Father Brannan’s
youth, and even the house in Roscommon in which the Father was born;
and Father Brannan never said anything more against Mike after that. Mike
surely saw the gentry; and he was with them during his illness for twelve
months. He said they live in forts and at Alt Darby (“the Big Rock”). After
he got well, he went to America, at the time of the famine.’
The ‘Gentry’ Army.—‘The gentry were believed to live up on this hill (Hill
of the Brocket Stones, Cluach-a-brac), and from it they would come out
like an army and march along the road to the strand. Very few persons could
see them. They were thought to be like living people, but in different dress.
They seemed like soldiers, yet it was known they were not living beings
such as we are.’
The Seership of Dan Quinn.—‘On Connor’s Island (about two miles
southward from Carns by the mainland) my uncle, Dan Quinn, often used to
see big crowds of the gentry come into his house and play music and dance.
The house would be full of them, but they caused him no fear. Once on such
an occasion, one of them came up to him as he lay in bed, and giving him a
green leaf told him to put it in his mouth. When he did this, instantly he
could not see the gentry, but could still hear their music. Uncle Dan always
believed he recognized in some of the gentry his drowned friends. Only
when he was alone would the gentry visit him. He was a silent old man, and

so never talked much; but I know that this story is as true as can be, and that
the gentry always took an interest in him.’

Under the Shadow of Ben Bulbin and Ben Waskin
I was driving along the Ben Bulbin road, on the ocean side, with Michael
Oates, who was on his way from his mountain-side home to the lowlands to
cut hay; and as we looked up at the ancient mountain, so mysterious and
silent in the shadows and fog of a calm early morning of summer, he told
me about its invisible inhabitants:—
The ‘Gentry’ Huntsmen.—‘I knew a man who saw the gentry hunting on the
other side of the mountain. He saw hounds and horsemen cross the road and
jump the hedge in front of him, and it was one o’clock at night. The next
day he passed the place again, and looked for the tracks of the huntsmen,
but saw not a trace of tracks at all.’
The ‘Taking’ of the Turf-Cutter.—After I had heard about two boys who
were drowned opposite Innishmurray, and who afterwards appeared as
apparitions, for the gentry had them, this curious story was related:—‘A
man was cutting turf out on the side of Ben Bulbin when a strange man
came to him and said, “You have cut enough turf for to-day. You had better
stop and go home.” The turf-cutter looked around in surprise, and in two
seconds the strange man had disappeared; but he decided to go home. And
as soon as he was home, such a feeling came over him that he could not tell
whether he was alive or dead. Then he took to his bed and never rose
again.’
Hearing the ‘Gentry’ Music.—At this Michael said to his companion in the
cart with us, William Barber, ‘You tell how you heard the music’; and this
followed:—‘One dark night, about one o’clock, myself and another young
man were passing along the road up there round Ben Bulbin, when we
heard the finest kind of music. All sorts of music seemed to be playing. We
could see nothing at all, though we thought we heard voices like children’s.
It was the music of the gentry we heard.’
My next friend to testify is Pat Ruddy, eighty years old, one of the most
intelligent and prosperous farmers living beside Ben Bulbin. He greeted me

in the true Irish way, but before we could come to talk about fairies his
good wife induced me to enter another room where she had secretly
prepared a great feast spread out on a fresh white cloth, while Pat and
myself had been exchanging opinions about America and Ireland. When I
returned to the kitchen the whole family were assembled round the blazing
turf fire, and Pat was soon talking about the ‘gentry’:—
Seeing the ‘Gentry’ Army.—‘Old people used to say the gentry were in the
mountains; that is certain, but I never could be quite sure of it myself. One
night, however, near midnight, I did have a sight: I set out from Bantrillick
to come home, and near Ben Bulbin there was the greatest army you ever
saw, five or six thousand of them in armour shining in the moonlight. A
strange man rose out of the hedge and stopped me, for a minute, in the
middle of the road. He looked into my face, and then let me go.’
An Ossianic Fragment.—‘A man went away with the good people (or
gentry), and returned to find the townland all in ruins. As he came back
riding on a horse of the good people, he saw some men in a quarry trying to
move a big stone. He helped them with it, but his saddle-girth broke, and he
fell to the ground. The horse ran away, and he was left there, an old man’[19]
(cf. pp. 346-7).

A Schoolmaster’s Testimony
A schoolmaster, who is a native of the Ben Bulbin country, offers this
testimony:—‘There is implicit belief here in the gentry, especially among
the old people. They consider them the spirits of their departed relations and
friends, who visit them in joy and in sorrow. On the death of a member of a
family, they believe the spirits of their near relatives are present; they do not
see them, but feel their presence. They even have a strong belief that the
spirits show them the future in dreams; and say that cases of affliction are
always foreshown in a dream.
‘The belief in changelings is not now generally prevalent; but in olden
times a mother used to place a pair of iron tongs over the cradle before
leaving the child alone, in order that the fairies should not change the child
for a weakly one of their own. It was another custom to take a wisp of

straw, and, lighting one end of it, make a fiery sign of the cross over a
cradle before a babe could be placed in it.’

With the Irish Mystics in the Sidhe World
Let us now turn to the Rosses Point country, which, as we have already
said, is one of the very famous places for seeing the ‘gentry’, or, as
educated Irish seers who make pilgrimages thither call them, the Sidhe. I
have been told by more than one such seer that there on the hills and
Greenlands (a great stretch of open country, treeless and grass-grown), and
on the strand at Lower Rosses Point—called Wren Point by the country-folk
—these beings can be seen and their wonderful music heard; and a well-
known Irish artist has shown me many drawings, and paintings in oil, of
these Sidhe people as he has often beheld them at those places and
elsewhere in Ireland. They are described as a race of majestic appearance
and marvellous beauty, in form human, yet in nature divine. The highest
order of them seems to be a race of beings evolved to a superhuman plane
of existence, such as the ancients called gods; and with this opinion, strange
as it may seem in this age, all the educated Irish seers with whom I have
been privileged to talk agree, though they go further, and say that these
highest Sidhe races still inhabiting Ireland are the ever-young, immortal
divine race known to the ancient men of Erin as the Tuatha De Danann.
Of all European lands I venture to say that Ireland is the most mystical, and,
in the eyes of true Irishmen, as much the Magic Island of Gods and Initiates
now as it was when the Sacred Fires flashed from its purple, heather-
covered mountain-tops and mysterious round towers, and the Greater
Mysteries drew to its hallowed shrines neophytes from the West as well as
from the East, from India and Egypt as well as from Atlantis;[20] and Erin’s
mystic-seeing sons still watch and wait for the relighting of the Fires and
the restoration of the old Druidic Mysteries. Herein I but imperfectly echo
the mystic message Ireland’s seers gave me, a pilgrim to their Sacred Isle.
And until this mystic message is interpreted, men cannot discover the secret
of Gaelic myth and song in olden or in modern times, they cannot drink at
the ever-flowing fountain of Gaelic genius, the perennial source of

inspiration which lies behind the new revival of literature and art in Ireland,
nor understand the seeming reality of the fairy races.

An Irish Mystic’s Testimony
Through the kindness of an Irish mystic, who is a seer, I am enabled to
present here, in the form of a dialogue, very rare and very important
evidence, which will serve to illustrate and to confirm what has just been
said above about the mysticism of Ireland. To anthropologists this evidence
may be of more than ordinary value when they know that it comes from one
who is not only a cultured seer but who is also a man conspicuously
successful in the practical life of a great city:—
Visions.—
Q.—Are all visions which you have had of the same character?
A.—‘I have always made a distinction between pictures seen in the memory
of nature and visions of actual beings now existing in the inner world. We
can make the same distinction in our world: I may close my eyes and see
you as a vivid picture in memory, or I may look at you with my physical
eyes and see your actual image. In seeing these beings of which I speak, the
physical eyes may be open or closed: mystical beings in their own world
and nature are never seen with the physical eyes.’
Otherworlds.—
Q.—By the inner world do you mean the Celtic Otherworld?
A.—‘Yes; though there are many Otherworlds. The Tír-na-nog of the
ancient Irish, in which the races of the Sidhe exist, may be described as a
radiant archetype of this world, though this definition does not at all express
its psychic nature. In Tír-na-nog one sees nothing save harmony and
beautiful forms. There are other worlds in which we can see horrible
shapes.’
Classification of the ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—Do you in any way classify the Sidhe races to which you refer?

A.—‘The beings whom I call the Sidhe, I divide, as I have seen them, into
two great classes: those which are shining, and those which are opalescent
and seem lit up by a light within themselves. The shining beings appear to
be lower in the hierarchies; the opalescent beings are more rarely seen, and
appear to hold the positions of great chiefs or princes among the tribes of
Dana.’
Conditions of Seership.—
Q.—Under what state or condition and where have you seen such beings?
A.—‘I have seen them most frequently after being away from a city or town
for a few days. The whole west coast of Ireland from Donegal to Kerry
seems charged with a magical power, and I find it easiest to see while I am
there. I have always found it comparatively easy to see visions while at
ancient monuments like New Grange and Dowth, because I think such
places are naturally charged with psychical forces, and were for that reason
made use of long ago as sacred places. I usually find it possible to throw
myself into the mood of seeing; but sometimes visions have forced
themselves upon me.’
The Shining Beings.—
Q.—Can you describe the shining beings?
A.—‘It is very difficult to give any intelligible description of them. The first
time I saw them with great vividness I was lying on a hill-side alone in the
west of Ireland, in County Sligo: I had been listening to music in the air,
and to what seemed to be the sound of bells, and was trying to understand
these aerial clashings in which wind seemed to break upon wind in an ever-
changing musical silvery sound. Then the space before me grew luminous,
and I began to see one beautiful being after another.’
The Opalescent Beings.—
Q.—Can you describe one of the opalescent beings?
A.—‘The first of these I saw I remember very clearly, and the manner of its
appearance: there was at first a dazzle of light, and then I saw that this came
from the heart of a tall figure with a body apparently shaped out of half-

transparent or opalescent air, and throughout the body ran a radiant,
electrical fire, to which the heart seemed the centre. Around the head of this
being and through its waving luminous hair, which was blown all about the
body like living strands of gold, there appeared flaming wing-like auras.
From the being itself light seemed to stream outwards in every direction;
and the effect left on me after the vision was one of extraordinary lightness,
joyousness, or ecstasy.
‘At about this same period of my life I saw many of these great beings, and
I then thought that I had visions of Aengus, Manannan, Lug, and other
famous kings or princes among the Tuatha De Danann; but since then I
have seen so many beings of a similar character that I now no longer would
attribute to any one of them personal identity with particular beings of
legend; though I believe that they correspond in a general way to the Tuatha
De Danann or ancient Irish gods.’
Stature of the ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—You speak of the opalescent beings as great beings; what stature do
you assign to them, and to the shining beings?
A.—‘The opalescent beings seem to be about fourteen feet in stature,
though I do not know why I attribute to them such definite height, since I
had nothing to compare them with; but I have always considered them as
much taller than our race. The shining beings seem to be about our own
stature or just a little taller. Peasant and other Irish seers do not usually
speak of the Sidhe as being little, but as being tall: an old schoolmaster in
the West of Ireland described them to me from his own visions as tall
beautiful people, and he used some Gaelic words, which I took as meaning
that they were shining with every colour.’
The worlds of the ‘Sidhe.’—
Q.—Do the two orders of Sidhe beings inhabit the same world?
A.—‘The shining beings belong to the mid-world; while the opalescent
beings belong to the heaven-world. There are three great worlds which we
can see while we are still in the body: the earth-world, mid-world, and
heaven-world.’

Nature of the ‘Sidhe.’—
Q.—Do you consider the life and state of these Sidhe beings superior to the
life and state of men?
A.—‘I could never decide. One can say that they themselves are certainly
more beautiful than men are, and that their worlds seem more beautiful than
our world.
‘Among the shining orders there does not seem to be any individualized
life: thus if one of them raises his hands all raise their hands, and if one
drinks from a fire-fountain all do; they seem to move and to have their real
existence in a being higher than themselves, to which they are a kind of
body. Theirs is, I think, a collective life, so unindividualized and so calm
that I might have more varied thoughts in five hours than they would have
in five years; and yet one feels an extraordinary purity and exaltation about
their life. Beauty of form with them has never been broken up by the
passions which arise in the developed egotism of human beings. A hive of
bees has been described as a single organism with disconnected cells; and
some of these tribes of shining beings seem to be little more than one being
manifesting itself in many beautiful forms. I speak this with reference to the
shining beings only: I think that among the opalescent or Sidhe beings, in
the heaven-world, there is an even closer spiritual unity, but also a greater
individuality.’
Influence of the ‘Sidhe’ on Men.—
Q.—Do you consider any of these Sidhe beings inimical to humanity?
A.—‘Certain kinds of the shining beings, whom I call wood beings, have
never affected me with any evil influences I could recognize. But the water
beings, also of the shining tribes, I always dread, because I felt whenever I
came into contact with them a great drowsiness of mind and, I often
thought, an actual drawing away of vitality.’
Water Beings Described.—
Q.—Can you describe one of these water beings?

A.—‘In the world under the waters—under a lake in the West of Ireland in
this case—I saw a blue and orange coloured king seated on a throne; and
there seemed to be some fountain of mystical fire rising from under his
throne, and he breathed this fire into himself as though it were his life. As I
looked, I saw groups of pale beings, almost grey in colour, coming down
one side of the throne by the fire-fountain. They placed their head and lips
near the heart of the elemental king, and, then, as they touched him, they
shot upwards, plumed and radiant, and passed on the other side, as though
they had received a new life from this chief of their world.’
Wood Beings Described.—
Q.—Can you describe one of the wood beings?
A.—‘The wood beings I have seen most often are of a shining silvery
colour with a tinge of blue or pale violet, and with dark purple-coloured
hair.’
Reproduction and Immortality of the ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—Do you consider the races of the Sidhe able to reproduce their kind;
and are they immortal?
A.—‘The higher kinds seem capable of breathing forth beings out of
themselves, but I do not understand how they do so. I have seen some of
them who contain elemental beings within themselves, and these they could
send out and receive back within themselves again.
‘The immortality ascribed to them by the ancient Irish is only a relative
immortality, their space of life being much greater than ours. In time,
however, I believe that they grow old and then pass into new bodies just as
men do, but whether by birth or by the growth of a new body I cannot say,
since I have no certain knowledge about this.’
Sex among the ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—Does sexual differentiation seem to prevail among the Sidhe races?
A.—‘I have seen forms both male and female, and forms which did not
suggest sex at all.’

‘Sidhe’ and Human Life.—
Q.—(1) Is it possible, as the ancient Irish thought, that certain of the higher
Sidhe beings have entered or could enter our plane of life by submitting to
human birth? (2) On the other hand, do you consider it possible for men in
trance or at death to enter the Sidhe world?
A.—(1) ‘I cannot say.’ (2) ‘Yes; both in trance and after death. I think any
one who thought much of the Sidhe during his life and who saw them
frequently and brooded on them would likely go to their world after death.’
Social Organization of the ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—You refer to chieftain-like or prince-like beings, and to a king among
water beings; is there therefore definite social organization among the
various Sidhe orders and races, and if so, what is its nature?
A.—‘I cannot say about a definite social organization. I have seen beings
who seemed to command others, and who were held in reverence. This
implies an organization, but whether it is instinctive like that of a hive of
bees, or consciously organized like human society, I cannot say.’
Lower ‘Sidhe’ as Nature Elementals.—
Q.—You speak of the water-being king as an elemental king; do you
suggest thereby a resemblance between lower Sidhe orders and what
mediaeval mystics called elementals?
A.—‘The lower orders of the Sidhe are, I think, the nature elementals of the
mediaeval mystics.’
Nourishment of the Higher ‘Sidhe’.—
Q.—The water beings as you have described them seem to be nourished
and kept alive by something akin to electrical fluids; do the higher orders of
the Sidhe seem to be similarly nourished?
A.—‘They seemed to me to draw their life out of the Soul of the World.’
Collective Visions of ‘Sidhe’ Beings.—

Q.—Have you had visions of the various Sidhe beings in company with
other persons?
A.—‘I have had such visions on several occasions.’
And this statement has been confirmed to me by three participants in such
collective visions, who separately at different times have seen in company
with our witness the same vision at the same moment. On another occasion,
on the Greenlands at Rosses Point, County Sligo, the same Sidhe being was
seen by our present witness and a friend with him, also possessing the
faculty of seership, at a time when the two percipients were some little
distance apart, and they hurried to each other to describe the being, not
knowing that the explanation was mutually unnecessary. I have talked with
both percipients so much, and know them so intimately that I am fully able
to state that as percipients they fulfil all necessary pathological conditions
required by psychologists in order to make their evidence acceptable.

Parallel Evidence as to the Sidhe Races
In general, the rare evidence above recorded from the Irish seer could be
paralleled by similar evidence from at least two other reliable Irish people,
with whom also I have been privileged to discuss the Fairy-Faith. One is a
member of the Royal Irish Academy, the other is the wife of a well-known
Irish historian; and both of them testify to having likewise had collective
visions of Sidhe beings in Ireland.
This is what Mr. William B. Yeats wrote to me, while this study was in
progress, concerning the Celtic Fairy Kingdom:—‘I am certain that it
exists, and will some day be studied as it was studied by Kirk.’[21]

Independent Evidence from the Sidhe World
One of the most remarkable discoveries of our Celtic researches has been
that the native population of the Rosses Point country, or, as we have called
it, the Sidhe world, in most essentials, and, what is most important, by

independent folk-testimony, substantiate the opinions and statements of the
educated Irish mystics to whom we have just referred, as follows:—
John Conway’s Vision of the ‘Gentry’.—In Upper Rosses Point, Mrs. J.
Conway told me this about the ‘gentry’:—‘John Conway, my husband, who
was a pilot by profession, in watching for in-coming ships used to go up on
the high hill among the Fairy Hills; and there he often saw the gentry going
down the hill to the strand. One night in particular he recognized them as
men and women of the gentry; and they were as big as any living people. It
was late at night about forty years ago.’
Ghosts and Fairies.—When first I introduced myself to Owen Conway, in
his bachelor quarters, a cosy cottage at Upper Rosses Point, he said that Mr.
W. B. Yeats and other men famous in Irish literature had visited him to hear
about the fairies, and that though he knew very little about the fairies he
nevertheless always likes to talk of them. Then Owen began to tell me about
a man’s ghost which both he and Bran Reggan had seen at different times
on the road to Sligo, then about a woman’s ghost which he and other people
had often seen near where we were, and then about the exorcizing of a
haunted house in Sligo some sixty years ago by Father McGowan, who as a
result died soon afterwards, apparently having been killed by the exorcized
spirits. Finally, I heard from him the following anecdotes about the fairies:
—
A Stone Wall overthrown by ‘Fairy’ Agency.—‘Nothing is more certain than
that there are fairies. The old folks always thought them the fallen angels.
At the back of this house the fairies had their pass. My neighbour started to
build a cow-shed, and one wall abutting on the pass was thrown down
twice, and nothing but the fairies ever did it. The third time the wall was
built it stood.’
Fairies passing through Stone Walls.—‘Where MacEwen’s house stands
was a noted fairy place. Men in building the house saw fairies on horses
coming across the spot, and the stone walls did not stop them at all.’
Seeing the ‘Gentry’.—‘A cousin of mine, who was a pilot, once went to the
watch-house up there on the Point to take his brother’s place; and he saw
ladies coming towards him as he crossed the Greenlands. At first he thought
they were coming from a dance, but there was no dance going then, and, if

there had been, no human beings dressed like them and moving as they
were could have come from any part of the globe, and in so great a party, at
that hour of the night. Then when they passed him and he saw how
beautiful they were, he knew them for the gentry women.’
‘Michael Reddy (our next witness) saw the gentry down on the Greenlands
in regimentals like an army, and in daylight. He was a young man at the
time, and had been sent out to see if any cattle were astray.’
And this is what Michael Reddy, of Rosses Point, now a sailor on the ship
Tartar, sailing from Sligo to neighbouring ports on the Irish coast, asserts in
confirmation of Owen Conway’s statement about him:—‘I saw the gentry
on the strand (at Lower Rosses Point) about forty years ago. It was
afternoon. I first saw one of them like an officer pointing at me what
seemed a sword; and when I got on the Greenlands I saw a great company
of gentry, like soldiers, in red, laughing and shouting. Their leader was a
big man, and they were ordinary human size. As a result [of this vision] I
took to my bed and lay there for weeks. Upon another occasion, late at
night, I was with my mother milking cows, and we heard the gentry all
round us talking, but could not see them.’
Going to the ‘Gentry’ through Death, Dreams, or Trance.—John
O’Conway, one of the most reliable citizens of Upper Rosses Point, offers
the following testimony concerning the ‘gentry’:—‘In olden times the
gentry were very numerous about forts and here on the Greenlands, but
rarely seen. They appeared to be the same as any living men. When people
died it was said the gentry took them, for they would afterwards appear
among the gentry.’
‘We had a ploughman of good habits who came in one day too late for his
morning’s work, and he in excuse very seriously said, “May be if you had
travelled all night as much as I have you wouldn’t talk. I was away with the
gentry, and save for a lady I couldn’t have been back now. I saw a long hall
full of many people. Some of them I knew and some I did not know. The
lady saved me by telling me to eat no food there, however enticing it might
be.”’
‘A young man at Drumcliffe was taken [in a trance state], and was with the
Daoine Maithe some time, and then got back. Another man, whom I knew

well, was haunted by the gentry for a long time, and he often went off with
them’ (apparently in a dream or trance state).
‘Sidhe’ Music.—The story which now follows substantiates the testimony
of cultured Irish seers that at Lower Rosses Point the music of the Sidhe can
be heard:—‘Three women were gathering shell-fish, in the month of March,
on the lowest point of the strand (Lower Rosses or Wren Point) when they
heard the most beautiful music. They set to work to dance with it, and
danced themselves sick. They then thanked the invisible musician and went
home.’

The Testimony of a College Professor
Our next witness is the Rev. Father ——, a professor in a Catholic college
in West Ireland, and most of his statements are based on events which
happened among his own acquaintances and relatives, and his deductions
are the result of careful investigation:—
Apparitions from Fairyland.—‘Some twenty to thirty years ago, on the
borders of County Roscommon near County Sligo, according to the firm
belief of one of my own relatives, a sister of his was taken by the fairies on
her wedding-night, and she appeared to her mother afterwards as an
apparition. She seemed to want to speak, but her mother, who was in bed at
the time, was thoroughly frightened, and turned her face to the wall. The
mother is convinced that she saw this apparition of her daughter, and my
relative thinks she might have saved her.
‘This same relative who gives it as his opinion that his sister was taken by
the fairies, at a different time saw the apparition of another relative of mine
who also, according to similar belief, had been taken by the fairies when
only five years old. The child-apparition appeared beside its living sister
one day while the sister was going from the yard into the house, and it
followed her in. It is said the child was taken because she was such a good
girl.’
Nature of the Belief in Fairies.—‘As children we were always afraid of
fairies, and were taught to say “God bless them! God bless them!” whenever
we heard them mentioned.

‘In our family we always made it a point to have clean water in the house at
night for the fairies.
‘If anything like dirty water was thrown out of doors after dark it was
necessary to say “Hugga, hugga salach!” as a warning to the fairies not to
get their clothes wet.
‘Untasted food, like milk, used to be left on the table at night for the fairies.
If you were eating and food fell from you, it was not right to take it back,
for the fairies wanted it. Many families are very serious about this even
now. The luckiest thing to do in such cases is to pick up the food and eat
just a speck of it and then throw the rest away to the fairies.
‘Ghosts and apparitions are commonly said to live in isolated thorn-bushes,
or thorn-trees. Many lonely bushes of this kind have their ghosts. For
example, there is Fanny’s Bush, Sally’s Bush, and another I know of in
County Sligo near Boyle.’
Personal Opinions.—‘The fairies of any one race are the people of the
preceding race—the Fomors for the Fir Bolgs, the Fir Bolgs for the
Dananns, and the Dananns for us. The old races died. Where did they go?
They became spirits—and fairies. Second-sight gave our race power to see
the inner world. When Christianity came to Ireland the people had no
definite heaven. Before, their ideas about the other world were vague. But
the older ideas of a spirit world remained side by side with the Christian
ones, and being preserved in a subconscious way gave rise to the fairy
world.’

Evidence from County Roscommon
Our next place for investigation will be the ancient province of the great
fairy-queen Meave, who made herself famous by leading against
Cuchulainn the united armies of four of the five provinces of Ireland, and
all on account of a bull which she coveted. And there could be no better part
of it to visit than Roscommon, which Dr. Douglas Hyde has made popular
in Irish folk-lore.

Dr. Hyde and the Leprechaun.—One day while I was privileged to be at
Ratra, Dr. Hyde invited me to walk with him in the country. After we had
visited an old fort which belongs to the ‘good people’, and had noticed
some other of their haunts in that part of Queen Meave’s realm, we entered
a straw-thatched cottage on the roadside and found the good house-wife and
her fine-looking daughter both at home. In response to Dr. Hyde’s inquiries,
the mother stated that one day, in her girlhood, near a hedge from which she
was gathering wild berries, she saw a leprechaun in a hole under a stone:
—‘He wasn’t much larger than a doll, and he was most perfectly formed,
with a little mouth and eyes.’ Nothing was told about the little fellow having
a money-bag, although the woman said people told her afterwards that she
would have been rich if she had only had sense enough to catch him when
she had so good a chance.[22]
The Death Coach.—The next tale the mother told was about the death
coach which used to pass by the very house we were in. Every night until
after her daughter was born she used to rise up on her elbow in bed to listen
to the death coach passing by. It passed about midnight, and she could hear
the rushing, the tramping of the horses, and most beautiful singing, just like
fairy music, but she could not understand the words. Once or twice she was
brave enough to open the door and look out as the coach passed, but she
could never see a thing, though there was the noise and singing. One time a
man had to wait on the roadside to let the fairy horses go by, and he could
hear their passing very clearly, and couldn’t see one of them.
When we got home, Dr. Hyde told me that the fairies of the region are
rarely seen. The people usually say that they hear or feel them only.
The ‘Good People’ and Mr. Gilleran.—After the mother had testified, the
daughter, who is quite of the younger generation, gave her own opinion.
She said that the ‘good people’ live in the forts and often take men and
women or youths who pass by the forts after sunset; that Mr. Gilleran, who
died not long ago, once saw certain dead friends and recognized among
them those who were believed to have been taken and those who died
naturally, and that he saw them again when he was on his death-bed.
We have here, as in so many other accounts, a clear connexion between the
realm of the dead and Fairyland.

The Testimony of a Lough Derg Seer
Neil Colton, seventy-three years old, who lives in Tamlach Townland, on
the shores of Lough Derg, County Donegal, has a local reputation for
having seen the ‘gentle folk’, and so I called upon him. As we sat round his
blazing turf fire, and in the midst of his family of three sturdy boys—for he
married late in life—this is what he related:—
A Girl Recovered from Faerie.—‘One day, just before sunset in
midsummer, and I a boy then, my brother and cousin and myself were
gathering bilberries (whortleberries) up by the rocks at the back of here,
when all at once we heard music. We hurried round the rocks, and there we
were within a few hundred feet of six or eight of the gentle folk, and they
dancing. When they saw us, a little woman dressed all in red came running
out from them towards us, and she struck my cousin across the face with
what seemed to be a green rush. We ran for home as hard as we could, and
when my cousin reached the house she fell dead. Father saddled a horse and
went for Father Ryan. When Father Ryan arrived, he put a stole about his
neck and began praying over my cousin and reading psalms and striking her
with the stole; and in that way brought her back. He said if she had not
caught hold of my brother, she would have been taken for ever.’
The ‘Gentle Folk’.—‘The gentle folk are not earthly people; they are a
people with a nature of their own. Even in the water there are men and
women of the same character. Others have caves in the rocks, and in them
rooms and apartments. These races were terribly plentiful a hundred years
ago, and they’ll come back again. My father lived two miles from here,
where there were plenty of the gentle folk. In olden times they used to take
young folks and keep them and draw all the life out of their bodies. Nobody
could ever tell their nature exactly.’

Evidence from County Fermanagh
From James Summerville, eighty-eight years old, who lives in the country
near Irvinestown, I heard much about the ‘wee people’ and about banshees,
and then the following remarkable story concerning the ‘good people’:—

Travelling Clairvoyance through ‘Fairy’ Agency.—‘From near Ederney,
County Fermanagh, about seventy years ago, a man whom I knew well was
taken to America on Hallow Eve Night; and they (the good people) made
him look down a chimney to see his own daughter cooking at a kitchen fire.
Then they took him to another place in America, where he saw a friend he
knew. The next morning he was at his own home here in Ireland.
‘This man wrote a letter to his daughter to know if she was at the place and
at the work on Hallow Eve Night, and she wrote back that she was. He was
sure that it was the good people who had taken him to America and back in
one night.’

Evidence from County Antrim
At the request of Major R. G. Berry, M.R.I.A., of Richill Castle, Armagh,
Mr. H. Higginson, of Glenavy, County Antrim, collected all the material he
could find concerning the fairy-tradition in his part of County Antrim, and
sent to me the results, from which I have selected the very interesting, and,
in some respects, unique tales which follow:—
The Fairies and the Weaver.—‘Ned Judge, of Sophys Bridge, was a weaver.
Every night after he went to bed the weaving started of itself, and when he
arose in the morning he would find the dressing which had been made ready
for weaving so broken and entangled that it took him hours to put it right.
Yet with all this drawback he got no poorer, because the fairies left him
plenty of household necessaries, and whenever he sold a web [of cloth] he
always received treble the amount bargained for.’
Meeting Two Regiments of ‘Them’.—‘William Megarry, of Ballinderry, as
his daughter who is married to James Megarry, J.P., told me, was one night
going to Crumlin on horseback for a doctor, when after passing through
Glenavy he met just opposite the Vicarage two regiments of them (the
fairies) coming along the road towards Glenavy. One regiment was dressed
in red and one in blue or green uniform. They were playing music, but when
they opened out to let him pass through the middle of them the music
ceased until he had passed by.’

In Cuchulainn’s Country: A Civil Engineer’s Testimony
In the heroic days of pagan Ireland, as tradition tells, the ancient
earthworks, now called the Navan Rings, just outside Armagh, were the
stronghold of Cuchulainn and the Red Branch Knights; and, later, under
Patrick, Armagh itself, one of the old mystic centres of Erin, became the
ecclesiastical capital of the Gaels. And from this romantic country, one of
its best informed native sons, a graduate civil engineer of Dublin
University, offers the following important evidence:—
The Fairies are the Dead.—‘When I was a youngster near Armagh, I was
kept good by being told that the fairies could take bad boys away. The sane
belief about the fairies, however, is different, as I discovered when I grew
up. The old people in County Armagh seriously believe that the fairies are
the spirits of the dead; and they say that if you have many friends deceased
you have many friendly fairies, or if you have many enemies deceased you
have many fairies looking out to do you harm.’
Food-Offerings to Place-Fairies.—‘It was very usual formerly, and the
practice is not yet given up, to place a bed, some other furniture, and plenty
of food in a newly-constructed dwelling the night before the time fixed for
moving into it; and if the food is not consumed, and the crumbs swept up by
the door in the morning, the house cannot safely be occupied. I know of two
houses now that have never been occupied, because the fairies did not show
their willingness and goodwill by taking food so offered to them.’

On the Slopes of Slieve Gullion
In climbing to the summit of Cuchulainn’s mountain, which overlooks parts
of the territory made famous by the ‘Cattle Raid of Cooley’, I met John
O’Hare, sixty-eight years old, of Longfield Townland, leading his horse to
pasture, and I stopped to talk with him about the ‘good people’.
‘The good people in this mountain,’ he said, ‘are the people who have died
and been taken; the mountain is enchanted.’
The ‘Fairy’ Overflowing of the Meal-Chest.—‘An old woman came to the
wife of Steven Callaghan and told her not to let Steven cut a certain hedge.

“It is where we shelter at night,” the old woman added; and Mrs. Callaghan
recognized the old woman as one who had been taken in confinement. A
few nights later the same old woman appeared to Mrs. Callaghan and asked
for charity; and she was offered some meal, which she did not take. Then
she asked for lodgings, but did not stop. When Mrs. Callaghan saw the
meal-chest next morning it was overflowing with meal: it was the old
woman’s gift for the hedge.’

The Testimony of two Dromintee Percipients
After my friend, the Rev. Father L. Donnellan, C.C., of Dromintee, County
Armagh, had introduced me to Alice Cunningham, of his parish, and she
had told much about the ‘gentle folk’, she emphatically declared that they
do exist—and this in the presence of Father Donnellan—because she has
often seen them on Carrickbroad Mountain, near where she lives. And she
then reported as follows concerning enchanted Slieve Gullion:—
The ‘Sidhe’ Guardian of Slieve Gullion.—‘The top of Slieve Gullion is a
very gentle place. A fairy has her house there by the lake, but she is
invisible. She interferes with nobody. I hear of no gentler places about here
than Carrickbroad and Slieve Gullion.’
Father Donnellan and I called next upon Thomas McCrink and his wife at
Carrifamayan, because Mrs. McCrink claims to have seen some of the
‘good people’, and this is her testimony:—
Nature of the ‘Good People’.—‘I’ve heard and felt the good people coming
on the wind; and I once saw them down in the middle field on my father’s
place playing football. They are still on earth. Among them are the spirits of
our ancestors; and these rejoice whenever good fortune comes our way, for
I saw them before my mother won her land [after a long legal contest] in the
field rejoicing.
‘Some of the good people I have thought were fallen angels, though these
may be dead people whose time is not up. We are only like shadows in this
world: my mother died in England, and she came to me in the spirit. I saw
her plainly. I ran to catch her, but my hands ran through her form as if it
were mere mist. Then there was a crack, and she was gone.’ And, finally,

after a moment, our percipient said:—‘The fairies once passed down this
lane here on a Christmas morning; and I took them to be suffering souls out
of Purgatory, going to mass.’

The Testimony of a Dromintee Seeress
Father Donnellan, the following day, took me to talk with almost the oldest
woman in his parish, Mrs. Biddy Grant, eighty-six years old, of Upper
Toughal, beside Slieve Gullion. Mrs. Grant is a fine specimen of an
Irishwoman, with white hair, clear complexion, and an expression of great
natural intelligence, though now somewhat feeble from age. Her mind is yet
clear, however; and her testimony is substantiated by this statement from
her own daughter, who lives with her:—‘My mother has the power of
seeing things. It is a fact with her that spirits exist. She has seen much, even
in her old age; and what she is always telling me scares me half to death.’
The following is Mrs. Grant’s direct testimony given at her own home, on
September 20, 1909, in answer to our question if she knew anything about
the ‘good people’:—
Seeing the ‘Good People’ as the Dead.—‘I saw them once as plain as can be
—big, little, old, and young. I was in bed at the time, and a boy whom I had
reared since he was born was lying ill beside me. Two of them came and
looked at him; then came in three of them. One of them seemed to have
something like a book, and he put his hand to the boy’s mouth; then he went
away, while others appeared, opening the back window to make an avenue
through the house; and through this avenue came great crowds. At this I
shook the boy, and said to him, “Do you see anything?” “No,” he said; but
as I made him look a second time he said, “I do.” After that he got well.
‘These good people were the spirits of our dead friends, but I could not
recognize them. I have often seen them that way while in my bed. Many
women are among them. I once touched a boy of theirs, and he was just like
feathers in my hand; there was no substance in him, and I knew he wasn’t a
living being. I don’t know where they live; I’ve heard they live in the
Carrige (rocks). Many a time I’ve heard of their taking people or leading
them astray. They can’t live far away when they come to me in such a rush.

They are as big as we are. I think these fairy people are all through this
country and in the mountains.’

An Apparition of a ‘Sidhe’ Woman?—‘At a wake I went out of doors at
midnight and saw a woman running up and down the field with a strange
light in her hand. I called out my daughter, but she saw nothing, though all
the time the woman dressed in white was in the field, shaking the light and
running back and forth as fast as you could wink. I thought the woman
might be the spirit of Nancy Frink, but I was not sure.’ (Cf. pp. 60 ff., 83,
155, 215.)

Evidence from Lough Gur, County Limerick
One of the most interesting parts of Ireland for the archaeologist and for the
folk-lorist alike is the territory immediately surrounding Lough Gur, County
Limerick. Shut in for the most part from the outer world by a circle of low-
lying hills on whose summits fairy goddesses yet dwell invisibly, this
region, famous for its numerous and well-preserved cromlechs, dolmens,
menhirs, and tumuli, and for the rare folk-traditions current among its
peasantry, has long been popularly regarded as a sort of Otherworld
preserve haunted by fairy beings, who dwell both in its waters and on its
land.
There seems to be no reasonable doubt that in pre-Christian times the
Lough Gur country was a very sacred spot, a mystic centre for pilgrimages
and for the celebration of Celtic religious rites, including those of initiation.
The Lough is still enchanted, but once in seven years the spell passes off it,
and it then appears like dry land to any one that is fortunate enough to
behold it. At such a time of disenchantment a Tree is seen growing up
through the lake-bottom—a Tree like the strange World-Tree of
Scandinavian myth. The Tree is covered with a Green Cloth, and under it
sits the lake’s guardian, a woman knitting.[23] The peasantry about Lough
Gur still believe that beneath its waters there is one of the chief entrances in
Ireland to Tír-na-nog, the ‘Land of Youth’, the Fairy Realm. And when a
child is stolen by the Munster fairies, ‘Lough Gur is conjectured to be the
place of its unearthly transmutation from the human to the fairy state.’[23]
To my friend, Count John de Salis, of Balliol College, I am indebted for the
following legendary material, collected by him on the fairy-haunted Lough

Gur estate, his ancestral home, and annotated by the Rev. J. F. Lynch, one of
the best-informed antiquarians living in that part of South Ireland:—
The Fairy Goddesses, Aine and Fennel (or Finnen).—‘There are two hills
near Lough Gur upon whose summits sacrifices and sacred rites used to be
celebrated according to living tradition. One, about three miles south-west
of the lake, is called Knock Aine, Aine or Ane being the name of an ancient
Irish goddess, derived from an, “bright.” The other, the highest hill on the
lake-shores, is called Knock Fennel or Hill of the Goddess Fennel, from
Finnen or Finnine or Fininne, a form of fin, “white.” The peasantry of the
region call Aine one of the Good People;[24] and they say that Fennel
(apparently her sister goddess or a variant of herself) lived on the top of
Knock Fennel’ (termed Finnen in a State Paper dated 1200).
The Fairy Boat-Race.—‘Different old peasants have told me that on clear
calm moonlight nights in summer, fairy boats appear racing across Lough
Gur. The boats come from the eastern side of the lake, and when they have
arrived at Garrod Island, where the Desmond Castle lies in ruins, they
vanish behind Knock Adoon. There are four of these phantom boats, and in
each there are two men rowing and a woman steering. No sound is heard,
though the seer can see the weird silvery splash of the oars and the churning
of the water at the bows of the boats as they shoot along. It is evident that
they are racing, because one boat gets ahead of the others, and all the
rowers can be seen straining at the oars. Boats and occupants seem to be
transparent, and you cannot see exactly what their nature is. One old
peasant told me that it is the shining brightness of the clothes on the
phantom rowers and on the women who steer which makes them visible.
‘Another man, who is about forty years of age, and as far as I know of good
habits, assures me that he also has seen this fairy boat-race, and that it can
still be seen at the proper season.’
The Bean-Tighe.[25]—‘The Bean-tighe, the fairy housekeeper of the
enchanted submerged castle of the Earl of Desmond, is supposed to appear
sitting on an ancient earthen monument shaped like a great chair and hence
called Suidheachan, the “Housekeeper’s Little Seat,” on Knock Adoon (Hill
of the Fort), which juts out into the Lough. The Bean-tighe, as I have heard
an old peasant tell the tale, was once asleep on her Seat, when the

Buachailleen[26] or “Little Herd Boy” stole her golden comb. When the
Bean-tighe awoke and saw what had happened, she cast a curse upon the
cattle of the Buachailleen, and soon all of them were dead, and then the
“Little Herd Boy” himself died, but before his death he ordered the golden
comb to be cast into the Lough.’[27]
Lough Gur Fairies in General.—‘The peasantry in the Lough Gur region
commonly speak of the Good People or of the Kind People or of the Little
People, their names for the fairies. The leprechaun indicates the place
where hidden treasure is to be found. If the person to whom he reveals such
a secret makes it known to a second person, the first person dies, or else no
money is found: in some cases the money is changed into ivy leaves or into
furze blossoms.
‘I am convinced that some of the older peasants still believe in fairies. I
used to go out on the lake occasionally on moonlight nights, and an old
woman supposed to be a “wise woman” (a seeress), hearing about my doing
this, told me that under no circumstances should I continue the practice, for
fear of “Them People” (the fairies). One evening in particular I was warned
by her not to venture on the lake. She solemnly asserted that the “Powers of
Darkness” were then abroad, and that it would be misfortune for me to be in
their path.[28]
‘Under ordinary circumstances, as a very close observer of the Lough Gur
peasantry informs me, the old people will pray to the Saints, but if by any
chance such prayers remain unanswered they then invoke other powers, the
fairies, the goddesses Aine and Fennel, or other pagan deities, whom they
seem to remember in a vague subconscious manner through tradition.’

Testimony from a County Kerry Seer
To another of my fellow students in Oxford, a native Irishman of County
Kerry, I am indebted for the following evidence:—
A Collective Vision of Spiritual Beings.—‘Some few weeks before
Christmas, 1910, at midnight on a very dark night, I and another young man
(who like myself was then about twenty-three years of age) were on
horseback on our way home from Limerick. When near Listowel, we

noticed a light about half a mile ahead. At first it seemed to be no more than
a light in some house; but as we came nearer to it and it was passing out of
our direct line of vision we saw that it was moving up and down, to and fro,
diminishing to a spark, then expanding into a yellow luminous flame.
Before we came to Listowel we noticed two lights, about one hundred yards
to our right, resembling the light seen first. Suddenly each of these lights
expanded into the same sort of yellow luminous flame, about six feet high
by four feet broad. In the midst of each flame we saw a radiant being
having human form. Presently the lights moved toward one another and
made contact, whereupon the two beings in them were seen to be walking
side by side. The beings’ bodies were formed of a pure dazzling radiance,
white like the radiance of the sun, and much brighter than the yellow light
or aura surrounding them. So dazzling was the radiance, like a halo, round
their heads that we could not distinguish the countenances of the beings; we
could only distinguish the general shape of their bodies; though their heads
were very clearly outlined because this halo-like radiance, which was the
brightest light about them, seemed to radiate from or rest upon the head of
each being. As we travelled on, a house intervened between us and the
lights, and we saw no more of them. It was the first time we had ever seen
such phenomena, and in our hurry to get home we were not wise enough to
stop and make further examination. But ever since that night I have
frequently seen, both in Ireland and in England, similar lights with spiritual
beings in them.’ (Cf. pp. 60 ff., 77, 133, 155, 215, 483.)
Reality of the Spiritual World.—‘Like my companion, who saw all that I
saw of the first three lights, I formerly had always been a sceptic as to the
existence of spirits; now I know that there is a spiritual world. My brother, a
physician, had been equally sceptical until he saw, near our home at
Listowel, similar lights containing spiritual beings and was obliged to admit
the genuineness of the phenomena.
‘In whatever country we may be, I believe that we are for ever immersed in
the spiritual world; but most of us cannot perceive it on account of the
unrefined nature of our physical bodies. Through meditation and psychical
training one can come to see the spiritual world and its beings. We pass into
the spirit realm at death and come back into the human world at birth; and
we continue to reincarnate until we have overcome all earthly desires and
mortal appetites. Then the higher life is open to our consciousness and we

cease to be human; we become divine beings.’ (Recorded in Oxford,
England, August 12, 1911.)

III. IN SCOTLAND
Introduction by Alexander Carmichael, Hon. LL.D. of the
University of Edinburgh; author of Carmina Gadelica.
The belief in fairies was once common throughout Scotland—Highland and
Lowland. It is now much less prevalent even in the Highlands and Islands,
where such beliefs linger longer than they do in the Lowlands. But it still
lives among the old people, and is privately entertained here and there even
among younger people; and some who hold the belief declare that they
themselves have seen fairies.
Various theories have been advanced as to the origin of fairies and as to the
belief in them. The most concrete form in which the belief has been urged
has been by the Rev. Robert Kirk, minister of Aberfoyle, in Perthshire.[29]
Another theory of the origin of fairies I took down in the island of
Miunghlaidh (Minglay); and, though I have given it in Carmina Gadelica, it
is sufficiently interesting to be quoted here. During October 1871, Roderick
Macneill, known as ‘Ruaraidh mac Dhomhuil,’ then ninety-two years of
age, told it in Gaelic to the late J. F. Campbell of Islay and the writer, when
they were storm-stayed in the precipitous island of Miunghlaidh, Barra:—
‘The Proud Angel fomented a rebellion among the angels of heaven, where
he had been a leading light. He declared that he would go and found a
kingdom for himself. When going out at the door of heaven the Proud
Angel brought prickly lightning and biting lightning out of the doorstep
with his heels. Many angels followed him—so many that at last the Son
called out, “Father! Father! the city is being emptied!” whereupon the
Father ordered that the gates of heaven and the gates of hell should be
closed. This was instantly done. And those who were in were in, and those
who were out were out; while the hosts who had left heaven and had not
reached hell flew into the holes of the earth, like the stormy petrels. These
are the Fairy Folk—ever since doomed to live under the ground, and only
allowed to emerge where and when the King permits. They are never

allowed abroad on Thursday, that being Columba’s Day; nor on Friday, that
being the Son’s Day; nor on Saturday, that being Mary’s Day; nor on
Sunday, that being the Lord’s Day.
God be between me and every fairy,
Every ill wish and every druidry;
To-day is Thursday on sea and land,
I trust in the King that they do not hear me.
On certain nights when their bruthain (bowers) are open and their lamps are
lit, and the song and the dance are moving merrily, the fairies may be heard
singing lightheartedly:—
Not of the seed of Adam are we,
Nor is Abraham our father;
But of the seed of the Proud Angel,
Driven forth from Heaven.’
The fairies entered largely into the lives and into the folk-lore of the
Highland people, and the following examples of things named after the
fairies indicate the manner in which the fairies dominated the minds of the
people of Gaeldom:—teine sith, ‘fairy fire’ (ignis fatuus); breaca sith, ‘fairy
marks,’ livid spots appearing on the faces of the dead or dying; marcachd
shith, ‘fairy riding,’ paralysis of the spine in animals, alleged to be brought
on by the fairy mouse riding across the backs of animals while they are
lying down; piob shith, ‘fairy pipe’ or ‘elfin pipe’, generally found in
ancient underground houses; miaran na mna sithe, ‘the thimble of the fairy
woman,’ the fox-glove; lion na mna sithe, ‘lint of the fairy woman,’ fairy
flax, said to be beneficial in certain illnesses; and curachan na mna sithe,
‘coracle of the fairy woman,’ the shell of the blue valilla. In place-names
sith, ‘fairy,’ is common. Glenshee, in Perthshire, is said to have been full of
fairies, but the screech of the steam-whistle frightened them underground.
There is scarcely a district of the Highlands without its fairy knoll,
generally the greenest hillock in the place. ‘The black chanter of Clan
Chattan’ is said to have been given to a famous Macpherson piper by a fairy
woman who loved him; and the Mackays have a flag said to have been
given to a Mackay by a fairy sweetheart. The well-known fairy flag of
Dunvegan is said to have been given to a Macleod of Macleod by a fairy

woman; and the Macrimmons of Bororaig, pipers to the Macleods of
Macleod, had a chanter called ‘Sionnsair airgid na mna sithe’, ‘the silver
chanter of the fairy woman.’ A family in North Uist is known as Dubh-sith,
‘Black fairy,’ from a tradition that the family had been familiar with the
fairies in their secret flights and nightly migrations.
Donald Macalastair, seventy-nine years of age, crofter, Druim-a-ghinnir,
Arran, told me, in the year 1895, the following story in Gaelic:—‘The
fairies were dwelling in the knoll, and they had a near neighbour who used
to visit them in their home. The man used to observe the ways of the fairies
and to do as they did. The fairies took a journey upon them to go to Ireland,
and the man took upon him to go with them. Every single fairy of them
caught a ragwort and went astride it, and they were pell-mell, every knee of
them across the Irish Ocean in an instant, and across the Irish Ocean was
the man after them, astride a ragwort like one of themselves. A little wee
tiny fairy shouted and asked were they all ready, and all the others replied
that they were, and the little fairy called out:—
My king at my head,
Going across in my haste,
On the crests of the waves,
To Ireland.
“Follow me,” said the king of the fairies, and away they went across the
Irish Ocean, every mother’s son of them astride his ragwort. Macuga
(Cook) did not know on earth how he would return to his native land, but he
leapt upon the ragwort as he saw the fairies do, and he called as he heard
them call, and in an instant he was back in Arran. But he had got enough of
the fairies on this trip itself, and he never went with them again.’
The fairies were wont to take away infants and their mothers, and many
precautions were taken to safeguard them till purification and baptism took
place, when the fairy power became ineffective. Placing iron about the bed,
burning leather in the room, giving mother and child the milk of a cow
which had eaten of the mothan, pearl-wort (Pinguicula vulgaris), a plant of
virtue, and similar means were taken to ensure their safety. If the watching-
women neglected these precautions, the mother or child or both were
spirited away to the fairy bower. Many stories are current on this subject.

Sometimes the fairies helped human beings with their work, coming in at
night to finish the spinning or the house-work, or to thresh the farmer’s corn
or fan his grain. On such occasions they must not be molested nor interfered
with, even in gratitude. If presented with a garment they will go away and
work no more. This method of getting rid of them is often resorted to, as it
is not easy always to find work for them to do.
Bean chaol a chot uaine ‘s na gruaige buidhe, ‘the slender woman of the
green kirtle and of the yellow hair,’ is wise of head and deft of hand. She
can convert the white water of the rill into rich red wine and the threads of
the spiders into a tartan plaid. From the stalk of the fairy reed she can bring
the music of the lull of the peace and of the repose, however active the
brain and lithe the limb; and she can rouse to mirth and merriment, and to
the dance, men and women, however dolorous their condition. From the
bower could be heard the pipe and the song and the voice of laughter as the
fairies ‘sett’ and reeled in the mazes of the dance. Sometimes a man hearing
the merry music and seeing the wonderful light within would be tempted to
go in and join them, but woe to him if he omitted to leave a piece of iron at
the door of the bower on entering, for the cunning fairies would close the
door and the man would find no egress. There he would dance for years—
but to him the years were as one day—while his wife and family mourned
him as dead.
The flint arrow-heads so much prized by antiquarians are called in the
Highlands Saighead sith, fairy arrows. They are said to have been thrown
by the fairies at the sons and daughters of men. The writer possesses one
which was thrown at his own maid-servant one night when she went to the
peatstack for peats. She was aware of something whizzing through the
silent air, passing through her hair, grazing her ear and falling at her feet.
Stooping in the bright moonlight the girl picked up a fairy arrow!
‘But faith is dead—such things do not happen now,’ said a courteous
informant. If not quite dead it is almost dead, hastened by the shifting of
population, the establishment of means of communication, the influx of
tourists, and the scorn of the more materialistic of the incomers and of the
people themselves.

Edinburgh,
October 1910.

Aberfoyle, the Country of Robert Kirk
My first hunt for fairies in Scotland began at Aberfoyle, where the
Highlands and the Lowlands meet, and in the very place where Robert Kirk,
the minister of Aberfoyle, was taken by them, in the year 1692. The
minister spent a large part of his time studying the ways of the ‘good
people’, and he must have been able to see them, for he was a seventh son.
Mrs. J. MacGregor, who keeps the key to the old churchyard where there is
a tomb to Kirk, though many say there is nothing in it but a coffin filled
with stones, told me that Kirk was taken into the Fairy Knoll, which she
pointed to just across a little valley in front of us, and is there yet, for the
hill is full of caverns, and in them the ‘good people’ have their homes. And
she added that Kirk appeared to a relative of his after he was taken, and said
that he was in the power of the ‘good people’, and couldn’t get away. ‘But,’
says he, ‘I can be set free if you will have my cousin do what I tell him
when I appear again at the christening of my child in the parsonage.’
According to Mr. Andrew Lang, who reports the same tradition in more
detail in his admirable Introduction to The Secret Commonwealth, the
cousin was Grahame of Duchray, and the thing he was to do was to throw a
dagger over Kirk’s head. Grahame was at hand at the christening of the
posthumous child, but was so astonished to see Kirk appear as Kirk said he
would, that he did not throw the dagger, and so Kirk became a perpetual
prisoner of the ‘good people’.
After having visited Kirk’s tomb, I called on the Rev. William M. Taylor,
the present successor of Kirk, and, as we sat together in the very room
where Kirk must have written his Secret Commonwealth, he told me that
tradition reports Kirk as having been taken by the fairies while he was
walking on their hill, which is but a short way from the parsonage. ‘At the
time of his disappearance, people said he was taken because the fairies were
displeased with him for prying into their secrets. At all events, it seems
likely that Kirk was taken ill very suddenly with something like apoplexy
while on the Fairy Knoll, and died there. I have searched the presbytery

books, and find no record of how Kirk’s death really took place; but of
course there is not the least doubt of his body being in the grave.’ So thus,
according to Mr. Taylor, we are to conclude that if the fairies carried off
anything, it must have been the spirit or soul of Kirk. I talked with others
round Aberfoyle about Kirk, and some would have it that his body and soul
were both taken, and that what was buried was no corpse at all. Mrs.
Margaret MacGregor, one of the few Gaelic speakers of the old school left
in Aberfoyle, holds another opinion, for she said to me, ‘Nothing could be
surer than that the good people took Kirk’s spirit only.’
In the Aberfoyle country, the Fairy-Faith, save for the stories about Kirk,
which will probably persist for a long time yet, is rapidly passing. In fact it
is almost forgotten now. Up to thirty years ago, as Mr. Taylor explained,
before the railway reached Aberfoyle, belief in fairies was much more
common. Nowadays, he says, there is no real fairy-lore among the peasants;
fifty to sixty years ago there was. And in his opinion, ‘the fairy people of
three hundred years ago in Scotland were a distinct race by themselves.
They had never been human beings. The belief in them was a survival of
paganism, and not at all an outgrowth of Christian belief in angelic hosts.’

A Scotch Minister’s Testimony
A Protestant minister of Scotland will be our next witness. He is a native of
Ross-shire, though he draws many of his stories from the Western Hebrides,
where his calling has placed him. Because he speaks from personal
knowledge of the living Fairy-Faith as it was in his boyhood and is now,
and chiefly because he has had the rare privilege of conscious contact with
the fairy world, his testimony is of the highest value.
Reality of Fairies.—‘When I was a boy I was a firm believer in fairies; and
now as a Christian minister I believe in the possibility and also the reality of
these spiritual orders, but I wish only to know those orders which belong to
the realm of grace. It is very certain that they exist. I have been in a state of
ecstasy, and have seen spiritual beings which form these orders.[30]
‘I believe in the actuality of evil spirits; but people in the Highlands having
put aside paganism, evil spirits are not seen now.’

This explanation was offered of how fairies may exist and yet be invisible:
—‘Our Saviour became invisible though in the body; and, as the Scriptures
suggest, I suppose we are obliged to concede a similar power of invisibility
to spirits as well, good and evil ones alike.’
Precautions against Fairies.—‘I remember how an old woman pulled me
out of a fairy ring to save me from being taken.
‘If a mother takes some bindweed and places it burnt at the ends over her
babe’s cradle, the fairies have no power over the child. The bindweed is a
common roadside convolvulus.
‘As a boy, I saw two old women passing a babe over red-hot coals, and then
drop some of the cinders in a cup of water and give the water to the babe to
drink, in order to cure it of a fairy stroke.’
Fairy Fights on Halloween.—‘It is a common belief now that on Halloween
the fairies, or the fairy hosts, have fights. Lichens on rocks after there has
been a frost get yellowish-red, and then when they thaw and the moisture
spreads out from them the rocks are a bright red; and this bright red is said
to be the blood of the fairies after one of their battles.’
Fairies and the Hump-back.—The following story by the present witness is
curious, for it is the same story of a hump-back which is so widespread. The
fact that in Scotland the hump is removed or added by fairies as it is in
Ireland, in Cornwall by pixies, and in Brittany by corrigans, goes far to
prove the essential identity of these three orders of beings. The story comes
from one of the remote Western Hebrides, Benbecula:—‘A man who was a
hump-back once met the fairies dancing, and danced with their queen; and
he sang with them, “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,” so well that they took
off his hump, and he returned home a straight-bodied man. Then a tailor
went past the same place, and was also admitted by the fairies to their
dance. He caught the fairy queen by the waist, and she resented his
familiarity. And in singing he added “Thursday” to their song and spoilt it.
To pay the tailor for his rudeness and ill manners, the dancers took up the
hump they had just removed from the first man and clapped it on his back,
and the conceited fellow went home a hump-back.’

Libations to Fairies.—‘An elder in my church knew a woman who was
accustomed, in milking her cows, to offer libations to the fairies.[31] The
woman was later converted to Christ and gave up the practice, and as a
result one of her cows was taken by the fairies. Then she revived the
practice.
‘The fairy queen who watches over cows is called Gruagach in the Islands,
and she is often seen. In pouring libations to her and her fairies various
kinds of stones, usually with hollows in them, are used.[32]
‘In Lewis libations are poured to the goddess [or god] of the sea, called
Shoney,[33] in order to bring in seaweed. Until modern times in Iona similar
libations were poured to a god corresponding to Neptune.’

In the Highlands
I had the pleasure as well as the great privilege of setting out from
Inverness on a bright crisp September morning in company with Dr.
Alexander Carmichael, the well-known folk-lorist of Scotland, to study the
Fairy-Faith as it exists now in the Highlands round Tomatin, a small
country village about twenty miles distant. We departed by an early train;
and soon reaching the Tomatin country began our search—Dr. Carmichael
for evidence regarding rare and curious Scotch beliefs connected with folk-
magic, such as blood-stopping at a distance and removing motes in the eye
at a distance, and I for Highland ghosts and fairies.
Our first experience was with an old man whom we met on the road
between the railway station and the post office, who could speak only
Gaelic. Dr. Carmichael talked with him awhile, and then asked him about
fairies, and he said there were some living in a cave some way off, but as
the distance was rather too far we decided not to call on them. Then we
went on to see the postmaster, Mr. John MacDougall, and he told us that in
his boyhood the country-folk round Tomatin believed thoroughly in fairies.
He said they thought of them as a race of spirits capable of making
themselves visible to mortals, as living in underground places, as taking
fine healthy babes and leaving changelings in their place. These
changelings would waste away and die in a short time after being left. So

firmly did the old people believe in fairies then that they would ridicule a
person for not believing. And now quite the reverse state has come about.
[34]

The Testimony of John Dunbar of Invereen
We talked with other Highlanders in the country round Tomatin, and heard
only echoes, mostly fragmentary, of what their forefathers used to believe
about fairies. But at Invereen we discovered John Dunbar, a Highlander,
who really knows the Fairy-Faith and is not ashamed to explain it. Speaking
partly from experience and partly from what he has heard his parents relate
concerning the ‘good people’, he said:—
The Sheep and the Fairy-Hunting.—‘I believe people saw fairies, but I
think one reason no one sees them now is because every place in this parish
where they used to appear has been put into sheep, and deer, and grouse,
and shooting. According to tradition, Coig na Fearn is the place where the
last fairy was seen in this country. Before the big sheep came, the fairies are
supposed to have had a premonition that their domains were to be violated
by them. A story is told of a fight between the sheep and fairies, or else of
the fairies hunting the sheep:—James MacQueen, who could traffic with the
fairies, whom he regarded as ghosts or spirits, one night on his old place,
which now is in sheep, was lying down all alone and heard a small and big
barking of dogs, and a small and big bleating of sheep, though no sheep
were there then. It was the fairy-hunting he heard. “I put an axe under my
head and I had no fear therefore,” he always repeated when telling the story.
I believe the man saw and heard something. And MacQueen used to aid the
fairies, and on that account, as he was in the habit of saying, he always
found more meal in his chest than he thought he had.’
Fairies.—‘My grandmother believed firmly in fairies, and I have heard her
tell a good many stories about them. They were a small people dressed in
green, and had dwellings underground in dry spots. Fairies were often heard
in the hills over there (pointing), and I believe something was there. They
were awful for music, and used to be heard very often playing the bagpipes.
A woman wouldn’t go out in the dark after giving birth to a child before the
child was christened, so as not to give the fairies power over her or the

child. And I have heard people say that if fairies were refused milk and
meat they would take a horse or a cow; and that if well treated they would
repay all gifts.’
Time in Fairyland.—‘People would be twenty years in Fairyland and it
wouldn’t seem more than a night. A bridegroom who was taken on his
wedding-day was in Fairyland for many generations, and, coming back,
thought it was next morning. He asked where all the wedding-guests were,
and found only one old woman who remembered the wedding.’
Highland Legend of the Dead.—As I have found to be the case in all Celtic
countries equally, fairy stories nearly always, in accordance with the law of
psychology known as ‘the association of ideas’, give place to or are blended
with legends of the dead. This is an important factor for the Psychological
Theory. And what follows proves the same ideas to be present to the mind
of Mr. Dunbar:—‘Some people after death are seen in their old haunts; no
mistake about it. A bailiff had false corn and meal measures, and so after he
died he came back to his daughter and told her he could have no peace until
the measures were burned. She complied with her father’s wish, and his
spirit was never seen again. I have known also of phantom funerals of
people who died soon afterwards being seen on the road at night.’

To the Western Hebrides
From Inverness I began my journey to the Western Hebrides. While I
waited for the steamer to take me from Kyle to the Isle of Skye, an old man
with whom I talked on the docks said this about Neill Mackintosh, of Black
Island:—‘You can’t argue with the old man that he hasn’t seen fairies. He
can tell you all about them.’

Evidence from the Isle of Skye
Miss Frances Tolmie, who was born at Uignish, Isle of Skye, and has lived
many years in the isle in close touch with some of its oldest folk,
contributes, from Edinburgh, the evidence which follows. The first two
tales were told in the parish of Minginish a number of years ago by Mary

Macdonald, a goat-herd, and have their setting in the region of the
Koolian[35] range of mountains on the west side of Skye.
The Fatal Peat Ember.—‘An aged nurse who had fallen fast asleep as she
sat by the fire, was holding on her knees a newly-born babe. The mother,
who lay in bed gazing dreamily, was astonished to see three strange little
women enter the dwelling. They approached the unconscious child, and she
who seemed to be their leader was on the point of lifting it off the nurse’s
lap, when the third exclaimed:—“Oh! let us leave this one with her as we
have already taken so many!” “So be it,” replied the senior of the party in a
tone of displeasure, “but when that peat now burning on the hearth shall be
consumed, her life will surely come to an end.” Then the three little figures
passed out. The good wife, recognizing them to be fairies, sprang from her
bed and poured over the fire all the water she could find, and extinguished
the half-burnt ember. This she wrapped carefully in a piece of cloth and
deposited at the very bottom of a large chest, which afterwards she always
kept locked.
‘Years passed, and the babe grew into a beautiful young woman. In the
course of time she was betrothed; and, according to custom, not appearing
in public at church on the Sunday preceding the day appointed for her
marriage, remained at home alone. To amuse herself, she began to search
the contents of all the keeping-places in the house, and came at last to the
chest containing the peat ember. In her haste, the good mother had that day
forgotten the key of the chest, which was now in the lock. At the bottom of
the chest the girl found a curious packet containing nothing but a morsel of
peat, and this apparently useless thing she tossed away into the fire. When
the peat was well kindled the young girl began to feel very ill, and when her
mother returned was dying. The open chest and the blazing peat explained
the cause of the calamity. The fairy’s prediction was fulfilled.’
Results of Refusing Fairy Hospitality.—‘Two women were walking toward
the Point when one of them, hearing churning going on under a hillock,
expressed aloud a wish for some butter-milk. No sooner had she spoken
than a very small figure of a woman came out with a bowlful and offered it
to her, but the thirsty woman, ignorant of fairy customs and the penalty
attending their infringement, declined the kind offer of refreshment, and
immediately found herself a prisoner in the hillock. She was led to an

apartment containing a chest full of meal and a great bag of wool, and was
told by the fairy that when she had eaten all the meal and spun all the wool
she would be free to return to her home. The prisoner at once set herself to
eating and spinning assiduously, but without apparent result, and despairing
of completing the task consulted an old man of very sad countenance who
had long been a captive in the hillock. He willingly gave her his advice,
which was to wet her left eye with saliva each morning before she settled
down to her task. She followed this advice, and gradually the wool and the
meal were exhausted. Then the fairy granted her freedom, but in doing so
cursed the old man, and said that she had it in her power to keep him in the
hillock for ever.’
The Fairies’ ‘Waulking’ (Fulling).—‘At Ebost, in Bracadale, an old woman
was living in a little hut, with no companion save a wise cat. As we talked,
she expressed her wonder that no fairies are ever seen or heard nowadays.
She could remember hearing her father tell how he, when a herd-boy, had
heard the fairies singing a “waulking” song in Dun-Osdale, an ancient and
ruined round tower in the parish of Dùirinish, and not far from Heléval
mhor (great) and Heléval bheag (less)—two hills occasionally alluded to as
“Macleod’s Tables”. The youth was lying on the grass-grown summit of the
ruin, and heard them distinctly. As if with exultation, one voice took the
verse and then the whole company joined in the following chorus: “Ho! fir-
e! fair-e, foirm! Ho! Fair-eag-an an clò! (Ho! well done! Grand! Ho! bravo
the web [of homespun]!)”’
Crodh Chailean.—‘This tale was related by Mr. Neil Macleod, the bard of
Skye:—“Colin was a gentleman of Clan Campbell in Perthshire, who was
married to a beautiful maiden whom the fairies carried off on her marriage-
day, and on whom they cast a spell which rendered her invisible for a day
and a year. She came regularly every day to milk the cows of her sorrowing
husband, and sang sweetly to them while she milked, but he never once had
the pleasure of beholding her, though he could hear perfectly what she sang.
At the expiry of the year she was, to his great joy, restored to him.”’[36]
Fairy Legend of the Macleod Family.—‘There is a legend told of the
Macleod family:—Soon after the heir of the Macleods was born, a beautiful
woman in wonderful raiment, who was a fairy woman or banshee (there
were joyous as well as mourning banshees) appeared at the castle, and went

directly to the babe’s cradle. She took up the babe and chanted over it a
series of verses, and each verse had its own melody. The verses foretold the
future manhood of the young child, and acted as a protective charm over its
life. Then she put the babe back into its cradle, and, going out, disappeared
across the moorlands.
‘For many generations it was a custom in the Macleod family that whoever
was the nurse of the heir must sing those verses as the fairy woman had
sung them. After a time the song was forgotten, but at a later period it was
partially recovered, and to-day it is one of the proud folk-lore heritages of
the Macleod family.’[37]
Origin and Nature of the Fairy-Faith.—Finally, with respect to the origin
and nature of the Scotch Fairy-Faith, Miss Tolmie states:—‘As a child I was
not permitted to hear about fairies. At twenty I was seeking and trying to
understand the beliefs of my fathers in the light of modern ideas. I was very
determined not to lose the past.
‘The fairy-lore originated in a cultured class in very ancient times. The
peasants inherited it; they did not invent it. With the loss of Gaelic in our
times came the loss of folk-ideals. The classical and English influences
combined had a killing effect; so that the instinctive religious feeling which
used to be among our people when they kept alive the fairy-traditions is
dead. We have intellectually-constructed creeds and doctrines which take its
place.
‘We always thought of fairies as mysterious little beings living in hills.
They were capricious and irritable, but not wicked. They could do a good
turn as well as a bad one. They were not aerial, but had bodies which they
could make invisible; and they could make human bodies invisible in the
same way. Besides their hollow knolls and mounds there seemed to be a
subterranean world in which they also lived, where things are like what they
are in this world.’

The Isle of Barra,[38] Western Hebrides
We pass from Cuchulainn’s beautiful island to what is now the most Celtic
part of Scotland—the Western Hebrides, where the ancient life is lived yet,

and where the people have more than a faith in spirits and fairies. And no
one of the Western Hebrides, perhaps excepting the tiny island of Erisgey,
has changed less during the last five hundred years than Barra.
Our Barra guide and interpreter, Michael Buchanan, a native and a life-long
resident of Barra, is seventy years old, yet as strong and active as a city man
at fifty. He knows intimately every old man on the island, and as he was
able to draw them out on the subject of the ‘good people’ as no stranger
could do, I was quite willing, as well as obliged on account of the Scotch
Gaelic, to let him act on my behalf in all my collecting on Barra. Mr.
Buchanan is the author of a little book called The MacNeils of Barra
Genealogy, published in the year 1902. He was the official interpreter
before the Commission of Inquiry which was appointed by the British
Parliament in 1883 to search into the oppression of landlordism in the
Highlands and Islands, and he acted in the same capacity before the
Crofters’ Commission and the Deer-Forest Commission. We therefore feel
perfectly safe in allowing him to present, before our jury trying the Fairy-
Faith, the evidence of the Gaelic-speaking witnesses from Barra.

John MacNeil’s Testimony
We met the first of the Barra witnesses on the top of a rocky hill, where the
road from Castlebay passes. He was carrying on his back a sack of sand
heavy enough for a college athlete, and he an old man between seventy and
eighty years of age. Michael Buchanan has known John MacNeil all his
life, for they were boys together on the island; and there is not much
difference between them in age, our interpreter being the younger. Then the
three of us sat down on a grassy knoll, all the world like a fairy knoll,
though it was not; and when pipes were lit and the weather had been
discussed, there was introduced the subject of the ‘good people’—all in
Gaelic, for our witness now about to testify knows no English—and what
John MacNeil said is thus interpreted by Michael Buchanan:—
A Fairy’s Visit.—‘Yes, I have’ (in answer to a question if he had heard of
people being taken by the ‘good people’ or fairies). ‘A fairy woman visited
the house of a young wife here in Barra, and the young wife had her baby
on her breast at the time. The first words uttered by the fairy woman were,

“Heavy is your child;” and the wife answered, “Light is everybody who
lives the longest.” “Were it not that you have answered my question,” said
the fairy woman, “and understood my meaning, you should have been less
your child.” And then the fairy woman departed.’
Fairy-Singing.—‘My mother, and two other women well known here in
Barra, went to a hill one day to look after their sheep, and, a thick fog
coming on, they had to rest awhile. They then sat down upon a knoll and
began to sing a walking (cloth-working) song, as follows:—“It is early to-
day that I have risen;” and, as they sang, a fairy woman in the rocks
responded to their song with one of her own.’
Nature of Fairies.—Then the question was asked if fairies were men or
spirits, and this is the reply:—‘I never saw any myself, and so cannot tell,
but they must be spirits from all that the old people tell about them, or else
how could they appear and disappear so suddenly? The old people said they
didn’t know if fairies were flesh and blood, or spirits. They saw them as
men of more diminutive stature than our race. I heard my father say that
fairies used to come and speak to natural people, and then vanish while one
was looking at them. Fairy women used to go into houses and talk and then
vanish. The general belief was that the fairies were spirits who could make
themselves seen or not seen at will. And when they took people they took
body and soul together.’

The Testimony of John Campbell, Ninety-four Years Old
Our next witness from Barra is John Campbell, who is ninety-four years
old, yet clear-headed. He was born on Barra at Sgalary, and lives near there
now at Breuvaig. We were on our way to call at his home, when we met
him coming on the road, with a cane in each hand and a small sack hanging
from one of them. Michael saluted him as an old acquaintance, and then we
all sat down on a big boulder in the warm sunshine beside the road to talk.
The first thing John wanted was tobacco, and when this was supplied we
gradually led from one subject to another until he was talking about fairies.
And this is what he said about them:—

The Fairy and the Fountain.—‘I had a companion by the name of James
Galbraith, who was drowned about forty years ago, and one time he was
crossing from the west side of the island to the east side, to the township
called Sgalary, and feeling thirsty took a drink out of a spring well on the
mountain-side. After he had taken a drink, he looked about him and saw a
woman clad in green, and imagined that no woman would be clad in such a
colour except a fairy woman. He went on his way, and when he hadn’t gone
far, looked back, and, as he looked, saw the woman vanish out of his sight.
He afterwards reported the incident at his father’s house in Sgalary, and his
father said he also had seen a woman clad in clothes of green at the same
place some nights before.’
A Step-son Pitied by the Fairies.—‘I heard my father say that a neighbour
of his father, that is of my grandfather, was married twice, and had three
children from the first marriage, and when married for the second time, a
son and daughter. His second wife did not seem to be kind enough to the
children of the first wife, neglecting their food and clothing and keeping
them constantly at hard work in the fields and at herding.
‘One morning when the man and his second wife were returning from mass
they passed the pasture where their cows were grazing and heard the
enjoyable skirrels of the bagpipes. The father said, “What may this be?” and
going off the road found the eldest son of the first wife playing the bagpipes
to his heart’s pleasure; and asked him earnestly, “How did you come to play
the bagpipes so suddenly, or where did you get this splendid pair of
bagpipes?” The boy replied, “An old man came to me while I was in the
action of roasting pots in a pit-fire and said, ‘Your step-mother is bad to you
and in ill-will towards you.’ I told the old man I was sensible that that was
the case, and then he said to me, ‘If I give you a trade will you be inclined
to follow it?’ I said yes, and the old man then continued, ‘How would you
like to be a piper by trade?’ ‘I would gladly become a piper,’ says I, ‘but
what am I to do without the bagpipes and the tunes to play?’ ‘I’ll supply the
bagpipes,’ he said, ‘and as long as you have them you’ll never want for the
most delightful tunes.’” The male descendants of the boy in question were
all famous pipers thereafter, and the last of them was a piper to the late
Cluny MacPherson of Cluny.’

Nature of Fairies.—At this point, Michael turned the trend of John’s
thoughts to the nature of fairies, with the following result:—‘The general
belief of the people here during my father’s lifetime was that the fairies
were more of the nature of spirits than of men made of flesh and blood, but
that they so appeared to the naked eye that no difference could be marked in
their forms from that of any human being, except that they were more
diminutive. I have heard my father say it was the case that fairy women
used to take away children from their cradles and leave different children in
their places, and that these children who were left would turn out to be old
men.
‘At Barra Head, a fairy woman used to come to a man’s window almost
every night as though looking to see if the family was home. The man grew
suspicious, and decided the fairy woman was watching her chance to steal
his wife, so he proposed a plan. It was then and still is the custom after
thatching a house to rope it across with heather-spun ropes, and, at the time,
the man was busy spinning some of them; and he told his wife to take his
place that night to spin the heather-rope, and said he would take her
spinning-wheel. They were thus placed when the fairy woman made the
usual look in at the window, and she seeing that her intention was
understood, said to the man, “You are yourself at the spinning-wheel and
your wife is spinning the heather-rope.”
‘I have heard it said that the fairies live in knolls on a higher level than that
of the ground in general, and that fairy songs are heard from the faces of
high rocks. The fairies of the air (the fairy or spirit hosts) are different from
those in the rocks. A man whom I’ve seen, Roderick MacNeil, was lifted by
the hosts and left three miles from where he was taken up. The hosts went at
about midnight. A man awake at midnight is in danger. Cows and horses are
sometimes shot in place of men’ (and why, will be explained by later
witnesses).
Father MacDonald’s Opinions.—We then asked about the late Rev. Donald
MacDonald, who had the reputation of knowing all about fairies and spirits
when he lived here in these islands, and John said:—‘I have heard my wife
say that she questioned Father MacDonald, who was then a parish priest
here in Barra, and for whom she was a housekeeper, if it was possible that
such beings or spirits as fairies were in existence. He said “Yes”, and that

they were those who left Heaven after the fallen angels; and that those
going out after the fallen angels had gone out were so numerous and kept
going so long that St. Michael notified Christ that the throne was fast
emptying, and when Christ saw the state of affairs he ordered the doors of
Heaven to be closed at once, saying as he gave the order, “Who is out is out
and who is in is in.” And the fairies are as numerous now as ever they were
before the beginning of the world.’ (Cf. pp. 47, 53, 67, 76, 85, 109, 113,
116, 129, 154, 205, 212.)
Here we left John, and he, continuing on his way up the mountain road in
an opposite direction from us and round a turn, disappeared almost as a
fairy might.

An Aged Piper’s Testimony
We introduce now as a witness Donald McKinnon, ninety-six years old, a
piper by profession; and not only is he the oldest man on Barra, but also the
oldest man among all our witnesses. He was born on the Island of South
Uist, one of the Western Hebrides north of Barra, and came to Barra in
1836, where he has lived ever since. In spite of being four years less than a
hundred in age, he greeted us very heartily, and as he did not wish us to sit
inside, for his chimney happened not to be drawing very well, and was
filling the straw-thatched cottage with peat smoke, we sat down outside on
the grass and began talking; and as we came to fairies this is what he said:
—
Nature of Fairies.—‘I believe that fairies exist as a tribe of spirits, and
appear to us in the form of men and women. People who saw fairies can yet
describe them as they appeared dressed in green. No doubt there are fairies
in other countries as well as here.
‘In my experience there was always a good deal of difference between the
fairies and the hosts. The fairies were supposed to be living without
material food, whereas the hosts were supposed to be living upon their own
booty. Generally, the hosts were evil and the fairies good, though I have
heard that the fairies used to take cattle and leave their old men rolled up in
the hides. One night an old witch was heard to say to the fairies outside the

fold, “We cannot get anything to-night.” The old men who were left behind
in the hides of the animals taken, usually disappeared very suddenly. I saw
two men who used to be lifted by the hosts. They would be carried from
South Uist as far south as Barra Head, and as far north as Harris.
Sometimes when these men were ordered by the hosts to kill men on the
road they would kill instead either a horse or a cow; for in that way, so long
as an animal was killed, the injunction of the hosts was fulfilled.’ To
illustrate at this point the idea of fairies, Donald repeated the same legend
told by our former witness, John Campbell, about the emptying of Heaven
and the doors being closed to keep the remainder of its population in. Then
he told the following story about fairies:—
The Fairy-Belt.—‘I heard of an apprentice to carpentry who was working
with his master at the building of a boat, a little distance from his house,
and near the sea. He went to work one morning and forgot a certain tool
which he needed in the boat-building. He returned to his carpenter-shed to
get it, and found the shed filled with fairy men and women. On seeing him
they ran away so greatly confused that one of the women forgot her gird
(belt), and he picked it up. In a little while she came back for the gird, and
asked him to give it her, but he refused to do so. Thereupon she promised
him that he should be made master of his trade wherever his lot should fall
without serving further apprenticeship. On that condition he gave her the
gird; and rising early next morning he went to the yard where the boat was
a-building and put in two planks so perfectly that when the master arrived
and saw them, he said to him, “Are you aware of anybody being in the
building-yard last night, for I see by the work done that I am more likely to
be an apprentice than the person who put in those two planks, whoever he
is. Was it you that did it?” The reply was in the affirmative, and the
apprentice told his master the circumstances under which he gained the
rapid mastership of his trade.’

Across the Mountains
It was nearing sunset now, and a long mountain-climb was ahead of us, and
one more visit that evening, before we should begin our return to Castlebay,
and so after this story we said a hearty good-bye to Donald, with regret at

leaving him. When we reached the mountain-side, one of the rarest of
Barra’s sights greeted us. To the north and south in the golden glow of a
September twilight we saw the long line of the Outer Hebrides like the
rocky backbone of some submerged continent. The scene and colours on the
land and ocean and in the sky seemed more like some magic vision,
reflected from Faerie by the ‘good people’ for our delight, than a thing of
our own world. Never was air clearer or sea calmer, nor could there be air
sweeter than that in the mystic mountain-stillness holding the perfume of
millions of tiny blossoms of purple and white heather; and as the last
honey-bees were leaving the beautiful blossoms their humming came to our
ears like low, strange music from Fairyland.

Marian MacLean of Barra, and her Testimony
Our next witness to testify is a direct descendant of the ancient MacNeils of
Barra. Her name now is Marian MacLean; and she lives in the mountainous
centre of Barra at Upper Borve. She is many years younger than the men
who have testified, and one of the most industrious women on the island. It
was already dark and past dinner-time when we entered her cottage, and so,
as we sat down before a blazing peat-fire, she at once offered us some hot
milk and biscuits, which we were only too glad to accept. And, as we ate,
we talked first about our hard climb in the darkness across the mountains,
and through the thick heather-bushes, and then about the big rock which has
a key-hole in it, for it contains a secret entrance to a fairy palace. We had
examined it in the twilight as we came through the mountain pass which it
guards, and my guide Michael had assured me that more than one islander,
crossing at the hour we were, had seen some of the fairies near it. We
waited in front of the big rock in hopes one might appear for our benefit,
but, in spite of our strong belief that there are fairies there, not a single one
would come out. Perhaps they came and we couldn’t see them; who knows?
Fairies and Fairy Hosts (‘Sluagh’).[39]—‘O yes,’ Marian said, as she heard
Michael and myself talking over our hot milk, ‘there are fairies there, for I
was told that the Pass was a notable fairy haunt.’ Then I said through
Michael, ‘Can you tell us something about what these fairies are?’ And

from that time, save for a few interruptions natural in conversation, we
listened and Marian talked, and told stories as follows:—
‘Generally, the fairies are to be seen after or about sunset, and walk on the
ground as we do, whereas the hosts travel in the air above places inhabited
by people. The hosts used to go after the fall of night, and more particularly
about midnight. You’d hear them going in fine weather against a wind like a
covey of birds. And they were in the habit of lifting men in South Uist, for
the hosts need men to help in shooting their javelins from their bows against
women in the action of milking cows, or against any person working at
night in a house over which they pass. And I have heard of good sensible
men whom the hosts took, shooting a horse or cow in place of the person
ordered to be shot.
‘There was a man who had only one cow and one daughter. The daughter
was milking the cow at night when the hosts were passing, and that human
being whom the hosts had lifted with them was her father’s neighbour. And
this neighbour was ordered by the hosts to shoot the daughter as she was
milking, but, knowing the father and daughter, he shot the cow instead. The
next morning he went where the father was and said to him, “You are
missing the cow.” “Yes,” said the father, “I am.” And the man who had shot
the cow said, “Are you not glad your cow and not your daughter was taken?
For I was ordered to shoot your daughter and I shot your cow, in order to
show blood on my arrow.” “I am very glad of what you have done if that
was the case,” the father replied. “It was the case,” the neighbour said.
‘My father and grandfather knew a man who was carried by the hosts from
South Uist here to Barra. I understand when the hosts take away earthly
men they require another man to help them. But the hosts must be spirits.
My opinion is that they are both spirits of the dead and other spirits not the
dead. A child was taken by the hosts and returned after one night and one
day, and found at the back of the house with the palms of its hands in the
holes in the wall, and with no life in its body. It was dead in the spirit. It is
believed that when people are dropped from a great height by the hosts they
are killed by the fall. As to fairies, my firm opinion is that they are spirits
who appear in the shape of human beings.’

The question was now asked whether the fairies were anything like the
dead, and Marian hesitated about answering. She thought they were like the
dead, but not to be identified with them. The fallen-angel idea concerning
fairies was an obstacle she could not pass, for she said, ‘When the fallen
angels were cast out of Heaven God commanded them thus:—“You will go
to take up your abodes in crevices, under the earth, in mounds, or soil, or
rocks.” And according to this command they have been condemned to
inhabit the places named for a certain period of time, and when it is expired
before the consummation of the world, they will be seen as numerous as
ever.’
Now we heard two good stories, the first about fairy women spinning for a
mortal, the second about a wonderful changeling who was a magic
musician:—
Fairy-Women Spinners.—‘I have heard my father, Alexander MacNeil, who
was well known to Mr. [Alexander] Carmichael and to Mr. J. F. Campbell
of Islay, say that his father knew a woman in the neighbourhood who was in
a hurry to have her stock of wool spun and made into cloth, and one night
this woman secretly wished to have some women to help her. So the
following morning there appeared at her house six or seven fairy women in
long green robes, all alike chanting, “A wool-card, and a spinning-wheel.”
And when they were supplied with the instruments they were so very
desirous to get, they all set to work, and by midday of that morning the
cloth was going through the process of the hand-loom. But they were not
satisfied with finishing the work the woman had set before them, but asked
for new employment. The woman had no more spinning or weaving to be
done, and began to wonder how she was to get the women out of the house.
So she went into her neighbour’s house and informed him of her position in
regard to the fairy women. The old man asked what they were saying.
“They are earnestly petitioning for some work to do, and I have no more to
give them,” the woman replied. “Go you in,” he said to her, “and tell them
to spin the sand, and if then they do not move from your house, go out
again and yell in at the door that Dun Borve is in fire!” The first plan had no
effect, but immediately on hearing the cry, “Dun Borve is in fire!” the fairy
women disappeared invisibly. And as they went, the woman heard the
melancholy wail, “Dun Borve is in fire! Dun Borve is in fire! And what will

become of our hammers and anvil?”—for there was a smithy in the fairy-
dwelling.’
The Tailor and the Changeling.—‘There was a young wife of a young man
who lived in the township of Allasdale, and the pair had just had their first
child. One day the mother left her baby in its cradle to go out and do some
shearing, and when she returned the child was crying in a most unusual
fashion. She fed him as usual on porridge and milk, but he wasn’t satisfied
with what seemed to her enough for any one of his age, yet every suspicion
escaped her attention. As it happened, at the time there was a web of home-
made cloth in the house waiting for the tailor. The tailor came and began to
work up the cloth. As the woman was going out to her customary shearing
operation, she warned the tailor if he heard the child continually crying not
to pay much attention to it, adding she would attend to it when she came
home, for she feared the child would delay him in his work.
‘All went well till about noon, when the tailor observed the child rising up
on its elbow and stretching its hand to a sort of shelf above the cradle and
taking down from it a yellow chanter [of a bagpipe]. And then the child
began to play. Immediately after the child began to play the chanter, the
house filled with young fairy women all clad in long green robes, who
began to dance, and the tailor had to dance with them. About two o’clock
that same afternoon the women disappeared unknown to the tailor, and the
chanter disappeared from the hands of the child also unknown to the tailor;
and the child was in the cradle crying as usual.
‘The wife came home to make the dinner, and observed that the tailor was
not so far advanced with his work as he ought to be in that space of time.
However, when the fairy women disappeared, the child had enjoined upon
the tailor never to tell what he had seen. The tailor promised to be faithful to
the child’s injunctions, and so he said nothing to the mother.
‘The second day the wife left for her occupation as usual, and told the tailor
to be more attentive to his work than the day before. A second time at the
same hour of the day the child in the cradle, appearing more like an old man
than a child, took the chanter and began to play. The same fairy women
filled the house again, and repeated their dance, and the tailor had to join
them.

‘Naturally the tailor was as far behind with his work the second day as the
first day, and it was very noticeable to the woman of the house when she
returned. She thereupon requested him to tell her what the matter might be.
Then he said to her, “I urge upon you after going to bed to-night not to
fondle that child, because he is not your child, nor is he a child: he is an old
fairy man. And to-morrow, at dead tide, go down to the shore and wrap him
in your plaid and put him upon a rock and begin to pick that shell-fish
which is called limpet, and for your life do not leave the shore until such a
time as the tide will flow so high that you will scarcely be able to wade in to
the main shore.” The woman complied with the tailor’s advice, and when
she had waded to the main shore and stood there looking at the child on the
rock, it cried to her, “You had a great need to do what you have done.
Otherwise you’d have seen another ending of your turn; but blessing be to
you and curses on your adviser.” When the wife arrived home her own
natural child was in the cradle.’

The Testimony of Murdoch MacLean
The husband of Marian MacLean had entered while the last stories were
being told, and when they were ended the spirit was on him, and wishing to
give his testimony he began:—
Lachlann’s Fairy Mistress.—‘My grandmother, Catherine MacInnis, used to
tell about a man named Lachlann, whom she knew, being in love with a
fairy woman. The fairy woman made it a point to see Lachlann every night,
and he being worn out with her began to fear her. Things got so bad at last
that he decided to go to America to escape the fairy woman. As soon as the
plan was fixed, and he was about to emigrate, women who were milking at
sunset out in the meadows heard very audibly the fairy woman singing this
song:—
What will the brown-haired woman do
When Lachlann is on the billows?
‘Lachlann emigrated to Cape Breton, landing in Nova Scotia; and in his
first letter home to his friends he stated that the same fairy woman was
haunting him there in America.’[40]

Abduction of a Bridegroom.—‘I have heard it from old people that a couple,
newly married, were on their way to the home of the bride’s father, and for
some unknown reason the groom fell behind the procession, and seeing a
fairy-dwelling open along the road was taken into it. No one could ever find
the least trace of where he went, and all hope of seeing him again was given
up. The man remained with the fairies so long that when he returned two
generations had disappeared during the lapse of time. The township in
which his bride’s house used to be was depopulated and in ruins for
upwards of twenty years, but to him the time had seemed only a few hours;
and he was just as fresh and youthful as when he went in the fairy-
dwelling.’
Nature of Fairies.—Previous to his story-telling Murdoch had heard us
discussing the nature and powers of fairies, and at the end of this account he
volunteered, without our asking for it, an opinion of his own:—‘This (the
story just told by him) leads me to believe that the spirit and body [of a
mortal] are somehow mystically combined by fairy enchantment, for the
fairies had a mighty power of enchanting natural people, and could
transform the physical body in some way. It cannot be but that the fairies
are spirits. According to my thinking and belief they cannot be anything but
spirits. My firm belief, however, is that they are not the spirits of dead men,
but are the fallen angels.’
Then his wife Marian had one more story to add, and she at once, when she
could, began:—
The Messenger and the Fairies.—‘Yes, I have heard the following incident
took place here on the Island of Barra about one hundred years ago:—A
young woman taken ill suddenly sent a messenger in all haste to the doctor
for medicine. On his return, the day being hot and there being five miles to
walk, he sat down at the foot of a knoll and fell asleep; and was awakened
by hearing a song to the following air: “Ho, ho, ho, hi, ho, ho. Ill it becomes
a messenger on an important message to sleep on the ground in the open
air.”’
And with this, for the hour was late and dark, and we were several miles
from Castlebay, we bade our good friends adieu, and began to hunt for a
road out of the little mountain valley where Murdoch and Marian guard

their cows and sheep. And all the way to the hotel Michael and I discussed
the nature of fairies. Just before midnight we saw the welcome lights in
Castlebay across the heather-covered hills, and we both entered the hotel to
talk. There was a blazing fire ready for us and something to eat. Before I
took my final leave of my friend and guide, I asked him to dictate for me
his private opinions about fairies, what they are and how they appear to
men, and he was glad to meet my request. Here is what he said about the
famous folk-lorist, the late Mr. J. F. Campbell, with whom he often worked
in Barra, and for himself:—

Michael Buchanan’s Deposition Concerning Fairies
‘I was with the late Mr. J. F. Campbell during his first and second tour of
the Island of Barra in search of legendary lore strictly connected with
fairies, and I know from daily conversing with him about fairies that he
held them to be spirits appearing to the naked eye of the spectator as any of
the present or former generations of men and women, except that they were
smaller in stature. And I know equally that he, holding them to be spirits,
thought they could appear or disappear at will. My own firm belief is that
the fairies were or are only spirits which were or are seen in the shape of
human beings, but smaller as regards stature. I also firmly believe in the
existence of fairies as such; and accept the modern and ancient traditions
respecting the ways and customs of various fairy tribes, such as John
Mackinnon, the old piper, and John Campbell, and the MacLeans told us.
And I therefore have no hesitation in agreeing with the views held by the
late Mr. J. F. Campbell regarding fairies.’

The Reciters’ Lament, and their Story
The following material, so truly Celtic in its word-colour and in the
profound note of sadness and lamentation dominating it, may very
appropriately conclude our examination of the Fairy-Faith of Scotland, by
giving us some insight into the mind of the Scotch peasants of two
generations ago, and into the then prevailing happy social environment
under which their belief in fairies flourished. For our special use Dr.

Alexander Carmichael has rendered it out of the original Gaelic, as this was
taken down by him in various versions in the Western Hebrides. One
version was recited by Ann Macneill, of Barra, in the year 1865, another by
Angus Macleod, of Harris, in 1877. In relation to their belief in fairies the
anti-clerical bias of the reciters is worth noting as a curious phenomenon:—
‘That is as I heard when a hairy little fellow upon the knee of my mother.
My mother was full of stories and songs of music and chanting. My two
ears never heard musical fingers more preferable for me to hear than the
chanting of my mother. If there were quarrels among children, as there
were, and as there will be, my beloved mother would set us to dance there
and then. She herself or one of the other crofter women of the townland
would sing to us the mouth-music. We would dance there till we were seven
times tired. A stream of sweat would be falling from us before we stopped
—hairful little lassies and stumpy little fellows. These are scattered to-day!
scattered to-day over the wide world! The people of those times were full of
music and dancing stories and traditions. The clerics have extinguished
these. May ill befall them! And what have the clerics put in their place?
Beliefs about creeds, and disputations about denominations and churches!
May lateness be their lot! It is they who have put the cross round the heads
and the entanglements round the feet of the people. The people of the
Gaeldom of to-day are anear perishing for lack of the famous feats of their
fathers. The black clerics have suppressed every noble custom among the
people of the Gaeldom—precious customs that will never return, no never
again return.’ (Now follows what the Reciters heard upon the knee of their
mother):—
‘“I have never seen a man fairy nor a woman fairy, but my mother saw a
troop of them. She herself and the other maidens of the townland were once
out upon the summer sheiling (grazing). They were milking the cows, in the
evening gloaming, when they observed a flock of fairies reeling and setting
upon the green plain in front of the knoll. And, oh King! but it was they the
fairies themselves that had the right to the dancing, and not the children of
men! Bell-helmets of blue silk covered their heads, and garments of green
satin covered their bodies, and sandals of yellow membrane covered their
feet. Their heavy brown hair was streaming down their waist, and its lustre
was of the fair golden sun of summer. Their skin was as white as the swan
of the wave, and their voice was as melodious as the mavis of the wood,

and they themselves were as beauteous of feature and as lithe of form as a
picture, while their step was as light and stately and their minds as sportive
as the little red hind of the hill. The damsel children of the sheiling-fold
never saw sight but them, no never sight but them, never aught so beautiful.
‘“There is not a wave of prosperity upon the fairies of the knoll, no, not a
wave. There is no growth nor increase, no death nor withering upon the
fairies. Seed unfortunate they! They went away from the Paradise with the
One of the Great Pride. When the Father commanded the doors closed
down and up, the intermediate fairies had no alternative but to leap into the
holes of the earth, where they are, and where they will be.”
‘This is what I heard upon the knee of my beloved mother. Blessings be
with her ever evermore!’

IV. IN THE ISLE OF MAN
Introduction by Sophia Morrison, Hon. Secretary of the Manx
Language Society.
The Manx hierarchy of fairy beings people hills and glens, caves and rivers,
mounds and roads; and their name is legion. Apparently there is not a place
in the island but has its fairy legend. Sir Walter Scott said that the ‘Isle of
Man, beyond all other places in Britain, was a peculiar depository of the
fairy-traditions, which, on the Island being conquered by the Norse, became
in all probability chequered with those of Scandinavia, from a source
peculiar and more direct than that by which they reached Scotland and
Ireland’.
A good Manxman, however, does not speak of fairies—the word ferish, a
corruption of the English, did not exist in the island one hundred and fifty
years ago. He talks of ‘The Little People’ (Mooinjer veggey), or, in a more
familiar mood, of ‘Themselves’, and of ‘Little Boys’ (Guillyn veggey), or
‘Little Fellas’. In contradistinction to mortals he calls them ‘Middle World
Men’, for they are believed to dwell in a world of their own, being neither
good enough for Heaven nor bad enough for Hell.

At the present moment almost all the older Manx peasants hold to this
belief in fairies quite firmly, but with a certain dread of them; and, to my
knowledge, two old ladies of the better class yet leave out cakes and water
for the fairies every night. The following story, illustrative of the belief, was
told to me by Bill Clarke:—
‘Once while I was fishing from a ledge of rocks that runs out into the sea at
Lag-ny-Keilley, a dense grey mist began to approach the land, and I thought
I had best make for home while the footpath above the rocks was visible.
When getting my things together I heard what sounded like a lot of children
coming out of school. I lifted my head, and behold ye, there was a fleet of
fairy boats each side of the rock. Their riding-lights were shining like little
stars, and I heard one of the Little Fellas shout, “Hraaghyn boght as earish
broigh, skeddan dy liooar ec yn mooinjer seihll shoh, cha nel veg ain”
(Poor times and dirty weather, and herring enough at the people of this
world, nothing at us). Then they dropped off and went agate o’ the flitters.’
‘Willy-the-Fairy,’ as he is called, who lives at Rhenass, says he often hears
the fairies singing and playing up the Glen o’ nights. I have heard him sing
airs which he said he had thus learned from the Little People.[41]
Again, there is a belief that at Keeill Moirrey (Mary’s Church), near Glen
Meay, a little old woman in a red cloak is sometimes seen coming over the
mountain towards the keeill, ringing a bell, just about the hour when church
service begins. Keeill Moirrey is one of the early little Celtic cells, probably
of the sixth century, of which nothing remains but the foundations.
And the following prayer, surviving to our own epoch, is most interesting.
It shows, in fact, pure paganism; and we may judge from it that the ancient
Manx people regarded Manannan, the great Tuatha De Danann god, in his
true nature, as a spiritual being, a Lord of the Sea, and as belonging to the
complex fairy hierarchy. This prayer was given to me by a Manxwoman
nearly one hundred years old, who is still living. She said it had been used
by her grandfather, and that her father prayed the same prayer—substituting
St. Patrick’s name for Manannan’s:—
Manannan beg mac y Leirr, fer vannee yn Ellan,
Bannee shin as nyn maatey, mie goll magh
As cheet stiagh ny share lesh bio as marroo “sy vaatey”.

(Little Manannan son of Leirr, who blest our Island,
Bless us and our boat, well going out
And better coming in with living and dead [fish] in the boat).

It seems to me that no one of the various theories so far advanced accounts
in itself for the Fairy-Faith. There is always a missing factor, an unknown
quantity which has yet to be discovered. No doubt the Pygmy Theory
explains a good deal. In some countries a tradition has been handed down
of the times when there were races of diminutive men in existence—beings
so small that their tiny hands could have used the flint arrow-heads and
scrapers which are like toys to us. No such tradition exists at the present day
in the Isle of Man, but one might have filtered down from the far-off ages
and become innate in the folk-memory, and now, unknown to the Manx
peasant, may possibly suggest to his mind the troops of Little People in the
shadowy glen or on the lonely mountain-side. Again, the rustling of the
leaves or the sough of the wind may be heard by the peasant as strange and
mysterious voices, or the trembling shadow of a bush may appear to him as
an unearthly being. Natural facts, explainable by modern science, may
easily remain dark mysteries to those who live quiet lives close to Nature,
far from sophisticated towns, and whose few years of schooling have left
the depths of their being undisturbed, only, as it were, ruffling the shallows.
But this is not enough. Even let it be granted that nine out of every ten cases
of experiences with fairies can be analysed and explained away—there
remains the tenth. In this tenth case one is obliged to admit that there is
something at work which we do not understand, some force in play which,
as yet, we know not. In spite of ourselves we feel ‘There’s Powers that’s in’.
These Powers are not necessarily what the superstitious call ‘supernatural’.
We realize now that there is nothing supernatural—that what used to be so
called is simply something that we do not understand at present. Our
forefathers would have thought the telephone, the X-rays, and wireless
telegraphy things ‘supernatural’. It is more than possible that our
descendants may make discoveries equally marvellous in the realms both of
mind and matter, and that many things, which nowadays seem to the

materialistically-minded the creations of credulous fancy, may in the future
be understood and recognized as part of the one great scheme of things.
Some persons are certainly more susceptible than others to these unknown
forces. Most people know reliable instances of telepathy and presentiment
amongst their acquaintances. It seems not at all contrary to reason that both
matter and mind, in knowledge of which we have not gone so very far after
all, may exist in forms as yet entirely unknown to us. After all, beings with
bodies and personalities different from our own may well inhabit the unseen
world around us: the Fairy Hound, white as driven snow, may show himself
at times among his mundane companions; Fenodyree may do the farm-work
for those whom he favours; the Little People may sing and dance o’ nights
in Colby Glen. Let us not say it is ‘impossible’.
Peel, Isle of Man,
September 1910.

On the Slopes of South Barrule
I was introduced to the ways and nature of Manx fairies in what is probably
the most fairy-haunted part of the isle—the southern slopes of South
Barrule, the mountain on whose summit Manannan is said to have had his
stronghold, and whence he worked his magic, hiding the kingdom in dense
fog whenever he beheld in the distance the coming of an enemy’s ship or
fleet. And from a representative of the older generation, Mrs. Samuel Leece,
who lives at Ballamodda, a pleasant village under the shadow of South
Barrule, I heard the first story:—
Baby and Table Moved by Fairies.—‘I have been told of their (the fairies’)
taking babies, though I can’t be sure it is true. But this did happen to my
own mother in this parish of Kirk Patrick about eighty years since: She was
in bed with her baby, but wide awake, when she felt the baby pulled off her
arm and heard the rush of them. Then she mentioned the Almighty’s name,
and, as they were hurrying away, a little table alongside the bed went round
about the floor twenty times. Nobody was in the room with my mother, and
she always allowed it was the little fellows.’

Manx Tales in a Snow-bound Farm-house
When our interesting conversation was over, Mrs. Leece directed me to her
son’s farm-house, where her husband, Mr. Samuel Leece, then happened to
be; and going there through the snow-drifts, I found him with his son and
the family within. The day was just the right sort to stir Manx memories,
and it was not long before the best of stories about the ‘little people’ were
being told in the most natural way, and to the great delight of the children.
The grandfather, who is eighty-six years of age, sat by the open fire
smoking; and he prepared the way for the stories (three of which we record)
by telling about a ghost seen by himself and his father, and by the
announcement that ‘the fairies are thought to be spirits’.
Under ‘Fairy’ Control.—‘About fifty years ago,’ said Mr. T. Leece, the son,
‘Paul Taggart, my wife’s uncle, a tailor by trade, had for an apprentice,
Humphrey Keggan, a young man eighteen or nineteen years of age; and it
often happened that while the two of them would be returning home at
nightfall, the apprentice would suddenly disappear from the side of the
tailor, and even in the midst of a conversation, as soon as they had crossed
the burn in the field down there (indicating an adjoining field). And Taggart
could not see nor hear Humphrey go. The next morning Humphrey would
come back, but so worn out that he could not work, and he always declared
that little men had come to him in crowds, and used him as a horse, and that
with them he had travelled all night across fields and over hedges.’ The wife
of the narrator substantiated this strange psychological story by adding:
—‘This is true, because I know my Uncle Paul too well to doubt what he
says.’ And she then related the two following stories:—
Heifer Killed by Fairy Woman’s Touch.—‘Aunt Jane was coming down the
road on the other side of South Barrule when she saw a strange woman’
(who Mr. T. Leece suggested was a witch) ‘appear in the middle of the
gorse and walk right over the gorse and heather in a place where no person
could walk. Then she observed the woman go up to a heifer and put her
hand on it; and within a few days that heifer was dead.’
The Fairy Dog.—‘This used to happen about one hundred years ago, as my
mother has told me:—Where my grandfather John Watterson was reared,
just over near Kerroo Kiel (Narrow Quarter), all the family were sometimes

sitting in the house of a cold winter night, and my great grandmother and
her daughters at their wheels spinning, when a little white dog would
suddenly appear in the room. Then every one there would have to drop their
work and prepare for the company to come in: they would put down a fire
and leave fresh water for them, and hurry off upstairs to bed. They could
hear them come, but could never see them, only the dog. The dog was a
fairy dog, and a sure sign of their coming.’

Testimony of a Herb-Doctor and Seer
At Ballasalla I was fortunate enough to meet one of the most interesting of
its older inhabitants, John Davies, a Celtic medicine-man, who can cure
most obstinate maladies in men or animals with secret herbs, and who
knows very much about witchcraft and the charms against it. ‘Witches are
as common as ducks walking barefooted,’ he said, using the duck simile,
which is a popular Manx one; and he cited two particular instances from his
own experience. But for us it is more important to know that John Davies is
also an able seer. The son of a weaver, he was born in County Down,
Ireland, seventy-eight years ago; but in earliest boyhood he came with his
people to the Isle of Man, and grew up in the country near Ramsay, and so
thoroughly has he identified himself with the island and its lore, and even
with its ancient language, that for our purposes he may well be considered a
Manxman. His testimony about Manx fairies is as follows:—
Actual Fairies Described.—‘I am only a poor ignorant man; when I was
married I couldn’t say the word “matrimony” in the right way. But one does
not have to be educated to see fairies, and I have seen them many a time. I
have seen them with the naked eye as numerous as I have seen scholars
coming out of Ballasalla school; and I have been seeing them since I was
eighteen to twenty years of age. The last one I saw was in Kirk Michael.
Before education came into the island more people could see the fairies;
now very few people can see them. But they (the fairies) are as thick on the
Isle of Man as ever they were. They throng the air, and darken Heaven, and
rule this lower world. It is only twenty-one miles from this world up to the
first heaven.[42] There are as many kinds of fairies as populations in our
world. I have seen some who were about two and a half feet high; and some

who were as big as we are. I think very many such fairies as these last are
the lost souls of the people who died before the Flood. At the Flood all the
world was drowned; but the Spirit which God breathed into Adam will
never be drowned, or burned, and it is as much in the sea as on the land.
Others of the fairies are evil spirits: our Saviour drove a legion of devils
into a herd of swine; the swine were choked, but not the devils. You can’t
drown devils; it is spirits they are, and just like a shadow on the wall.’ I here
asked about the personal aspects of most fairies of human size, and my
friend said:—‘They appear to me in the same dress as in the days when they
lived here on earth; the spirit itself is only what God blew into Adam as the
breath of life.’
It seems to me that, on the whole, John Davies has had genuine visions, but
that whatever he may have seen has been very much coloured in
interpretation by his devout knowledge of the Christian Bible, and by his
social environment, as is self-evident.

Testimony of a Ballasalla Manxwoman
A well-informed Manxwoman, of Ballasalla, who lives in the ancient stone
house wherein she was born, and in which before her lived her
grandparents, offers this testimony:—
Concerning Fairies.—‘I’ve heard a good deal of talk about fairies, but
never believed in them myself; the old people thought them the ghosts of
the dead or some such things. They were like people who had gone before
(that is, dead). If there came a strange sudden knock or noises, or if a tree
took a sudden shaking when there was no wind, people used to make out it
was caused by the fairies. On the 11th of May[43] we used to gather
mountain-ash (Cuirn) with red berries on it, and make crosses out of its
sprigs, and put them over the doors, so that the fairies would not come in.
My father always saw that this was done; he said we could have no luck
during the year if we forgot to do it.’

Testimony Given in a Joiner’s Shop

George Gelling, of Ballasalla, a joiner, has a local reputation for knowing
much about the fairies, and so I called on him at his workshop. This is what
he told me:—
Seeing the Fairies.—‘I was making a coffin here in the shop, and, after tea,
my apprentice was late returning; he was out by the hedge just over there
looking at a crowd of little people kicking and dancing. One of them came
up and asked him what he was looking at; and this made him run back to
the shop. When he described what he had seen, I told him they were nothing
but fairies.’
Hearing Fairy Music.—‘Up by the abbey on two different occasions I have
heard the fairies. They were playing tunes not of this world, and on each
occasion I listened for nearly an hour.’
Mickleby and the Fairy Woman.—‘A man named Mickleby was coming
from Derbyhaven at night, when by a certain stream he met two ladies. He
saluted them, and then walked along with them to Ballahick Farm. There he
saw a house lit up, and they took him into it to a dance. As he danced, he
happened to wipe away his sweat with a part of the dress of one of the two
strange women who was his partner. After this adventure, whenever
Mickleby was lying abed at night, the woman with whom he danced would
appear standing beside his bed. And the only way to drive her away was to
throw over her head and Mickleby a linen sheet which had never been
bleached.’
Nature of Fairies.—‘The fairies are spirits. I think they are in this country
yet: A man below here forgot his cow, and at a late hour went to look for
her, and saw that crowds of fairies like little boys were with him. [St.] Paul
said that spirits are thick in the air, if only we could see them; and we call
spirits fairies. I think the old people here in the island thought of fairies in
the same way.’
The Fairies’ Revenge.—William Oates now happened to come into the
workshop, and being as much interested in the subject under discussion as
ourselves, offered various stories, of which the following is a type:—‘A
man named Watterson, who used often to see the fairies in his house at
Colby playing in the moonlight, on one occasion heard them coming just as
he was going to bed. So he went out to the spring to get fresh water for

them; and coming into the house put the can down on the floor, saying,
“Now, little beggars, drink away.” And at that (an insult to the fairies) the
water was suddenly thrown upon him.’

A Vicar’s Testimony
When I called on the Rev. J. M. Spicer, vicar of Malew parish, at his home
near Castletown, he told me this very curious story:—
The Taking of Mrs. K——.—‘The belief in fairies is quite a living thing here
yet. For example, old Mrs. K——, about a year ago, told me that on one
occasion, when her daughter had been in Castletown during the day, she
went out to the road at nightfall to see if her daughter was yet in sight,
whereupon a whole crowd of fairies suddenly surrounded her, and began
taking her off toward South Barrule Mountain; and, she added, “I couldn’t
get away from them until I had called my son.”’

A Canon’s Testimony
I am greatly indebted to the Rev. Canon Kewley, of Arbory, for the valuable
testimony which follows, and especially for his kindness in allowing me to
record what is one of the clearest examples of a collective hallucination I
have heard about as occurring in the fairy-haunted regions of Celtic
countries:—
A Collective Hallucination.—‘A good many things can be explained as
natural phenomena, but there are some things which I think cannot be. For
example, my sister and myself and our coachman, and apparently the horse,
saw the same phenomenon at the same moment: one evening we were
driving along an avenue in this parish when the avenue seemed to be
blocked by a great crowd of people, like a funeral procession; and the
crowd was so dense that we could not see through it. The throng was about
thirty to forty yards away. When we approached, it melted away, and no
person was anywhere in sight.’

The Manx Fairy-Faith.—‘Among the old people of this parish there is still
a belief in fairies. About eighteen years ago, I buried a man, a staunch
Methodist, who said he once saw the road full of fairies in the form of little
black pigs, and that when he addressed them, “In the name of God what are
ye?” they immediately vanished. He was certain they were the fairies. Other
old people speak of the fairies as the little folk. The tradition is that the
fairies once inhabited this island, but were banished for evil-doing. The
elder-tree, in Manx tramman, is supposed to be inhabited by fairies.
Through accident, one night a woman ran into such a tree, and was
immediately stricken with a terrible swelling which her neighbours declared
came from disturbing the fairies in the tree. This was on the borders of
Arbory parish.’
The Canon favours the hypothesis that in much of the folk-belief
concerning fairies and Fairyland there is present an instinct, as seen among
all peoples, for communion with the other world, and that this instinct
shows itself in another form in the Christian doctrine of the Communion of
Saints.

Fairy Tales on Christmas Day
The next morning, Christmas morning, I called at the picturesque roadside
home of Mrs. Dinah Moore a Manxwoman living near Glen Meay; and she
contributed the best single collection of Manx folk-legends I discovered on
the island. The day was bright and frosty, and much snow still remained in
the shaded nooks and hollows, so that a seat before the cheerful fire in Mrs.
Moore’s cottage was very comfortable; and with most work suspended for
the ancient day of festivities in honour of the Sun, re-born after its death at
the hands of the Powers of Darkness, all conditions were favourable for
hearing about fairies, and this may explain why such important results were
obtained.
Fairy Deceit.—‘I heard of a man and wife who had no children. One night
the man was out on horseback and heard a little baby crying beside the
road. He got off his horse to get the baby, and, taking it home, went to give
it to his wife, and it was only a block of wood. And then the old fairies were

outside yelling at the man: “Eash un oie, s’cheap t’ou mollit!” (Age one
night, how easily thou art deceived!).’
A Midwife’s Strange Experience.—‘A strange man took a nurse to a place
where a baby boy was born. After the birth, the man set out on a table two
cakes, one of them broken and the other one whole, and said to the nurse:
“Eat, eat; but don’t eat of the cake which is broken nor of the cake which is
whole.” And the nurse said: “What in the name of the Lord am I going to
eat?” At that all the fairies in the house disappeared; and the nurse was left
out on a mountain-side alone.’
A Fairy-Baking.—‘At night the fairies came into a house in Glen Rushen to
bake. The family had put no water out for them; and a beggar-man who had
been left lodging on the sofa downstairs heard the fairies say, “We have no
water, so we’ll take blood out of the toe of the servant who forgot our
water.” And from the girl’s blood they mixed their dough. Then they baked
their cakes, ate most of them, and poked pieces up under the thatched roof.
The next day the servant-girl fell ill, and was ill until the old beggar-man
returned to the house and cured her with a bit of the cake which he took
from under the thatch.’
A Changeling Musician.—‘A family at Dalby had a poor idiot baby, and
when it was twenty years old it still sat by the fire just like a child. A tailor
came to the house to work on a day when all the folks were out cutting
corn, and the idiot was left with him. The tailor began to whistle as he sat
on the table sewing, and the little idiot sitting by the fire said to him: “If
you’ll not tell anybody when they come in, I’ll dance that tune for you.” So
the little fellow began to dance, and he could step it out splendidly. Then he
said to the tailor: “If you’ll not tell anybody when they come in, I’ll play the
fiddle for you.” And the tailor and the idiot spent a very enjoyable afternoon
together. But before the family came in from the fields, the poor idiot, as
usual, was sitting in a chair by the fire, a big baby who couldn’t hardly talk.
When the mother came in she happened to say to the tailor, “You’ve a fine
chap here,” referring to the idiot. “Yes, indeed,” said the tailor, “we’ve had
a very fine afternoon together; but I think we had better make a good fire
and put him on it.” “Oh!” cried the mother, “the poor child could never
even walk.” “Ah, but he can dance and play the fiddle, too,” replied the
tailor. And the fire was made; but when the idiot saw that they were for

putting him on it he pulled from his pocket a ball, and this ball went rolling
on ahead of him, and he, going after it, was never seen again.’ After this
strange story was finished I asked Mrs. Moore where she had heard it, and
she said:—‘I have heard this story ever since I was a girl. I knew the house
and family, and so did my mother. The family’s name was Cubbon.’
The Fenodyree’s (or ‘Phynnodderee’s’) Disgust.—‘During snowy weather,
like this, the Fenodyree would gather in the sheep at night; and during the
harvest season would do the threshing when all the family were abed. One
time, however, just over here at Gordon Farm, the farmer saw him, and he
was naked; and so the farmer put out a new suit of clothes for him. The
Fenodyree came at night, and looking at the clothes with great disgust at the
idea of wearing such things, said:—
Bayrn da’n chione, doogh da’n chione,
Cooat da’n dreeym, doogh da’n dreeym,
Breechyn da’n toin, doogh da’n toin,
Agh my she lhiat Gordon mooar,
Cha nee lhiat Glion reagh Rushen.

(Cap for the head, alas! poor head,
Coat for the back, alas! poor back,
Breeches for the breech, alas! poor breech,
But if big Gordon [farm] is thine,
Thine is not the merry Glen of Rushen.)[44]
And off he went to Glen Rushen for good.’

Testimony from the Keeper of Peel Castle
From Mrs. Moore’s house I walked on to Peel, where I was fortunate in
meeting, in his own home, Mr. William Cashen, the well-known keeper of
the famous old Peel Castle, within whose yet solid battlements stands the
one true round tower outside of Ireland. I heard first of all about the fairy
dog—the Moddey Doo (Manx for Black Dog)—which haunts the castle;
and then Mr. Cashen related to me the following anecdotes and tales about
Manx fairies:—

Prayer against the Fairies.—‘My father’s and grandfather’s idea was that
the fairies tumbled out of the battlements of Heaven, falling earthward for
three days and three nights as thick as hail; and that one third of them fell
into the sea, one third on the land, and one third remained in the air, in
which places they will remain till the Day of Judgement. The old Manx
people always believed that this fall of the fairies was due to the first sin,
pride; and here is their prayer against the fairies:—“Jee saue mee voish
cloan ny moyrn” (God preserve me from the children of pride [or
ambition]).’
A Man’s Two Wives.—‘A Ballaleece woman was captured by the fairies;
and, soon afterwards, her husband took a new wife, thinking the first one
gone for ever. But not long after the marriage, one night the first wife
appeared to her former husband and said to him, and the second wife
overheard her: “You’ll sweep the barn clean, and mind there is not one
straw left on the floor. Then stand by the door, and at a certain hour a
company of people on horseback will ride in, and you lay hold of that bridle
of the horse I am on, and don’t let it go.” He followed the directions
carefully, but was unable to hold the horse: the second wife had put some
straw on the barn floor under a bushel.’
Sounds of Infinity.—‘On Dalby Mountain, this side of Cronk-yn-Irree-Laa
the old Manx people used to put their ears to the earth to hear the Sounds of
Infinity (Sheean-ny-Feaynid), which were sounds like murmurs. They
thought these sounds came from beings in space; for in their belief all space
is filled with invisible beings.’[45]

To the Memory of a Manx Scholar
Since the following testimony was written down, its author, the late Mr.
John Nelson, of Ramsey, has passed out of our realm of life into the realm
invisible. He was one of the few Manxmen who knew the Manx language
really well, and the ancient traditions which it has preserved both orally and
in books. In his kindly manner and with fervent loyalty toward all things
Celtic, he gave me leave, during December 1909, to publish for the first
time the interesting matter which follows; and, with reverence, we here
place it on record to his memory:—

A Blinding by Fairies.—‘My grandfather, William Nelson, was coming
home from the herring fishing late at night, on the road near Jurby, when he
saw in a pea-field, across a hedge, a great crowd of little fellows in red coats
dancing and making music. And as he looked, an old woman from among
them came up to him and spat in his eyes, saying: “You’ll never see us
again”; and I am told that he was blind afterwards till the day of his death.
He was certainly blind for fourteen years before his death, for I often had to
lead him around; but, of course, I am unable to say of my own knowledge
that he became blind immediately after his strange experience, or if not
until later in life; but as a young man he certainly had good sight, and it was
believed that the fairies destroyed it.’
The Fairy Tune.—‘William Cain, of Glen Helen (formerly Rhenass), was
going home in the evening across the mountains near Brook’s Park, when
he heard music down below in a glen, and saw there a great glass house like
a palace, all lit up. He stopped to listen, and when he had the new tune he
went home to practise it on his fiddle; and recently he played the same fairy
tune at Miss Sophia Morrison’s Manx entertainment in Peel.’
Manannan the Magician.—Mr. Nelson told a story about a Buggane or
Fenodyree, such as we already have, and explained the Glashtin as a water-
bull, supposed to be a goblin half cow and half horse, and then offered this
tradition about Manannan:—‘It is said that Manannan was a great magician,
and that he used to place on the sea pea-shells, held open with sticks and
with sticks for masts standing up in them, and then so magnify them that
enemies beheld them as a strong fleet, and would not approach the island.
Another tradition is that Manannan on his three legs (the Manx coat of
arms) could travel from one end to the other of his isle with wonderful
swiftness, moving like a wheel.’[46]

Testimony of a Farmer and Fisherman
From the north of the island I returned to Peel, where I had arranged to
meet new witnesses, and the first one of these is James Caugherty, a farmer
and fisherman, born in Kirk Patrick fifty-eight years ago, who testified (in
part) as follows:—

Churn Worked by Fairies.—‘Close by Glen Cam (Winding Glen), when I
was a boy, our family often used to hear the empty churn working in the
churn-house, when no person was near it, and they would say, “Oh, it’s the
little fellows.”’
A Remarkable Changeling Story.—‘Forty to fifty years ago, between St.
John’s and Foxdale, a boy, with whom I often played, came to our house at
nightfall to borrow some candles, and while he was on his way home across
the hills he suddenly saw a little boy and a little woman coming after him.
If he ran, they ran, and all the time they gained on him. Upon reaching
home he was speechless, his hands were altered (turned awry), and his feet
also, and his fingernails had grown long in a minute. He remained that way
a week. My father went to the boy’s mother and told her it wasn’t Robby at
all that she saw; and when my father was for taking the tongs and burning
the boy with a piece of glowing turf [as a changeling test], the boy
screamed awfully. Then my father persuaded the mother to send a
messenger to a doctor in the north near Ramsey “doing charms”, to see if
she couldn’t get Robby back. As the messenger was returning, the mother
stepped out of the house to relieve him, and when she went into the house
again her own Robby was there. As soon as Robby came to himself all
right, he said a little woman and a little boy had followed him, and that just
as he got home he was conscious of being taken away by them, but he
didn’t know where they came from nor where they took him. He was unable
to tell more than this. Robby is alive yet, so far as I know; he is Robert
Christian, of Douglas.’

Evidence from a Member of the House of Keys
Mr. T. C. Kermode, of Peel, member of the House of Keys, the Lower
House of the Manx Parliament, very kindly dictated for my use the
following statement concerning fairies which he himself has seen:—
Reality of Fairies.—‘There is much belief here in the island that there
actually are fairies; and I consider such belief based on an actual fact in
nature, because of my own strange experience. About forty years ago, one
October night, I and another young man were going to a kind of Manx
harvest-home at Cronk-a-Voddy. On the Glen Helen road, just at the Beary

Farm, as we walked along talking, my friend happened to look across the
river (a small brook), and said: “Oh look, there are the fairies. Did you ever
see them?” I looked across the river and saw a circle of supernatural light,
which I have now come to regard as the “astral light” or the light of Nature,
as it is called by mystics, and in which spirits become visible. The spot
where the light appeared was a flat space surrounded on the sides away
from the river by banks formed by low hills; and into this space and the
circle of light, from the surrounding sides apparently, I saw come in twos
and threes a great crowd of little beings smaller than Tom Thumb and his
wife. All of them, who appeared like soldiers, were dressed in red. They
moved back and forth amid the circle of light, as they formed into order like
troops drilling. I advised getting nearer to them, but my friend said, “No,
I’m going to the party.” Then after we had looked at them a few minutes my
friend struck the roadside wall with a stick and shouted, and we lost the
vision and the light vanished.’
The Manx Fairy-Faith.—‘I have much evidence from old Manx people,
who are entirely reliable and God-fearing, that they have seen the fairies
hunting with hounds and horses, and on the sea in ships, and under other
conditions, and that they have heard their music. They consider the fairies a
complete nation or world in themselves, distinct from our world, but having
habits and instincts like ours. Social organization among them is said to be
similar to that among men, and they have their soldiers and commanders.
Where the fairies actually exist the old people cannot tell, but they certainly
believe that they can be seen here on earth.’

Testimony from a Past Provincial Grand Master
Mr. J. H. Kelly, Past Provincial Grand Master of the Isle of Man District of
Oddfellows, a resident of Douglas, offers the following account of a curious
psychical experience of his own, and attributes it to fairies:—
A Strange Experience with Fairies.—‘Twelve to thirteen years ago, on a
clear moonlight night, about twelve o’clock, I left Laxey; and when about
five miles from Douglas, at Ballagawne School, I heard talking, and was
suddenly conscious of being in the midst of an invisible throng. As this
strange feeling came over me, I saw coming up the road four figures as real

to look upon as human beings, and of medium size, though I am certain
they were not human. When these four, who seemed to be connected with
the invisible throng, came out of the Garwick road into the main road, I
passed into a by-road leading down to a very peaceful glen called Garwick
Glen; and I still had the same feeling that invisible beings were with me,
and this continued for a mile. There was no fear or emotion or excitement,
but perfect calm on my part. I followed the by-road; and when I began to
mount a hill there was a sudden and strange quietness, and a sense of
isolation came over me, as though the joy and peace of my life had departed
with the invisible throng. From different personal experiences like this one,
I am firmly of the opinion and belief that the fairies exist. One cannot say
that they are wholly physical or wholly spiritual, but the impression left
upon my mind is that they are an absolutely real order of beings not
human.’
Invoking Little Manannan, son of Leirr, to give us safe passage
across his watery domain, we now go southward to the nearest
Brythonic country, the Land of Arthur, Wales.

V. IN WALES
Introduction by The Right Hon. Sir John Rhŷs, M.A., D.Litt.,
F.B.A., Hon. LL.D. of the University of Edinburgh; Professor of
Celtic in the University of Oxford; Principal of Jesus College;
author of Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx, &c.
The folk-lore of Wales in as far as it concerns the Fairies consists of a very
few typical tales, such as:—
(1) The Fairy Dance and the usual entrapping of a youth, who dances with
the Little People for a long time, while he supposes it only a few minutes,
and who if not rescued is taken by them.
(2) There are other ways in which recruits may be led into Fairyland and
induced to marry fairy maidens, and any one so led away is practically lost
to his kith and kin, for even if he be allowed to visit them, the visit is mostly
cut short in one way or another.

(3) A man catches a fairy woman and marries her. She proves to be an
excellent housewife, but usually she has had put into the marriage-contract
certain conditions which, if broken, inevitably release her from the union,
and when so released she hurries away instantly, never to return, unless it be
now and then to visit her children. One of the conditions, especially in
North Wales, is that the husband should never touch her with iron. But in
the story of the Lady of Llyn y Fan Fach, in Carmarthenshire, the condition
is that he must not strike the wife without a cause three times, the striking
being interpreted to include any slight tapping, say, on the shoulder. This
story is one of the most remarkable on record in Wales, and it recalls the
famous tale of Undine, published in German many years ago by De La
Motte Fouqué. It is not known where he found it, or whether the people
among whom it was current were pure Germans or of Celtic extraction.
(4) The Fairies were fond of stealing nice healthy babies and of leaving in
their place their own sallow offspring. The stories of how the right child
might be recovered take numerous forms; and some of these stories suggest
how weak and sickly children became the objects of systematic cruelty at
the hands of even their own parents. The changeling was usually an old
man, and many were the efforts made to get him to betray his identity.
(5) There is a widespread story of the fairy husband procuring for his wife
the attendance of a human midwife. The latter was given a certain ointment
to apply to the baby’s eyes when she dressed it. She was not to touch either
of her own eyes with it, but owing to an unfailing accident she does, and
with the eye so touched she is enabled to see the fairies in their proper
shape and form. This has consequences: The fairy husband pays the
midwife well, and discharges her. She goes to a fair or market one day and
observes her old master stealing goods from a stall, and makes herself
known to him. He asks her with which eye she sees him. She tells him, and
the eye to which he objects he instantly blinds.
(6) Many are the stories about the fairies coming into houses at night to
wash and dress their children after everybody is gone to bed. A servant-
maid who knows her business leaves a vessel full of water for them, and
takes care that the house is neat and tidy, and she then probably finds in the
morning some fairy gift left her, whereas if the house be untidy and the
water dirty, they will pinch her in her sleep, and leave her black and blue.

(7) The fairies were not strong in their household arrangements, so it was
not at all unusual for them to come to the farm-houses to borrow what was
wanting to them.
In the neighbourhood of Snowdon the fairies were believed to live beneath
the lakes, from which they sometimes came forth, especially on misty days,
and children used to be warned not to stray away from their homes in that
sort of weather, lest they should be kidnapped by them. These fairies were
not Christians, and they were great thieves. They were fond of bright
colours. They were sharp of hearing, and no word that reached the wind
would escape them. If a fairy’s proper name was discovered, the fairy to
whom it belonged felt baffled.[47]
Some characteristics of the fairies seem to argue an ancient race, while
other characteristics betray their origin in the workshop of the imagination;
but generally speaking, the fairies are heterogeneous, consisting partly of
the divinities of glens and forests and mountains, and partly of an early race
of men more or less caricatured and equipped by fable with impossible
attributes.[48]
Jesus College, Oxford,
October 1910.

Our field of research in the Land of Arthur includes all the coast counties
save Cardiganshire, from Anglesey on the north to Glamorganshire on the
south. At the very beginning of our investigation of the belief in the Tylwyth
Teg, or ‘Fair Folk’ in the Isle of Anglesey or Mona, the ancient stronghold
of the Druids, we shall see clearly that the testimony offered by thoroughly
reliable and prominent native witnesses is surprisingly uniform, and
essentially animistic in its nature; and in passing southward to the end of
Wales we shall find the Welsh Fairy-Faith with this same uniformity and
exhibiting the same animistic background everywhere we go.

Testimony of an Anglesey Bard
Mr. John Louis Jones, of Gaerwen, Anglesey, a native bard who has taken
prizes in various Eisteddfods, testifies as follows:—

Tylwyth Teg’s Visits.—‘When I was a boy here on the island, the Tylwyth
Teg were described as a race of little beings no larger than children six or
seven years old, who visited farm-houses at night after all the family were
abed. No matter how securely closed a house might be, the Tylwyth Teg had
no trouble to get in. I remember how the old folk used to make the house
comfortable and put fresh coals on the fire, saying, “Perhaps the Tylwyth
Teg will come to-night.” Then the Tylwyth Teg, when they did come, would
look round the room and say, “What a clean beautiful place this is!” And all
the while the old folk in bed were listening. Before departing from such a
clean house the Tylwyth Teg always left a valuable present for the family.’
Fairy Wife and Iron Taboo.—‘A young man once caught one of the Tylwyth
Teg women, and she agreed to live with him on condition that he should
never touch her with iron. One day she went to a field with him to catch a
horse, but in catching the horse he threw the bridle in such a way that the bit
touched the Tylwyth Teg woman, and all at once she was gone. As this story
indicates, the Tylwyth Teg could make themselves invisible. I think they
could be seen by some people and not by other people. The old folk thought
them a kind of spirit race from a spirit world.’

Evidence from Central Anglesey
Owing to the very kindly assistance of Mr. E. H. Thomas, of Llangefni, who
introduced me to the oldest inhabitants of his town, in their own homes and
elsewhere, and then acted as interpreter whenever Welsh alone was spoken,
I gleaned very clear evidence from that part of Central Anglesey. Seven
witnesses, two of whom were women, ranging in age from seventy-two to
eighty-nine years, were thus interviewed, and each of them stated that in
their childhood the belief in the Tylwyth Teg as a non-human race of good
little people—by one witness compared to singing angels—was general.
Mr. John Jones, the oldest of the seven, among much else, said in Welsh:
—‘I believe personally that the Tylwyth Teg are still existing; but people
can’t see them. I have heard of two or three persons being together and one
only having been able to see the Tylwyth Teg.’

Testimony from Two Anglesey Centenarians
Perhaps nowhere else in Celtic lands could there be found as witnesses two
sisters equal in age to Miss Mary Owen and Mrs. Betsy Thomas, in their
hundred and third and hundredth year respectively (in 1909). They live a
quiet life on their mountain-side farm overlooking the sea, in the beautiful
country near Pentraeth, quite away from the rush and noise of the great
world of commercial activity; and they speak only the tongue which their
prehistoric Kimric ancestors spoke before Roman, or Saxon, or Norman
came to Britain. Mr. W. Jones, of Plas Tinon, their neighbour, who knows
English and Welsh well, acted as interpreter. The elder sister testified first:
—
‘Tylwyth Teg’s’ Nature.—‘There were many of the Tylwyth Teg on the
Llwydiarth Mountain above here, and round the Llwydiarth Lake where
they used to dance; and whenever the prices at the Llangefni market were to
be high they would chatter very much at night. They appeared only after
dark; and all the good they ever did was singing and dancing. Ann Jones,
whom I knew very well, used often to see the Tylwyth Teg dancing and
singing, but if she then went up to them they would disappear. She told me
they are an invisible people, and very small. Many others besides Ann Jones
have seen the Tylwyth Teg in these mountains, and have heard their music
and song. The ordinary opinion was that the Tylwyth Teg are a race of
spirits. I believe in them as an invisible race of good little people.’
Fairy Midwife and Magic Oil.—‘The Tylwyth Teg had a kind of magic oil,
and I remember this story about it:—A farmer went to Llangefni to fetch a
woman to nurse his wife about to become a mother, and he found one of the
Tylwyth Teg, who came with him on the back of his horse. Arrived at the
farm-house, the fairy woman looked at the wife, and giving the farmer
some oil told him to wash the baby in it as soon as it was born. Then the
fairy woman disappeared. The farmer followed the advice, and what did he
do in washing the baby but get some oil on one of his own eyes. Suddenly
he could see the Tylwyth Teg, for the oil had given him the second-sight.
Some time later the farmer was in Llangefni again, and saw the same fairy
woman who had given him the oil. “How is your wife getting on?” she
asked him. “She is getting on very well,” he replied. Then the fairy woman
added, “Tell me with which eye you see me best.” “With this one,” he said,

pointing to the eye he had rubbed with the oil. And the fairy woman put her
stick in that eye, and the farmer never saw with it again.’[49]
Seeing ‘Tylwyth Teg’.—The younger sister’s testimony is as follows:—‘I
saw one of the Tylwyth Teg about sixty years ago, near the Tynymyndd
Farm, as I was passing by at night. He was like a little man. When I
approached him he disappeared suddenly. I have heard about the dancing
and singing of the Tylwyth Teg, but never have heard the music myself. The
old people said the Tylwyth Teg could appear and disappear when they
liked; and I think as the old people did, that they are some sort of spirits.’

Testimony from an Anglesey Seeress
At Pentraeth, Mr. Gwilyn Jones said to me:—‘It always was and still is the
opinion that the Tylwyth Teg are a race of spirits. Some people think them
small in size, but the one my mother saw was ordinary human size.’ At this,
I immediately asked Mr. Jones if his mother was still living, and he replying
that she was, gave me her address in Llanfair. So I went directly to
interview Mr. Jones’s mother, Mrs. Catherine Jones, and this is the story
about the one of the Tylwyth Teg she saw:—
‘Tylwyth Teg’ Apparition.—‘I was coming home at about half-past ten at
night from Cemaes, on the path to Simdda Wen, where I was in service,
when there appeared just before me a very pretty young lady of ordinary
size. I had no fear, and when I came up to her put out my hand to touch her,
but my hand and arm went right through her form. I could not understand
this, and so tried to touch her repeatedly with the same result; there was no
solid substance in the body, yet it remained beside me, and was as beautiful
a young lady as I ever saw. When I reached the door of the house where I
was to stop, she was still with me. Then I said “Good night” to her. No
response being made, I asked, “Why do you not speak?” And at this she
disappeared. Nothing happened afterwards, and I always put this beautiful
young lady down as one of the Tylwyth Teg. There was much talk about my
experience when I reported it, and the neighbours, like myself, thought I
had seen one of the Tylwyth Teg. I was about twenty-four years old at the
time of this incident.’[50]

Testimony from a Professor of Welsh
Just before crossing the Menai Straits I had the good fortune to meet, at his
home in Llanfair, Mr. J. Morris Jones, M.A. (Oxon.), Professor of Welsh in
the University College at Bangor, and he, speaking of the fairy-belief in
Anglesey as he remembers it from boyhood days, said:—
‘Tylwyth Teg.’—‘In most of the tales I heard repeated when I was a boy, I
am quite certain the implication was that the Tylwyth Teg were a kind of
spirit race having human characteristics, who could at will suddenly appear
and suddenly disappear. They were generally supposed to live underground,
and to come forth on moonlight nights, dressed in gaudy colours (chiefly in
red), to dance in circles in grassy fields. I cannot remember having heard
changeling stories here in the Island: I think the Tylwyth Teg were generally
looked upon as kind and good-natured, though revengeful if not well
treated. And they were believed to have plenty of money at their command,
which they could bestow on people whom they liked.’

Evidence from North Carnarvonshire
Upon leaving Anglesey I undertook some investigation of the Welsh fairy-
belief in the country between Bangor and Carnarvon. From the oldest Welsh
people of Treborth I heard the same sort of folk-lore as we have recorded
from Anglesey, except that prominence was given to a flourishing belief in
Bwganod, goblins or bogies. But from Mr. T. T. Davis Evans, of Port
Dinorwic, I heard the following very unusual story based on facts, as he
recalled it first hand:—
Jones’s Vision.—‘William Jones, who some sixty years ago declared he had
seen the Tylwyth Teg in the Aberglaslyn Pass near Beddgelert, was publicly
questioned about them in Bethel Chapel by Mr. Griffiths, the minister; and
he explained before the congregation that the Lord had given him a special
vision which enabled him to see the Tylwyth Teg, and that, therefore, he had
seen them time after time as little men playing along the river in the Pass.
The minister induced Jones to repeat the story many times, because it

seemed to please the congregation very much; and the folks present looked
upon Jones’s vision as a most wonderful thing.’

Evidence from South Carnarvonshire
To Mr. E. D. Rowlands, head master of the schools at Afonwen, I am
indebted for a summary of the fairy-belief in South Carnarvonshire:—
‘Tylwyth Teg.’—‘According to the belief in South Carnarvonshire, the
Tylwyth Teg were a small, very pretty people always dressed in white, and
much given to dancing and singing in rings where grass grew. As a rule,
they were visible only at night; though in the day-time, if a mother while
hay-making was so unwise as to leave her babe alone in the field, the
Tylwyth Teg might take it and leave in its place a hunchback, or some
deformed object like a child. At night, the Tylwyth Teg would entice
travellers to join their dance and then play all sorts of tricks on them.’[51]
Fairy Cows and Fairy Lake-Women.—‘Some of the Tylwyth Teg lived in
caves; others of them lived in lake-bottoms. There is a lake called Llyn y
Morwynion, or “Lake of the Maidens”, near Festiniog, where, as the story
goes, a farmer one morning found in his field a number of very fine cows
such as he had never seen before. Not knowing where they came from, he
kept them a long time, when, as it happened, he committed some dishonest
act and, as a result, women of the Tylwyth Teg made their appearance in the
pasture and, calling the cows by name, led the whole herd into the lake, and
with them disappeared beneath its waters. The old people never could
explain the nature of the Tylwyth Teg, but they always regarded them as a
very mysterious race, and, according to this story of the cattle, as a
supernatural race.’

Evidence from Merionethshire
Mr. Louis Foster Edwards, of Harlech, recalling the memories of many
years ago, offers the following evidence:—

Scythe-Blades and Fairies.—‘In an old inn on the other side of Harlech
there was to be an entertainment, and, as usual on such occasions, the
dancing would not cease until morning. I noticed, before the guests had all
arrived, that the landlady was putting scythe-blades edge upwards up into
the large chimney, and, wondering why it was, asked her. She told me that
the fairies might come before the entertainment was over, and that if the
blades were turned edge upwards it would prevent the fairies from troubling
the party, for they would be unable to pass the blades without being cut.’
‘Tylwyth Teg’ and their World.—‘There was an idea that the Tylwyth Teg
lived by plundering at night. It was thought, too, that if anything went
wrong with cows or horses the Tylwyth Teg were to blame. As a race, the
Tylwyth Teg were described as having the power of invisibility; and it was
believed they could disappear like a spirit while one happened to be
observing them. The world in which they lived was a world quite unlike
ours, and mortals taken to it by them were changed in nature. The way a
mortal might be taken by the Tylwyth Teg was by being attracted into their
dance. If they thus took you away, it would be according to our time for
twelve months, though to you the time would seem no more than a night.’

Fairy Tribes in Montgomeryshire
From Mr. D. Davies-Williams, who outlined for me the Montgomeryshire
belief in the Tylwyth Teg as he has known it intimately, I learned that this is
essentially the same as elsewhere in North and Central Wales. He summed
up the matter by saying:—
Belief in Tylwyth Teg.—‘It was the opinion that the Tylwyth Teg were a real
race of invisible or spiritual beings living in an invisible world of their own.
The belief in the Tylwyth Teg was quite general fifty or sixty years ago, and
as sincere as any religious belief is now.’
Our next witness is the Rev. Josiah Jones, minister of the Congregational
Church of Machynlleth; and, after a lifetime’s experience in
Montgomeryshire, he gives this testimony:—
A Deacon’s Vision.—‘A deacon in my church, John Evans, declared that he
had seen the Tylwyth Teg dancing in the day-time, within two miles from

here, and he pointed out the very spot where they appeared. This was some
twenty years ago. I think, however, that he saw only certain reflections and
shadows, because it was a hot and brilliant day.’
Folk-Beliefs in General.—‘As I recall the belief, the old people considered
the Tylwyth Teg as living beings halfway between something material and
spiritual, who were rarely seen. When I was a boy there was very much
said, too, about corpse-candles and phantom funerals, and especially about
the Bwganod, plural of Bwgan, meaning a sprite, ghost, hobgoblin, or
spectre. The Bwganod were supposed to appear at dusk, in various forms,
animal and human; and grown-up people as well as children had great fear
of them.’
A Minister’s Opinion.—‘Ultimately there is a substance of truth in the fairy-
belief, but it is wrongly accounted for in the folk-lore: I once asked Samuel
Roberts, of Llanbrynmair, who was quite a noted Welsh scholar, what he
thought of the Tylwyth Teg, of hobgoblins, spirits, and so forth; and he said
that he believed such things existed, and that God allowed them to appear in
times of great ignorance to convince people of the existence of an invisible
world.’

In Cardiganshire; and a Folk-lorist’s Testimony
No one of our witnesses from Central Wales is more intimately acquainted
with the living folk-beliefs than Mr. J. Ceredig Davies, of Llanilar, a village
about six miles from Aberystwyth; for Mr. Davies has spent many years in
collecting folk-lore in Central and South Wales. He has interviewed the
oldest and most intelligent of the old people, and while I write this he has in
the press a work entitled The Folk-Lore of Mid and West Wales. Mr. Davies
very kindly gave me the following outline of the most prominent traits in
the Welsh fairy-belief according to his own investigations:—
‘Tylwyth Teg.’—‘The Tylwyth Teg were considered a very small people,
fond of dancing, especially on moonlight nights. They often came to houses
after the family were abed; and if milk was left for them, they would leave
money in return; but if not treated kindly they were revengeful. The
changeling idea was common: the mother coming home would find an ugly

changeling in the cradle. Sometimes the mother would consult the Dynion
Hysbys, or “Wise Men” as to how to get her babe back. As a rule, treating
the fairy babe roughly and then throwing it into a river would cause the
fairy who made the change to appear and restore the real child in return for
the changeling.’
‘Tylwyth Teg’ Marriage Contracts.—‘Occasionally a young man would see
the Tylwyth Teg dancing, and, being drawn into the dance, would be taken
by them and married to one of their women. There is usually some
condition in the marriage contract which becomes broken, and, as a result,
the fairy wife disappears—usually into a lake. The marriage contract
specifies either that the husband must never touch his fairy wife with iron,
or else never beat or strike her three times. Sometimes when fairy wives
thus disappear, they take with them into the lake their fairy cattle and all
their household property.’
‘Tylwyth Teg’ Habitations.—‘The Tylwyth Teg were generally looked upon
as an immortal race. In Cardiganshire they lived underground; in
Carmarthenshire in lakes; and in Pembrokeshire along the sea-coast on
enchanted islands amid the Irish Sea. I have heard of sailors upon seeing
such islands trying to reach them; but when approached, the islands always
disappeared. From a certain spot in Pembrokeshire, it is said that by
standing on a turf taken from the yard of St. David’s Cathedral, one may see
the enchanted islands.’[52]
‘Tylwyth Teg’ as Spirits of Druids.—‘By many of the old people the Tylwyth
Teg were classed with spirits. They were not looked upon as mortal at all.
Many of the Welsh looked upon the Tylwyth Teg or fairies as the spirits of
Druids dead before the time of Christ, who being too good to be cast into
Hell were allowed to wander freely about on earth.’

Testimony from a Welshman Ninety-four Years Old
At Pontrhydfendigaid, a village about two miles from the railway-station
called Strata Florida, I had the good fortune to meet Mr. John Jones, ninety-
four years old, yet of strong physique, and able to write his name without
eye-glasses. Both Mr. J. H. Davies, Registrar of the University College of

Aberystwyth, and Mr. J. Ceredig Davies, the eminent folk-lorist of Llanilar,
referred me to Mr. John Jones as one of the most remarkable of living
Welshmen who could tell about the olden times from first-hand knowledge.
Mr. John Jones speaks very little English, and Mr. John Rees, of the Council
School, acted as our interpreter. This is the testimony:—
Pygmy-sized ‘Tylwyth Teg’.—‘I was born and bred where there was
tradition that the Tylwyth Teg lived in holes in the hills, and that none of
these Tylwyth Teg was taller than three to four feet. It was a common idea
that many of the Tylwyth Teg, forming in a ring, would dance and sing out
on the mountain-sides, or on the plain, and that if children should meet with
them at such a time they would lose their way and never get out of the ring.
If the Tylwyth Teg fancied any particular child they would always keep that
child, taking off its clothes and putting them on one of their own children,
which was then left in its place. They took only boys, never girls.’
Human-sized ‘Tylwyth Teg’.—‘A special sort of Tylwyth Teg used to come
out of lakes and dance, and their fine looks enticed young men to follow
them back into the lakes, and there marry one of them. If the husband
wished to leave the lake he had to go without his fairy wife. This sort of
Tylwyth Teg were as big as ordinary people; and they were often seen riding
out of the lakes and back again on horses.’
‘Tylwyth Teg’ as Spirits of Prehistoric Race.—‘My grandfather told me that
he was once in a certain field and heard singing in the air, and thought it
spirits singing. Soon afterwards he and his brother in digging dikes in that
field dug into a big hole, which they entered and followed to the end. There
they found a place full of human bones and urns, and naturally decided on
account of the singing that the bones and urns were of the Tylwyth Teg.’[53]
A Boy’s Visit to the ‘Tylwyth Teg’s’ King.—‘About eighty years ago, at
Tynylone, my grandfather told me this story: “A boy ten years old was often
whipped and cruelly treated by his schoolmaster because he could not say
his lessons very well. So one day he ran away from school and went to a
river-side, where some little folk came to him and asked why he was crying.
He told them the master had punished him; and on hearing this they said,
‘Oh! if you will stay with us it will not be necessary for you to go to school.
We will keep you as long as you like.’ Then they took him under the water

and over the water into a cave underground, which opened into a great
palace where the Tylwyth Teg were playing games with golden balls, in
rings like those in which they dance and sing. The boy had been taken to the
king’s family, and he began to play with the king’s sons. After he had been
there in the palace in the full enjoyment of all its pleasures he wished very
much to return to his mother and show her the golden ball which the
Tylwyth Teg gave him. And so he took the ball in his pocket and hurried
through the cave the way he had come; but at the end of it and by the river
two of the Tylwyth Teg met him, and taking the ball away from him they
pushed him into the water, and through the water he found his way home.
He told his mother how he had been away for a fortnight, as he thought, but
she told him it had been for two years. Though the boy often tried to find
the way back to the Tylwyth Teg he never could. Finally, he went back to
school, and became a most wonderful scholar and parson.”’[54]

In Merlin’s Country; and a Vicar’s Testimony
The Rev. T. M. Morgan, vicar of Newchurch parish, two miles from
Carmarthen, has made a very careful study of the folk-traditions in his own
parish and in other regions of Carmarthenshire, and is able to offer us
evidence of the highest value, as follows:—[55]
‘Tylwyth Teg’ Power over Children.—‘The Tylwyth Teg were thought to be
able to take children. “You mind, or the Tylwyth Teg will take you away,”
parents would say to keep their children in the house after dark. It was an
opinion, too, that the Tylwyth Teg could transform good children into kings
and queens, and bad children into wicked spirits, after such children had
been taken—perhaps in death. The Tylwyth Teg were believed to live in
some invisible world to which children on dying might go to be rewarded or
punished, according to their behaviour on this earth. Even in this life the
Tylwyth Teg had power over children for good or evil. The belief, as these
ideas show, was that the Tylwyth Teg were spirits.’
‘Tylwyth Teg’ as Evil Spirits.—A few days after my return to Oxford, the
Rev. T. M. Morgan, through his son, Mr. Basil I. Morgan, of Jesus College,
placed in my hands additional folk-lore evidence from his own parish, as
follows:—‘After Mr. Wentz visited me on Thursday, September 30, 1909, I

went to see Mr. Shem Morgan, the occupier of Cwmcastellfach farm, an old
man about seventy years old. He told me that in his childhood days a great
dread of the fairies occupied the heart of every child. They were considered
to be evil spirits who visited our world at night, and dangerous to come in
contact with; there were no good spirits among them. He related to me three
narratives touching the fairies’:—
‘Tylwyth Teg’s’ Path.—The first narrative illustrates that the Tylwyth Teg
have paths (precisely like those reserved for the Irish good people or for the
Breton dead), and that it is death to a mortal while walking in one of these
paths to meet the Tylwyth Teg.
‘Tylwyth Teg’ Divination.—The second narrative I quote:—‘A farmer of this
neighbourhood having lost his cattle, went to consult y dyn hysbys (a
diviner), in Cardiganshire, who was friendly with the fairies. Whenever the
fairies visited the diviner they foretold future events, secrets, and the
whereabouts of lost property. After the farmer reached the diviner’s house
the diviner showed him the fairies, and then when the diviner had consulted
them he told the farmer to go home as soon as he could and that he would
find the cattle in such and such a place. The farmer did as he was directed,
and found the cattle in the very place where the dyn hysbys told him they
would be.’ And the third narrative asserts that a man in the parish of Trelech
who was fraudulently excluded by means of a false will from inheriting the
estate of his deceased father, discovered the defrauder and recovered the
estate, solely through having followed the advice given by the Tylwyth Teg,
when (again as in the above account) they were called up as spirits by a dyn
hysbys, a Mr. Harries, of Cwrt y Cadno, a place near Aberystwyth.[56]

Testimony from a Justice of the Peace
Mr. David Williams, J.P., who is a member of the Cymmrodorion Society of
Carmarthen, and who has sat on the judicial bench for ten years, offers us
the very valuable evidence which follows:—
‘Tylwyth Teg’ and their King and Queen.—‘The general idea, as I remember
it, was that the Tylwyth Teg were only visitors to this world, and had no
terrestrial habitations. They were as small in stature as dwarfs, and always

appeared in white. Often at night they danced in rings amid green fields.
Most of them were females, though they had a king; and, as their name
suggests, they were very beautiful in appearance. The king of the Tylwyth
Teg was called Gwydion ab Don, Gwyd referring to a temperament in man’s
nature. His residence was among the stars, and called Caer Gwydion. His
queen was Gwenhidw. I have heard my mother call the small fleece-like
clouds which appear in fine weather the Sheep of Gwenhidw.’[57]
‘Tylwyth Teg’ as Aerial Beings.—Mr. Williams’s testimony continues, and
leads us directly to the Psychological or Psychical Theory:—‘As aerial
beings the Tylwyth Teg could fly and move about in the air at will. They
were a special order of creation. I never heard that they grew old; and
whether they multiplied or not I cannot tell. In character they were almost
always good.’
Ghosts and Apparitions.—Our conversation finally drifted towards ghosts
and apparitions, as usual, and to Druids. In the chapter dealing with Re-
birth (pp. 390-1) we shall record what Mr. Williams said about Druids, and
here what he said about ghosts and apparitions:—‘Sixty years ago there was
hardly an individual who did not believe in apparitions; and in olden times
Welsh families would collect round the fire at night and each in turn give a
story about the Tylwyth Teg and ghosts.’
Conferring Vision of a Phantom Funeral.—‘There used to be an old man at
Newchurch named David Davis (who lived about 1780-1840), of Abernant,
noted for seeing phantom funerals. One appeared to him once when he was
with a friend. “Do you see it? Do you see it?” the old man excitedly asked.
“No,” said his friend. Then the old man placed his foot on his friend’s foot,
and said, “Do you see it now?” And the friend replied that he did.’[58]
Magic and Witchcraft.—Finally, we shall hear from Mr. Williams about
Welsh magic and witchcraft, which cannot scientifically be divorced from
the belief in fairies and apparitions:—‘There used to be much witchcraft in
this country; and it was fully believed that some men, if advanced scholars,
had the power to injure or to bewitch their neighbours by magic. The more
advanced the scholar the better he could carry on his craft.’

Additional Evidence from Carmarthenshire
My friend, and fellow student at Jesus College, Mr. Percival V. Davies, of
Carmarthen, contributes, as supplementary to what has been recorded
above, the following evidence, from his great-aunt, Mrs. Spurrell, also of
Carmarthen, a native Welshwoman who has seen a canwyll gorff (corpse-
candle):—
Bendith y Mamau.—‘In the Carmarthenshire country, fairies (Tylwyth Teg)
are often called Bendith y Mamau, the “Mothers’ Blessing.”’
How Ten Children Became Fairies.—‘Our Lord, in the days when He
walked the earth, chanced one day to approach a cottage in which lived a
woman with twenty children. Feeling ashamed of the size of her family, she
hid half of them from the sight of her divine visitor. On His departure she
sought for the hidden children in vain; they had become fairies and had
disappeared.’

In Pembrokeshire; at the Pentre Evan Cromlech
Our Pembrokeshire witness is a maiden Welshwoman, sixty years old, who
speaks no English, but a university graduate, her nephew, will act as our
interpreter. She was born and has lived all her life within sight of the
famous Pentre Evan Cromlech, in the home of her ancestors, which is so
ancient that after six centuries of its known existence further record of it is
lost. In spite of her sixty years, our witness is as active as many a city
woman of forty or forty-five. Since her girlhood she has heard curious
legends and stories, and, with a more than ordinary interest in the lore of
her native country, has treasured them all in her clear and well-trained
memory. The first night, while this well-stored memory of hers gave forth
some of its treasures, we sat in her own home, I and my friend, her nephew,
on one side in a chimney-seat, and she and her niece on the other side in
another, exposed to the cheerful glow and warmth of the fire. When we had
finished that first night it was two o’clock, and there had been no
interruption to the even flow of marvels and pretty legends. A second night
we spent likewise. What follows now is the result, so far as we are
concerned with it:—

Fairies and Spirits.—‘Spirits and fairies exist all round us, invisible. Fairies
have no solid bodily substance. Their forms are of matter like ghostly
bodies, and on this account they cannot be caught. In the twilight they are
often seen, and on moonlight nights in summer. Only certain people can see
fairies, and such people hold communication with them and have dealings
with them, but it is difficult to get them to talk about fairies. I think the
spirits about us are the fallen angels, for when old Doctor Harris died his
books on witchcraft had to be burned in order to free the place where he
lived from evil spirits. The fairies, too, are sometimes called the fallen
angels. They will do good to those who befriend them, and harm to others. I
think there must be an intermediate state between life on earth and heavenly
life, and it may be in this that spirits and fairies live. There are two distinct
types of spirits: one is good and the other is bad. I have heard of people
going to the fairies and finding that years passed as days, but I do not
believe in changelings, though there are stories enough about them. That
there are fairies and other spirits like them, both good and bad, I firmly
believe. My mother used to tell about seeing the “fair-folk” dancing in the
fields near Cardigan; and other people have seen them round the cromlech
up there on the hill (the Pentre Evan Cromlech). They appeared as little
children in clothes like soldiers’ clothes, and with red caps, according to
some accounts.’
Death-Candles Described.—‘I have seen more than one death-candle. I saw
one death-candle right here in this room where we are sitting and talking.’ I
was told by the nephew and niece of our present witness that this particular
death-candle took an untrodden course from the house across the fields to
the grave-yard, and that when the death of one of the family occurred soon
afterwards, their aunt insisted that the corpse should be carried by exactly
the same route; so the road was abandoned and the funeral went through the
ploughed fields. Here is the description of the death-candle as the aunt gave
it in response to our request:—‘The death-candle appears like a patch of
bright light; and no matter how dark the room or place is, everything in it is
as clear as day. The candle is not a flame, but a luminous mass, lightish blue
in colour, which dances as though borne by an invisible agency, and
sometimes it rolls over and over. If you go up to the light it is nothing, for it
is a spirit. Near here a light as big as a pot was seen, and rays shot out from
it in all directions. The man you saw here in the house to-day, one night as

he was going along the road near Nevern, saw the death-light of old Dr.
Harris, and says it was lightish green.’
Gors Goch Fairies.—Now we began to hear more about fairies:—‘One
night there came a strange rapping at the door of the ancient manor on the
Gors Goch farm over in Cardiganshire, and the father of the family asked
what was wanted. Thin, silvery voices said they wanted a warm place in
which to dress their children and to tidy them up. The door opened then,
and in came a dozen or more little beings, who at once set themselves to
hunting for a basin and water, and to cleaning themselves. At daybreak they
departed, leaving a pretty gift in return for the kindness. In this same house
at another time, whether by the same party of little beings or by another
could not be told, a healthy child of the family was changed because he was
unbaptized, and a frightful-looking child left in his place. The mother
finally died of grief, and the other children died because of the loss of their
mother, and the father was left alone. Then some time after this, the same
little folks who came the first time returned to clean up, and when they
departed, in place of their former gifts of silver, left a gift of gold. It was not
long before the father became heir to a rich farm in North Wales, and going
to live on it became a magician, for the little people, still befriending him,
revealed themselves in their true nature and taught him all their secrets.’
Levi Salmon’s Control of Spirits.—‘Levi Salmon, who lived about thirty
years ago, between here and Newport, was a magician, and could call up
good and bad spirits; but was afraid to call up the bad ones unless another
person was with him, for it was a dangerous and terrible ordeal. After
consulting certain books which he had, he would draw a circle on the floor,
and in a little while spirits like bulls and serpents and other animals would
appear in it, and all sorts of spirits would speak. It was not safe to go near
them; and to control them Levi held a whip in his hand. He would never let
them cross the circle. And when he wanted them to go away he always had
to throw something to the chief spirit.’
The Haunted Manor and the Golden Image.—I offer now, in my own
language, the following remarkable story:—The ancient manor-house on
the Trewern Farm (less than a mile from the Pentre Evan Cromlech) had
been haunted as long as anybody could remember. Strange noises were
often heard in it, dishes would dance about of their own accord, and

sometimes a lady dressed in silk appeared. Many attempts were made to lay
the ghosts, but none succeeded. Finally things got so bad that nobody
wanted to live there. About eighty years ago the sole occupants of the
haunted house were Mr. —— and his two servants. At the time, it was well
known in the neighbourhood that all at once Mr. —— became very wealthy,
and his servants seemed able to buy whatever they wanted. Everybody
wondered, but no one could tell where the money came from; for at first he
was a poor man, and he couldn’t have made much off the farm. The secret
only leaked out through one of the servants after Mr. —— was dead. The
servant declared to certain friends that one of the ghosts, or, as he thought,
the Devil, appeared to Mr. —— and told him there was an image of great
value walled up in the room over the main entrance to the manor. A search
was made, and, sure enough, a large image of solid gold was found in the
very place indicated, built into a recess in the wall. Mr. —— bound the
servants to secrecy, and began to turn the image into money. He would cut
off small pieces of the image, one at a time, and take them to London and
sell them. In this way he sold the whole image, and nobody was the wiser.
After the image was found and disposed of, ghosts were no longer seen in
the house, nor were unusual noises heard in it at night. The one thing which
beyond all doubt is true is that when Mr. —— died he left his son an estate
worth about £50,000 (an amount probably greatly in excess of the true one);
and people have always wondered ever since where it came from, if not in
part from the golden image.[59]
Hundreds of parallel stories in which, instead of ghosts, fairies and demons
are said to have revealed hidden treasure could be cited.

In the Gower Peninsula, Glamorganshire
Our investigations in Glamorganshire cover the most interesting part, the
peninsula of Gower, where there are peculiar folk-lore conditions, due to its
present population being by ancestry English and Flemish as well as
Cornish and Welsh. Despite this race admixture, Brythonic beliefs have
generally survived in Gower even among the non-Celts; and because of the
Cornish element there are pixies, as shown by the following story related to
me in Swansea by Mr. ——, a well-known mining engineer:—

Pixies.—‘At Newton, near the Mumbles (in Gower), an old woman, some
twenty years ago, assured me that she had seen the pixies. Her father’s grey
mare was standing in the trap before the house ready to take some produce
to the Swansea market, and when the time for departure arrived the pixies
had come, but no one save the old woman could see them. She described
them to me as like tiny men dancing on the mare’s back and climbing up
along the mare’s mane. She thought the pixies some kind of spirits who
made their appearance in early morning; and all mishaps to cows she
attributed to them.’

Testimony from an Archaeologist
The Rev. John David Davis, rector of Llanmadoc and Cheriton parishes,
and a member of the Cambrian Archaeological Society, has passed many
years in studying the antiquities and folk-lore of Gower, being the author of
various antiquarian works; and he is without doubt the oldest and best
living authority to aid us. The Rector very willingly offers this testimony:—
Pixies and ‘Verry Volk’.—‘In this part of Gower, the name Tylwyth Teg is
never used to describe fairies; Verry Volk is used instead. Some sixty years
ago, as I can remember, there was belief in such fairies here in Gower, but
now there is almost none. Belief in apparitions still exists to some extent.
One may also hear of a person being pixy-led; the pixies may cause a
traveller to lose his way at night if he crosses a field where they happen to
be. To take your coat off and turn it inside out will break the pixy spell.[60]
The Verry Volk were always little people dressed in scarlet and green; and
they generally showed themselves dancing on moonlight nights. I never
heard of their making changelings, though they had the power of doing
good or evil acts, and it was a very risky thing to offend them. By nature
they were benevolent.’
A ‘Verry Volk’ Feast.—‘I heard the following story many years ago:—The
tenant on the Eynonsford Farm here in Gower had a dream one night, and in
it thought he heard soft sweet music and the patter of dancing feet. Waking
up, he beheld his cow-shed, which opened off his bedroom, filled with a
multitude of little beings, about one foot high, swarming all over his fat ox,
and they were preparing to slaughter the ox. He was so surprised that he

could not move. In a short time the Verry Volk had killed, dressed, and eaten
the animal. The feast being over, they collected the hide and bones, except
one very small leg-bone which they could not find, placed them in position,
then stretched the hide over them; and, as the farmer looked, the ox
appeared as sound and fat as ever, but when he let it out to pasture in the
morning he observed that it had a slight lameness in the leg lacking the
missing bone.’[61]

Fairies Among Gower English Folk
The population of the Llanmadoc region of Gower are generally English by
ancestry and speech; and not until reaching Llanmorlais, beyond Llanridian,
did I find anything like an original Celtic and Welsh-speaking people, and
these may have come into that part within comparatively recent times; and
yet, as the above place-names tend to prove, in early days all these regions
must have been Welsh. It may be argued, however, that this English-
speaking population may be more Celtic than Saxon, even though emigrants
from England. In any case, we can see with interest how this so-called
English population now echo Brythonic beliefs which they appear to have
adopted in Gower, possibly sympathetically through race kinship; and the
following testimony offered by Miss Sarah Jenkins, postmistress of
Llanmadoc, will enable us to do so:—
Dancing with Fairies.—‘A man, whose Christian name was William, was
enticed by the fairy folk to enter their dance, as he was on his way to the
Swansea market in the early morning. They kept him dancing some time,
and then said to him before they let him go, “Will dance well; the last going
to market and the first that shall sell.” And though he arrived at the market
very late, he was the first to sell anything.’
Fairy Money.—‘An old woman, whom I knew, used to find money left by
the fairies every time they visited her house. For a long time she observed
their request, and told no one about the money; but at last she told, and so
never found money afterwards.’
Nature of Fairies.—‘The fairies (verry volk) were believed to have plenty
of music and dancing. Sometimes they appeared dressed in bright red. They

could appear and disappear suddenly, and no one could tell how or where.’

Conclusion
Much more might easily be said about Welsh goblins, about Welsh fairies
who live in caves, or about Welsh fairy women who come out of lakes and
rivers, or who are the presiding spirits of sacred wells and fountains,[62] but
these will have some consideration later, in Section III. For the purposes of
the present inquiry enough evidence has been offered to show the
fundamental character of Brythonic fairy-folk as we have found them. And
we can very appropriately close this inquiry by allowing our Welsh-
speaking witness from the Pentre Evan country, Pembrokeshire, to tell us
one of the prettiest and most interesting fairy-tales in all Wales. The name
of Taliessin appearing in it leads us to suspect that it may be the remnant of
an ancient bardic tale which has been handed down orally for centuries. It
will serve to illustrate the marked difference between the short
conversational stories of the living Fairy-Faith and the longer, more
polished ones of the traditional Fairy-Faith; and we shall see in it how a
literary effect is gained at the expense of the real character of the fairies
themselves, for it transforms them into mortals:—
Einion and Olwen.—‘My mother told the story as she used to sit by the fire
in the twilight knitting stockings:—“One day when it was cloudy and misty,
a shepherd boy going to the mountains lost his way and walked about for
hours. At last he came to a hollow place surrounded by rushes where he saw
a number of round rings. He recognized the place as one he had often heard
of as dangerous for shepherds, because of the rings. He tried to get away
from there, but he could not. Then an old, merry, blue-eyed man appeared.
The boy, thinking to find his way home, followed the old man, and the old
man said to him, ‘Do not speak a word till I tell you.’ In a little while they
came to a menhir (long stone). The old man tapped it three times, and then
lifted it up. A narrow path with steps descending was revealed, and from it
emerged a bluish-white light. ‘Follow me,’ said the old man, ‘no harm will
come to you.’ The boy did so, and it was not long before he saw a fine,
wooded, fertile country with a beautiful palace, and rivers and mountains.
He reached the palace and was enchanted by the singing of birds. Music of

all sorts was in the palace, but he saw no people. At meals dishes came and
disappeared of their own accord. He could hear voices all about him, but
saw no person except the old man—who said that now he could speak.
When he tried to speak he found that he could not move his tongue. Soon
an old lady with smiles came to him leading three beautiful maidens, and
when the maidens saw the shepherd boy they smiled and spoke, but he
could not reply. Then one of the girls kissed him; and all at once he began
to converse freely and most wittily. In the full enjoyment of the marvellous
country he lived with the maidens in the palace a day and a year, not
thinking it more than a day, for there was no reckoning of time in that land.
When the day and the year were up, a longing to see his old acquaintances
came on him; and thanking the old man for his kindness, he asked if he
could return home. The old man said to him, ‘Wait a little while’; and so he
waited. The maiden who had kissed him was unwilling to have him go; but
when he promised her to return, she sent him off loaded with riches.
‘“At home not one of his people or old friends knew him. Everybody
believed that he had been killed by another shepherd. And this shepherd had
been accused of the murder and had fled to America.
‘“On the first day of the new moon the boy remembered his promise, and
returned to the other country; and there was great rejoicing in the beautiful
palace when he arrived. Einion, for that was the boy’s name, and Olwen, for
that was the girl’s name, now wanted to marry; but they had to go about it
quietly and half secretly, for the fair-folk dislike ceremony and noise. When
the marriage was over, Einion wished to go back with Olwen to the upper
world. So two snow-white ponies were given them, and they were allowed
to depart.
‘“They reached the upper world safely; and, being possessed of unlimited
wealth, lived most handsomely on a great estate which came into their
possession. A son was born to them, and he was called Taliessin. People
soon began to ask for Olwen’s pedigree, and as none was given it was taken
for granted that she was one of the fair-folk. ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Einion,
‘there is no doubt that she is one of the fair-folk, there is no doubt that she is
one of the very fair-folk, for she has two sisters as pretty as she is, and if
you saw them all together you would admit that the name is a suitable one.’
And this is the origin of the term fair-folk (Tylwyth Teg).”’

From Wales we go to the nearest Brythonic country, Cornwall, to study the
fairy-folk there.

VI. IN CORNWALL
Introduction by Henry Jenner, Member of the Gorsedd of the
Bards of Brittany; Fellow and Local Secretary for Cornwall of
the Society of Antiquaries; author of A Handbook of the Cornish
Language, &c.
In Cornwall the legends of giants, of saints, or of Arthur and his knights, the
observances and superstitions connected with the prehistoric stone
monuments, holy wells, mines, and the like, the stories of submerged or
buried cities, and the fragments of what would seem to be pre-Christian
faiths, have no doubt occasional points of contact with Cornish fairy
legends, but they do not help to explain the fairies very much. Yet certain it
is that not only in Cornwall and other Celtic lands, but throughout most of
the world, a belief in fairies exists or has existed, and so widespread a belief
must have a reason for it, though not necessarily a good one. That which
with unconscious humour men generally call ‘education’ has in these days
caused those lower classes, to whom the deposit of this faith was entrusted,
to be ashamed of it, and to despise and endeavour to forget it. And so now
in Cornwall, as elsewhere at that earlier outbreak of Philistinism, the
Reformation,
From haunted spring and grassy ring
Troop goblin, elf and fairy,
And the kelpie must flit from the black bog-pit,
And the brownie must not tarry.
But, in spite of Protestantism, school-boards, and education committees,
‘pisky-pows’ are still placed on the ridge-tiles of West Cornish cottages, to
propitiate the piskies and give them a dancing-place, lest they should turn
the milk sour, and St. Just and Morvah folk are still ‘pisky-led’ on the
Gump (an Ûn Gumpas, the Level Down, between Chûn Castle and Carn
Kenidjack), and more rarely St. Columb and Roche folk on Goss Moor. It
will not do to say that it is only another form of ‘whisky-led’. That is an

evidently modern explanation, invented since the substitution of strange
Scottish and Irish drinks for the good ‘Nantes’ and wholesome ‘Plymouth’
of old time, and it does not fit in with the phenomena. It was only last
winter, in a cottage not a hundred yards from where I am writing, that milk
was set at night for piskies, who had been knocking on walls and generally
making nuisances of themselves. Apparently the piskies only drank the
‘astral’ part of the milk (whatever that may be) and then the neighbouring
cats drank what was left, and it disagreed with them. I cannot vouch for the
truth of the part about the piskies and the ‘astral’ milk—I give it as it was
told to me by the occupant of the cottage, who was not unacquainted with
‘occult’ terminology—but I do know that the milk was consumed, and that
the cats, one of which was my own, were with one accord unwell all over
the place. But for the present purpose it does not matter whether these
things really happened or not. The point is that people thought they
happened.
Robert Hunt, in his Popular Romances of the West of England, divided the
fairies of Cornish folk-lore into five classes: (1) the Small People; (2) the
Spriggans; (3) the Piskies; (4) the Buccas, Bockles, or Knockers; (5) the
Brownies. This is an incorrect classification. The Pobel Vean or Small
People, the Spriggans, and the Piskies are not really distinguishable from
one another. Bucca, who properly is but one, is a deity not a fairy, and it is
said that at Newlyn, the great seat of his worship, offerings of fish are still
left on the beach for him. His name is the Welsh pwca, which is probably
‘Puck’, though Shakespeare’s Puck was just a pisky, and it may be
connected with the general Slavonic word Bog, God; so that if, as some say,
buccaboo is really meant for Bucca-du, Black Bucca, this may be an
equivalent of Czernobog, the Black God, who was the Ahriman of Slavonic
dualism, and Bucca-widn (White Bucca), which is rarer, though the
expression does come into a St. Levan story, may be the corresponding
Bielobog. Bockle, which personally I have never heard used, suggests the
Scottish bogle, and both may be diminutives of bucca, bog, bogie, or bug,
the last in the sense in which one English version translates the timor
nocturnus of Psalm xc. 5, not in that of cimex lectularius. But bockle and
brownie are probably both foreign importations borrowed from books,
though a ‘brownie’ eo nomine has been reported from Sennen within the
last twenty years.

The Knockers or Knackers are mine-spirits, quite unconnected with Bucca
or bogles. The story, as I have always heard it, is that they are the spirits of
Jews who were sent by the Romans to work in the tin mines, some say for
being concerned in the Crucifixion of our Lord, which sounds improbable.
They are benevolent spirits, and warn miners of danger.
But the only true Cornish fairy is the Pisky, of the race which is the Pobel
Vean or Little People, and the Spriggan is only one of his aspects. The Pisky
would seem to be the ‘Brownie’ of the Lowland Scot, the Duine Sith of the
Highlander, and, if we may judge from an interesting note in Scott’s The
Pirate, the ‘Peght’ of the Orkneys. If Daoine Sith really means ‘The Folk of
the Mounds’ (barrows), not ‘The People of Peace’, it is possible that there is
something in the theory that Brownie, Duine Sith, and ‘Peght’, which is
Pict, are only in their origin ways of expressing the little dark-
complexioned aboriginal folk who were supposed to inhabit the barrows,
cromlechs, and allées couvertes, and whose cunning, their only effective
weapon against the mere strength of the Aryan invader, earned them a
reputation for magical powers. Now Pisky or Pisgy is really Pixy. Though
as a patriotic Cornishman I ought not to admit it, I cannot deny, especially
as it suits my argument better, that the Devon form is the correct one. But
after all there has been always a strong Cornish element in Devon, even
since the time when Athelstan drove the Britons out of Exeter and set the
Tamar for their boundary, and I think the original word is really Cornish.
The transposition of consonants, especially when s is one of them, is not
uncommon in modern Cornish English. Hosged for hogshead, and haps for
hasp are well-known instances. If we take the root of Pixy, Pix, and divide
the double letter x into its component parts, we get Piks or Pics, and if we
remember that a final s or z in Cornish almost always represents a t or d of
Welsh and Breton (cf. tas for tad, nans for nant, bos for bod), we may not
unreasonably, though without absolute certainty, conjecture that Pixy is
Picty in a Cornish form.[63]
Without begging any question concerning the origin, ethnology, or
homogeneity of those who are called ‘Picts’ in history, from the times of
Ammianus Marcellinus and Claudian until Kenneth MacAlpine united the
Pictish kingdom with the Scottish, we can nevertheless accept the fact that
the name ‘Pict’ has been popularly applied to some pre-Celtic race or races,
to whom certain ancient structures, such as ‘vitrified forts’ and ‘Picts’

houses’ have been attributed. In Cornwall there are instances of prehistoric
structures being called ‘Piskies’ Halls’ (there is an allée couverte so called
at Bosahan in Constantine), and ‘Piskies’ Crows’ (Crow or Craw, Breton
Krao, is a shed or hovel; ‘pegs’ craw’ is still used for ‘pig-sty’); and there
are three genuine examples of what would in Scotland be called ‘Picts’
Houses’ just outside St. Ives in the direction of Zennor, though only modern
antiquaries have applied that name to them. In the district in which they are,
the fringe of coast from St. Ives round by Zennor, Morvah, Pendeen, and St.
Just nearly to Sennen, are found to this day a strange and separate people of
Mongol type, like the Bigaudens of Pont l’Abbé and Penmarc’h in the
Breton Cornouailles, one of those ‘fragments of forgotten peoples’ of the
‘sunset bound of Lyonesse’ of whom Tennyson tells. They are a little
‘stuggy’ dark folk, and until comparatively modern times were recognized
as different from their Celtic neighbours, and were commonly believed to
be largely wizards and witches. One of Mr. Wentz’s informants seems to
attribute to Zennor a particularly virulent brand of pisky, and Zennor is the
most primitive part of that district. Possibly the more completely unmixed
ancestors of this race were ‘more so’ than the present representatives; but,
be this as it may, if Pixy is really Picty, it would seem that, like the
inhabitants of the extreme north of the British Isles, the south-western
Britons eventually applied the fairly general popular name of the
mysterious, half dreaded, half despised aboriginal to a race of preternatural
beings in whose existence they believed, and, with the name, transferred
some of the qualities, attributes, and legends, thus producing a mixed
mental conception now known as ‘pisky’ or ‘pixy’.
There seems to have been always and everywhere (or nearly so) a belief in
a race, neither divine nor human, but very like to human beings, who
existed on a ‘plane’ different from that of humans, though occupying the
same space. This has been called the ‘astral’ or the ‘fourth-dimensional’
plane. Why ‘astral’? why ‘fourth-dimensional’? why ‘plane’? are questions
the answers to which do not matter, and I do not attempt to defend the
terms, but you must call it something. This is the belief to which Scott
refers in the introduction to The Monastery, as the ‘beautiful but almost
forgotten theory of astral spirits or creatures of the elements, surpassing
human beings in knowledge and power, but inferior to them as being
subject, after a certain space of years, to a death which is to them

annihilation’. The subdivisions and elaborations of the subject by
Paracelsus, the Rosicrucians, and the modern theosophists are no doubt
amplifications of that popular belief, which, though rather undefined,
resembles the theory of these mystics in its main outlines, and was probably
what suggested it to them.
These beings are held to be normally imperceptible to human senses, but
conditions may arise in which the ‘astral plane’ of the elementals and that
part of the ‘physical plane’ in which, if one may so express it, some human
being happens to be, may be in such a relation to one another that these and
other spirits may be seen and heard. Some such condition is perhaps
described in the story of Balaam the soothsayer, in that incident when ‘the
Lord opened the eyes of the young man and he saw, and behold, the
mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha’, and
possibly also in the mysterious ‘sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry
trees’ which David heard; but no doubt in these cases it was angels and not
elementals. It may also be allowable to suggest, without irreverence, that
the Gospel stories of the Transfiguration and Ascension are connected with
the same idea, though the latter is expressed in the form of the geocentric
theory of the universe.
The Cornish pisky stories are largely made up of instances of contact
between the two ‘planes’, sometimes accidental, sometimes deliberately
induced by incantations or magic eye-salve, yet with these stories are often
mingled incidents that are not preternatural at all. How, when, and why this
belief arose, I do not pretend even to conjecture; but there it is, and though
of course the holders of it do not talk about ‘planes’, that is very much the
notion which they appear to have.
I do not think that the piskies were ever definitely held to be the spirits of
the dead, and while a certain confusion has arisen, as some of Mr. Wentz’s
informants show, I think it belongs to the confused eschatology of modern
Protestants. To a pre-Reformation Cornishman, or indeed to any other
Catholic, the idea was unthinkable. ‘Justorum animae in manu Dei sunt, et
non tanget illos tormentum malitiae: visi sunt oculis insipientium mori: illi
autem sunt in pace,’ and the transmigration of the souls of the faithful
departed into another order of beings, not disembodied because never
embodied, was to them impossible. Such a notion is on a par with the quaint

but very usual hope of the modern ‘Evangelical’ Christian, so beautifully
expressed in one of Hans Andersen’s stories, that his departed friends are
promoted to be ‘angels’. There may be, perhaps, an idea, as there certainly
is in the Breton Death-Faith, that the spirits of the faithful dead are all round
us, and are not rapt away into a distant Paradise or Purgatory. This may be
of pre-Christian origin, but does not contradict any article of the Christian
faith. The warnings, apparitions, and hauntings, the ‘calling of the dead’ at
sea, and other details of Cornish Death-Legends, seem to point to a
conception of a ‘plane’ of the dead, similar to but not necessarily identical
with that of the elementals. Under some quite undefined conditions contact
may occur with the ‘physical plane’, whence the alleged incidents; but this
Cornish Death-Faith, though sometimes, as commonly in Brittany,
presenting similar phenomena, has in itself nothing to do with piskies, and
as for the unfaithful departed, their destination was also well understood,
and it was not Fairyland. There are possible connecting links in the not very
common idea that piskies are the souls of unbaptized children, and in the
more common notion that the Pobel Vean are, not the disembodied spirits,
but the living souls and bodies of the old Pagans, who, refusing Christianity,
are miraculously preserved alive, but are condemned to decrease in size
until they vanish altogether. Some authorities hold that it is the race and not
the individual which dwindles from generation to generation.
This last idea, as well as the name ‘pixy’, gives some probability to the
conclusion that, as applied to Cornwall, Mr. MacRitchie’s theory represents
a part of the truth, and that on to an already existing belief in elementals
have been grafted exaggerated traditions of a dark pre-Celtic people. These
were not necessarily pygmies, but smaller than Celts, and may have
survived for a long time in forests and hill countries, sometimes friendly to
the taller race, whence come the stories of piskies working for farmers,
sometimes hostile, which may account for the legends of changelings and
other mischievous tricks. This is how it appears to one who knows his
Cornwall in all its aspects fairly well, but does not profess to be an expert in
folk-lore.
Bospowes, Hayle, Cornwall,
July 1910.

Our investigation of the Fairy-Faith in Cornwall covers the region between
Falmouth and the Land’s End, which is now the most Celtic; and the
Tintagel country on the north coast. It is generally believed that ancient
Cornish legends, like the Cornish language, are things of the past only, but I
am now no longer of that opinion. Undoubtedly Cornwall is the most
anglicized of all Celtic lands we are studying, and its folk-lore is therefore
far from being as virile as the Irish folk-lore; nevertheless, through its
people, racially mixed though they are, there still flows the blood and the
inspiration of a prehistoric native ancestry, and among the oldest Cornish
men and women of many an isolated village, or farm, there yet remains
some belief in fairies and pixies. Moreover, throughout all of Old Cornwall
there is a very living faith in the Legend of the Dead; and that this Cornish
Legend of the Dead, with its peculiar Brythonic character, should be
parallel as it is to the Breton Legend of the Dead, has heretofore, so far as I
am aware, not been pointed out. I am giving, however, only a very few of
the Cornish death-legends collected, because in essence most of them are
alike.

A Cornish Historian’s Testimony
I was privileged to make my first call in rural Cornwall at the pretty country
home of Miss Susan E. Gay, of Crill, about three miles from Falmouth; and
Miss Gay, who has written a well-known history of Falmouth (Old
Falmouth, London, 1903), very willingly accorded me an interview on the
subject of my inquiry, and finally dictated for my use the following matter:
—Pixies as ‘Astral Plane’ Beings.—‘The pixies and fairies are little beings
in the human form existing on the ‘astral plane’, who may be in the process
of evolution; and, as such, I believe people have seen them. The ‘astral
plane’ is not known to us now because our psychic faculty of perception has
faded out by non-use, and this condition has been brought about by an
almost exclusive development of the physical brain; but it is likely that the
psychic faculty will develop again in its turn.’
Psychical Interpretation of Folk-Lore.—‘It is my point of view that there is
a basis of truth in the folk-lore. With its remnants of occult learning, magic,

charms, and the like, folk-lore seems to be the remains of forgotten
psychical facts, rather than history, as it is often called.’

Peasant Evidence from the Crill Country
Miss Gay kindly gave me the names of certain peasants in the Crill region,
and from one of them, Mrs. Harriett Christopher, I gleaned the following
material:—
A Pisky Changeling.—‘A woman who lived near Breage Church had a fine
girl baby, and she thought the piskies came and took it and put a withered
child in its place. The withered child lived to be twenty years old, and was
no larger when it died than when the piskies brought it. It was fretful and
peevish and frightfully shrivelled. The parents believed that the piskies
often used to come and look over a certain wall by the house to see the
child. And I heard my grandmother say that the family once put the child
out of doors at night to see if the piskies would take it back again.’
Nature of Piskies.—‘The piskies are said to be very small. You could never
see them by day. I used to hear my grandmother, who has been dead fifty
years, say that the piskies used to hold a fair in the fields near Breage, and
that people saw them there dancing. I also remember her saying that it was
customary to set out food for the piskies at night. My grandmother’s great
belief was in piskies and in spirits; and she considered piskies spirits. She
used to tell so many stories about spirits [of the dead] coming back and
such things that I would be afraid to go to bed.’

Evidence from Constantine
Our witnesses from the ancient and picturesque village of Constantine are
John Wilmet, seventy-eight years old, and his good wife, two most
excellent and well-preserved types of the passing generation of true Cornish
stock. John began by telling me the following tale about an allée couverte—
a tale which in one version or another is apt to be told of most Cornish
megaliths:—

A Pisky-House.—‘William Murphy, who married my sister, once went to
the pisky-house at Bosahan with a surveyor, and the two of them heard such
unearthly noises in it that they came running home in great excitement,
saying they had heard the piskies.’
The Pisky Thrasher.—‘On a farm near here, a pisky used to come at night to
thrash the farmer’s corn. The farmer in payment once put down a new suit
for him. When the pisky came and saw it, he put it on, and said:—
Pisky fine and pisky gay,
Pisky now will fly away.
And they say he never returned.’
Nature of Piskies.—‘I always understood the piskies to be little people. A
great deal was said about ghosts in this place. Whether or not piskies are the
same as ghosts I cannot tell, but I fancy the old folks thought they were.’
Exorcism.—‘A farmer who lived two miles from here, near the Gweek
River, called Parson Jago to his house to have him quiet the ghosts or spirits
regularly haunting it, for Parson Jago could always put such things to rest.
The clergyman went to the farmer’s house, and with his whip formed a
circle on the floor and then commanded the spirit, which made its
appearance on the table, to come down into the circle. While on the table
the spirit had been visible to all the family, but as soon as it got into the ring
it disappeared; and the house was never haunted afterwards.’

At St. Michael’s Mount, Marazion
Our next place for an investigation of the surviving Cornish Fairy-Faith is
Marazion, the very ancient British town opposite the isle called St.
Michael’s Mount. (From Constantine I walked through the country to this
point, talking with as many old people as possible, but none of them knew
very much about ancient Cornish beliefs.) It is believed, though the matter
is very doubtful, that Marazion was the chief mart for the tin trade of Celtic
Britain, and that the Mount—sacred to the Sun and to the Pagan Mysteries
long before Caesar crossed the Channel from Gaul—sheltered the
brilliantly-coloured sailing-ships of the Phoenicians.[64] In such a romantic

town, where Oriental merchants and Celtic pilgrims probably once mingled
together, one might expect some survival of olden beliefs and customs.
Piskies.—To Mr. Thomas G. Jago, of Marazion, with a memory extending
backwards more than seventy years, he being eighty years old, I am
indebted for this statement about the pisky creed in that locality:—‘I
imagine that one hundred and fifty years ago the belief in piskies and spirits
was general. In my boyhood days, piskies were often called “the mites”
(little people): they were regarded as little spirits. The word piskies is the
old Cornish brogue for pixies. In certain grass fields, mushrooms growing
in a circle might be seen of a morning, and the old folks pointing to the
mushrooms would say to the children, “Oh, the piskies have been dancing
there last night.”’
Two more of the oldest natives of Marazion, among others with whom I
talked, are William Rowe, eighty-two years old, and his married sister
seventy-eight years old. About the piskies Mr. Rowe said this:—‘People
would go out at night and lose their way and then declare that they had been
pisky-led. I think they meant by this that they fell under some spiritual
influence—that some spirit led them astray. The piskies were said to be
small, and they were thought of as spirits.’[65] Mr. Rowe’s sister added:—‘If
we as children did anything wrong, the old folks would say to us, “The
piskies will carry you away if you do that again.”’
Witch-Doctors.—I heard the following witch-story from a lawyer, a native
of the district, who lives in the country just beyond Marazion:—‘Jimmy
Thomas, of Wendron parish, who died within the last twenty-five years, was
the last witch-doctor I know about in West Cornwall. He was supposed to
have great power over evil spirits. His immediate predecessor was a
woman, called the “Witch of Wendron”, and she did a big business. My
father once visited her in company with a friend whose father had lost some
horses. This was about seventy to eighty years ago. The witch when
consulted on this occasion turned her back to my father’s companion, and
began talking to herself in Cornish. Then she gave him some herbs. His
father used the herbs, and no more horses died: the herbs were supposed to
have driven all evil spirits out of the stable.’

In Penzance: An Architect’s Testimony
Penzance from earliest times has undoubtedly been, as it is now, the capital
of the Land’s End district, the Sacred Land of Britain. And in Penzance I
had the good fortune to meet those among its leading citizens who still
cherish and keep alive the poetry and the mystic lore of Old Cornwall; and
to no one of them am I more indebted than to Mr. Henry Maddern, F.I.A.S.
Mr. Maddern tells me that he was initiated into the mysteries of the Cornish
folk-lore of this region when a boy in Newlyn, where he was born, by his
old nurse Betty Grancan, a native Zennor woman, of stock probably the
most primitive and pure in the British Islands. At his home in Penzance, Mr.
Maddern dictated to me the very valuable evidence which follows:—
Two Kinds of Pixies.—‘In this region there are two kinds of pixies, one
purely a land-dwelling pixy and the other a pixy which dwells on the sea-
strand between high and low water mark.[66] The land-dwelling pixy was
usually thought to be full of mischievous fun, but it did no harm. There was
a very prevalent belief, when I was a boy, that this sea-strand pixy, called
Bucca,[67] had to be propitiated by a cast (three) of fish, to ensure the
fishermen having a good shot (catch) of fish. The land pixy was supposed to
be able to render its devotees invisible, if they only anointed their eyes with
a certain green salve made of secret herbs gathered from Kerris-moor.[68] In
the invisible condition thus induced, people were able to join the pixy
revels, during which, according to the old tradition, time slipped away very,
very rapidly, though people returned from the pixies no older than when
they went with them.’
The Nurse and the Ointment.—‘I used to hear about a Zennor girl who
came to Newlyn as nurse to the child of a gentleman living at Zimmerman-
Cot. The gentleman warned her never to touch a box of ointment which he
guarded in a special room, nor even to enter that room; but one day in his
absence she entered the room and took some of the ointment. Suspecting
the qualities of the ointment, she put it on her eyes with the wish that she
might see where her master was. She immediately found herself in the
higher part of the orchard amongst the pixies, where they were having much
junketing (festivity and dancing); and there saw the gentleman whose child
she had nursed. For a time she managed to evade him, but before the
junketing was at an end he discovered her and requested her to go home;

and then, to her intense astonishment, she learned that she had been away
twenty years, though she was unchanged. The gentleman scolded her for
having touched the ointment, paid her wages in full, and sent her back to
her people. She always had the one regret, that she had not gone into the
forbidden room at first.’
The Tolcarne Troll.—‘The fairy of the Newlyn Tolcarne[69] was in some
ways like the Puck of the English Midlands. But this fairy, or troll, was
supposed to date back to the time of the Phoenicians. He was described as a
little old pleasant-faced man dressed in a tight-fitting leathern jerkin, with a
hood on his head, who lived invisible in the rock. Whenever he chose to do
so he could make himself visible. When I was a boy it was said that he
spent his time voyaging from here to Tyre on the galleys which carried the
tin; and, also, that he assisted in the building of Solomon’s Temple.
Sometimes he was called “the Wandering One”, or “Odin the Wanderer”.
My old nurse, Betty Grancan, used to say that you could call up the troll at
the Tolcarne if while there you held in your hand three dried leaves, one of
the ash, one of the oak, and one of the thorn, and pronounced an incantation
or charm. Betty would never tell me the words of the charm, because she
said I was too much of a sceptic. The words of such a Cornish charm had to
pass from one believer to another, through a woman to a man, and from a
man to a woman, and thus alternately.’[70]
Nature of Pixies.—‘Pixies were often supposed to be the souls of the
prehistoric dwellers of this country. As such, pixies were supposed to be
getting smaller and smaller, until finally they are to vanish entirely. The
country pixies inhabiting the highlands from above Newlyn on to St. Just
were considered a wicked sort. Their great ambition was to change their
own offspring for human children; and the true child could only be got back
by laying a four-leaf clover on the changeling. A winickey child—one which
was weak, frail, and peevish—was of the nature of a changeling. Miner
pixies, called “knockers”, would accept a portion of a miner’s croust
(lunch) on good faith, and by knocking lead him to a rich mother-lode, or
warn him by knocking if there was danger ahead or a cavern full of water;
but if the miner begrudged them the croust, he would be left to his own
resources to find the lode, and, moreover, the “knockers” would do all they
could to lead him away from a good lode. These mine pixies, too, were
supposed to be spirits, sometimes spirits of the miners of ancient times.’[71]

Fairies and Pixies.—‘In general appearance the fairies were much the same
as pixies. They were small men and women, much smaller than dwarfs. The
men were swarthy in complexion, and the women had a clear complexion
of a peach-like bloom. None ever appeared to be more than five-and-twenty
to thirty years old. I have heard my nurse say that she could see scores of
them whenever she picked a four-leaf clover and put it in the wisp of straw
which she carried on her head as a cushion for the bucket of milk. Her
theory was that the richness of the milk was what attracted them. Pixies,
like fairies, very much enjoyed milk, and people of miserly nature used to
put salt around a cow to keep the pixies away; and then the pixies would
lead such mean people astray the very first opportunity that came.
According to some country-people, the pixies have been seen in the day-
time, but usually they are only seen at night.’

A Cornish Editor’s Opinion
Mr. Herbert Thomas, editor of four Cornish papers, The Cornishman, The
Cornish Telegraph, Post, and Evening Times, and a true Celt himself, has
been deeply interested in the folk-lore of Cornwall, and has made excellent
use of it in his poetry and other literary productions; so that his personal
opinions, which follow, as to the probable origin of the fairy-belief, are for
our study a very important contribution:—
Animistic Origin of Belief in Pixies.—‘I should say that the modern belief in
pixies, or in fairies, arose from a very ancient Celtic or pre-Celtic belief in
spirits. Just as among some savage tribes there is belief in gods and totems,
here there was belief in little spirits good and bad, who were able to help or
to hinder man. Belief in the supernatural, in my opinion, is the root of it all.’

A Cornish Folk-lorist’s Testimony
In Penzance I had the privilege of also meeting Miss M. A. Courtney, the
well-known folk-lorist, who quite agrees with me in believing that there is
in Cornwall a widespread Legend of the Dead; and she cited a few special
instances in illustration, as follows:—

Cornish Legend of the Dead.—‘Here amongst the fishermen and sailors
there is a belief that the dead in the sea will be heard calling if a drowning is
about to occur. I know of a woman who went to a clergyman to have him
exorcize her of the spirit of her dead sister, which she said appeared in the
form of a bee. And I have heard of miners believing that white moths are
spirits.’[72]

Evidence from Newlyn
In Newlyn, Mrs. Jane Tregurtha gave the following important testimony:—
The ‘Little Folk’.—‘The old people thoroughly believed in the little folk,
and that they gambolled all over the moors on moonlight nights. Some
pixies would rain down blessings and others curses; and to remove the
curses people would go to the wells blessed by the saints. Whenever
anything went wrong in the kitchen at night the pixies were blamed. After
the 31st of October [or after Halloween] the blackberries are not fit to eat,
for the pixies have then been over them’ (cf. the parallel Irish belief, p. 38).
Fairy Guardian of the Men-an-Tol.[73]—‘At the Men-an-Tol there is
supposed to be a guardian fairy or pixy who can make miraculous cures.
And my mother knew of an actual case in which a changeling was put
through the stone in order to get the real child back. It seems that evil pixies
changed children, and that the pixy at the Men-an-Tol being good, could, in
opposition, undo their work.’
Exorcism.—‘A spirit was put to rest on the Green here in Newlyn. The
parson prayed and fasted, and then commanded the spirit to teeme (dip dry)
the sea with a limpet shell containing no bottom; and the spirit is supposed
to be still busy at this task.’
Piskies as Apparitions.—When I talked with her in her neat cottage at
Newlyn, Miss Mary Ann Chirgwin (who was born on St. Michael’s Mount
in 1825) told me this:—‘The old people used to say the piskies were
apparitions of the dead come back in the form of little people, but I can’t
remember anything more than this about them.’

An Artist’s Testimony
One of the members of the Newlyn Art School was able to offer a few of his
own impressions concerning the pixies of Devonshire, where he has
frequently made sketches of pixies from descriptions given to him by
peasants:—
Devonshire Pixies.—‘Throughout all the west of Devonshire, anywhere
near the moorlands, the country people are much given to belief in pixies
and ghosts. I think they expect to see them about the twilight hour; though I
have not found anybody who has actually seen a pixy—the belief now is
largely based on hearsay.’

Testimony from the Historian of Mousehole
To Mr. Richard Harry, the historian of Mousehole, I am indebted for these
remarks about the nature and present state of the belief in pixies as he
observes it in that region:—
The Pixy Belief.—‘The piskies, thought of as little people who appear on
moonlight nights, are still somewhat believed in here. If interfered with too
much they are said to exhibit almost fiendish powers. In a certain sense they
are considered spiritual, but in another sense they are much materialized in
the conceptions of the people. Generally speaking, the belief in them has
almost died out within the last fifty years.’

A Seaman’s Testimony
‘Uncle Billy Pender,’ as our present witness is familiarly called, is one of
the oldest natives of Mousehole, being eighty-five years old; and most of
his life has been passed on the ocean, as a fisherman, seaman, and pilot.
After having told me the usual things about piskies, fairies, spirits, ghosts,
and the devil, Uncle Billy Pender was very soon talking about the dead:—
Cornish Legend of the Dead.—‘I was up in bed, and I suppose asleep, and I
dreamt that the boy James came to my bedside and woke me up by saying,
“How many lights does Death put up?” And in the dream there appeared

such light as I never saw in my life; and when I woke up another light like it
was in the room. Within three months afterwards we buried two grand-
daughters out of this house. This was four years ago.’ When this strange tale
was finished, Uncle Billy Pender’s daughter, who had been listening, added:
—‘For three mornings, one after another, there was a robin at our cellar
door before the deaths, and my husband said he didn’t like that.’
Then Uncle Billy told this weird Breton-like tale:—‘“Granny” told about a
boat named Blücher, going from Newlyn to Bristol with six thousand
mackerel, which put in at Arbor Cove, close to Padstow, on account of bad
weather. The boat dragged her anchors and was lost. “Granny” afterwards
declared that he saw the crew going up over the Newlyn Slip; and the whole
of Newlyn and Mousehole believed him.’

Testimony by Two Land’s End Farmers
In the Sennen country, within a mile of the end of Britain, I talked with two
farmers who knew something about piskies. The first one, Charles Hutchen,
of Trevescan, told me this legend:—
A St. Just Pisky.—‘Near St. Just, on Christmas Day, a pisky carried away in
his cloak a boy, but the boy got home. Then the pisky took him a second
time, and again the boy got home. Each time the boy was away for only an
hour’ (probably in a dream or trance state).
Seeing the Pisky-Dance.—Frank Ellis, seventy-eight years old, of the same
village of Trevescan, then gave the following evidence:—‘Up on Sea-View
Green there are two rings where the piskies used to dance and play music
on a moonlight night. I’ve heard that they would come there from the
moors. Little people they are called. If you keep quiet when they are
dancing you’ll see them, but if you make any noise they’ll disappear.’ Frank
Ellis’s wife, who is a very aged woman, was in the house listening to the
conversation, and added at this point:—‘My grandmother, Nancy Maddern,
was down on Sea-View Green by moonlight and saw the piskies dancing,
and passed near them. She said they were like little children, and had red
cloaks.’

Testimony from a Sennen Cove Fisherman
John Gilbert Guy, seventy-eight years old, a retired fisherman of Sennen
Cove, offers very valuable testimony, as follows:—
‘Small People’.—‘Many say they have seen the small people here by the
hundreds. In Ireland they call the small people the fairies. My mother
believes there were such things, and so did the old folks in these parts. My
grandmother used to put down a good furze fire for them on stormy nights,
because, as she said, “They are a sort of people wandering about the world
with no home or habitation, and ought to be given a little comfort.” The
most fear of them was that they might come at night and change a baby for
one that was no good. My mother said that Joan Nicholas believed the
fairies had changed her baby, because it was very small and cross-tempered.
Up on the hill you’ll see a round ring with grass greener than anywhere
else, and that is where the small people used to dance.’
Danger of Seeing the ‘Little People’.—‘I heard that a woman set out water
to wash her baby in, and that before she had used the water the small people
came and washed their babies in it. She didn’t know about this, and so in
washing her baby got some of the water in her eyes, and then all at once she
could see crowds of little people about her. One of them came to her and
asked if she was able to see their crowd, and when she said “Yes,” the little
people wanted to take her eyes out, and she had to clear away from them as
fast as she could.’

Testimony from a Cornish Miner
William Shepherd, a retired miner of Pendeen, near St. Just, where he has
passed all his life, offers us from his own experiences under the earth the
evidence which follows:—
Mine Piskies.—‘There are mine-piskies which are not the “knockers”. I’ve
heard old men in the mines say that they have seen them, and they call them
the small people. It appears that they don’t like company, for they are
always seen singly. The “knockers” are spirits, too, as one might say. They
are said to bring bad luck, while the small people may bring good luck.’

Testimony from King Arthur’s Country
Leaving the Land’s End district and South Cornwall, we now pass
northward to King Arthur’s country. Our chief researches there are to be
made outside the beaten track of tourists as far as possible, in the country
between Camelford and Tintagel. At Delabole, the centre of this district, we
find our first witness, Henry Spragg, a retired slate-quarryman, seventy
years old. Mr. Spragg has had excellent opportunities of hearing any folk-
lore that might have been living during his lifetime; and what he offers first
is about King Arthur:—
King Arthur.—‘We always thought of King Arthur as a great warrior. And
many a time I’ve heard old people say that he used to appear in this country
in the form of a nath.’[74] This was all that could be told of King Arthur; and
the conversation finally was directed toward piskies, with the following
results:—
Piskies.—‘A man named Bottrell, who lived near St. Teath, was pisky-led at
West Down, and when he turned his pockets inside out he heard the piskies
going away laughing.[75] Often my grandmother used to say when I got
home after dark, “You had better mind, or the piskies will carry you away.”
And I can remember hearing the old people say that the piskies are the
spirits of dead-born children.’ From pixies the conversation drifted to the

spirit-hounds ‘often heard at night near certain haunted downs in St. Teath
parish’, and then, finally, to ordinary Cornish legends about the dead.
Our next witnesses from Delabole are John Male, eighty-two years old, one
of the very oldest men in King Arthur’s country, and his wife; and all of Mr.
Male’s ancestors as far back as he can trace them have lived in the same
parish.
Piskies in General.—Mr. Male remarked:—‘I have heard a good deal about
the piskies, but I can’t remember any of the old women’s tales. I have
heard, too, of people saying that they had seen the piskies. It was thought
that when the piskies have misled you they show themselves jumping about
in front of you; they are a race of little people who live out in the fields.’
Mrs. Male had now joined us at the open fire, and added:—‘Piskies always
come at night, and in marshy ground there are round places called pisky
beds where they play. When I was little, my mother and grandmother would
be sitting round the fire of an evening telling fireside stories, and I can
remember hearing about a pisky of this part who stole a new coat, and how
the family heard him talking to himself about it, and then finally say:—
Pisky fine and pisky gay,
Pisky’s got a bright new coat,
Pisky now will run away.
And I can just remember one bit of another story: A pisky looked into a
house and said:—
All alone, fair maid?
No, here am I with a dog and cat,
And apples to eat and nuts to crack.’
Tintagel Folk-Beliefs.—A retired rural policeman of the Tintagel country,
where he was born and reared, and now keeper of the Passmore Edwards
Art Gallery at Newlyn, offered this testimony from Tintagel:—‘In Tintagel I
used to sit round the fire at night and hear old women tell so much about
piskies and ghosts that I was then afraid to go out of doors after darkness
had fallen. They religiously believed in such things, and when I expressed
my doubts I was driven away as a rude boy. They thought if you went to a
certain place at a certain hour of the night that you could there see the

piskies as little spirits. It was held that the piskies could lead you astray and
play tricks on you, but that they never did you any serious injury.’ Of the
Arthurian folk-legend at Tintagel he said:—‘The spirit of King Arthur is
supposed to be in the Cornish chough—a beautiful black bird with red legs
and red beak.’
We now leave Great Britain and cross the English Channel to Little Britain,
the third of the Brythonic countries.

VII. IN BRITTANY
Introduction by Anatole le Braz, Professor of French
Literature, University of Rennes, Brittany; author of La Légende
de la Mort, Au Pays des Pardons, &c.

English Translation of Introduction

Mon cher Monsieur Wentz,
Il me souvient que, lors de votre soutenance de thèse devant la Faculté des
Lettres de l’Université de Rennes, un de mes collègues, mon ami, le
professeur Dottin, vous demanda:
‘Vous croyez, dites-vous, à l’existence des fées? En avez-vous vu?’
Vous répondîtes, avec autant de phlegme que de sincérité:
‘Non. J’ai tout fait pour en voir, et je n’en ai jamais vu. Mais il y a
beaucoup de choses que vous n’avez pas vues, monsieur le professeur, et
dont vous ne songeriez cependant pas à nier l’existence. Ainsi fais-je à
l’égard des fées.’
Je suis comme vous, mon cher monsieur Wentz: je n’ai jamais vu de fées.
J’ai bien une amie très chère que nous avons baptisée de ce nom, mais,
malgré tous ses beaux dons magiques, elle n’est qu’une humble mortelle.
En revanche, j’ai vécu, tout enfant, parmi des personnes qui avaient avec les
fées véritables un commerce quasi journalier.

C’était dans une petite bourgade de Basse-Bretagne, peuplée de paysans à
moitié marins, et de marins à moitié paysans. Il y avait, non loin du village,
une ancienne gentilhommière que ses propriétaires avaient depuis
longtemps abandonnée pour on ne savait au juste quel motif. On continuait
de l’appeler le ‘château’ de Lanascol, quoiqu’elle ne fût plus guère qu’une
ruine. Il est vrai que les avenues par lesquelles on y accédait avaient
conservé leur aspect seigneurial, avec leurs quadruples rangées de vieux
hêtres dont les vastes frondaisons se miraient dans de magnifiques étangs.
Les gens d’alentour se risquaient peu, le soir, dans ces avenues. Elles
passaient pour être, à partir du coucher du soleil, le lieu de promenade
favori d’une ‘dame’ que l’on désignait sous le nom de Groac’h Lanascol,—
la ‘Feé de Lanascol’.
Beaucoup disaient l’avoir rencontrée, et la dépeignaient sous les couleurs,
du reste, les plus diverses. Ceux-ci faisaient d’elle une vieille femme,
marchant toute courbée, les deux mains appuyées sur un tronçon de béquille
avec lequel, de temps en temps, elle remuait, à l’automne, les feuilles
mortes. Les feuilles mortes qu’elle retournait ainsi devenaient soudain
brillantes comme de l’or et s’entrechoquaient avec un bruit clair de métal.
Selon d’autres, c’était une jeune princesse, merveilleusement parée, sur les
pas de qui s’empressaient d’étranges petits hommes noirs et silencieux. Elle
s’avançait d’une majestueuse allure de reine. Parfois elle s’arrêtait devant
un arbre, et l’arbre aussitôt s’inclinait comme pour recevoir ses ordres. Ou
bien, elle jetait un regard sur l’eau d’un étang, et l’étang frissonnait
jusqu’en ses profondeurs, comme agité d’un mouvement de crainte sous la
puissance de son regard.
On racontait sur elle cette curieuse histoire:—
Les propriétaires de Lanascol ayant voulu se défaire d’un domaine qu’ils
n’habitaient plus, le manoir et les terres qui en dépendaient furent mis en
adjudication chez un notaire de Plouaret. Au jour fixé pour les enchères
nombre d’acheteurs accoururent. Les prix étaient déjà montés très haut, et le
domaine allait être adjugé, quand, à un dernier appel du crieur, une voix
féminine, très douce et très impérieuse tout ensemble, s’éleva et dit:
‘Mille francs de plus!’

Il y eut grande rumeur dans la salle. Tout le monde chercha des yeux la
personne qui avait lancé cette surenchère, et qui ne pouvait être qu’une
femme. Mais il ne se trouva pas une seule femme dans l’assistance. Le
notaire demanda:
‘Qui a parlé?’
De nouveau, la même voix se fit entendre.
‘Groac’h Lanascol!’ répondit-elle.
Ce fut une débandade générale. Depuis lors, il ne s’était jamais présenté
d’acquéreur, et voilà pourquoi, répétait-on couramment, Lanascol était
toujours à vendre.
Si je vous ai entretenu à plaisir de la Fée de Lanascol, mon cher monsieur
Wentz, c’est qu’elle est la première qui ait fait impression sur moi, dans
mon enfance. Combien d’autres n’en ai-je pas connu, par la suite, à travers
les récits de mes compatriotes des grèves, des champs ou des bois! La
Bretagne est restée un royaume de féerie. On n’y peut voyager l’espace
d’une lieue sans côtoyer la demeure de quelque fée mâle ou femelle. Ces
jours derniers, comme j’accomplissais un pèlerinage d’automne à
l’hallucinante forêt de Paimpont, toute hantée encore des grands souvenirs
de la légende celtique, je croisai, sous les opulents ombrages du Pas-du-
Houx, une ramasseuse de bois mort, avec qui je ne manquai pas, vous
pensez bien, de lier conversation. Un des premiers noms que je prononçai
fut naturellement celui de Viviane.
‘Viviane!’ se récria la vieille pauvresse. ‘Ah! bénie soit-elle, la bonne
Dame! car elle est aussi bonne que belle.... Sans sa protection, mon homme,
qui travaille dans les coupes, serait tombé, comme un loup, sous les fusils
des gardes....’ Et elle se mit à me conter comme quoi son mari, un tantinet
braconnier comme tous les bûcherons de ces parages, s’étant porté, une
nuit, à l’affût du chevreuil, dans les environs de la Butte-aux-Plaintes, avait
été surpris en flagrant délit par une tournée de gardes. Il voulut fuir: les
gardes tirèrent. Une balle l’atteignit à la cuisse: il tomba, et il s’apprêtait à
se faire tuer sur place, plutôt que de se rendre, lorsque, entre ses agresseurs
et lui, s’interposa subitement une espèce de brouillard très dense qui voila
tout,—le sol, les arbres, les gardes et le blessé lui-même. Et il entendit une

voix sortie du brouillard, une voix légère comme un bruit de feuilles,
murmurer à son oreille: ‘Sauve-toi, mon fils: l’esprit de Viviane veillera sur
toi jusqu’à ce que tu aies rampé hors de la forêt.’
‘Telles furent les propres paroles de la fée,’ conclut la ramasseuse de bois
mort.
Et, dévotement, elle se signa, car la religieuse Bretagne—vous le savez—
vénère les fées à l’égal des saintes.

J’ignore s’il faut rattacher les lutins au monde des fées, mais, ce qui est sûr,
c’est que cette charmante et malicieuse engeance a toujours pullulé dans
notre pays. Je me suis laissé dire qu’autrefois chaque maison avait le sien.
C’était quelque chose comme le petit dieu pénate. Tantôt visible, tantôt
invisible, il présidait à tous les actes de la vie domestique. Mieux encore: il
y participait, et de la façon la plus efficace. A l’intérieur du logis, il aidait
les servantes, soufflait le feu dans l’âtre, surveillait la cuisson de la
nourriture pour les hommes ou pour les bêtes, apaisait les cris de l’enfant
couché dans le bas de l’armoire, empêchait les vers de se mettre dans les
pièces de lard suspendues aux solives. Il avait pareillement dans son lot le
gouvernement des étables et des écuries: grâce à lui, les vaches donnaient
un lait abondant en beurre, et les chevaux avaient la croupe ronde, le poil
luisant. Il était, en un mot, le bon génie de la famille, mais c’était à la
condition que chacun eût pour lui les égards auxquels il avait droit. Si peu
qu’on lui manquât, sa bonté se changeait en malice et il n’était point de
mauvais tours dont il ne fût capable envers les gens qui l’avaient offensé,
comme de renverser le contenu des marmites sur le foyer, d’embrouiller la
laine autour des quenouilles, de rendre infumable le tabac des pipes,
d’emmêler inextricablement les crins des chevaux, de dessécher le pis des
vaches ou de faire peler le dos des brebis. Aussi s’efforçait-on de ne le point
mécontenter. On respectait soigneusement toutes ses habitudes, toutes ses
manies. C’est ainsi que, chez mes parents, notre vieille bonne Filie
n’enlevait jamais le trépied du feu sans avoir la précaution de l’asperger
d’eau pour le refroidir, avant de le ranger au coin de l’âtre. Si vous lui
demandiez pourquoi ce rite, elle vous répondait:

‘Pour que le lutin ne s’y brûle pas, si, tout à l’heure, il s’asseyait dessus.’

Il appartient encore, je suppose, à la catégorie des hommes-fées, ce Bugul-
Noz, ce mystérieux ‘Berger de la nuit’ dont les Bretons des campagnes
voient se dresser, au crépuscule, la haute et troublante silhouette, si,
d’aventure, il leur arrive de rentrer tard du labour. On n’a jamais pu me
renseigner exactement sur le genre de troupeau qu’il faisait paître, ni sur ce
que présageait sa rencontre. Le plus souvent, on la redoute. Mais, comme
l’observait avec raison une de mes conteuses, Lise Bellec, s’il est préférable
d’éviter le Bugul-Noz, il ne s’ensuit pas, pour cela, que ce soit un méchant
Esprit. D’après elle, il remplirait plutôt une fonction salutaire, en signifiant
aux humains, par sa venue, que la nuit n’est pas faite pour s’attarder aux
champs ou sur les chemins, mais pour s’enfermer derrière les portes closes
et pour dormir. Ce berger des ombres serait donc, somme toute, une
manière de bon pasteur. C’est pour assurer notre repos et notre sécurité,
c’est pour nous soustraire aux excès du travail et aux embûches de la nuit
qu’il nous force, brebis imprudentes, à regagner promptement le bercail.
Sans doute est-ce un rôle tutélaire à peu près semblable qui, dans la
croyance populaire, est dévolu à un autre homme-fée, plus spécialement
affecté au rivage de la mer, comme l’indique son nom de Yann-An-Ôd. Il
n’y a pas, sur tout le littoral maritime de la Bretagne ou, comme on dit, dans
tout l’armor, une seule région ou l’existence de ce ‘Jean des Grèves’ ne soit
tenue pour un fait certain, dûment constaté, indéniable. On lui prête des
formes variables et des aspects différents. C’est tantôt un géant, tantôt un
nain. Il porte tantôt un ‘suroit’ de toile huilée, tantôt un large chapeau de
feutre noir. Parfois, il s’appuie sur une rame et fait penser au personnage
énigmatique, armé du même attribut, qu’Ulysse doit suivre, dans l’Odyssée.
Mais, toujours, c’est un héros marin dont la mission est de parcourir les
plages, en poussant par intervalles de longs cris stridents, propres à effrayer
les pêcheurs qui se seraient laissé surprendre dehors par les ténèbres de la
nuit. Il ne fait de mal qu’à ceux qui récalcitrent; encore ne les frappe-t-il
que dans leur intérêt, pour les contraindre à se mettre à l’abri. Il est, avant
tout, un ‘avertisseur’. Ses cris ne rappellent pas seulement au logis les gens
attardés sur les grèves; ils signalent aussi le dangereux voisinage de la côte

aux marins qui sont en mer et, par là, suppléent à l’insuffisance du
mugissement des sirènes ou de la lumière des phares.
Remarquons, à ce propos, qu’on relève un trait analogue dans la légende
des vieux saints armoricains, pour la plupart émigrés d’Irlande. Un de leurs
exercices coutumiers consistait à déambuler de nuit le long des côtes où ils
avaient établi leurs oratoires, en agitant des clochettes de fer battu dont les
tintements étaient destinés, comme les cris de Yann-An-Ôd, à prévenir les
navigateurs que la terre était proche.
Je suis persuadé que le culte des saints, qui est la première et la plus
fervente des dévotions bretonnes, conserve bien des traits d’une religion
plus ancienne où la croyance aux fées jouait le principal rôle. Et il en va de
même, j’en suis convaincu, pour ces mythes funéraires que j’ai recueillis
sous le titre de La Légende de la Mort chez les Bretons armoricains. A vrai
dire, dans la conception bretonne, les morts ne sont pas morts; ils vivent
d’une vie mystérieuse en marge de la vie réelle, mais leur monde reste, en
définitive, tout mêlé au nôtre et, sitôt que la nuit tombe, sitôt que les vivants
proprement dits s’abandonnent à la mort momentanée du sommeil, les soi-
disant morts redeviennent les habitants de la terre qu’ils n’ont jamais
quittée. Ils reprennent leur place à leur foyer d’autrefois, ils vaquent à leurs
anciens travaux, ils s’intéressent au logis, aux champs, à la barque; ils se
comportent, en un mot, comme ce peuple des hommes et des femmes-fées
qui formait jadis une espèce d’humanité plus fine et plus délicate au milieu
de la véritable humanité.

J’aurais encore, mon cher monsieur Wentz, bien d’autres types à évoquer,
dans cet intermonde de la féerie bretonne qui, chez mes compatriotes, ne se
confond ni avec ce monde-ci, ni avec l’autre, mais participe à la fois de tous
les deux, par un singulier mélange de naturel et de surnaturel. Je n’ai voulu,
en ces lignes rapides, que montrer la richesse de la matière à laquelle vous
avez, avec tant de conscience et de ferveur, appliqué votre effort. Et
maintenant, que les fées vous soient douces, mon cher ami! Elles ne seront
que justes en favorisant de toute leur tendresse le jeune et brillant écrivain
qui vient de restaurer leur culte en rénovant leur gloire.

Rennes,
ce 1er novembre 1910.

Breton Fairies or Fées
In Lower Brittany, which is the genuinely Celtic part of Armorica, instead
of finding a widespread folk-belief in fairies of the kind existing in Wales,
Ireland, and Scotland, we find a widespread folk-belief in the existence of
the dead, and to a less extent in that of the corrigan tribes. For our
Psychological Theory this is very significant. It seems to indicate that
among the Bretons—who are one of the most conservative Celtic peoples—
the Fairy-Faith finds its chief expression in a belief that men live after death
in an invisible world, just as in Ireland the dead and fairies live in
Fairyland. This opinion was first suggested to me by Professor Anatole Le
Braz, author of La Légende de la Mort, and by Professor Georges Dottin,
both of the University of Rennes. But before evidence to sustain and to
illustrate this opinion is offered, it will be well to consider the less
important Breton fées or beings like them, and then corrigans and nains
(dwarfs).
The ‘Grac’hed Coz’.—F. M. Luzel, who collected so many of the popular
stories in Brittany, found that what few fées or fairies there are almost
always appear in folk-lore as little old women, or as the Breton story-teller
usually calls them, Grac’hed coz. I have selected and abridged the
following legendary tale from his works to illustrate the nature of these
Breton fairy-folk:—
In ancient times, as we read in La Princesse Blondine, a rich nobleman had
three sons; the oldest was called Cado, the second, Méliau, and the
youngest, Yvon. One day, as they were together in a forest with their bows
and arrows, they met a little old woman whom they had never seen before,
and she was carrying on her head a jar of water. ‘Are you able, lads,’ Cado
asked his two brothers, ‘to break with an arrow the jar of the little old
woman without touching her?’ ‘We do not wish to try it,’ they said, fearing
to injure the good woman. ‘All right, I’ll do it then, watch me.’ And Cado
took his bow and let fly an arrow. The arrow went straight to its mark and
split the jar without touching the little old woman; but the water wet her to

the skin, and, in anger, she said to the skilful archer: ‘You have failed,
Cado, and I will be revenged on you for this. From now until you have
found the Princess Blondine all the members of your body will tremble as
leaves on a tree tremble when the north wind blows.’ And instantly Cado
was seized by a trembling malady in all his body. The three brothers
returned home and told their father what had happened; and the father,
turning to Cado, said: ‘Alas, my unfortunate son, you have failed. It is now
necessary for you to travel until you find the Princess Blondine, as the fée
said, for that little old woman was a fée, and no doctor in the world can cure
the malady she has put upon you.’[76]
‘Fées’ of Lower Brittany.—Throughout the Morbihan and Finistère, I found
that stories about fées are much less common than about corrigans, and in
some localities extremely rare; but the ones I have been fortunate enough to
collect are much the same in character as those gathered in the Côtes-du-
Nord by Luzel, and elsewhere by other collectors. Those I here record were
told to me at Carnac during the summer of 1909; the first one by M. Yvonne
Daniel, a native of the Île de Croix (off the coast north-west of Carnac); and
the others by M. Goulven Le Scour.[77]
‘The little Île de Croix was especially famous for its old fées; and the
following legend is still believed by its oldest inhabitants:—“An aged man
who had suffered long from leprosy was certain to die within a short time,
when a woman bent double with age entered his house. She asked from
what malady he suffered, and on being informed began to say prayers. Then
she breathed upon the sores of the leper, and almost suddenly disappeared:
the fée had cured him.”’
‘It is certain that about fifty years ago the people in Finistère still believed
in fées. It was thought that the fées were spirits who came to predict some
unexpected event in the family. They came especially to console orphans
who had very unkind step-mothers. In their youth, Tanguy du Chatel and his
sister Eudes were protected by a fée against the misfortune which pursued
them; the history of Brittany says so. In Léon it is said that the fées served
to guide unfortunate people, consoling them with the promise of a happy
and victorious future. In the Cornouailles, on the contrary, it is said that the
fées were very evilly disposed, that they were demons.

‘My grandmother, Marie Le Bras, had related to me that one evening an old
fée arrived in my village, Kerouledic (Finistère), and asked for hospitality.
It was about the year 1830. The fée was received; and before going to bed
she predicted that the little daughter whom the mother was dressing in
night-clothes would be found dead in the cradle the next day. This
prediction was only laughed at; but in the morning the little one was dead in
her cradle, her eyes raised toward Heaven. The fée, who had slept in the
stable, was gone.’
In these last three accounts, by M. Le Scour, we observe three quite
different ideas concerning the Breton fairies or fées: in Finistère and in
Léon the fées are regarded as good protecting spirits, almost like ancestral
spirits, which originally they may have been; in the Cornouailles they are
evil spirits; while in the third account, about the old fée—and in the legend
of the leper cured by a fée—the fées are rationalized, as in Luzel’s tale
quoted above, into sorceresses or Grac’hed Coz.
Children Changed by ‘Fées’.—M. Goulven Le Scour, at my request, wrote
down in French the following account of actual changelings in Finistère:
—‘I remember very well that there was a woman of the village of Kergoff,
in Plouneventer, who was called ——,[78] the mother of a family. When she
had her first child, a very strong and very pretty boy, she noticed one
morning that he had been changed during the night; there was no longer the
fine baby she had put to bed in the evening; there was, instead, an infant
hideous to look at, greatly deformed, hunchbacked, and crooked, and of a
black colour. The poor woman knew that a fée had entered the house during
the night and had changed her child.
‘This changed infant still lives, and to-day he is about seventy years old. He
has all the possible vices; and he has tried many times to kill his mother. He
is a veritable demon; he often predicts the future, and has a habit of running
abroad during the night. They call him the “Little Corrigan”, and
everybody flees from him. Being poor and infirm now, he has been obliged
to beg, and people give him alms because they have great fear of him. His
nick-name is Olier.
‘This woman had a second, then a third child, both of whom were seen by
everybody to have been born with no infirmity; and, in turn, each of these

two was stolen by a fée and replaced by a little hunchback. The second
child was a most beautiful daughter. She was taken during the night and
replaced by a little girl babe, so deformed that it resembled a ball. If her
brother Olier was bad, she was even worse; she was the terror of the village,
and they called her Anniac. The third child met the same luck, but was not
so bad as the first and second.
‘The poor mother, greatly worried at seeing what had happened, related her
troubles to another woman. This woman said to her, “If you have another
child, place with it in the cradle a little sprig of box-wood which has been
blessed (by a priest), and the fée will no longer have the power of stealing
your children.” And when a fourth child was born to the unfortunate woman
it was not stolen, for she placed in the cradle a sprig of box-wood which
had been blessed on Palm Sunday (Dimanche des Rameaux).[79]
‘The first three children I knew very well, and they were certainly
hunchbacked: it is pretended in the country that the fées who come at night
to make changelings always leave in exchange hunchbacked infants. It is
equally pretended that a mother who has had her child so changed need do
nothing more than leave the little hunchback out of doors crying during
entire hours, and that the fée hearing it will come and put the true child in
its place. Unfortunately, Yvonna —— did not know what she should have
done in order to have her own children again.’
Transformation Power of ‘Fées’.—At Kerallan, near Carnac, this is what
Madame Louise Le Rouzic said about the transformation power of fées:
—‘It is said that the fées of the region when insulted sometimes changed
men into beasts or into stones.’[80]
Other Breton Fairies.—Besides the various types of fées already described,
we find in Luzel’s collected stories a few other types of fairy-like beings: in
Les Compagnons (The Companions),[81] the fée is a magpie in a forest near
Rennes—just as in other Celtic lands, fairies likewise often appear as birds
(see our study, pp. 302 ff.); in La Princesse de l’Étoile Brillante (The
Princess of the Brilliant Star),[81] a princess under the form of a duck plays
the part of a fairy (cf. how fairy women took the form of water-fowls in the
tale entitled the Sick Bed of Cuchulainn (see our study, p. 345); in Pipi
Menou et les Femmes Volantes (Pipi Menou and the Flying Women),[81]

there are fairy women as swan-maidens; and then there are yet to be
mentioned Les Morgans de l’île d’Ouessant (The Morgans of the Isle of
Ushant), who live under the sea in rare palaces where mortals whom they
love and marry are able to exist with them. In some legends of the Morgans,
like one recorded by Luzel, the men and women of this water-fairy race, or
the Morgans and Morganezed, seem like anthropomorphosed survivals of
ancient sea-divinities, such, for example, as the sea-god called Shony, to
whom the people of Lewis, Western Hebrides, still pour libations that he
may send in sea-weed, and the sea-god to whom anciently the people of
Iona poured libations.[82]
The ‘Morgan’.—To M. J. Cuillandre (Glanmor), President of the
Fédération des Étudiants Bretons, I am indebted for the following weird
legend of the Morgan, as it is told among the Breton fisher-folk on the Île
Molène, Finistère:—‘Following a legend which I have collected on the Île
Molène, the Morgan is a fairy eternally young, a virgin seductress whose
passion, never satisfied, drives her to despair. Her place of abode is beneath
the sea; there she possesses marvellous palaces where gold and diamonds
glimmer. Accompanied by other fairies, of whom she is in some respects
the queen, she rises to the surface of the waters in the splendour of her
unveiled beauty. By day she slumbers amid the coolness of grottoes, and
woe to him who troubles her sleep. By night she lets herself be lulled by the
waves in the neighbourhood of the rocks. The sea-foam crystallizes at her
touch into precious stones, of whiteness as dazzling as that of her body. By
moonlight she moans as she combs her fair hair with a comb of fine gold,
and she sings in a harmonious voice a plaintive melody whose charm is
irresistible. The sailor who listens to it feels himself drawn toward her,
without power to break the charm which drags him onward to his
destruction; the bark is broken upon the reefs: the man is in the sea, and the
Morgan utters a cry of joy. But the arms of the fairy clasp only a corpse; for
at her touch men die, and it is this which causes the despair of the amorous
and inviolate Morgan. She being pagan, it suffices to have been touched by
her in order to suffer the saddest fate which can be reserved to a Christian.
The unfortunate one whom she had clasped is condemned to wander for
ever in the trough of the waters, his eyes wide open, the mark of baptism
effaced from his forehead. Never will his poor remains know the sweetness

of reposing in holy ground, never will he have a tomb where his kindred
might come to pray and to weep.’
Origin of the ‘Morgan’.—The following legendary origin is attributed to
the Morgan by M. Goulven Le Scour, our Carnac witness:—‘Following the
old people and the Breton legends, the Morgan (Mari Morgan in Breton)
was Dahut, the daughter of King Gradlon, who was ruler of the city of Is.
Legend records that when Dahut had entered at night the bedchamber of her
father and had cut from around his neck the cord which held the key of the
sea-dike flood-gates, and had given this key to the Black Prince, under
whose evil love she had fallen, and who, according to belief, was no other
than the Devil, St. Guenolé soon afterwards began to cry aloud, “Great
King, arise! The flood-gates are open, and the sea is no longer
restrained!”[83] Suddenly the old King Gradlon arose, and, leaping on his
horse, was fleeing from the city with St. Guenolé, when he encountered his
own daughter amid the waves. She piteously begged aid of her father, and
he took her up behind him on the horse; but St. Guenolé, seeing that the
waters were gaining on them, said to the king, “Throw into the sea the
demon you have behind you, and we shall be saved!” Thereupon Gradlon
flung his daughter into the abyss, and he and St. Guenolé were saved. Since
that time, the fishermen declare that they have seen, in times of rough sea
and clear moonlight, Dahut, daughter of King Gradlon, sitting on the rocks
combing her fair hair and singing, in the place where her father flung her.
And to-day there is recognized under the Breton name Marie Morgan, the
daughter who sings amid the sea.’
Breton Fairyland Legends.—In a legend concerning Mona and the king of
the Morgans, much like the Christabel story of English poets, we have a
picture of a fairyland not under ground, but under sea; and this legend of
Mona and her Morgan lover is one of the most beautiful of all the fairy-
tales of Brittany.[84] Another one of Luzel’s legends, concerning a maiden
who married a dead man, shows us Fairyland as a world of the dead. It is a
very strange legend, and one directly bearing on the Psychological Theory;
for this dead man, who is a dead priest, has a palace in a realm of
enchantment, and to enter his country one must have a white fairy-wand
with which to strike ‘in the form of a cross’ two blows upon the rock
concealing the entrance.[84] M. Paul Sébillot records from Upper Brittany a
tradition that beneath the sea-waves there one can see a subterranean world

containing fields and villages and beautiful castles; and it is so pleasant a
world that mortals going there find years no longer than days.[85]
Fairies of Upper Brittany.[86]—Principally in Upper Brittany, M. Sébillot
found rich folk-lore concerning fées, though some of his material is drawn
from peasants and fishermen who are not so purely Celtic as those in Lower
Brittany; and he very concisely summarizes the various names there given
to the fairy-folk as follows:—‘They are generally called Fées (Fairies),
sometimes Fêtes (Fates), a name nearer than fées to the Latin Fata; Fête
(fem.) and Fête (mas.) are both used, and from Fête is probably derived
Faito or Faitaud, which is the name borne by the fathers, the husbands, or
the children of the fées (Saint-Cast). Near Saint-Briac (Ille-et-Vilaine) they
are sometimes called Fions; this term, which is applied to both sexes, seems
also to designate the mischievous lutins (sprites). Round the Mené, in the
cantons of Collinée and of Moncontour, they are called Margot la Fée, or
ma Commère (my Godmother) Margot, or even the Bonne Femme (Good
Woman) Margot. On the coast they are often enough called by the name of
Bonnes Dames (Good Ladies), or of nos Bonnes Mères les Fées (our Good
Mothers the Fairies); usually they are spoken of with a certain respect.’[87]
As the same authority suggests, probably the most characteristic Fées in
Upper Brittany are the Fées des Houles (Fairies of the Billows); and
traditions say that they lived in natural caverns or grottoes in the sea-cliffs.
They form a distinct class of sea-fairies unknown elsewhere in France or
Europe.[88] M. Sébillot regards them as sea-divinities greatly rationalized.
Associated with them are the fions, a race of dwarfs having swords no
bigger than pins.[88] A pretty legend about magic buckwheat cakes, which in
different forms is widespread throughout all Brittany, is told of these little
cave-dwelling fairies:—
Like the larger fées the fions kept cattle; and one day a black cow belonging
to the fions of Pont-aux-Hommes-Nées ate the buckwheat in the field of a
woman of that neighbourhood. The woman went to the fions to complain,
and in reply to her a voice said: ‘Hold your tongue; you will be paid for
your buckwheat!’ Thereupon the fions gave the woman a cupful of
buckwheat, and promised her that it would never diminish so long as none
should be given away. That year buckwheat was very scarce, but no matter
how many buckwheat cakes the woman and her family ate there was never
diminution in the amount of the fairy buckwheat. At last, however, the

unfortunate hour came. A rag-gatherer arrived and asked for food.
Thoughtlessly the woman gave him one of her buckwheat cakes, and
suddenly, as though by magic, all the rest of the buckwheat disappeared for
ever.
Along the Rance the inhabitants tell about fées who appear during storms.
These storm-fairies are dressed in the colours of the rainbow, and pass
along following a most beautiful fée who is mounted in a boat made from a
nautilus of the southern seas. And the boat is drawn by two sea-crabs. In no
other place in Brittany are similar fées said to exist.[89] In Upper Brittany, as
in Lower Brittany, the fées generally had their abodes in tumuli, in dolmens,
in forests, in waste lands where there are great rocks, or about menhirs; and
many other kinds of spirits lived in the sea and troubled sailors and fisher-
folk. Like all fairy-folk of Celtic countries, those of Upper Brittany were
given to stealing children. Thus at Dinard not long ago there was a woman
more than thirty years old who was no bigger than a girl of ten, and it was
said she was a fairy changeling.[90] In Lower Brittany the taking of children
was often attributed to dwarfs rather than to fées, though the method of
making the changeling speak is the same as in Upper Brittany, namely, to
place in such a manner before an open fire a number of eggshells filled with
water that they appear to the changeling—who is placed where he can well
observe all the proceedings—like so many small pots of cooking food;
whereupon, being greatly astonished at the unusual sight, he forgets himself
and speaks for the first time, thus betraying his demon nature.
The following midwife story, as told by J. M. Comault, of Gouray, in 1881,
is quite a parallel to the one we have recorded (on p. 54) as coming from
Grange, Ireland:—A midwife who delivered a Margot la fée carelessly
allowed some of the fairy ointment to get on one of her own eyes. The eye
at once became clairvoyant, so that she beheld the fées in their true nature.
And, quite like a midwife in a similar story about the fées des houles, this
midwife happened to see a fée in the act of stealing, and spoke to her.
Thereupon the fée asked the midwife with which eye she beheld her, and
when the midwife indicated which one it was, the fée pulled it out.[91]
Generally, like their relatives in insular Celtdom, the fairies of Upper
Brittany could assume various forms, and could even transform the human
body; and they were given to playing tricks on mortals, and always to

taking revenge on them if ill-treated. In most ways they were like other
races of fairies, Celtic and non-Celtic, though very much
anthropomorphosed in their nature by the peasant and mariner.
As a rule, the fées of Upper Brittany are described in legend as young and
very beautiful. Some, however, appear to be centuries old, with teeth as
long as a human hand, and with backs covered with seaweeds, and mussels,
or other marine growths, as an indication of their great age.[92] At Saint-
Cast they are said to be dressed (like the corrigans at Carnac, see p. 208) in
toile, a kind of heavy linen cloth.[92]
On the sea-coast of Upper Brittany the popular opinion is that the fées are a
fallen race condemned to an earthly exile for a certain period. In the region
of the Mené, canton of Collinée, the old folk say that, after the angels
revolted, those left in paradise were divided into two parts: those who
fought on the side of God and those who remained neutral. These last,
already half-fallen, were sent to the earth for a time, and became the fées.
[92]

The general belief in the interior of Brittany is that the fées once existed, but
that they disappeared as their country was changed by modern conditions.
In the region of the Mené and of Ercé (Ille-et-Vilaine) it is said that for
more than a century there have been no fées; and on the sea-coast, where it
is still firmly believed that the fées used to live in the billows or amid
certain grottoes in the cliffs against which the billows broke, the opinion is
that they disappeared at the beginning of the last century. The oldest
Bretons say that their parents or grandparents often spoke about having seen
fées, but very rarely do they say that they themselves have seen fées. M.
Sébillot found only two who had. One was an old needle-woman of Saint-
Cast, who had such fear of fées that if she was on her way to do some
sewing in the country, and it was night, she always took a long circuitous
route to avoid passing near a field known as the Couvent des Fées. The
other was Marie Chéhu, a woman eighty-eight years old.[93]

The Corrigan Race[94]

It is the corrigan race, however, which, more than fées or fairies, forms a
large part of the invisible inhabitants of Brittany; and this race of corrigans
and nains (dwarfs) may be made to include many kinds of lutins, or as they
are often called by the peasant, follets or esprits follets (playful elves).
Though the peasants both in Upper and in Lower Brittany may have no
strong faith in fées, most of them say that corrigans, or nains, and
mischievous house-haunting spirits still exist. But in a few localities, as M.
Sébillot discovered, there is an opinion that the lutins departed with the
fées, and with them will return in this century, because during each century
with an odd number like 1900, the fairy tribes of all kinds are said to be
visible or to reappear among men, and to become invisible or to disappear
during each century with an even number like 1800. So this is the visible
century.
Corrigans and follets only show themselves at night, or in the twilight. No
one knows where they pass the day-time. Some lutins or follets, after the
manner of Scotch kelpies, live solitary lives in lakes or ponds (whereas
corrigans are socially united in groups or families), and amuse themselves
by playing tricks on travellers passing by after dark. Souvestre records a
story showing how the lutins can assume any animal form, but that their
natural form is that of a little man dressed in green; and that the corrigans
have declared war on them for being too friendly to men.[95] From what
follows about lutins, by M. Goulven Le Scour, they show affinity with
Pucks and such shape-shifting hobgoblins as are found in Wales:—‘The
lutins were little dwarfs who generally appeared at cross-roads to attack
belated travellers. And it is related in Breton legends that these lutins
sometimes transformed themselves into black horses or into goats; and
whoever then had the misfortune to encounter them sometimes found his
life in danger, and was always seized with great terror.’ But generally, what
the Breton peasant tells about corrigans he is apt to tell at another time
about lutins. And both tribes of beings, so far as they can be distinguished,
are the same as the elfish peoples—pixies in Cornwall, Robin Good-fellows
in England, goblins in Wales, or brownies in Scotland. Both corrigans and
lutins are supposed to guard hidden treasure; some trouble horses at night;
some, like their English cousins, may help in the house-work after all the
family are asleep; some cause nightmare; some carry a torch like a Welsh
death-candle; some trouble men and women like obsessing spirits; and

nearly all of them are mischievous. In an article in the Revue des Traditions
Populaires (v. 101), M. Sébillot has classified more than fifty names given
to lutins and corrigans in Lower Brittany, according to the form under
which these spirits appear, their peculiar traits, dwelling-places, and the
country they inhabit.
Like the fairies in Britain and Ireland, the corrigans and the Cornish pixies
find their favourite amusement in the circular dance. When the moon is
clear and bright they gather for their frolic near menhirs, and dolmens, and
tumuli, and at cross-roads, or even in the open country; and they never miss
an opportunity of enticing a mortal passing by to join them. If he happens to
be a good-natured man and enters their sport heartily, they treat him quite as
a companion, and may even do him some good turn; but if he is not
agreeable they will make him dance until he falls down exhausted, and
should he commit some act thoroughly displeasing to them he will meet
their certain revenge. According to a story reported from Lorient
(Morbihan)[96] it is taboo for the corrigans to make a complete enumeration
of the days of the week:—
The ‘Corrigan’ Taboo.—‘At night, the corrigans dance, singing, “Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday”; they are prohibited from
completing the enumeration of the days of the week. A corrigan having had
the misfortune to permit himself to be tempted to add “Saturday”,
immediately became hunchbacked. His comrades, stupefied and distressed,
attempted in vain to knock in his hump with blows of their fists.’
‘Corrigans’ at Carnac.—How the tradition of the dancing corrigans and
their weekday song still lives, appears from the following accounts which I
found at and near Carnac, the first account having been given during
January 1909 by Madame Marie Ezanno, of Carnac, then sixty-six years
old:—‘The corrigans are little dwarfs who formerly, by moonlight, used to
dance in a circle on the prairies. They sang a song the couplet of which was
not understood, but only the refrain, translated in Breton: “Di Lun
(Monday), Di Merh (Tuesday), Di Merhier (Wednesday).”
‘They whistled in order to assemble. Where they danced mushrooms grew;
and it was necessary to maintain silence so as not to interrupt them in their
dance. They were often very brutal towards a man who fell under their

power, and if they had a grudge against him they would make him submit to
the greatest tortures. The peasants believed strongly in the corrigans,
because they thus saw them and heard them. The corrigans dressed in very
coarse white linen cloth. They were mischievous spirits (esprits follets),
who lived under dolmens.’
One morning, M. Lemort and myself called upon Madame Louise Le
Rouzic in her neat home at Kerallan, a little group of thatched cottages
about a mile from Carnac. As we entered, Madame Le Rouzic herself was
sitting on a long wooden bench by the window knitting, and her daughter
was watching the savoury-smelling dinner as it boiled in great iron pots
hanging from chains over a brilliant fire on the hearth. Large gleaming
brass basins were ranged on a shelf above the broad open chimney-place
wherein the fire burned, and massive bedsteads carved after the Breton style
stood on the stone floor. When many things had been talked about, our
conversation turned to corrigans, and then the good woman of the house
told us these tales:—
‘Corrigans’ at Church.—‘In former times a young girl having taken the
keys of the church (presumably at Carnac) and having entered it, found the
corrigans about to dance; and the corrigans were singing, “Lundi, Mardi”
(Monday, Tuesday). On seeing the young girl, they stopped, surrounded her,
and invited her to dance with them. She accepted, and, in singing, added to
their song “Mercredi” (Wednesday). In amazement, the corrigans cried
joyfully, “She has added something to our song; what shall we give her as
recompense?” And they gave her a bracelet. A friend of hers meeting her,
asked where the fine bracelet came from; and the young girl told what had
happened. The second girl hurried to the church, and found the corrigans
still dancing the rond. She joined their dance, and, in singing, added “Jeudi”
(Thursday) to their song; but that broke the cadence; and the corrigans in
fury, instead of recompensing her wished to punish her. “What shall we do
to her?” one of them cried. “Let the day be as night to her!” the others
replied. And by day, wherever she went, she saw only the night.’
The ‘Corrigans’’ Sabbath.—‘Where my grandfather lived,’ continued
Madame Le Rouzic, ‘there was a young girl who went to the sabbath of the
corrigans; and when she returned and was asked where she had been, said,
“I have travelled over water, wood, and hedges.” And she related all she had

seen and heard. Then one night, afterwards, the corrigans came into the
house, beat her, and dragged her from bed. Upon hearing the uproar, my
grandfather arose and found the girl lying flat on the stone floor. “Never
question me again,” she said to him, “or they will kill me.”’[97]
‘Corrigans’ as Fairies.—Some Breton legends give corrigans the chief
characteristics of fairies in Celtic Britain and Ireland; and Villemarqué in
his Barzaz Breiz (pp. 25-30) makes the Breton word corrigan synonymous
with fée or fairy, thus:—‘Le Seigneur Nann et la Fée (Aotrou Nann hag ar
Corrigan).’ In this legend the corrigan seems clearly enough to be a water-
fairy: ‘The Korrigan was seated at the edge of her fountain, and she was
combing her long fair hair.’ But unlike most water-fairies, the Fée lives in a
grotto, which, according to Villemarqué, is one of those ancient monuments
called in Breton dolmen, or ti ar corrigan; in French, Table de pierres, or
Grotte aux Fées—like the famous one near Rennes. The fountain where the
Fée was seated seems to be one of those sacred fountains, which, as
Villemarqué says, are often found near a Grotte aux Fées, and called
Fontaine de la Fée, or in Breton, Feunteun ar corrigan. In another of
Villemarqué’s legends, L’Enfant Supposé, after the egg-shell test has been
used and the little corrigan-changeling is replaced by the real child, the
latter as though all the while it had been in an unconscious trance-state—
which has a curious bearing on our Psychological Theory—stretches forth
its arms and awakening exclaims, ‘Ah! mother, what a long time I have
been asleep.’[98] And in Les Nains we see the little Duz or dwarfs inhabiting
a cave and guarding treasures.[98]
In his introduction to the Barzaz Breiz, Villemarqué describes les korrigan,
whom he equates with les fées, as very similar to ordinary fairies. They can
foretell the future, they know the art of war—quite like the Irish ‘gentry’ or
Tuatha De Danann—they can assume any animal form, and are able to
travel from one end of the world to another in the twinkling of an eye. They
love feasting and music—like all Celtic fairy-folk; and dance in a circle
holding hands, but at the least noise disappear. Their favourite haunts are
near fountains and dolmens. They are little beings not more than two feet
high, and beautifully proportioned, with bodies as aerial and transparent as
those of wasps. And like all fairy, or elvish races, and like the Breton
Morgans or water-spirits, they are given to stealing the children of mortals.
Professor J. Loth has called my attention to an unpublished Breton legend

of his collection, in which there are fairy-like beings comparable to these
described by Villemarqué; and he tells me, too, that throughout Brittany one
finds to-day the counterpart of the Welsh Tylwyth Teg or ‘Fair Family’, and
that both in Wales and Brittany the Tylwyth Teg are popularly described as
little women, or maidens, like fairies no larger than children.
Fairies and Dwarfs.—Where Villemarqué draws a clear distinction is
between these korrigan and fées on the one hand, and the nains or dwarfs
on the other. These last are what we have found associated or identified
with corrigans in the Morbihan. Villemarqué describes the nains as a
hideous race of beings with dark or even black hairy bodies, with voices
like old men, and with little sparkling black eyes. They are fond of playing
tricks on mortals who fall into their power; and are given to singing in a
circular dance the weekday song. Very often corrigans regarded as nains,
equally with all kinds of lutins, are believed to be evil spirits or demons
condemned to live here on earth in a penitential state for an indefinite time;
and sometimes they seem not much different from what Irish Celts, when
talking of fairies, call fallen angels. Le Nain de Kerhuiton, translated from
Breton by Professor J. Loth, in part illustrates this:—Upon seeing water
boiling in a number of egg-shells ranged before an open fire, a polpegan-
changeling is so greatly astonished that he unwittingly speaks for the first
time, and says, ‘Here I am almost one hundred years old, and never such a
thing have I yet seen!’ ‘Ah! son of Satan!’ then cries out the mother, as she
comes from her place of hiding and beats the polpegan—who thus by
means of the egg-shell test has been tricked into revealing his demon
nature.[99] In a parallel story, reported by Villemarqué in his Barzaz Breiz
(p. 33 n.), a nain-changeling is equally astonished to see a similar row of
egg-shells boiling before an open fire like so many pots of food, and gives
himself away through the following remark:—‘I have seen the acorn before
the oak; I have seen the egg before the white chicken: I have never seen the
equal to this.’
Nature of the ‘Corrigans’.—As to the general ideas about the corrigans, M.
Le Scour says:—‘Formerly the corrigans were the terror of the country-
folk, especially in Finistère, in the Morbihan, and throughout the Côtes-du-
Nord. They were believed to be souls in pain condemned to wander at night
in waste lands and marshes. Sometimes they were seen as dwarfs; and often
they were not seen at all, but were heard in houses making an infernal

noise. Unlike the lavandières de nuits (phantom washerwomen of the
night), they were heard only in summer, never in winter.’

The Breton Legend of the Dead
We come now to the Breton Legend of the Dead, common generally to all
parts of Armorica, though probably even more widespread in Lower
Brittany than in Upper Brittany; and this we call the Armorican Fairy-Faith.
Even where the peasants have no faith in fées or fairies, and where their
faith in corrigans is weak or almost gone, there is a strong conviction
among them that the souls of the dead can show themselves to the living, a
vigorous belief in apparitions, phantom-funerals, and various death-
warnings. As Professor Anatole Le Braz has so well said in his introduction
to La Légende de la Mort, ‘the whole conscience of these people is
fundamentally directed toward that which concerns death. And the ideas
which they form of it, in spite of the strong Christian imprint which they
have received, do not seem much different from those which we have
pointed out among their pagan ancestors. For them, as for the primitive
Celts, death is less a change of condition than a journey, a departure for
another world.’ And thus it seems that this most popular of the Breton folk-
beliefs is genuinely Celtic and extremely ancient. As Renan has said, the
Celtic people are ‘a race mysterious, having knowledge of the future and
the secret of death’.[100] And whereas in Ireland unusual happenings or
strange accidents and death are attributed to fairy interference, in Brittany
they are attributed to the influence of the dead.
The Breton Celt makes no distinction between the living and the dead. All
alike inhabit this world, the one being visible, the other invisible. Though
seers can at all times behold the dead, on November Eve (La Toussaint) and
on Christmas Eve they are most numerous and most easily seen; and no
peasant would think of questioning their existence. In Ireland and Scotland
the country-folk fear to speak of fairies save through an euphemism, and the
Bretons speak of the dead indirectly, and even then with fear and trembling.
The following legend, which I found at Carnac, will serve to illustrate both
the profundity of the belief in the power of the dead over the living in
Lower Brittany, and how deeply the people can be stirred by the predictions

of one who can see the dead; and the legend is quite typical of those so
common in Armorica:—
Foretelling Deaths.—‘Formerly there was a woman whom spirits impelled
to rise from her bed, it made no difference at what hour of the night, in
order to behold funerals in the future. She predicted who should die, who
should carry the corpse, who the cross, and who should follow the cortège.
Her predictions frightened every one, and made her such a terror to the
country that the mayor had threatened to take legal proceedings against her
if she continued her practice; but she was compelled to tell the things which
the spirits showed her. It is about ten years since this woman died in the
hospital at Auray.’
Testimony of a Breton Seeress.—There lives in the little hamlet of Kerlois,
less than a mile from Carnac, a Breton seeress, a woman who since eight
years of age has been privileged to behold the world invisible and its
inhabitants, quite like the woman who died at Auray. She is Madame
Eugénie Le Port, now forty-two years old, and what she tells of things seen
in this invisible world which surrounds her, might easily be taken for Irish
legends about fairies. Knowing very little French, because she is thoroughly
Breton, Madame Le Port described her visions in her own native tongue,
and her eldest daughter acted as interpreter. I had known the good woman
since the previous winter, and so we were able to converse familiarly; and
as I sat in her own little cottage, in company with her husband and
daughters, and with M. Lemort, who acted as recording secretary, this is
what she said in her clear earnest manner in answer to my questions:—
‘We believe that the spirits of our ancestors surround us and live with us.
One day on a road from Carnac I encountered a woman of Kergoellec who
had been dead eight days. I asked her to move to one side so that I could
pass, and she vanished. This was eleven o’clock in the morning. I saw her at
another time in the Marsh of Breno; I spoke, but she did not reply. On the
route from Plouharnel (near Carnac) I saw in the day-time the funeral of a
woman who did not die until fifteen days afterwards. I recognized perfectly
all the people who took part in it; but the person with me saw nothing.
Another time, near three o’clock in the afternoon, and eight days before her
death, I saw upon the same route the funeral of a woman who was drowned.
And I have seen a phantom horse going to the sabbath, and as if forced

along against its will, for it reared and pawed the earth. When Pierre Rouzic
of Kerlois died, I saw a light of all colours between heaven and earth, the
very night of his death. I have seen a woman asleep whose spirit must have
been free, for I saw it hovering outside her body. She was not awakened [at
the time] for fear that the spirit would not find its body again.’ In answer to
my question as to how long these various visions usually lasted, Madame
Le Port said:—‘They lasted about a quarter of an hour, or less, and all of
them disappeared instantaneously.’ As Madame Le Port now seemed unable
to recall more of her visions, I finally asked her what she thought about
corrigans, and she replied:—‘I believe they exist as some special kind of
spirits, though I have never seen any.’
Proof that the Dead Exist.—This is what M. Jean Couton, an old Breton,
told me at Carnac:—‘I am only an old peasant, without instruction, without
any education, but let me tell you what I think concerning the dead.
Following my own idea, I believe that after death the soul always exists and
travels among us. I repeat to you that I have belief that the dead are seen; I
am now going to prove this to you in the following story:—
‘One winter evening I was returning home from a funeral. I had as
companion a kinswoman of the man just buried. We took the train and soon
alighted in the station of Plouharnel. We still had three kilometres to go
before reaching home, and as it was winter, and at that epoch there was no
stage-coach, we were obliged to travel afoot. As we were going along,
suddenly there appeared to my companion her dead relative whom we had
buried that day. She asked me if I saw anything, and since I replied to her
negatively she said to me, “Touch me, and you will see without doubt.” I
touched her, and I saw the same as she did, the person just dead, whom I
clearly recognized.’[101]
Phantom Washerwomen.—Concerning a very popular Breton belief in
phantom washerwomen (les lavandières de nuits; or in Breton, cannered
noz), M. Goulven Le Scour offers the following summary:—‘The
lavandières de nuits were heard less often than the corrigans, but were
much more feared. It was usually towards midnight that they were heard
beating their linen in front of different washing-places, always some way
from the villages. According to the old folk of the past generation, when the
phantom washerwomen would ask a certain passer-by to help them to wring

sheets, he could not refuse, under pain of being stopped and wrung like a
sheet himself. And it was necessary for those who aided in wringing the
sheets to turn in the same direction as the washerwomen; for if by
misfortune the assistant turned in an opposite direction, he had his arms
wrung in an instant. It is believed that these phantom washerwomen are
women condemned to wash their mortuary sheets during whole centuries;
but that when they find some mortal to wring in an opposite direction, they
are delivered.’[102]
Breton Animistic Beliefs.—M. Z. Le Rouzic, a Breton Celt who has spent
most of his life studying the archaeology and folk-lore of the Morbihan, and
who is at present Keeper of the Miln Museum at Carnac, summarizes for us
the state of popular beliefs as he finds them existing in the Carnac country
now:—‘There are few traditions concerning the fées in the region of
Carnac; but the belief in spirits, good and bad—which seems to me to be
the same as the belief in fées—is general and profound, as well as the belief
in the incarnation of spirits. And I am convinced that these beliefs are the
reminiscences of ancient Celtic beliefs held by the Druids and conserved by
Christianity.’
In Finistère, as purely Breton as the Morbihan, I found the Legend of the
Dead just as widespread, and the belief in spirits and the apparitional return
of the dead quite as profound; but nothing worth recording concerning
fairies. The stories which follow were told to me by M. Pierre Vichon, a
pure Breton Celt, born at Lescoff, near the Pointe du Raz, Finistère, in
1842. Peter is a genuine old ‘sea-dog’, having made the tour of the globe,
and yet he has not lost the innate faith of his ancient ancestors in a world
invisible; for though he says he cannot believe all that the people in his part
of Finistère tell about spirits and ghosts, he must have a belief that the dead
as spirits exist and influence the living, because of his own personal
experience—one of the most remarkable of its kind. Peter speaks Breton,
French, and English fluently, and since he had an opportunity for the first
time in seventeen months of using English, he told me the stories in my
own native language:—
Pierre Vichon’s Strange Experience.—‘Some forty years ago a strange thing
happened in my life. A relative of mine had taken service in the Austrian
army, for by profession he was a soldier, though at first he had begun to

study for the priesthood. During the progress of the war I had no news from
him; and, then one day while I was on the deck of a Norwegian ship just off
Dover (England), my fellow sailors heard a noise as though of a gun being
discharged, and the whirr of a shot. At the same moment I fell down on the
deck as though mortally wounded, and lay in an unconscious state for two
hours. When the news came, it was ascertained that at the very moment I
fell and the gun-report was heard, my relative in Austria had been shot in
the head and fell down dead. And he had been seen to throw his hands up to
his head to grasp it just as I did.’
An Apparition of the Dead.—‘I had another relative who died in a hospital
near Christiania, Norway; and on the day he died a sister of mine, then a
little girl, saw his spirit appear here in Lescoff, and she easily recognized it;
but none of her girl companions with her at the time saw the spirit. After a
few days we had the news of the death, and the time of it and the time of
my sister’s seeing the spirit coincided exactly.’
In all the peninsula of which the famous and dangerous Pointe du Raz is the
terminus, similar stories are current. And among the fisher-folk with whom
I lived on the strange and historic Île de Sein, the Legend of the Dead is
even more common.
The Dead and Fairies Compared.—Without setting down here in detail
numerous other death-legends which we have collected, we may now note
how much the same are the powers and nature of the dead and spirits in
Brittany, and the power and nature of the fairy races in Celtic Britain and
Ireland. Thus the Breton dead strike down the living just as fairies are said
to do; the Ankou,[103] who is a king of the dead, and his subjects, like a fairy
king and fairies, have their own particular paths or roads over which they
travel in great sacred processions;[104] and exactly as fairies, the hosts of the
dead are in possession of the earth on November Eve, and the living are
expected to prepare a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot
pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white
table-cloth, and to supply music. The Breton dead come to enjoy this
hospitality of their friends; and as they take their places at the table the
stools are heard to move, and sometimes the plates; and the musicians who
help to entertain them think that at times they feel the cold breath of the
invisible visitors. Concerning this same feast of the dead (La Toussaint)

Villemarqué in his Barzaz Breiz (p. 507) records that in many parts of
Brittany libations of milk are poured over or near ancestral tombs—just as
in Ireland and Scotland libations of milk are poured to fairies. And the
people of Armorica at other times than November Eve remember the dead
very appropriately, as in Ireland the Irish remember fairies. The Breton
peasant thinks of the dead as frequently as the Irishman thinks of fairies.
One day while I was walking toward Carnac there was told to me in the
most ordinary manner a story about a dead man who used to be seen going
along the very road I was on. He quite often went to the church in Carnac
seeking prayers for his soul. And almost every man or woman one meets in
rural Lower Brittany can tell many similar stories. If a mortal should
happen to meet one of the dead in Brittany and be induced to eat food
which the dead sometimes offer, he will never be able to return among the
living,[105] for the effect would be the same as eating fairy-food. Like
ghosts and fairies in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, in Brittany the dead
guard hidden treasure. It is after sunset that the dead have most power to
strike down the living,[105] and to take them just as fairies do. A natural
phenomenon, a malady, a death, or a tempest may be the work of a spirit in
Brittany,[105] and in Ireland the work of a fairy. The Breton dead, like the
Scotch fairies described in Kirk’s Secret Commonwealth, are capable of
making themselves visible or invisible to mortals, at will.[105] Their bodies
—for they have bodies—are material,[105] being composed of matter in a
state unknown to us; and the bodies of daemons as described by the
Ancients are made of congealed air. The dead in Brittany have forms more
slender and smaller in stature than those of the living;[105] and herein we
find one of the factors which supporters of the Pygmy Theory would
emphasize, but it is thoroughly psychical. Old Breton farmers after death
return to their farms, as though come from Fairyland; and sometimes they
even take a turn at the ploughing.[105] As in Ireland, so in Brittany, the day
belongs to the living, and the night, when a mortal is safer indoors than out,
to spirits and the dead.[105] The Bretons take great care not to counterfeit the
dead nor to speak slightingly of them,[106] for, like fairies, they know all
that is done by mortals, and can hear all that is said about them, and can
take revenge. Just as in the case of all fairies and goblins, the dead
disappear at first cock-crow.[107] The world of the dead, like the land of
Faerie or the Otherworld, may be underground, in the air, in a hill or
mountain like a fairy palace, under a river or sea, and even on an island out

amid the ocean.[107] As other Celts do against evil spirits and fairies, the
Breton peasants use magic against evil souls of the dead,[108] and the priests
use exorcisms. The Breton realm of the dead equally with the Irish
Fairyland is an invisible world peopled by other kinds of spirits besides
disembodied mortals and fairies.[109] The dead haunt houses just as Robin
Good-fellows and brownies, or pixies and goblins, generally do. The dead
are fond of frequenting cross-roads, and so are all sorts of fairies. In
Brittany one must always guard against the evil dead, in Cornwall against
pixies, in other Celtic lands against different kinds of fairies. In Ireland and
Scotland there is the banshee, in Wales the death-candle, in Brittany the
Ankou or king of the dead, to foretell a death. And as the banshee wails
before the ancestral mansion, so the Ankou sounds its doleful cry before the
door of the one it calls.[109] There seems not to be a family in the Carnac
region of the Morbihan without some tradition of a warning coming before
the death of one of its members. In Ireland only certain families have a
banshee, but in Brittany all families. Professor Le Braz has devoted a large
part of his work on La Légende de la Mort to these Breton death-warnings
or intersignes. They may be shades of the dead under many aspects—
ghostly hands, or ghosts of inanimate objects. They may come by the fall of
objects without known cause; by a magpie resting on a roof—just as in
Ireland; by the crowing of cocks, and the howling of dogs at night. They
may be death-candles or torches, dreams, peculiar bodily sensations, images
in water, phantom funerals, and death-chariots or death-coaches as in
Wales.
The Bretons may be said to have a Death-Faith, whereas the other Celts
have a Fairy-Faith, and both are a real folk-religion innate in the Celtic
nature, and thus quite as influential as Christianity. Should Christianity in
some way suddenly be swept away from the Celt he would still be religious,
for it is his nature to be so. And as Professor Le Braz has suggested to me,
Carnac with its strange monuments of an unknown people and time, and
wrapped in its air of mystery and silence, is a veritable Land of the Dead. I,
too, have felt that there are strange, vague, indefinable influences at work at
Carnac at all times of the day and night, very similar to those which I have
felt in the most fairy-haunted regions of Ireland. We might say that all of
Brittany is a Land of the Dead, and ancient Carnac its Centre, just as Ireland
is Fairyland, with its Centre at ancient Tara.

Conclusion
We can very appropriately conclude our inquiry about Brittany with a very
beautiful description of a Veillée in Lower Brittany, written down in French
for our special use by the Breton poet, M. Le Scour, of Carnac, and here
translated. M. Le Scour draws the whole picture from life, and from his
own intimate experience. It will serve to give us some insight into the
natural literary ability of the Breton Celts, to illustrate their love of tales
dealing with the marvellous and the supernormal, and is especially valuable
for showing the social environment amidst which the Fairy-Faith of Lower
Brittany lives and flourishes, isolated from foreign interference:—
A ‘Veillée’[110] in Lower Brittany.—‘The wind was blowing from the east,
and in the intermittent moonlight the roof of the thatched cottage already
gleamed with a thin covering of snow which had fallen since sunset. Each
comer reached on the run the comfortable bakehouse, wherein Alain Corre
was at work kneading his batch of barley bread; and the father Le Scour
was never the last to arrive, because he liked to get the best seat in front of
the bake-oven.
‘Victor had promised us for that night a pretty story which no person had
ever heard before. I was not more than fourteen years old then, but like all
the neighbours I hurried to get a place in order to hear Victor. My mother
was already there, making her distaff whirr between her two fingers as she
sat in the light of a rosin candle, and my brother Yvon was finishing a
wooden butter-spoon. Every few minutes I and my little cousin went out to
see if it was still snowing, and if Victor had arrived.
‘At last Victor entered, and everybody applauded, the young girls
lengthening out their distaffs to do him reverence. Then when silence was
restored, after some of the older men had several times shouted out, “Let us
commence; hold your tongues,” Victor began his story as follows:—
‘“Formerly, in the village of Kastel-Laer, Plouneventer (Finistère), there
were two neighbours; the one was Paol al Ludu and the other Yon Rustik.
Paol al Ludu was a good-for-nothing sort of fellow; he gained his living
easily, by cheating everybody and by robbing his neighbours; and being

always well dressed he was much envied by his poorer acquaintances. Yon
Rustik, on the contrary, was a poor, infirm, and honest man, always seeking
to do good, but not being able to work, had to beg.
‘“One evening our two men were disputing. Paol al Ludu treated Yon
shamefully, telling him that it would be absurd to think an old lame man
such as he was could ever get to Paris; ‘But I,’ added Paol, ‘am going to see
the capital and amuse myself like a rich bourgeois.’ At this, Yon offered to
bet with Paol that in spite of infirmities he would also go to Paris; and being
an honest man he placed his trust in God. The wager was mutually agreed
to, and our two men set out for Paris by different routes.
‘“Paol al Ludu, who had no infirmities, arrived at Paris within three weeks.
He followed the career of a thief, and deceived everybody; and as he was
well dressed, people had confidence in him. The poor Yon Rustik, on the
contrary, did not travel rapidly. He was obliged to beg his way, and being
meanly dressed was compelled to sleep outdoors when he could not find a
stable. At the end of a month he arrived in a big forest in the region of
Versailles, and having no other shelter for the night chose a great oak tree
which was hollowed by the centuries and lined with fungi within. In front
of this ancient oak there was a fountain which must have been miraculous,
for it flowed from east to west, and Yon had closely observed it.
‘“Towards midnight Yon was awakened by a terrible uproar; there were a
hundred corrigans dancing round the fountain. He overheard one of them
say to the others: ‘I have news to report to you; I have cast an evil spell
upon the daughter of the King, and no mortal will ever be able to cure her,
and yet in order to cure her nothing more would be needed than a drop of
water from this fountain.’ The corrigan who thus spoke was upon two
sticks[111] (crippled), and commanded all the others. The beggar having
understood the conversation, awaited impatiently the departure of the
corrigans. When they were gone, he took a little water from the fountain in
a bottle, and hurried on to Paris, where he arrived one fine morning.
‘“In the house where Yon stopped to eat his crust of dry bread he heard it
reported that the daughter of the King was very ill, and that the wisest
doctors in France had been sent for. Three days later, Yon Rustik presented
himself at the palace, and asked audience with the King, but as he was so

shabbily dressed the attendants did not wish to let him enter. When he
strongly insisted, they finally prevailed upon the King to receive him; and
then Yon told the King that he had come to cure the princess. Thereupon the
King caused Yon to be fittingly dressed and presented before the sick-bed;
and Yon drew forth his bottle of water, and, at his request, the princess
drank it to the last drop. Suddenly she began to laugh with joy, and
throwing her arms about the neck of the beggar thanked him: she was
radically cured. At once the King gave orders that his golden coach of state
be made ready; and placing the princess and the beggar on one seat, made a
tour throughout all the most beautiful streets of Paris. Never before were
such crowds seen in Paris, for the proclamation had gone forth that the one
who had made the miraculous cure was a beggar.
‘“Paol al Ludu, who was still in Paris, pressed forward to see the royal
coach pass, and when he saw who sat next to the princess he was beside
himself with rage. But before the day was over he discovered Yon in the
great hotel of the city, and asked him how it was that he had been able to
effect the cure; and Yon replied to his old rival that it was with the water of
a miraculous fountain, and relating everything which had passed, explained
to him in what place the hollow oak and the fountain were to be found.
‘“Paol did not wait even that night, but set off at once to find the miraculous
fountain. When he finally found it the hour was almost midnight, and so he
hid himself in the hollow of the oak, hoping to overhear some mysterious
revelation. Midnight had hardly come when a frightful uproar commenced:
this time the crippled corrigan chief was swearing like a demon, and he
cried to the others, ‘The daughter of the King has been cured by a beggar!
He must have overheard us by hiding in the hollow of that d——d old oak.
Quick! let fire be put in it, for it has brought us misfortune.’
‘“In less than a minute, the trunk of the oak was in flames; and there were
heard the cries of anguish of Paol al Ludu and the gnashing of his teeth, as
he fought against death. Thus the evil and dishonest man ended his life,
while Yon Rustik received a pension of twenty thousand francs, and was
able to live happy for many years, and to give alms to the poor.”’
Here M. Le Scour ends his narrative, leaving the reader to imagine the
enthusiastic applause and fond embraces bestowed upon Victor for this

most marvellous story, by the happy gathering of country-folk in that cosy
warm bakehouse in Lower Brittany, while without the cold east wind of
winter was whirling into every nook and corner the falling flakes of snow.

The evidence from Ireland, Scotland, Isle of Man, Wales, Cornwall, and
Brittany, which the living Celtic Fairy-Faith offers, has now been heard;
and, as was stated at the beginning of the inquiry, apparently most of it can
only be interpreted as belonging to a world-wide doctrine of souls. But
before this decision can be arrived at safely, all the evidence should be
carefully estimated according to anthropological and psychological
methods; and this we shall proceed to do in the following chapter, before
passing to Section II of our study.

SECTION I

THE LIVING FAIRY-FAITH

CHAPTER III

AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL EXAMINATION OF THE
EVIDENCE

Anthropology is concerned with man and
what is in man—humani nihil a se alienum
putat.—Andrew Lang.

The Celtic Fairy-Faith as part of a World-wide Animism—Shaping
Influence of Social Psychology—Smallness of Elvish Spirits and
Fairies, according to Ethnology, Animism, and Occult Sciences—The
Changeling Belief and its explanation according to the Kidnap,
Human-Sacrifice, Soul-Wandering, and Demon-Possession Theory—
Ancient and Modern Magic and Witchcraft shown to be based on
definite psychological laws—Exorcisms—Taboos, of Name, Food,
Iron, Place—Taboos among Ancient Celts—Food-Sacrifice—Legend
of the Dead—Conclusion: The background of the modern belief in
Fairies is animistic.

The Celtic Fairy-Faith as Part of a World-wide Animism
The modern belief in fairies, with which until now we have been
specifically concerned, is Celtic only in so far as it reflects Celtic traditions
and customs, Celtic myth and religion, and Celtic social and environmental
conditions. Otherwise, as will be shown throughout this and succeeding
chapters, it is in essence a part of a world-wide animism, which forms the
background of all religions in whatever stage of culture religions exist or to

which they have attained by evolution, from the barbarism of the Congo
black man to the civilization of the Archbishop of Canterbury; and as far
back as we can go into human origins there is some corresponding belief in
a fairy or spirit realm, as there is to-day among contemporary civilized and
uncivilized races of all countries. We may therefore very profitably begin
our examination of the living Fairy-Faith of the Celts by comparing it with
a few examples, taken almost at random, from the animistic beliefs current
among non-Celtic peoples.
To the Arunta tribes of Central Australia, furthest removed in space from
the Celts and hence least likely to have been influenced by them, let us go
first, in order to examine their doctrine of ancestral Alcheringa beings and
of the Iruntarinia, which offers an almost complete parallel to the Celtic
belief in fairies. These Alcheringa beings and Iruntarinia—to ignore the
secondary differences between the two—are a spirit race inhabiting an
invisible or fairy world. Only certain persons, medicine-men and seers, can
see them; and these describe them as thin and shadowy, and, like the Irish
Sidhe, as always youthful in appearance. Precisely like their Celtic
counterparts in general, these Australian spirits are believed to haunt
inanimate objects such as stones and trees; or to frequent totem centres, as
in Ireland demons (daemons) are believed to frequent certain places known
to have been anciently dedicated to the religious rites of the pre-Christian
Celts; and, quite after the manner of the Breton dead and of most fairies,
they are said to control human affairs and natural phenomena. All the
Arunta invariably regard themselves as incarnations or reincarnations of
these ancestral spirit-beings; and, in accordance with evidence to be set
forth in our seventh chapter, ancient and modern Celts have likewise
regarded themselves as incarnations or reincarnations of ancestors and of
fairy beings. Also the Arunta think of the Alcheringa beings exactly as Celts
think of fairies: as real invisible entities who must be propitiated if men
wish to secure their goodwill; and as beneficent and protecting beings when
not offended, who may attach themselves to individuals as guardian spirits.
[112]

Among the Melanesian peoples there is an equally firm faith in spiritual
beings, which they call Vui and Wui, and these beings have very many of
the chief attributes of the Alcheringa beings.[113]

In Africa, the Amatongo, or Abapansi of Amazulu belief, have essentially
the same motives for action toward men and women, and exhibit the same
powers, as the Scotch and Irish peasants assign to the ‘good people’. They
take the living through death; and people so taken appear afterwards as
apparitions, having become Amatongo.[114]
In the New World, we find in the North American Red Men a race as much
given as the Celts are to a belief in various spirits like fairies. They believe
that there are spirits in lakes, in rivers and in waterfalls, in rocks and trees,
in the earth and in the air; and that these beings produce storms, droughts,
good and bad harvests, abundance and scarcity of game, disease, and the
varying fortunes of men. Mr. Leland, who has carefully studied these
American beliefs, says that the Un à games-suk, or little spirits inhabiting
rocks and streams, play a much more influential part in the social and
religious life of the North American Red Men than elves or fairies ever did
among the Aryans.[115]
In Asia there is the well-known and elaborate animistic creed of the Chinese
and of the Japanese, to be in part illustrated in subsequent sections. In
popular Indian belief, as found in the Panjab, there is no essential difference
between various orders of beings endowed with immortality, such as ghosts
and spirits on the one hand, and gods, demi-gods, and warriors on the other;
for whether in bodies in this world or out of bodies in the invisible world,
they equally live and act—quite as fairies do.[116] Throughout the Malay
Peninsula, belief in many orders of good and bad spirits, in demon-
possession, in exorcism, and in the power of black magicians is very
common.[117] But in the Phi races of Siam we discover what is probably the
most important and complete parallel to the Celtic Fairy-Faith existing in
Asia.
According to the Siamese folk-belief, all the stars and various planets, as
well as the ethereal spaces, are the dwelling-places of the Thévadas, gods
and goddesses of the old pre-Buddhist mythology, who correspond pretty
closely to the Tuatha De Danann of Irish mythology; and this world itself is
peopled by legions of minor deities called Phi, who include all the various
orders of good and bad spirits continually influencing mankind. Some of
these Phi live in forests, in trees, in open spaces; and watercourses are full
of them. Others inhabit mountains and high places. A particular order who

haunt the sacred trees surrounding the Buddhist temples are known as Phi
nang mai; and since nang is the word for female, and mai for tree, they are
comparable to tree-dwelling fairies, or Greek wood-nymphs. Still another
order called Chao phum phi (gods of the earth) are like house-frequenting
brownies, fairies, and pixies, or like certain orders of corrigans who haunt
barns, stables, and dwellings; and in many curious details these Chao phum
phi correspond to the Penates of ancient Rome. Not only is the worship of
this order of Phi widespread in Siam, but to every other order of Phi altars
are erected and propitiatory offerings made by all classes of the Siamese
people.[118]
Before passing westwards to Europe, in completion of our rapid folk-lore
tour of the world, we may observe that the Persians, even those who are
well educated, have a firm belief in jinns and afreets, different orders of
good and bad spirits with all the chief characteristics of fairies.[119] And
modern Arabs and Egyptians and Egyptian Turks hold similar animistic
beliefs.[120]
In Europe, the Greek peasant as firmly believes in nymphs or nereids as the
Celtic peasant believes in fairies; and nymphs, nereids, and fairies alike are
often the survivals of an ancient mythology. Mr. J. C. Lawson, who has
very carefully investigated the folk-lore of modern Greece, says: ‘The
nereids are conceived as women half-divine yet not immortal, always
young, always beautiful, capricious at best, and at their worst cruel. Their
presence is suspected everywhere. I myself had a nereid pointed out to me
by my guide, and there certainly was the semblance of a female figure
draped in white, and tall beyond human stature, flitting in the dusk between
the gnarled and twisted boles of an old olive-yard. What the apparition was,
I had no leisure to investigate; for my guide with many signs of the cross
and muttered invocations of the Virgin urged my mule to perilous haste
along the rough mountain path.’ Like Celtic fairies, these Greek nereids
have their queens; they dance all night, disappearing at cock-crow; they can
cast spells on animals or maladies on men and women; they can shift their
shape; they take children in death and make changelings; and they fall in
love with young men.[121]
Among the Roumain peoples the widespread belief in the Iele shows in
other ways equally marked parallels with the Fairy-Faith of the Celts. These

Iele wait at cross-roads and near dwellings, or at village fountains or in
fields and woods, where they can best cast on men and women various
maladies. Sometimes they fall in love with beautiful young men and
women, and have on such occasions even been controlled by their mortal
lovers. They are extremely fond of music and dancing, and many a
shepherd with his pipes has been favoured by them, though they have their
own music and songs too. The Albanian peoples have evil fairies, no taller
than children twelve years old, called in Modern Greek τὰ ἐξωτικά, ‘those
without,’ who correspond to the Iele. Young people who have been enticed
to enter their round dance afterwards waste away and die, apparently
becoming one of ‘those without’. These Albanian spirits, like the ‘good
people’ and the Breton dead, have their own particular paths and retreats,
and whoever violates these is struck and falls ill.[122] These parallels from
Roumain lands are probably due to the close Aryan relationship between the
Roumains, the Greeks, and the Celts. The Iele seem nothing more than the
nymphs and nereids of classical antiquity transformed under Christian
influence into beings who contradict their original good character, as in
Celtic lands the fairy-folk have likewise come to be fallen angels and evil
spirits.
There is an even closer relationship between the Italian and Celtic fairies.
For example, among the Etruscan-Roman people there are now flourishing
animistic beliefs almost identical in all details with the Fairy-Faith of the
Celts.[123] In a very valuable study on the Neo-Latin Fay, Mr. H. C. Coote
writes:—‘Who were the Fays—the fate of later Italy, the fées of mediaeval
France? For it is perfectly clear that the fatua, fata, and fée are all one and
the same word.’ And he proceeds to show that the race of immortal damsels
whom the old natives of Italy called Fatuae gave origin to all the family of
fées as these appear in Latin countries, and that the Italians recognized in
the Greek nymphs their own Fatuae.[124]
It is quite evident that we have here discovered in Italy, as we discovered in
Greece and Roumain lands, fairies very Celtic in character; and should
further examination be made of modern European folk-lore yet other
similar fairies would be found, such, for example, as the elves of Germany
and of Scandinavia, or as the servans of the Swiss peasant. And in all cases,
whether the beliefs examined be Celtic or non-Celtic, Aryan or non-Aryan,
from Australia, Polynesia, Africa, America, Asia, or Europe, they are in

essence animistically the same, as later sections in this chapter will make
clear. But while the parallelism of these beliefs is indicated it is, of course,
not meant for a moment that in all of the cases or in any one of the cases the
specific differences are not considerable. The ground of comparison
consists simply in those generic characteristics which these fairy-faiths, as
they may be called, invariably display—characteristics which we have good
precedent for summing up in the single adjective animistic.

Shaping Influence of Social Psychology
For the term animism we have to thank Dr. E. B. Tylor, whose Primitive
Culture, in which the animistic theory is developed, may almost be said to
mark the beginning of scientific anthropology. In this work, however, there
is a decided tendency (which indeed displays itself in most of the leading
anthropological works, as, for example, in those by Dr. Frazer) to regard
men, or at any rate primitive men, as having a mind absolutely
homogeneous, and therefore as thinking, feeling, and acting in the same
way under all conditions alike. But a decided change is beginning to
manifest itself in the interpretation of the customs and beliefs of the ruder
races. It is assumed as a working principle that each ethnic group has or
tends to have an individuality of its own, and, moreover, that the members
of such a group think, feel, and act primarily as the representatives, so to
speak, of that ethnic individuality in which they live, move, and have their
being. That is to say, a social as contrasted with an individual psychology
must, it is held, pronounce both the first and last word regarding all matters
of mythology, religion, and art in its numerous forms. The reason is that
these are social products, and as such are to be understood only in the light
of the laws governing the workings of the collective mind of any particular
ethnic group. Such a method is, for instance, employed in Mr. William
McDougall’s Social Psychology, in Mr. R. R. Marett’s Threshold of
Religion, and in many anthropological articles to be found in L’Année
Sociologique.
If, therefore, we hold by this new and fruitful method of social psychology
we must be prepared to treat the Fairy-Faith of the Celtic peoples also in
and for itself, as expressive of an individuality more or less unique. It

might, indeed, be objected that these peoples are not a single social group,
but rather a number of such groups, and this is, in a way, true. Nevertheless
their folk-lore displays such remarkable homogeneity, from whatever
quarter of the Celtic world it be derived, that it seems the soundest method
to treat them as one people for all the purposes of the student of sociology,
mythology, and religion. Granting, then, such a unity in the beliefs of the
pan-Celtic race, we are finally obliged to distinguish as it were two aspects
thereof.
On the one hand there is shown, even in the mere handful of non-Celtic
parallels, which for reasons of space we have been content to cite, as well
as in their Celtic equivalents, a generic element common to all peoples
living under primitive conditions of society. It is emphatically a social
element, but at the same time one which any primitive society is bound to
display. On the other hand, in a second aspect, the Celtic beliefs show of
themselves a character which is wholly Celtic: in the Fairy-Faith, which is
generically animistic, we find reflected all sorts of specific characteristics of
the Celtic peoples—their patriotism, their peculiar type of imagination, their
costumes, amusements, household life, and social and religious customs
generally. With this fact in mind, we may proceed to examine certain of the
more specialized aspects of the Fairy-Faith, as manifested both among Celts
and elsewhere.

The Smallness of Elvish Spirits and Fairies
Ethnological or Pygmy Theory
In any anthropological estimate of the Fairy-Faith, the pygmy stature so
commonly attributed to various orders of Celtic and of non-Celtic fairies
should be considered. Various scholarly champions of the Pygmy Theory
have attempted to explain this smallness of fairies by means of the
hypothesis that the belief in such fairies is due wholly to a folk-memory of
small-statured pre-Celtic races;[125] and they add that these races, having
dwelt in caverns like the prehistoric Cave Men, and in underground houses
like those of Lapps or Eskimos, gave rise to the belief in a fairy world
existing in caverns and under hills or mountains. When analysed, our
evidence shows that in the majority of cases witnesses have regarded fairies

either as non-human nature-spirits or else as spirits of the dead; that in a
comparatively limited number of cases they have regarded them as the souls
of prehistoric races; and that occasionally they have regarded the belief in
them as due to a folk-memory of such races. It follows, then, from such an
analysis of evidence, that the Pygmy Theory probably does explain some
ethnological elements which have come to be almost inseparably
interwoven with the essentially animistic fabric of the primitive Fairy-Faith.
But though the theory may so account for such ethnological elements, it
disregards the animism that has made such interweaving possible; and, on
the whole, we are inclined to accept Mr. Jenner’s view of the theory (see p.
169). Since the Pygmy Theory thus fails entirely to provide a basis for what
is by far the most important part of the Fairy-Faith, a more adequate theory
is required.

Animistic Theory
The testimony of Celtic literature goes to show that leprechauns and similar
dwarfish beings are not due to a folk-memory of a real pygmy race, that
they are spirits like elves, and that the folk-memory of a Lappish-like
people (who may have been Picts) evidently was confused with them, so as
to result in their being anthropomorphosed. Thus, in Fionn’s Ransom, there
is reference to an under-sized apparently Lappish-like man, who may be a
Pict; and as Campbell, who records the ancient tale, has observed, there are
many similar traditional Highland tales about little men or even about true
dwarfs who are good bowmen;[126] but it is very certain that such tales have
often blended with other tales, in which supernatural figures like fairies
play a rôle; and, apparently, the former kind of tales are much more
historical and modern in their origin, while the latter are more mythological
and extremely archaic. This blending of the natural or ethnological and the
supernatural—in quite the same manner as in the modern Fairy-Faith—is
clearly seen in another of Campbell’s collected tales, The Lad with the Skin
Coverings,[127] which in essence is an otherworld tale: ‘a little thickset man
in a russet coat,’ who is a magician, but who otherwise seems to be a
genuine Lapp dressed in furs, is introduced into a story where real fairy-like
beings play the chief parts. Again, in Irish literature, we read of a loch
luchra or ‘lake of the pygmies’.[128] Light is thrown upon this reference by

what is recorded about the leprechauns and Fergus:—While asleep on the
seashore one day, Fergus was about to be carried off by the luchorpáin;
‘whereat he awoke and caught three of them, to wit, one in each of his two
hands, and one on his breast. “Life for life” (i. e. protection), say they. “Let
my three wishes (i. e. choices) be given,” says Fergus. “Thou shalt have,”
says the dwarf, “save that which is impossible for us.” Fergus requested of
him knowledge of passing under loughs and linns and seas. “Thou shalt
have,” says the dwarf, “save one which I forbid to thee: thou shalt not go
under Lough Rudraide [which] is in thine own country.” Thereafter the
luchuirp (little bodies) put herbs into his ears, and he used to go with them
under seas. Others say the dwarf gave his cloak to him, and that Fergus used
to put it on his head and thus go under seas.’[129] In an etymological
comment on this passage, Sir John Rhŷs says:—‘The words luchuirp and
luchorpáin [Anglo-Irish leprechaun] appear to mean literally “small
bodies”, and the word here rendered dwarf is in the Irish abac, the
etymological equivalent of the Welsh avanc, the name by which certain
water inhabitants of a mythic nature went in Welsh....’[130]
Besides what we find in the recorded Fairy-Faith, there are very many
parallel traditions, both Celtic and non-Celtic, about various classes of
spirits, like leprechauns or other small elvish beings, which Dr. Tylor has
called nature-spirits;[131] and apparently all of these can best be accounted
for by means of the animistic hypothesis. For example, in North America
(as in Celtic lands) there is no proof of there ever having been an actual
dwarf race, but Lewis and Clark, in their Travels to the Source of the
Missouri River, found among the Sioux a tradition that a hill near the
Whitestone River, which the Red Men called the ‘Mountain of Little
People’ or ‘Little Spirits’, was inhabited by pygmy demons in human form,
about eighteen inches tall, armed with sharp arrows, and ever on the alert to
kill mortals who should dare to invade their domain. So afraid were all the
tribes of Red Men who lived near the mountain of these little spirits that no
one of them could be induced to visit it.[132] And we may compare this
American spirit-haunted hill with similar natural hills in Scotland said to be
fairy knolls: one near the turning of a road from Reay Wick to Safester, Isle
of Unst;[133] one the well-known fairy-haunted Tomnahurich, near
Inverness;[133] and a third, the hill at Aberfoyle on which the ‘people of
peace’ took the Rev. Robert Kirk when he profaned it by walking on it; or

we may equate the American hill with the fairy-haunted Slieve Gullion and
Ben Bulbin in Ireland.
The Iroquois had a belief that they could summon dwarfs, who were similar
nature-spirits, by knocking on a certain large stone.[134] Likewise the
Polong, a Malay familiar spirit, is ‘an exceedingly diminutive female figure
or mannikin’.[135] East Indian nature-spirits, too, are pygmies in stature.[136]
In Polynesia, entirely independent of the common legends about wild races
of pygmy stature, are myths about the spirits called wui or vui, who
correspond to European dwarfs and trolls. These little spirits seem to
occupy the same position toward the Melanesian gods or culture heroes,
Qat of the Banks Islands and Tagaro of the New Hebrides, as daemons
toward Greek gods, or as good angels toward the Christian Trinity, or as
fairy tribes toward the Brythonic Arthur and toward the Gaelic hero
Cuchulainn.[137] Similarly in Hindu mythology pygmies hold an important
place, being sculptured on most temples in company with the gods; e. g.
Siva is accompanied by a bodyguard of dwarfs, and one of them, the three-
legged Bhringi, is a good dancer[138]—like all corrigans, pixies, and most
fairies.
Beyond the borders of Celtic lands—in Southern Asia with its islands, in
Melanesia with New Guinea, and in Central Africa—pygmy races,
generally called Negritos, exist at the present day; but they themselves have
a fairy-faith, just as their normal-sized primitive neighbours have, and it
would hardly be reasonable to argue that either of the two fairy-faiths is due
to a folk-memory of small-statured peoples. Ancient and thoroughly reliable
manuscript records testify to the existence of pygmies in China during the
twenty-third century b. c.;[139] yet no one has ever tried to explain the well-
known animistic beliefs of modern Chinamen in ghosts, demons, and in
little nature-spirits like fairies, by saying that these are a folk-memory of
this ancient pygmy race. In Yezo and the Kurile Islands of Japan still
survive a few of the hairy Ainu, a Caucasian-like, under-sized race; and
their immediate predecessors, whom they exterminated, were a Negrito
race, who, according to some traditions, were two to three feet in stature,
and, according to other traditions, only one inch in stature.[140] Both pygmy
races, the surviving and the exterminated race, seem independently to have
evolved a belief in ghosts and spirits, so that here again it need not be

argued that the present pre-Buddhist animism of the Japanese is due to a
folk-memory of either Ainus or Negritos.
Further examination of the animistic hypothesis designed to explain the
smallness of elvish spirits leads away from mere mythology into
psychology, and sets us the task of finding out if, after all, primitive ideas
about the disembodied human soul may not have originated or at least have
helped to shape the Celtic folk conception of fairies as small-statured
beings. Mr. A. E. Crawley, in his Idea of the Soul (pp. 200-1, 206), shows
by carefully selected evidence from ancient and modern psychologies that
‘first among the attributes of the soul in its primary form may be placed its
size’, and that ‘in the majority of cases it is a miniature replica of the
person, described often as a mannikin, or homunculus, of a few inches in
height’. Sometimes the soul is described as only about three inches in
stature. Dr. Frazer shows, likewise, that by practically all contemporary
primitive peoples the soul is commonly regarded as a dwarf.[141]
The same opinions regarding the human soul prevailed among ancient
peoples highly civilized, i. e. the Egyptians and Greeks, and may have
thence directly influenced Celtic tradition. Thus, in bas-relief on the
Egyptian temple of Dêr el Bahri, Queen Hatshepsû Rāmaka is making
offerings of perfume to the gods, while just behind her stands her Ka (soul)
as a pygmy so little that the crown of its head is just on a level with her
waist.[142] The Ka is usually represented as about half the size of an
ordinary man. In the Book of the Dead, the Ba, which like the Ka is one of
the many separable parts of the soul, is represented as a very little man with
wings and bird-like body.
On Greek vases the human soul is depicted as a pygmy issuing from the
body through the mouth; and this conception existed among Romans and
Teutons.[143] Like their predecessors the Egyptians, the Greeks also often
represented the soul as a small winged human figure, and Romans, in turn,
imagined the soul as a pygmy with butterfly wings. These ideas reappear in
mediaeval reliefs and pictures wherein the soul is shown as a child or little
naked man going out of the dying person’s mouth;[144] and, according to
Cædmon, who was educated by Celtic teachers, angels are small and
beautiful[145]—quite like good fairies.