Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. Volume 55, No. 344, June, 1844

“She most deeply felt her trouble, when at noon she took her lonely journey along the desolate path that led to the quarry. Then she often shed the bitterest tears, and prayed to God to show her an outlet, and to have pity on their poverty.

“One day—it was just a week to Whitsun-eve—it happened that as she went upon her way, silently and in sorrow, and in vain looked for the beloved figure of Albert, she suddenly heard such a marvellously clear sound of a bell that she stood still to hearken. It was upon the mid summit of the Sun’s hill; the air perfectly calm, and around, far and near, not a creature to be seen. From the distant hamlet in the valley clinked only the sharp tones of the whetting scythe. Maud believed that she had had a ringing in her ears, and walked on. The singular sound was repeated, resembling the tone exactly of a small silver bell.

“‘How strange it is!’ said the maiden to herself, casting her eyes upon the ground; and in the soft moss, right at her feet, she perceived something glistening like a fragment of blue glass. She stooped and picked up what in colour and shape resembled a blue harebell, or, as it is called, Fairy’s hat; only, where the stalk should have been, there was a so small and elegantly-wrought little silver bell, that Maud could not help laughing outright.

“‘Bless me!’ she exclaimed, ‘who can have made that comical thing?’ and thereupon she shook the flower, and the wee little bell began to sound so prodigiously clear, that the poor damsel let it fall, affrighted.

“‘What are thy commands?’ asked immediately a slender bright voice. Before her stood a delicate creature, not higher than her hand; but of a symmetry of person that was perfectly astonishing. His small expressive head, round which a grove of curls, like crisped sunbeams, played, was just of a size, that the flower with the wondrous bell served it for a covering. For Maud saw how he put on the sparkling hat with much gravity, and at the same time, very knowingly, giving himself a right bold and dandy appearance.

“‘What are you then?’ asked Maud trembling.

“The little fellow made a smart bow, ‘Thy servant, with thy good leave,’ replied the strange being. ‘I and my people have known thee a long time. We have heard thy complainings; and because thou hast a kind heart, and lovest the flowers, and dost not wantonly pull them to pieces, am I charged to do thee a pleasure, provided thou wilt do the like for me and my people.’

“‘Indeed! you pretty little original!’ answered Maud, ‘who are thy people? I’–

“‘Hush!’ interrupted the little one, with a repelling gesture of the hand and a very impressive contraction of the brow. ‘These are questions which I cannot answer, and, what is more, cannot suffer. It is not civil to put questions of the whence and the what. If thou wilt trust me, and I   should think that I have the air of a proper gentleman, then resolve without delay whether thou wilt do me a pleasure for a reasonable compensation.’

“‘Dear little sir!’ replied Maud, overcome, ‘I am not mistrustful, but so beset and afflicted that I really do not know how I am to understand this strange business. Do not make sport of me, good child; or, if thou art a spirit, I beseech thee have compassion on me, and let me go my way in peace. My father is waiting for me. His little bit of dinner is drying in the heat of the sun.’

“‘Silly prattle!’ interrupted the little one. ‘Thy old father lies under the rock side, and snores till the fern leaves waggle over him. The good man’s dinner will not take much harm. However, that thou mayest see how good and honourable my intentions are, take thou my little cap. Be it the pledge which I shall redeem from thee with a compensation. Only resolve quickly now whether thou wilt trust me. My time is short.’

“Maud hesitated still. She held the miraculous cap with its silver bell in her hand. The desire to get rid of the uncanny creature the sooner the better, and also, perhaps, a particle of female curiosity wrung from her her consent.

“‘Good!’ said the little one in great glee. ‘Now, hear me! This day week, upon Whitsun-eve, as ye call it, do thou come here in the evening, as soon as the moon has mounted this green hill. Be not afraid; for only good will befall thee. As soon as thou hast reached this spot, ring with the little bell which I have given thee; and thou wilt not repent having been serviceable to the good people.’

“Scarcely had the little man given Maud her direction, when the astonished maiden remarked that the ground before her feet flashed like molten gold, sunk deeper and deeper, and in this glowing gulf the extraordinary being vanished, like a silver star. The whole phenomenon lasted only a few seconds, then every thing was again at rest as before. The little bell-flower only assured Matilda that she did not dream, and that something unusual had really taken place.

“Possessed with her feelings, she took her father his meal; and found him, in sooth, fast asleep under the wall of rock. Of her adventure she said nothing, but carried the pledge of the little man well secured in her bosom. And yet how was it possible for her to persevere in her silence? It is true, Maud knew not if the communication of the incident was permitted her. She put her trust, however, in the pledge; and, since she had not been commanded to silence, she hoped to be justified in making Albert acquainted with what had happened.

“She did it with fear and trembling, and produced to her astonished lover, as witness, the flower which had withered in the warmth of her bosom. Singularly enough, let her shake it as often as she would, the little bell could not be made to ring.

“‘And you really mean to go?’ asked Albert, when he had a little recovered from his surprise. ‘I should like to see you! To get flirting with ghosts and hobgoblins, or whatever else the devils may be. No! go you don’t. You will throw that stupid thing into the running stream. There it won’t hurt you; and upon that confounded Sun’s hill you will please never to set foot more.’

“‘I have given my word, Albert; and I must keep my word let what will happen.’

“‘Very well,’ said the youngster, ‘that’s enough! Then every thing’s at an end between us—clean at an end!’

“‘How you take on now! For whom else, but for you, have I accepted this pledge? For whom else have I so long endured—so long borne my father’s upbraidings? Dost thou think that, had I wished it, I could not long since have wedded? And is it my fault that I am a Sunday’s child? Is it not said that all Sunday’s children are born to good-luck? If you hinder me from keeping my word with this miraculous being—and the luck that is decreed me is meanwhile scattered to all the four winds—you may settle it with the spirit and face his anger; for I wash my hands in innocency.’

“Maud began to cry, kissed the shrunken leaf, and hid it again in her bosom. Albert was not at ease. He was annoyed at the untoward encounter,   a touch of jealousy disquieted and distressed his soul, and yet he could not say that the girl was in the wrong. At length he said, dispiritedly—

“‘Go through with your folly then. I will, however, be near you, and if the moon-spun rascal takes improper liberties, I will snap his neck, though mine too should crack for it.’

“For the first time in his life, Albert parted with Maud in an ill-humour, and the poor girl herself passed a bad and restless night.

“‘Mother,’ said Maud a few days afterwards, whilst she was getting the father’s dinner ready for her, ‘did you ever see a fairy?’

“‘God forbid, girl!’ cried the worthy and somewhat timid woman, crossing herself. ‘How came that into thy head? What hast thou to do with fairies and elves, dwarfs and wights? A good Christian has no business with such things of nothing, or worse.’

“‘Why, aunt Nelly was telling the other day such surprising stories of the people!’ Matilda replied; ‘but she did not drop a hint of our having reason to fear any harm from them. She even called them the good people.’

“‘Daughter!’ the mother seriously rejoined, ‘we call them so that they may do us no mischief. It is safer for us to leave them quite alone.’

“‘Can it be true, mother, that they have buried themselves under the Sun’s hill, and keep house and home there? Aunt Nelly would have it that in the still of the night, by bright moonlight, you may hear them singing wonderful tunes.’

“The mother fixed her eyes upon Maud, set the old man’s morsel of food upon the hearth stone, and, taking her daughter by the hand, led her to the stove, and seated her upon the family bench.

“‘Listen!’ she said, ‘and take thou heed to my words. The good people, or the fairies, which is their proper name, although they do not like to be called so, do indeed live, though few have the gift of beholding them, in all the mountains and valleys round about. Very, very seldom, and only upon the most extraordinary occasions, do they ever show themselves. When they do, it betokens luck to him that sees them, and brings it, if he quietly fulfill their wishes. These are certainly often out of the way, just like the people, who are strange and incomprehensible enough. Thank Goodness, they never crossed my path! but your godmother Helen, she had many, many years ago, a curious adventure with the fairies.’

“‘Really, mother! Aunt Nelly spoken to the fairies! O pray, dear mother, tell me quickly and fully the whole story!’

“‘First run to the quarry, and take your father his dinner,’ said the mother. ‘I will try in the meanwhile to remember all about it; and if you will promise me to say not a word to any one—not even to your godmother, you shall hear what your aunt told me at that time.’

“Maud very naturally promised every thing, took herself off, and was back again as quickly as possible. She did not loiter for a moment upon the road, did not even notice the signals which her Albert made as he came towards her from the distance. She could think only of her mother’s story.

“‘Here I am again, mother!’ she said breathless. ‘I call that running! I should say that the king’s trained runners could do no better. But now begin, dear mother. I will listen to you as if you were saying mass.’

“‘As well as I can remember,’ proceeded the mother, ‘the case of the fairies is a very singular one. Your godmother Helen disclosed to me, it is true, just the chief particulars only; but they were quite enough to let you understand something of the good people. They told her that, once in every fifty or a hundred years, they have a kind of church meeting, which from old time they call a Sabbath. For you must know, child, that the fairies are properly Jews,15 right down   old chaffering Jews, from Olim’s time.’16

“‘O bless me! Jews!’ cried Maud, frightened out of her wits.

“‘Yes, yes, Jews and nothing else,’ repeated the mother warmly; ‘and that’s the very reason why, up to this day, they are so given to trafficking in precious stones, pearls, gold, silver, and artful jewellery. And when they give themselves a holiday, they go running about above-ground, making presents to new-born babies if they are very lovely, and playing all kinds of odd pranks. According to your godmother Helen, the history of the fairies runs thus:—The whole people, and their name is legion, were formerly in heaven.’

“‘In heaven!’ cried Maud, interrupting her mother, ‘then why didn’t the silly creatures stay there? Where else do they hope to be more snug and comfortable than in heaven! seated under the fur-cap of father Abraham!’

“‘How you prate!’ said the mother, checking her. ‘If you do not instantly tie up your tongue, and think more respectfully of the good people, I shall not tell you another syllable.’

“‘O pray! I will be quite quiet!’

“‘Very well. Then the fairies were a long while ago in heaven,’ continued the mother. ‘At that time they were part of the angelic host, were fine handsome people, went about in glittering robes, and sat at God’s right hand. Now, it befell that the chief angel of all got dissatisfied with the old management of affairs in heaven, stirred up discontent, tampered with the half of all the angels, and tried, with their help, to thrust out the old rightful Master of heaven and earth from his bright throne. But it fared with him as it does with most rebels, and rightly should with all. Our Father, in his glory, got the better of Satan, took him by the hair of his head, and pitched him head-foremost out of heaven into the pit of darkness, and his whole sharkish band of retainers after him. Amongst these, however, a good many had given ear to his fine tales, and had followed him thoughtlessly, although they were not properly wicked at heart. They repented their hasty work, even whilst they were falling deeper and deeper into gloom. They put up a prayer of repentance to their Lord, and implored his forgiveness; and because God saw that they were not rotten at the core, he hearkened to their petition, and rescued them out of the claws of Satan. But since they were not worthy to be received into heaven again, the Lord banished them back to the earth, with leave given them to dwell either within it, or in upper air, upon the hills and rocks. You must know that, during their fall, a surprising change had gone on in the transgressors. They had kept their forms of light—dwindled in size, however, immensely. And since they could not now become men,17 and had fooled away their celestial bliss, the Lord granted them a clear field, with power, until the last day, to make themselves worthy by good deeds of being re-admitted into heaven. And thus they have their abodes all about the open hills and the meadow flats; and only once in every fifty or a hundred years, upon Whitsun-eve, are they permitted, in their own way, to keep the Sabbath. And then they can only do it by loading a truly good human being with the blessings of fortune. For thus only can they hope to expiate their great offence in the sight of Heaven.’

“‘And did godmother Helen hear this from the good people themselves?’ asked Maud, as her mother ceased. ‘Was she, then, lucky?’

“‘No,’ said the mother, ‘Nelly was not lucky, because she did not observe the commandment of the fairies.’

“‘Well, if one of the creatures came to me, and should lay a command upon me, I would keep a quiet tongue within my head, and do readily what he wished.’

“‘Foolish chatter!’ said the mother chidingly. ‘Thou dost offend the quiet people with thy empty babbling   for they can hear every thing that human lips utter.’

“Maud went singing to her work, and long mused upon her timid mother’s narrative. What she had heard filled her with so eager a curiosity that she could scarcely wait for Whitsun-eve, although she took care to let no one observe it. From time to time she stole a glance at her bell-flower, tried to make it ring with shaking, but failed to bring, by any means, one sound from the delicate little bell.

“With a longing dread, Maud saw the promised Whitsun-eve draw near. It was not easy to leave the parental roof at nightfall. The enamoured maiden, however, found a becoming excuse which placed a few hours at her disposal. She went her way with the fairy cap in her bosom, ascended the green summit of the Sun’s hill, now glimmering in the moonlight, and drew from its hiding-place the pledge that had been entrusted to her. As if by a miracle, the little flower, touched by the moon’s silvery glow, expanded in an instant. Almost spontaneously it began to oscillate in her hand, and shrill and clear the little bell rang, so that it resounded into the adjacent wood, whence a soft echo melodiously responded.

“The voice of Albert, who with vigorous strides was ascending the hill to look close after the adventure of his beloved, reached her ear. But the senses of Matilda were engrossed by the fairies, and to his repeated calls she gave no answer. And she had good reason. For scarcely had the little bell rung, when a flash, like a sparkling snake, darted here and there upon the grass, and out of the quivering light there arose a small and exceedingly beautiful creature, whom Maud immediately recognised for the lord of the bell-flower. The little fellow was in Spanish costume. He wore a doublet of sky-blue butterflies’ wings, over which dropped a magnificent lace collar woven of the gossamer. The delicate feet were covered with transparent shoes, made of dew-drops.

“Maud stood mute with astonishment, as well at the tiny smallness of the fairy, as at his truly classical beauty. The little creature was, in his way, a perfect Adonis.

“‘Now, my trembler, art thou resolute to follow me?’ whispered the fairy in a note that came to her like a note of the harmonicon. ‘Restore me the pledge, for we have no time to lose.’

“Maud gave back the bell-flower; the elf seized it in his little diaphanous alabaster floral hands, waved it three times round his dazzling head, so that the little bell sent a peal round the hills, and then threw it upon the ground. It dilated immediately, took the shape of a galley with masts and yards, although no larger than the moon’s disk as we see it from the earth. In the same instant the elf sat in the little vessel, which trembled at every step, drew a rush from his girdle, and steered with it in the air.

“‘Now, come, step in!’ he called to Maud.

“‘In that!’ exclaimed the maiden astounded. ‘Heaven love you, there’s hardly room for my two feet! Besides, it will tear under me like a poppy-leaf, for I verily believe it is made of mere air.’

“‘Spare your remarks, Miss Pert!’ returned the fairy, ‘and step in. I pledge my honour, and will give up my hope of salvation, if this bark of our master’s do not carry thee safely over half the earth ball in less than no time.’

“It might be that Maud now stood under the mysterious power of a spell, or that she was urged by an invincible curiosity. Enough: she placed her feet in the quaking gondola, which swelled aloft like an air-balloon until it reached the maiden’s shoulders. Now the ground sank away, and Matilda’s senses failed her in the dizzy speed with which she was hurried down into the bowels of the earth. At this precise moment Albert reached the top of the hill. He had only the pleasure of looking after them, and hardly that; for it appeared to him as if every thing about him was immersed in a sea of azure so resplendently clear, that he was for several minutes robbed of his sight.

“From the magical slumber into which the child had fallen during her descent into the kingdom of the fairies, she was awakened by a witching harmony of sounds. She opened her eyes, and observed, with not a little wonder, that she was lying upon a bed or mat, or whatsoever else it   might be called, of costly emerald. Over her head nodded marvellous flowers of the most glowing colours; butterflies, of unseen splendour, flitted on cooling pinions around her couch, and fanned her with an air so sweet, so invigorating, that the maiden had never breathed before with such delight. But with all the magnificence, all the spirit and splendour, every thing was quite other than upon the sunny earth above. The flowers and herbs glittered indeed; but they seemed to be juiceless, and looked as if formed of crystal. Even the butterflies had a peculiar motion, like that of an involuntary sleepwalker. Only the harmonious strains, which now rang louder and louder, more and more ravishing, were so ecstatic, so inviting to joyous devotion, that Maud would fain have shouted aloud for joy; but she felt that she could not speak, could not cry out, and sight, touch, and hearing, were more alive than ever.

“Thus she lay for some time motionless, pleasingly intent upon the nodding flowers, the swarming butterflies. At length the winged multitude dispersed, and two slender fairy-forms approached her bed and beckoned her to arise and follow them.

“Maud arose; and the fairies, who hardly reached up to her knee, taking her between them, conducted her through a gate of mother-of-pearl into an illimitable space, through which throng of countless millions of elves confusedly moved. The converse of these semi-spirits sounded in the distance harmonious, like perfect music. Notwithstanding the immense multitude, there was nothing of tumult, nothing of uproar. They stood all in the finest concord, and bent, waving their flower-caps gracefully, towards the abashed, astonished maiden. It bewildered Maud to see that not only overhead arched a star-bespangled sky, but likewise underneath her feet the same solemn starry splendour was revealed, as if the slight fairy people walked, between two heavens, upon the milkwhite vapour which rolled on under them like clouds. Every fairy had on glass or crystal shoes, if that which they wore on their feet might be so called. It is, however, possible that the exquisitely made limbs of these perplexing beings only deluded the eyes of the poor girl with such an appearance.

“Nearly in the middle of the immeasurable arena rose a temple of gold, silver, and precious stones, which, with its lofty pillars reaching to the sky, was emblazoned in so wondrous a light, that, notwithstanding the extreme refulgence, it did not dazzle. Within this, upon a ceaselessly revolving sun-orb, stood the most beautiful and tallest of the fairies. In her golden hair gleamed stars. Joy and ecstasy radiated like a glory from her lovely pale face, and vapoury raiment concealed, but as with a breath, her incomparable figure. Towards her pressed the innumerable host; for the sublime creature might be the priestess of the united elfin race. Maud was carried forwards with them, that she might be a witness of the singular worship that was here solemnized. Not a word was spoken, no hymn was sung; there was but a looking-up of supplication, of trustfulness, in which all the fairies, turning round upon their sparkling little feet, took part. After a few minutes a joyful expression in the countenance of the worshippers proclaimed the happy issue of the Sabbath. The stars of the upper sky shot down like silver spangles, and hung suspended in the luminous hair of the fairies, giving them the appearance of carrying dancing lights on their heads. A loud, melodious, strain of rejoicing thrilled through the vast room. The radiant structure heaved and sank. Overhead a verdurous canopy of leaves vaulted itself; the elves, entwining arms and legs, flew in a lightning whirl around the high priestess and the dazzled Maud, who, unawares, had come close upon the lovely fairy.

“In a little while the slender body-chain of elves gave way; they grouped themselves into numberless rows; every one took off the star from his head, and, tripping up, deposited it at the feet of the priestess, where they at length all united in composing themselves into a great gold-bright sphere, exactly resembling that upon which the high, officiating fairy had been borne round in the temple.

“The elfin now extended her hand to Maud and said—

“‘We thank thee for the readiness   with which thou hast followed my messenger into this our hidden kingdom. Thou hast, by thy presence, prospered our Sabbath festival. Receive, for thy reward, the gratitude of all the fairies; and bear with thee this gift in remembrance of this day.’

“So speaking, she plucked the coronal of stars from her hair, stretched it out with both her hands, and hung it upon the head and neck of Matilda.

“‘Whenever thou art in trouble,’ she continued, ‘think of the good people; pull one of these stars, throw it in the air by the light of the moon, and whatsoever thou wishest, provided it be lawful, shall be granted thee.’

“Maud would have stammered forth her thanks, but she felt herself still powerless to speak. A kiss of the fairy upon her forehead was the signal for breaking up. The good people once more waved their caps. The gondola floated by, Maud mounted it, and, as quickly as she had descended, was lifted up upon the earth again.

“‘There!’ said the little pilot fairy, tying the supple rudder about the wrist of Maud, ‘that is my wedding gift to you and Albert. Give him the half of it if he pouts; and—have a care—no blabbing!’

“With that the gondola dissolved like a cloud in the air. The fairy vanished; and Maud lay alone upon the fragrant dewy grass of the Sun’s hill.

“Still all-amazed at what had happened, and not yet come rightly to herself, she slowly rose, intending to go home. It was then she perceived Albert, who, with folded arms, was staring wildly and savagely into the wood below. Matilda coughed.

“‘Why where, in the name of all that is holy, have you been dancing to?’ was the not very tender greeting of her lover. ‘I saw you standing there as I came up the hill; and then lightning and streams of fire were all about me, and here I have been full five minutes, running about in all directions, without being able to find a trace of you.’