In the 12th century, Walter Map in his
De Nugis Curialium recounts as many as five narratives of Fairy wives: the tales of Gwestin of Gwestiniog, Edric the Wild, the Breton Knight, Henno cum dentibus, and Gerbert d’Aurillac. According to Alberto Varvaro, this sort of tale may be summarized thus:
1) the hero meets in a fated time (midday or night) one or more women in a deserted place;
2) he possesses one of them and marries her;
3) the woman promises him love and fortune at a condition (not to talk about her origins, not to hit her, etc.);
4) the woman is fertile (and presumably also obedient and faithful);
5) the condition is not respected;
6) as a consequence the woman disappears, leaving one or more children behind, usually unhappy.
(Varvaro 1994: 74)
However, it should be added to such a scheme that sometimes the wife and her husband are reunited and end up happily ever after, such as in the lay of Marie de France titled
Lanval, of which there is also a Middle English version titled
Launfal, the text of which was edited in 1960 by Tolkien’s former pupil A.J. Bliss. Besides, Tolkien and Gordon cited
Lanval in their edition of
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (
SGGK n. 43), and Cilli reports that three editions of the
Lais were owned by Tolkien (
TL 183-184). Indeed, the Fairy marriage we are discussing is not necessarily canonical, since “it is characteristic of this motif that, with relatively few exceptions, the Fairy offers sexual intercourse to the hero without any demand for the commitment of marriage and without stipulating any directly connected negative consequences” (Byrne 2016: 99).
Varvaro further points out that the Fairy wives are called by Walter Map
fantastica apparitio (fantastic apparition),
fantasma (phantasm),
fantastica illusio (fantastic illusion),
fata (Fairy),
fatalitas (fatality/fairness/Fairy nature),
portentum (portent) and
prodigium (prodigy). Summing up, he claims (Varvaro 1994: 99) that they are located in an intermediate position between Le Goff’s categories of magical (demonic) and marvelous (non-Christian). Indeed, Walter Map himself explains that:
those apparitions that devils sometimes make on their own, after having had permission from God, pass either without damage or with damage, depending on whether the Lord, by bringing them, protects those who are subject to the apparitions or abandons them and allows them to be tempted (Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium II.13)
In other words, Map is here advocating St. Augustine’s notion of the permissio Domini, or the permission the Lord may accord demons to tempt in order for them to be able to do so, a permission that is mysteriously accorded in relation to God’s plan of salvation for mankind and the single person6. The notion was also known to the author of the
Ancrene Riwle, who stated: “This is the fifth comfort: that he [the Devil] can do nothing to us except with God’s permission” (Salu 1955: 102). Since Tolkien was an expert on the
Ancrene Riwle as well as the author of the preface to Salu’s translation, he was certainly aware of the concept of permissio Domini as well. Besides, in the fourteenth century, one also reads in John Trevisa’s translation of
Higden’s Polychronicon that “fendes mowe nouƺt do but at Goddes suffraunce” [fiends may do nothing unless they have God’s permission] (John Trevisa,
Higden's Polychronicon II in 1869: 427).
Another concept by Augustine that is clearly advocated in the Irish sources is that of “lustless sex in a prelapsarian world” (Byrne 2016: 101)7. Indeed, in two works from tenth century Ireland, in
Tochmarch Étaíne the Fairy Midir describes “a land where people are eternally youthful”, a place where one finds those whom the Irish medieval writer calls “stately folk without blemish, conception without sin, without lust”, who, according to
Imramm Brain, “operate according to a different moral law”, playing what the Irish medieval author calls “a beautiful game, most delightful, [. . .] sitting at the luxurious wine, men and gentle women under a bush, without sin, without crime” (Byrne 2016: 101).
In the fourteenth century the French author Jean d’Arras wrote his Roman de Melusine, the most famous Fairy mistress of the Middle Ages, since the Lusignan family held her story as their family foundation8. D’Arras in the prologue recounts the Melusinian tale that he found in the 13th century
Otia Imperialia of Gervase of Tilbury:
Gervase [of Tilbury] himself gives us the example of a knight named Roger [in Gervase, Raymond] of Castel de Rousset, in the province of Aix, who came upon a Fairy and wanted her for his wife. She consented, on condition that he never see her naked. They remained together for a very long time, and the knight’s prosperity increased greatly. Then, much later, it so happened that when the Fairy was bathing, his curiosity made him want to see her, whereupon she plunged her head into the water, became a serpent, and was never seen again. The knight slowly lost all his prosperity and possessions (D’Arras 2012: 21)
Gervase himself had written about the subject also in more general terms, offering his testimony to the presumed credibility of the accounts and the usual explanation of the fairies’s nature as fallen angels, although he credits a version of such an explanation that comes close to arguing in favor of the so-called neutral angels, or a third party of angels who neither were faithful to God nor took Lucifer’s parts in his rebellion:
This fact [union of ghosts and human beings] is confirmed every day by people of absolute credibility: we have heard that some men have fallen in love with this kind of 'larvae' they call fairies and that they, wanting to marry other women, died before joining the new companions; instead we have seen that most of them lived in absolute earthly happiness; some then, when they have escaped the embraces of these fairies or have publicly revealed their nature, not only have they lost material prosperity, but also any comfort to their miserable life. I do not know what the meaning of these things is [...] I only know that those of the sinner angels who least seriously boasted with the devil are reserved for apparitions of this type, to bring trouble to men (Otia Imperialia III.86)
Marriages between men and fairies were not at all uncommon in Celtic folklore, as for instance the Welsh tale known as
Llyn-y-Fan Fach bears witness, the oldest written version of which is preserved in the British Library.1 In this Lady of the Lake tale, a girl who rises out of the lake agrees to marry a local young man on condition that he will not hit her three times. Of course, he does, and she disappears back into the lake. Another example is the
leannan sidhe in Ireland, literally ‘the sweetheart Fairy’, who offers artistic inspiration in return for love.
The whole corpus of tales involving the Fairy-marriage motif is classified as Thompson F302, and there is no doubt that Tolkien knew the tale in some or another version, be it an original Celtic story (Tolkien owned a private Celtic library) or some later retelling, such as the Middle English
Sir Launfal, itself inspired by the Old French
Lanval, one of the
Lais of Marie de France, in which Sir Launfal meets the daughter of the King of Faerie, who bestows on him a magical source of wealth, and will visit him whenever he wants, so long as he never tells anybody about her. Going further back, the nymph Calypso, who keeps Odysseus on her island Ogygia on an attempt to make him her immortal husband, can be taken as a further (and older) version of the same motif.
Associated with the Fairy or fée is the notion of Féerie or Faërie. The realm of Faërie is consistently portrayed in English folktales as a place endowed with a different timeline from our own, one such that travelers returning home from Faërie often find that centuries have passed while they were "away with the fairies" and everyone they knew and loved is gone. Conceived in the Irish
Echtra Condla as the place where there is no death, no strife, no sin, and no table-service, Faërie erases the whole of what time negatively entails, including the possibility of disagreement as well as social inequality. Thus it follows that the tales wherein the human lover joins the Fairy in the Otherworld are tales of time joining timelessness for a while or, in other words, tales of time being paused, or even, as in the Echtra Condla stopped once and for all. On the other hand, in the Fairy-marriage tales, wherein the Fairy joins her husband in this world, it is possible to think of the Fairy-marriage as vinculated to conditions, which may even be a clear prohibition of some sort, whose setting constitutes the beginning of the time-window wherein the marriage itself may last, before the count-down reaches zero when inevitably the prohibition is ignored and the conditions are therefore violated. These are then tales of timelessness joining time for a while or, in other words, tales of timelessness set in motion, usually only for a while.