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not as an ethnological term) was inhabited by a German-speaking, an Iberian- or Basque-speaking, and a Keltic-speaking race.

To this very day two-thirds of the Belgians are Germanic. They speak as their mother-tongue, not French, like the descendants of the Romanised Gauls and Aquitanians in France, but Flemish, or Nether German (Neder-duitsch) as they often call it; for Flemish is only a variety of the Low German dialects spoken by the popular classes all along the German coasts of the North Sea and the Baltic. And this Flemish speech still extends, even now, into France, along the north-western frontier of that country.

Historically, the Menapian, or Manapian, name first turns up in Baktria, the old home of the Indo-Germanic tribes. After that we find it among the mainly Teutonic Belgians. After that in conjunction with the German Chaukians, or Kauchians, who had effected a lodgment in Ireland. Still, even allowing the Menapian question to be a moot point, the early presence of a Teutonic population on Irish soil about 2,000 years ago is sufficiently attested by the Chaukian settlement. This is the oldest instance of an "English garrison" in Ireland of which we know with our present knowledge of classic literature. The fact may usefully be pondered upon by those who indulge in vague generalities about the strictly Keltic character of Ireland.

Later on, after the Chaukians and Menapians had appeared in Ireland, and long before the immigration of the Germanic Flemings from Belgium into Pembrokeshire, Northmen swarmed all round the coasts of Ireland and Wales, and occupied many places. I have heard Prof. Blackie, who has done such good work in agitating for the better study of Gaelic, mention in a lecture at the Royal Institution the word "Skerries" (a kind of rocky isles) as a peculiarly Keltic word. This, however, is quite a mistake. "Skerries" is eminently a Germanic word. Icelandic: sker; Danish: skjär; Swedish: skär; Dutch: scheeren; German: Scheeren. A Skär-Karl, in Swedish, is a man inhabiting an islet. Shetland has its Skerries. On the Scotch, Irish, Welsh, and English coast, wherever the Northmen established themselves, that word occurs. There are the Skerries of Anglesea (in old Danish and Norwegian: Oenguls-ey, or Angelsöen), the Island of the Angles. Off Tenby there is the Scar Rockthat is, the Rock-Rock; the original meaning of that Scandinavian word "skar" being no longer understood.

Moreover, there are numbers of islets and places about Milford Haven and its neighbourhood, bearing the clearest Germanic, Scandinavian or Anglo-Saxon, names: such as Stockholm, Gatholm, Grasholm, the Flat Holmes, the Steep Holmes-"holm" meaning

"island"; or Thorn Island (Thorn-eye, Thor's Island); Angle (Angle Island), and so forth. Again, Caldey, Ramsey, Scalmey, Barrey; Milford, Haverford, Freystrop (Freyr's Thorpe) are all clearly Teutonic. Even Butter Hill, Honey Hill, Hubberston have been interpreted as probable corruptions from the Norse names of Buthnar, Hogni, and Hubba. There is the Great and Little Orme's Head in North Wales, and the Worm's Head in South Wales-even as there is a Worms' Isle on the Esthonian coast of Russia where the Warangian Northmen, the Teutonic founders of the Slavo-Finnic Russian Empire, must once have had a lodgment. But the instances of a Teutonic influence even on Welsh ground might be multiplied far more. Many details will be found in the works of that very careful Danish writer, Worsaae.

All this, I believe, goes far to show that a great deal, though certainly not all, of the Water Tales in that south-western part of Wales must be of Germanic origin, and that they have been brought thither by successive waves of Teutonic invaders or settlers.

XIV.

Old David Harris also told a moralising water-tale, which however seems to lack some explanatory conclusion or point. He gave a story about a hatchet which a labouring man had once dropped into a pool. A Marquis, standing by, reached into the water, and pulled out a golden axe. "No!" said the man ; that's not mine!" Next, the Marquis pulled out a silver one. "Nor that!" said the At length, the iron hatchet was brought up by the Marquis; and this one was acknowledged by the labourer as his own ;—" the moral of the story being that honesty is the best policy."

man.

How so, the story does not tell, as no reward is mentioned for

"The Scandinavian type of face, familiarized to us by Christine Nilsson, the singer-with light blue eyes, and an expression peculiar to the type-is constantly seen in Wales. . . . Previous to the time of the Norman conquest, the Scandinavians had made a broad mark on the country. Scandinavian sea-kings invaded the coasts, sailed up the rivers, plundered and slaughtered the people, after three centuries of the Anglo-Saxon dynasty. Undoubtedly, their descendants still live, in the eastern and north-eastern counties especially of Wales; while even in Pembroke and Carmarthen shires there are often striking resemblances to the Scandinavians traceable in the peasantry. . . . The typical Welsh-the true Welsh, as the Cymry say-have been described as of middle height, with head of medium size, thin lips, prominent cheekbones and chin, oval or triangular face; keen, sharp eyes, either light or hazel; slight build, active, springy, alert. . . . This well-defined Welsh type is more marked, according to my observation, in the women than in the men; and it is constantly seen in Glamorganshire." (Rambles and Studies in Old South Wales, by Wirt Sikes. London: 1881.)

the act of truthfulness. I do not know whether this Welsh moralityfable has been told before; but the "Marquis" who brings up the axes from the water, one after the other, looks somewhat like a transfigured Water-Sprite.

Finally, I have a South Welsh tale in which water is not even transfigured into any Mermaid-, Nix-, or Witch-form. It was told by an old woman who lives on the turnpike road between Bwlch and Cathedine. Her name, if my informant remembers aright, is Price. She said :

"On the ground now occupied by Llangorn Lake there was once a very large town, the people of which were very wicked. In the middle of the town was a well of beautiful water, enough for all the inhabitants. The well had to be closed of an evening; and its keeper one night neglected his duty. Out rushed the water, overflooding every house, bringing death to every door, and destroying every vestige of what once had been the pride and the glory of the country all round."

This tale, of course, inculcates the duty of man to be watchful lest the beneficial qualities of any sheet of water over which he has control, should suddenly be converted into those destructive forces which are symbolised in various water-myths.

On the borders of Wales, a Germanic notion seems to linger, which is well known to be prevalent among the Nottingham bargemen. These latter cry out: "The Eager is coming!" when there is a sudden dangerous swelling, and clashing of waves, in the river Trent. Now, I learn that "below Gloucester, four miles down at a place called Stonebench, the Severn is distinguished for the enormous strength of its tides, caused by the resistance it meets with from currents of fresh water. So vehemently do they clash that the waters have been known to be dashed to an extraordinary height. This collision of water is called by Gloucester people 'Hygra.'" 1

The "Eager" of the river Trent is-as Carlyle remarks in a wellknown passage of his Hero Worship-undoubtedly the Germanic water-god Aegir, or Oegir, a deity of terrifying quality. "Eager," or "Eagre," is still a nautical English term for a spring-tide or suddenly swelling storm-flood. The Gloucestershire Hygra, or Heagra, seems but a slightly different, aspirate, form of the same Norse name.2

XV.

All these floating remnants of tales in Shetland and South Wales -and I am sure, with proper diligence, many more of them might

1 Communicated by Mr. Charles Hancock.

* See The Sailor's Word-Book, by Admiral W. H. Smith,

be gathered—are part and parcel of an ancient cosmogonic system, once converted into a religion and a cult. The tenacity with which the creed was held, may be seen from the fact of so many old places of well-worship having been re-baptised by the Roman Church for ecclesiastical purposes of its own. In some cases, the water was for a moment declared, by the priest of the New Creed, to be poisonous. But this alleged spell of poisonousness was forthwith taken away by him through a blessing of his own, which allowed the time-honoured worship to be continued under a new name, or even under the old one with the mere addition of the word "Saint."

Wales, also, is full of such traces of an ancient water-cult, partly of Kymro-Silurian, partly of a later Germanic, origin. "Ffynnon Fair"--My Lady's Well-had been dedicated to heathen watergoddesses before being assumed to have reference to the Virgin Mary. The old beliefs as to the supposed powers of fertilisation of those well-shrines have, however, lingered, without change, through thousands of years. "Rag wells," into which votive offerings are thrown, and "wishing wells," gifted with magic qualities of healing or creation, continue to be frequented by simple folk in Wales and in England. Eyes are still occasionally washed there on certain festive days. Bent pins are, even now, mysteriously dropped into them by women "wishing" for husbands or sweethearts. In short, the magical charm-practices have by no means died out altogether.

All that has been stated in this essay goes to prove that among the northern races, too, there was once a strongly developed, fully elaborated doctrine which traced the rise of Life from water, and that the various powers of water for good and for evil were fabulously embodied in a great many mythic figures. Everything having been supposed to have come out of the water, we need not wonder that the very doctrines of morality were drawn up as from a well or lake. And whether we agree with, or disagree from, the cosmogonic view in question, on grounds of modern science, it is at all events desirable that we should see the inner meaning of the ancient notions; for they crop up, even in our present days, in the works of scientists who entirely steer clear of the region of poetical fancy. In this sense, the foregoing may serve as a contribution, from living sources of popular thought, to the better understanding of our forefathers' water-worship ideas.

KARL BLIND.

487

A

THE POETS' BIRDS.

V. THE CUCKOO.

MONG the mysteries of Pan, what is there more puzzling than

the parable of the cuckoo? Take fiction or take fact, and the result is the same-astonishment that man should have imagined such an outrage against nature, or that nature should have authorised such an outrage upon herself. Here is the belief of the ancients:

In winter it changes into a hawk, but reappears in the spring in its own form, but with an altered voice. It lays a single egg, rarely two, in the nest of some other bird, declining to rear its own young, as it knows itself to be an object of universal hostility among birds. The young cuckoo, being naturally greedy, monopolises the food brought to the nest by its foster parents: it thus grows fat and sleek, and so excites its dam with admiration of her lovely offspring, that she first neglects her own chicks, then suffers them to be devoured before her eyes, and finally falls a victim herself to his voracious appetite.

Is this incredible? Then, hear the statement of modern naturalists:

The cuckoo leads a wandering life, building no nest, and attaching itself to no particular locality. It shows no hostility towards birds of another kind, and little affection for those of its own. If two males meet in the course of their wandering, they frequently fight with intense animosity; and these single combats account, no doubt, for the belief formerly entertained that the cuckoo was the only hawk that preyed on its own kind. It does not pair, and it is unusual to see even a male and female together. It is, however, frequently accompanied by a small bird of another kind. There does not appear to be any intimacy or any hostility between the illmatched pair. The larger bird flies first, the lesser one, as if spell-bound, follows it if the cuckoo perches on a tree, the other posts itself on another hard by, or on another branch of the same; if the cuckoo alights on the ground, the other is by its side. No sooner does the young bird see the day, than he proceeds to secure for himself the whole space of the nest and the sole attention of his foster parents, by insinuating himself under the other young birds and any eggs which may remain unhatched, and hurling them over the edge of the nest, where they are left to perish. The singularity of its shape is well adapted for these purposes; for, different from other newly-hatched birds, its back, from the shoulders downwards, is very broad, with a considerable depression in the middle. This depression seems formed by nature for the design of giving a more secure lodgment to an egg or a young bird, when the young cuckoo is employed in removing either of them from the nest.

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