OF
all the different
species of supernatural tribes which inhabit those countries, none of them
could ever vie with the fairy community for personal elegance. Indeed,
this seems to be the only remaining vestige they possess of their
primitive character. Though generally low in stature, they are exceedingly
well proportioned, and prepossessing in their persons. The females, in
particular, are said to be the most enchanting beings in the world, and
far beyond what the liveliest fancy can paint. Eyes sparkling as the
brightest of the stars, or the polished gems of Cairngorm,-cheeks in which
the whiteness of the snow and red of the reddan are blended with the
softness of the Cannoch down, - lips like the coral, and teeth like the
ivory, —a redundant luxuriance of auburn hair, hanging down the shoulders
in lovely ringlet and a gainly simplicity of dress, always of the colour
of green, are prominent features in the description of a Highland fairy
nymph.
But, while we agree in some measure
with our fellow historians who have described the fairy race as they exist
in other quarters of the country, in so far as regards their personal
beauty, we widely differ from those historians as to the splendour of
their dress as exhibited in the character of the Highland fairies. Instead
of the gorgeous habiliments of "white and gold dropped with diamonds, and
coats of the threads of gold," which we are told are worn by those more
luxurious and refined fairies, living within the sphere of splendour and
fashion in the Lowlands of Scotland; the Highland fairies, more thrifty
and less voluptuous, clothe themselves in plain worsted green, not woven
by the "shuttle of Iris," but by the greasy shuttle of some
Highland weaver. This description, let it be understood, however, applies
only to the portion of them inhabiting terra firma; for the dress
of those whose lot it was to fall in the deep is of a very different
nature, consisting entirely of seal-skins, and such other
marine apparel as is most
suitable and appropriate to their element.
The following story will throw some
light upon the manners and habits of this portion of the fairy
tribes.
There was once upon a time, a man
who lived on the northern coasts, not far from
"Taigh Jan
Crot Callow," [John-o'-Groat's House]
and he gained his livelihood by catching and
killing fish, of all sizes and denominations. He had a particular liking
to the killing of those wonderful beasts, half
dog half fish, called "Roane," or Seals, no doubt because he got a long
price for their skins, which are not less curious than they are valuable.
The truth is, that the most of these animals are neither dogs nor cods,
but down-right fairies, as this narration will show; and, indeed, it is
easy for any man to convince himself of the fact by a simple examination
of his tobacco-spluichdan,—for the dead skins of those
beings are never the same for four and twenty hours together. Sometimes
the "spluichdan" will erect its bristles almost perpendicularly,
while, at other times, it reclines them even down; one time it resembles a
bristly sow, at another time a sleekit cat; and what dead skin,
except itself, could perform such cantrips? Now, it happened one day, as
this notable fisher had turned from the prosecution of his calling, that
he was called upon by a man who seemed a great stranger, and who said, he
had been dispatched for him by a person who wished to contract for a
quantity of seal-skins, and that it was necessary for the fisher to
accompany him (the stranger) immediately to see the person who wished to
contract for the skins, as it was necessary that he should be served that
evening. Happy in the prospect of making a good bargain, and never
suspecting any duplicity in the stranger, he instantly complied. They both
mounted a steed belonging to the stranger, and took the road with such
velocity that, although the direction of the wind was towards their backs,
yet the
fleetness of their movement made it appear if it had been in their faces.
On reaching a stupendous precipice which overhung the sea, his guide told
him, they had now reached the point of their destination. "Where is the
person you spoke of?" inquired the astonished seal-killer. "You shall see
that presently,’ replied the guide. With that they immediately alightted,
and, without allowing the seal-killer much time to indulge the frightful
suspicions that began to pervade his mind, the stranger seized him with
irresistible force, and plunged headlong with the seal-killer into the
sea. After sinking down—down—nobody knows how far, they at length reached
a door, which, being open, led them into a range of apartments, filled
with inhabitants—not people, but seals, who could nevertheless speak and
feel like human folk; and how much was the seal-killer surprised to find
that he himself had been unconsciously transformed into the like image. If
it were not so, he would probably have died, from the want of breath. The
nature of the poor fisher’s thoughts may be more easily conceived than
described. Looking on the nature of the quarters into which he was landed,
all hopes of escape from them appeared wholly chimerical, whilst the
degree of comfort, and length of life which the barren scene promised him,
were far from being flattering. The "Roane," who all seemed in very low
spirits, appeared to feel for him, and endeavoured to soothe the distress
which he evinced, by the amplest assurances of personal safety. Involved
in sad meditation on his evil fate, he was quickly roused from his stupor,
by his guide’s producing a huge gully or joctaleg, the object of which he
supposed was to put an end to all his earthly cares. Forlorn as was his
situation, however, he did not wish to be killed; and, apprehending.
instant destruction, he fell down, and earnestly implored for mercy. The
poor generous animals did not mean him any harm, however much his former
conduct deserved it; and he was accordingly desired to pacify himself, and
cease his cries. "Did you ever see that knife before?" says the stranger
to the fisher. The latter instantly recognising his own knife, which he
had that day stuck into a seal, and with which it made its escape,
acknowledged it was formerly his own, for what would be the use of denying
it? "Well!" rejoins the guide, "the apparent seal, which made away with
it, is my father, who lies dangerously ill ever since, and no means could
stay his fleeting breath, without your aid. I have been obliged to resort
to the artifice I have practised to bring you hither, and I trust that my
filial duty to my father will readily operate my excuse." Having said
this, he led into another apartment the trembling seal-killer, who
expected every minute a return of his own favour to the father; and here
he found the identical seal, with which he had the encounter in the
morning, suffering most grievously from a tremendous cut in its
hind-quarter. The seal-killer was then desired, with his hand, to
cicatrize the wound, upon doing which, it immediately healed, and
the seal arose from its bed in perfect health. Upon this, the scene
changed from mourning to rejoicing,—all was mirth and glee. Very
different, however, were the feelings of the unfortunate seal-catcher,
expecting, no doubt, to be a seal for the remainder of his life, until his
late guide accosted him as follows: "Now, Sir, you are at liberty to
return to your wife and family, to whom I am about to conduct you; but it
is on this express condition, to which you must bind yourself by a solemn
oath, viz, that you shall never maim or kill a seal in all your lifetime
hereafter." To this condition, hard as it was, he joyfully acceded; and
the oath being administered in all due form, he bade his new acquaintance
most heartily and sincerely a long farewell. Taking hold of his guide,
they issued from the place, and swam up-up—till they regained the surface
of the sea; and, landing at the said stupendous pinnacle, they found their
former riding steed ready for a second canter. The guide breathed upon the
fisher, and they became like men. They mounted their horse; and fleet as
was their course towards the precipice or pinnacle; their return from it
was doubly swift; and the honest seal-killer was laid down at his own
door-cheek, where his guide made him such a present, as would have almost
reconciled him to another similar expedition, and such as rendered hiss
loss of profession, in so far as regarded the seals, a far less
intolerable hardship than he had at first contemplated it.
