Godey's Lady's Book

GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK
Philadelphia, April 1850

ENGLISH FAIRIES.

BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

THERE is something about rural superstitions that is extremely pleasing to the imagination; particularly those which relate to the good-humored race of household demons, and, indeed, to the whole fairy mythology. The English have given an inexplicable charm to these superstitions, by the manner in which they have associated them with whatever is most homefelt and delightful in nature. I do not know a more fascinating race of beings than these little fabled people, that haunted the southern sides of hills and mountains, lurked in flowers and about fountain-heads, glided through keyholes into ancient halls, watched over farm-houses and dairies, danced on the green by summer moonlight, and on the kitchen hearth in winter. They seem to accord with the nature of English housekeeping and English scenery. I always have them in mind when I see a fine old English mansion, with its wide hall and spacious kitchen; or a venerable farm-house, in which there is so much fireside comfort and good housewifery. There was something of national character in their love of order and cleanliness; in the vigilance with which they watched over the economy of the kitchen, and the functions of the servants; magnificently rewarding, with silver six-pence in shoe, the tidy housemaid, but venting their direful wrath, in midnight bobs and pinches, upon the sluttish dairymaid. I think I can trace the good effects of this ancient fairy away over household concerns, in the care that prevails to the present day among English housemaids, to put their kitchen in order before they go to bed.

These fairy superstitions seemed to me to accord with the nature of English scenery. They suit these small landscapes, which are divided by honey-suckled hedges into sheltered fields and meadows, where the grass is mingled with daisies, buttercups, and harebells. When I first found myself among English scenery, I was continually reminded of the sweet pastoral images which distinguish their fairy mythology; and when for the first time a circle in the grass was pointed out to me as one of the rings where they were formerly supposed to have held their moonlight revels, it seemed for a moment as if fairy-land were no longer a fable. Brown, in his Britannia's Pastorals, gives a picture of the kind of scenery to which I allude:Ч

"ЧЧЧЧЧa pleasant mead,

Where fairies often did their measures tread;

Which in the meadows make such circles green,

As if with garlands it had crowned been.

Within one of these rounds was to be seen

A hillock rise, where oft the fairy queen

At twilight sat."

And there is another picture of the same, in a poem ascribed to Ben Jonson:Ч

"By wells and rills in meadows green,: We nightly dance our heyday guise;
And to our fairy kind and queen: We chant our moonlight minstrelsies."

Indeed, it seems to me that the older British poets, with that true feeling for nature which distinguishes them, have closely adhered to the simple and familiar imagery which they found in these popular superstitions; and have thus given to their fairy mythology those continued allusions to the farm-house and the dairy, the green meadow and the fountain-head, that fill our minds with the delightful associations of rural life. It is curious to observe how the most beautiful fictions have their origin among the rude and ignorant. There is an indescribable charm about the illusions with which chimerical ignorance once clothed every subject. These twilight views of nature are often more captivating than any which are revealed by the rays of enlightened philosophy. The most accomplished and poetical minds, therefore, have been fain to search back into these accidental conceptions of what are termed barbarous ages, and to draw from them their finest imagery and machinery. If we look through our most admired poets, we shall find that their minds have been impregnated by these popular fancies, and that those have succeeded best who have adhered closest to the simplicity of their rustic originals. Such is the case with Shakespeare in his Midsummer-Night's Dream, which so minutely describes the employment and amusements of fairies, and embodies all the notions concerning them which were current among the vulgar. It is thus that poetry in England has echoed back every rustic note, softened into perfect melody; it is thus that it has spread its charms over everyday life, displacing nothing, taking things as it found them, but tinting them up with its own magical hues, until every green hill and fountain-head, every fresh meadow, nay, every humble flower, is full of song and story.

I am dwelling too long, perhaps, upon a thread-bare subject; yet it brings up with it a thousand delicious recollections of those happy days of childhood, when the imperfect knowledge I have since obtained had not yet dawned upon my mind, and when a fairy tale was true history to me. I have often been so transported by the pleasure of these recollections, as almost to wish that I had been born in the days when the fictions of poetry were believed. Even now I cannot look upon those fanciful creations of ignorance and credulity without a lurking regret that they have all passed away. The experience of my early days tells me that they were sources of exquisite delight: and I sometimes question whether the naturalist who can dissect the flowers of the field, receives half the pleasure from contemplating them that he did who considered them the abode of elves and fairies. I feel convinced that the true interests and solid happiness of man are promoted by the advancement of truth; yet I cannot but mourn over the pleasant errors which it has trampled down in its progress. The farms and sylphs, the household sprite, the moonlight revel, Oberon, Queen Mab, and the delicious realms of fairy-land, all vanish before the light of true philosophy; but who does not sometimes turn with distaste from the cold realities of morning, and seek to recall the sweet visions of the night?

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