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We were some time ago,
storm-bound in a small village on the east coast of Scotland, where—save
in our own parlour, when surrounded by the dense smoke of our pipe, and
fairly resigned to mystic dreams—we passed a happier evening than we ever
did anywhere else upon earth; for we had the pleasure to meet with an old
man who had passed many years in the land of Odin, Sweden, and was so
deeply imbued with the spirit of the Sagas, (a favourite study of
ours,) that he would have made as good a Saga-man himself, as ever was
Frode or Snorre Sturleson. Amongst the many stories he told us, through
the fitting medium of the smoke of his pipe, was one connected with the
great copper mines of Falu-luan, so remarable that we have retained it in
our memory ever since; and, having probably carried it long enough, we are
not ill pleased with an opportunity of getting quit of it in so legitimate
a mode as that of inserting it among the Border tales. There lived (he
said) in the suburbs of the town of Falun, in Sweden, a long time ago, a
young woman, bearing the Swedish name of Fiona Glipping. The legend
(perhaps to give interest to the story) says she was the prettiest of all
the damsels of the district of Falun—describing her as having the blue
eyes and the long yellow hair of the daughters of Odin—attributes, in the
estimation of the north-men, of the greatest beauty that a minnesinger
could describe. Out of many suitors, she chose for her lover Magnus
Estrithson, the son of one of the tacksmen of the great copper mine which
bears the name of the town; a young man, equal to Fiona in beauty, and far
superior to her in wordly prospects, being the appartent heir of his
father, reputed to be rich, and, besides, possessing the prospect of
succeeding him as one of the tacksmen of the Falun works. The old man was
not only agreeable to the match between Magnus and Fiona, but had promised
that, on the day of their marriage, he would collect all his workmen about
the mine, and give them, in honour of the young couple, one of the
greatest merrymakings that had been witnessed in the district of Falun for
many years. The place appointed for the joyous occasion was his own house,
which was situated at some distance from the works, and where the men were
appointed to assemble, some hours before the time when their labours
generally ended. At the residence of Fiona, the preparations for the
ceremony were, meanwhile, going on, and many a Swedish maiden envied the
"sweet toil," in which the beauty of Lahun and her friends were engaged,
with a view to a union which was deemed auspicious, as well from the
well-known affection of the young couple, as the reputed riches of the
father of the youth. The hour came, and the blushing Fiona became the wife
of her lover. A party was made up to accompany the happy pair to the
tacksman’s house, where there had already assembled more than a hundred
miners, resolved to enjoy to the uttermost the opportunity presented to
them of getting, once in their lives, as much of the great national
beverage, brandy, as they could drink. Our legend limits the enjoyment of
the miners to this indispensable item—probably because it is so much
relished throughout Scandinavia, that it is taken to breakfast, dinner,
tea, and supper; but we are entitled to presume, that other good things
awaited the miners and their wives—who also attended—though, even to these
latter guests, a more acceptable offering could not have been given, than
that to which their husbands were so much attached, and the use of which
was so liberally resorted to at weddings, that, as Pantoppidan asserts,
the wives often took with them the shrouds of their husbands, wherein to
roll the victims of unavoidable strife. The scene of enjoyment had already
begun; the father, old Eric, sat at the head of the board, presenting a
fair example to his miners, to make themselves as merry as men who wrought
below the ground had a right to be when they feasted above it. At another
board, Gyda, the mother of the youth, doled out tea, with the usual
accompaniment of the red spirit, to the women. Minnesingers sung their old
ballads; the hour approached when the young couple were expected, and a
round of filled glasses were in the hands of the company, to drink to the
health of young Magnus and fair Fiona, when a young man entered the room,
with terror in his eye, and faltering words on his white lips. "Magnus has
fallen into the eastern shaft!" cried he, and fell down upon the ground.
What more was required to tell his fate to those who knew that that shaft
of the Lahun mine was six hundred feet deep! The father and mother
fainted; and the whole host of miners sallied forth, in wild confusion, to
the scene of the disaster. A dreadful sight there met their eyes. Standing
on the brink of the frightful abyss, was the bride; her wedding garments
torn, in her agony, to tatters, and her long yellow hair waving about her
shoulders. The screams of her and her party rent the air, and reverberated
among the deep hollows of the crater. Their cries were as vain as the
efforts of the miners to procure the body of their young master.
Fifty long years passed
away. Old Eric Estrithson and his wife Gyda were gathered to their Swedish
fathers, in the kirkyard of Lahun. Other tacksmen had succeeded to the
mines; and scarcely a miner who had been present on that occasion, was
left to tell the tale of the fate of young Magnus. Fiona Glipping’s yellow
locks had waxed to gray; deep wrinkles were on her brow; and the cheeks
that bore the blush of the rose, were pale as those of the corpse that has
tasted of the grave. At the time of her marriage, she was the beauty of
Lahun; but now, she was amongst the oldest women of the town, walking on
the crutch of age, and tottering on the brink of the dark valley of death;
yet old as she was, she retained upon her mind the image of the young,
blooming Magnus, as fresh and vivid as she did on that day when she met
him before the priest—at that moment when she saw him fall into the chasm.
But, save herself, few now living remembered aught of the unfortunate
youth; and even the story of his fate had become as an old legend, told by
the Swedish mother to her children. At the end of this period, the miners
of Lahun had opened part of the eastern shaft, and discovered, in the
alkaline waters, the body of a young man. No one could tell who he was: he
was fair, the tints of health and youth were on his cheeks, and it was
manifest to all, that he must have fallen into the shaft only a few days
before; yet no one could tell anything of him, no one could say he had
seen him; he was not an ordinary workman, for he wore the gay dress of a
bridegroom, and yet no marriage had been heard of in the neighbourhood of
Lahun for weeks before. The circumstance spread, and reached the ears of
Fiona, who, crutch in hand, and with weak, tottering steps, took her way
to the mine of Lahun. The corpse still lay on the side of the shaft, and
the sun, which shone on it, never brought out a brighter tint of
complexion from the face of the living, than he did from that of the
corpse. The old woman bent over the body, and saw, through the spectacles
of age, the form of Magnus Estrithson, precisely as he appeared to her on
that day fifty years before, when he met his death in the manner we have
related. She was now old and decrepit—he still wore the features, the
complexion of youth, and was dressed in the very marriage garb in which he
was that day arrayed. The alkaline waters in which the youth had fallen,
had, strange as it may appear, preserved the body, with the lineaments and
tints of youth, for fifty years. The image which had kept possession of
Fiona’s mind, till she was thus an old woman, was realised once again;
but, oh Niobes dolores, under what circumstances! |
