“By yarrow and rue, And my red cap too, Hie over to England.”
[From Wikipedia] A malevolent goblin, redcaps are easily distinguishable for their namesake red hat and fiery red eyes. Their caps are red because they dip them in the blood of their human victims. Redcaps wear iron boots, but are swift on their feet. They reside in castles and watchtowers along the English-Scottish border, however, they move their residence often to avoid detection. Redcaps have sharp eagle’s talons with which they kill humans. Short and stock, redcaps have long white beards and look like old men. Like any goblin, all that is needed to repel them is the use of holy words.
A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous goblin, elf or fairy found in British folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border between England and Scotland. Redcaps are said to murder travelers who stray into their homes and dye their hats with their victims’ blood (from which they get their name).[1] Indeed, redcaps must kill regularly, for if the blood staining their hats dries out, they die. Redcaps are very fast in spite of the heavy iron pikes they wield and the iron-shod boots they wear. Outrunning the buck-toothed little daemons is quite impossible; the only way to escape one is to quote a passage from the Bible. They lose a tooth on hearing it, which they leave behind.
The most infamous redcap of all was Robin Redcap. As the familiar of Lord William de Soulis, Robin wreaked much harm and ruin in the lands of his master’s dwelling, Hermitage Castle. Men were murdered, women cruelly abused, and dark arts were practiced. So much infamy and blasphemy was said to have been committed at Hermitage Castle that the great stone keep was thought to be sinking under a great weight of sin, as though the very ground wanted to hide it from the sight of God.
Yet Soulis, for all the evil he wrought, met a very horrible end: he was taken to the Nine Stane Rigg, a circle of stones hard by the castle, and there he was wrapped in lead and boiled to death in a great cauldron.
Saci (IPA: [sa.'si]) is arguably the most popular character in Brazilian folklore. Saci is a one-legged elf with holes in the palms of his hands, who smokes a pipe and wears a magical red cap that enables him to disappear and reappear wherever he wishes (usually in the middle of a dust devil). Considered an annoying prankster in most parts of Brazil, and a potentially dangerous and malicious creature in others, he will nevertheless grant wishes to anyone who manages to steal his magic cap or trap him in a bottle or under a sieve.
Saci has three colloquial variations:
Saci Pererê is black as coal. Saci Trique is mulatto and more benign. Saci Saçurá has red eyes.
While some claim that the Saci myth originated in Europe in the 13th century, it probably derives from the Yaçi-Yaterê of Tupi-Guarani mythology, a magic one-legged child with fire-red hair who would spell-bind people and break the forests’ silence with his loud shouts and whistles. The word Yaçi (IPA: [ja'si] is the Old Tupi name for the moon, which seems to be related to his originally nightly ramblings.
This indigenous character was appropriated and transformed in the 18th century by the African slaves who had been brought in large numbers to Brazil. Slaves would tell Saci stories to amuse and frighten the children of the farm, black and white. In this process the creature became black, his red hair metamorphosed into a red cap, and like the African elders who told the tales he came to be always smoking his clay-and-reed pipe. His name mutated into various forms, such as Saci Taperê and Sá Pereira (a common Portuguese name), and eventually Saci Pererê.
His red cap may have been inspired on the Phrygian cap which was at one time worn by Portuguese peasants. The Saci-Pererê concept shows some syncretism with Christian elements: he bolts away when faced with crosses, leaving behind a sulphurous smell both classical attributes of the Devil.
The concepts of imprisoning a supernatural being in a bottle by a magically marked cork, and of forcing him to grant wishes in return of his liberty, have obvious parallels in the story of Aladdin from the Arabian Nights. Any connection between the two legends is not to be dismissed, since many slaves were Muslims and thus presumably familiar with the Arabian tales. Moreover, the occupation of Portugal by the Muslim Moors, between the years 711 and 1492, provides another possible path for Arabian influence on the Saci legend.
The Brown Dwarf of Rügen
From “Narrative and Legendary Poems” by John Greenleaf Whittier The hint of this ballad is found in Arndt’s Märchen, Berlin, 1816. The ballad appeared first in St. Nicholas, whose young readers were advised, while smiling at the absurd superstition, to remember that bad companionship and evil habits, desires, and passions are more to be dreaded now than the Elves and Trolls who frightened the children of past ages.
THE pleasant isle of Rügen looks the Baltic water o’er, To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian shore;
And in the town of Rambin a little boy and maid Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the sea-surf played.
Alike were they in beauty if not in their degree: He was the Amptman’s first-born, the miller’s child was she.
Now of old the isle of Rügen was full of Dwarfs and Trolls, The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without souls;
And for every man and woman in Rügen’s island found Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was underground.
It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled away Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves and goblins play.
That day, in barley fields below, the harvesters had known Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns blown.
She came not back; the search for her in field and wood was vain: They cried her east, they cried her west, but she came not again.
“She’s down among the Brown Dwarfs,” said the dream-wives wise and old, And prayers were made, and masses said, and Rambin’s church bell tolled.
Five years her father mourned her; and then John Deitrich said: “I will find my little playmate, be she alive or dead.”
He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the Brown Dwarfs sing, And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a ring.
And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap of red, Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it on his head.
The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for lack of it. “Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great head unfit!”
“Nay,” Deitrich said; “the Dwarf who throws his charmëd cap away, Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly pay.
“You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the earth; And you shall ope the door of glass and let me lead her forth.”
“She will not come; she’s one of us; she’s mine!” the Brown Dwarf said; “The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we shall wed.”
“The fell fiend fetch thee!” Deitrich cried, “and keep thy foul tongue still. Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of the hill!”
The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down the long stairway passed, And saw in dim and sunless light a country strange and vast.
Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the elfin under-land, — Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden sand.
He came unto a banquet-hall with tables richly spread, Where a young maiden served to him the red wine and the bread.
How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly and so wild! Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never smiled!
Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her tender blue eyes seemed Like something he had seen elsewhere or something he had dreamed.
He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew the long-lost one; “O Lisbeth! See thy playmate — I am the Amptman’s son!”
She leaned her fair head on his breast, and through her sobs she spoke: “Oh, take me from this evil place, and from the elfin folk!
“And let me tread the grass-green fields and smell the flowers again, And feel the soft wind on my cheek and hear the dropping rain!
“And oh, to hear the singing bird, the rustling of the tree, The lowing cows, the bleat of sheep, the voices of the sea;
“And oh, upon my father’s knee to set beside the door, And hear the bell of vespers ring in Rambin church once more!”
He kissed her cheek, he kissed her lips; the Brown Dwarf groaned to see, And tore his tangled hair and ground his long teeth angrily.
But Deitrich said: “For five long years this tender Christian maid Has served you in your evil world, and well must she be paid!
“Haste! — hither bring me precious gems, the richest in your store; Then when we pass the gate of glass, you’ll take your cap once more.”
No choice was left the baffled Troll, and, murmuring, he obeyed, And filled the pockets of the youth and apron of the maid.
They left the dreadful under-land and passed the gate of glass; They felt the sunshine’s warm caress, they trod the soft, green grass.
And when, beneath, they saw the Dwarf stretch up to them his brown And crooked claw-like fingers, they tossed his red cap down.
Oh, never shone so bright a sun, was never sky so blue, As hand in hand they homeward walked the pleasant meadows through!
And never sang the birds so sweet in Rambin’s woods before, And never washed the waves so soft along the Baltic shore;
And when beneath his door-yard trees the father met his child, The bells rung out their merriest peal, the folks with joy ran wild.
And soon from Rambin’s holy church the twain came forth as one, The Amptman kissed a daughter, the miller blest a son.
John Deitrich’s fame went far and wide, and nurse and maid crooned o’er Their cradle song: “Sleep on, sleep well, the Trolls shall come no more!”
for in the haunted Nine Hills he set a cross of stone; And Elf and Brown Dwarf sought in vain a door where door was none.
The tower he built in Rambin, fair Rügen’s pride and boast, Looked o’er the Baltic water to the Pomeranian coast;
And, for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond compare, Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long and happy there.
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Source: John Greenleaf Whittier, The Complete Poetical Works, Cambridge Edition (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1894), pp. 138-140.
Folklore and Witchcraft: The Witches’ Excursion By Patrick Kennedy
Shemus Rua (Red James) awakened from his sleep one night by noises in his kitchen. Stealing to the door, he saw half-a-dozen old women sitting round the fire, jesting and laughing, his old housekeeper, Madge, quite frisky and gay, helping her sister crones to cheering glasses of punch.
He began to admire the impudence and imprudence of Madge, displayed in the invitation and the riot, but recollected on the instant her officiousness in urging him to take a comfortable posset, which she had brought to his bedside just before he fell asleep. Had he drunk it, he would have been just now deaf to the witches’ glee. He heard and saw them drink his health in such a mocking style as nearly to tempt him to charge them, besom in hand, but he restrained himself.
The jug being emptied, one of them cried out, “Is it time to be gone?” and at the same moment, putting on a red cap, she added –
Hie over to England. Making use of a twig which she held in her hand as a steed, she gracefully soared up the chimney, and was rapidly followed by the rest. But when it came to the housekeeper, Shemus interposed. “By your leave, ma’am,” said he, snatching twig and cap. “Ah, you desateful ould crocodile! If I find you here on my return, there’ll be wigs on the green–
Hie over to England. The words were not out of his mouth when he was soaring above the ridge pole, and swiftly plowing the air. He was careful to speak no word (being somewhat conversant with witch-lore), as the result would be a tumble, and the immediate return of the expedition.
In a very short time they had crossed the Wicklow hills, the Irish Sea, and the Welsh mountains, and were charging, at whirlwind speed, the hall door of a castle. Shemus, only for the company in which he found himself, would have cried out for pardon, expecting to be mummy against the hard oak door in a moment; but, all bewildered, he found himself passing through the keyhole, along a passage, down a flight of steps, and through a cellar-door key-hole before he could form any clear idea of his situation.
Waking to the full consciousness of his position, he found himself sitting on a stallion, plenty of lights glimmering round, and he and his companions, with full tumblers of frothing wine in hand, hob-nobbing and drinking healths as jovially and recklessly as if the liquor was honestly come be, and they were sitting in Shemus’s own kitchen. The red birredh [cap] has assimilated Shemus’s nature for the time being to that of his unholy companions.
The heady liquors soon got into their brains, and a period of unconsciousness succeeded the ecstasy, the headache, the turning round of the barrels, and the “scattered sight” of poor Shemus. He woke up under the impression of being roughly seized, and shaken, and dragged upstairs, and subjected to a disagreeable examination by the lord of the castle, in his state parlor. There was much derision among the whole company, gentle and simple, on hearing Shemus’s explanation, and, as the thing occurred in the dark ages, the unlucky Leinster man was sentenced to be hung as soon as the gallows could be prepared for the occasion.
The poor Hibernian was in the cart proceeding on his last journey, with a label on his back, and another on his breast, announcing him as the remorseless villain who for the last month had been draining the casks in my lord’s vault every night.
He was surprised to hear himself addressed by his name, and in his native tongue, by an old woman in the crows. “Ach, Shemus, alanna! is it going to die you are in a strange place without your cappen d’yarrag [red cap]? These words infused hope and courage into the poor victim’s heart. He turned to the lord and humbly asked leave to die in his red cap, which he supposed had dropped from his head in the vault. A servant was sent for the head-piece, and Shemus felt lively hope warming his heart while placing it on his head.
On the platform he was graciously allowed to address the spectators, which he proceeded to do so in the usual formula composed for the benefit of flying stationers — “Good people all, a warning take by me;” but when he had finished the line, “My parents reared me tenderly,” he unexpectedly added — “By yarrow and rue,” etc., and the disappointed spectators saw him shoot up obliquely though the air in the style of a sky-rocket that had missed its aim.
It is said that the lord took the circumstance much to heart, and never afterwards hung a man for twenty-four hours after his offense.
See also The Fairies – William Allingham
