If treated well, the fairies will discover the hidden pot of gold, and reveal
the mysteries of herbs, amid give knowledge to the fairy women of the
mystic spells that can cure disease, and save life, amid make the lover loved.
All they ask in return is to be left in quiet possession of the rath and the
hill and the ancient hawthorn trees that have been theirs from time
immemorial, and where they lead a joyous life with music and dance, and
charming little suppers of the nectar of flowers, down in the crystal caves, lit
by the diamonds that stud the rocks.
But some small courtesies they require. Never drain your wine-glass at. a
feast, nor the poteen flask, nor the milk-pail; and never rake out all the fire
at night, it looks mean, and the fairies like a little of everything going, and to
have the hearth comfortable and warm when they come in to hold a council
after all the mortal people have gone to bed. In fact, the fairies are born
aristocrats, true ladies and gentlemen, and if treated with proper respect are
never in time least malignant or ill-natured.
All the traditions of the fairies show that they love beauty and
splendour, grace of movement, music and pleasure; everything, in fact, that
is artistic, in contradistinction to violent, brutal enjoyment. Only an Aryan
people, therefore, could have invented the Sidhe race.
LEGENDS OF ANIMALS
THERE are no traces in Irish legend of animal worship, but many
concerning the influence of animals upon human life, and of their
interference with human affairs.
The peasants believe that the domestic animals know all about us,
especially the dog and the cat. They listen to everything that is said; they
watch the expression of the face, and can even read the thoughts. The Irish
say it is not safe to ask a question of a dog, for he may answer, and should
he do so the questioner will surely die.
The position of the animal race in the life scheme is certainly full of
mystery. Gifted with extraordinary intelligence, yet with dumb souls vainly
struggling for utterance, they seem like prisoned spirits in bondage,
suffering the punishment, perhaps, for sin in some former human life, and
now waiting the completion of the cycle of expiation that will advance them
again to the human state.
The three most ancient words in the Irish language are, it is said, Tor, a
tower; Cu, a hound, and Bo, a cow. The latter word is the same as is found in
the Greek Bosphorus, and in the nomenclature of many places throughout
Europe.