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910B | The Highlander Takes Three Advices from the English Farmer | Scotland | null | Cuthbert Bede [pseudonym for Edward Bradley], The White Wife: With Other Stories, Supernatural, Romantic, and Legendary (London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1865), pp. 141-46. | In one of the glens of Cantire there lived a young and loving pair who were blessed with one child, a fine healthy lad. They strove hard to provide themselves with the necessaries of life; but their croft was sterile and their crops scanty: and, after many bitter and serious consultations, it was agreed that they should separate for a season, with the hope to make their circumstances better, and that the wife should shift for herself and the lad, and that the husband should travel in search of a situation where he would have food and wages. Their separation was painful; but they comforted themselves with the promise to be true to each other, and to meet again in better circumstances. The husband had an aversion to become a soldier; so he sailed to Greenock, and from thence made his way into England, and traveled on until he met with a worthy farmer, with whom he agreed to work. The bargain was made by signs, for the highlander had no English; but after a time they came to understand each other quite well, and the highlander learned a little English. His master respected his servant very much; and the servant was steady, honest, and industrious in his service. Time passed on, year after year; and every year the highlander left his wages in his master's hands, until he had a pretty round sum to take. At length he prepared to return home to Cantire; and his master laid down all his wages on the table, and said, 'Whether will you lift all your money, or take three advices in its place?' The highlander replied, 'Sir, your advices were always good to me, and I think it better to take them than to lift the money.' So the master took away the money, and gave him these three advices: I. When you are going home keep on the high way, and take no by-way. II. Lodge not in any house in which you see an old man and his young wife. III. Do nothing rashly until you have well considered what you will do. Besides these three advices, the English farmer gave the highlander sufficient money to carry him home; and he also gave him a loaf, which he was not to break until he could eat it with his wife and son. Then they bade farewell. After traveling several miles the highlander overtook a peddler, who was on his way to Scotland; so they agreed to keep company with one another, and to lodge at a certain town that same night: but as they were traveling quite agreeably, they came upon a by-way which was a great length shorter than the high road, and the peddler proposed that they should take it; but the highlander would not, for he thought of his master's first advice. Then the peddler said that he was tired with his burthen, and that he would take the short by-way, and wait until his companion had come forward. So they went each their way, and the highlander kept to the high-way until he had come to the place appointed. There he found the peddler weeping, and without his pack, for he had been robbed in the by-way. So this was the benefit that the highlander got by following the first advice of the English farmer. Then they walked on together to the town, the peddler weeping for the loss of his pack, and saying that he knew where they would get good lodgings. But, when they got to the house, the highlander saw an old man and a young wife; so he would not lodge there, for he remembered his master's second advice. But the peddler remained in the house, and the highlander crept into a coal-house in the entry. At midnight he felt some one coming in at the door, and, after remaining a short time, going out again; but, as he passed him in the dark, the highlander, with his knife, cut a bit from the wing of his coat, and kept it. In the morning the cry of murder was heard, and it was found that the old man who kept the house had been killed. The authorities of the town came and saw the dead body, and found the peddler sleeping in a room; and when they searched his pockets, there was a bloody knife found in them; and as he had no pack or money, they concluded he was a false peddler, and had murdered the old man to get his wealth. So the peddler was apprehended and condemned to be hanged; and the highlander accompanied him to the scaffold, and observed among the crowd a young man walking with the young wife of the murdered man; and the young man's coat was of the same color as the swatch he had cut from it in the coal-house in the entry. 'Hang me!' said the highlander, 'if you pair are not the murderers.' So they were apprehended, and acknowledged their crime, and were hanged; and the peddler was set at liberty. And this was the benefit that was got from the High lander following the second advice of the English farmer. It was midnight when the highlander got back home. He rapped at the door, and his wife got up, and recognized her husband, and lighted a candle. Upon that, the highlander saw a fine young man lying in the bed; and he was purposing to step up and kill him, apprehensive that another had taken his place. But he thought on his master's advice, and said, 'Who is yon man?' 'It is our son!' said his wife. 'He came home from his service last evening, and slept in that bed.' 'I should have slain him but for the master!' said the highlander. So this was the benefit he got from following the third advice of the English farmer. The highlander's joy was now at its height. His son arose from the bed; more peats were put on, and a large fire kindled; and the highlander then sought a knife to cut the loaf that he had carried all the way from England. With the first slice he found silver money; and when he had cut all the loaf, he found therein all the wages that would have been paid him by his master. So the highlander got the money and the three advices also; and with the money he stocked a farm and lived comfortably till the end of his days. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
910B | The Prince Who Acquired Wisdom | India | null | Cecil Henry Bompas, Folklore of the Santal Parganas (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 14, pp. 53-56. | There was once a raja who had an only son and the raja was always urging his son to learn to read and write in order that when he came to his kingdom he might manage well and be able to decide disputes that were brought to him for judgment; but the boy paid no heed to his father's advice and continued to neglect his lessons. At last when he was grown up, the prince saw that his father was right and he resolved to go away to foreign countries to acquire wisdom; so he set off without telling anyone but his wife, and he took with him a purse of money and three pieces of gold. After traveling a long time, he one day saw a man plowing in a field and he went and got some tobacco from him and asked him whether there were any wise men living in that neighborhood. 'What do you want with wise men?' asked the plowman. The prince said that he was traveling to get wisdom. The plowman said that he would give him instruction if he were paid. Then the prince promised to give him one gold piece for each piece of wisdom. The plowman agreed and said. 'Listen attentively! My first maxim is this: You are the son of a raja; whenever you go to visit a friend or one of your subjects and they offer you a bedstead, or stool, or mat to sit on, do not sit down at once but move the stool or mat a little to one side; this is one maxim: give me my gold coin.' So the prince paid him. Then the plowman said, 'The second maxim is this: You are the son of a raja; whenever you go to bathe, do not bathe at the common bathing place, but at a place by yourself; give me my coin,' and the prince did so. Then he continued, ' My third maxim is this: You are the son of a raja; when men come to you for advice or to have a dispute decided, listen to what the majority of those present say and do not follow your own fancy, now pay me;' and the prince gave him his last gold coin, and said that he had no more. 'Well,' said the plowman, 'Your lesson is finished, but still I will give you one more piece of advice free and it is this: You are the son of a raja; restrain your anger, if anything you see or hear makes you angry, still do not at once take action; hear the explanation and weigh it well, then if you find cause you can give rein to your anger and if not, let the offender off!' After this the prince set his face homewards as he had spent all his money; and he began to repent of having spent his gold pieces on advice that seemed worthless. However on his way he turned into a bazaar to buy some food and the shopkeepers on all sides called out, 'Buy, buy,' so he went to a shop and the shopkeeper invited him to sit on a rug; he was just about to do so when he remembered the maxim of his instructor and pulled the rug to one side; and when he did so he saw that it had been spread over the mouth of a well and that if he had sat on it he would have been killed; so he began to believe in the wisdom of his teacher. Then he went on his way and on the road he turned aside to a tank to bathe, and remembering the maxim of his teacher he did not bathe at the common place but went to a place apart; then having eaten his lunch he continued his journey, but he had not gone far when he found that he had left his purse behind, so he turned back and found it lying at the place where he had put down his things when he bathed; thereupon he applauded the wisdom of his teacher, for if he had bathed at the common bathing place, someone would have seen the purse and have taken it away. When evening came on he turned into a village and asked the headman to let him sleep in his verandah, and there was already one other traveler sleeping there and in the morning it was found that the traveler had died in his sleep. Then the headman consulted the villagers and they decided that there was nothing to be done but to throw away the body, and that as the prince was also a traveler he should do it. At first he refused to touch the corpse as he was the son of a raja, but the villagers insisted and then he bethought himself of the maxim that he should not act contrary to the general opinion; so he yielded and dragged away the body, and threw it into a ravine. Before leaving it he remembered that it was proper to remove the clothes, and when he began to do so he found round the waist of the body a roll of coin; so he took this and was glad that he had followed the advice of his teacher. That evening he reached the boundary of his own territory and decided to press on home although it was dark; at midnight he reached the palace and without arousing anyone went to the door of his wife's room. Outside the door he saw a pair of shoes and a sword; at the sight he became wild with rage and drawing the sword he called out, 'Who is in my room?' As a matter of fact the prince's wife had got the prince's little sister to sleep with her, and when the girl heard the prince's voice she got up to leave; but when she opened the door and saw the prince standing with the drawn sword she drew back in fear; she told him who she was and explained that they had put the shoes and sword at the door to prevent anyone else from entering; but in his wrath the prince would not listen and called to her to come out and be killed. Then she took off her cloth and showed it to him through the crack of the door and at the sight of this he was convinced; then he reflected on the advice of his teacher and repented, because he had nearly killed his sister through not restraining his wrath. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
910B | The Three Admonitions | Italy | null | Thomas Frederick Crane, Italian Popular Tales, (London: Macmillan and Company, 1885), no. 41, pp. 157-59. | A man once left his country to go to foreign parts, and there entered the service of an abbot. After he had spent some time in faithful service, he desired to see his wife and native land. He said to the abbot, 'Sir, I have served you thus long, but now I wish to return to my country.' 'Yes, my son,' said the abbot, ' but before departing I must give you the three hundred ounces [nearly 13 francs] that I have put together for you. Will you be satisfied with three admonitions, or with the three hundred ounces?' The servant answered, 'I will be satisfied with the three admonitions.' 'Then listen. First: When you change the old road for the new, you will find troubles which you have not looked for. Second: See much and say little. Third: Think over a thing before you do it, for a thing deliberated is very fine. Take this loaf of bread and break it when you are truly happy.' The good man departed, and on his journey met other travelers. These said to him, 'We are going to take the by-way. Will you come with us?' But he remembering the three admonitions of his master answered, 'No, my friends, I will keep on this road.' When he had gone half way, bang! bang! he heard some shots. 'What was that, my sons?' The robbers had killed his companions. 'I have gained the first hundred ounces!' he said, and continued his journey. On his way he arrived at an inn as hungry as a dog and called for something to eat. A large dish of meat was brought which seemed to say, 'Eat me, eat me!' He stuck his fork in it and turned it over, and was frightened out of his wits, for it was human flesh! He wanted to ask the meaning of such food and give the innkeeper a lecture, but just then he thought, 'See much and say little;' so he remained silent. The innkeeper came, he settled his bill, and took leave. But the innkeeper stopped him and said, 'Bravo, bravo! you have saved your life. All those who have questioned me about my food have been soundly beaten, killed, and nicely cooked.' 'I have gained the second hundred ounces,' said the good man, who did not think his skin was safe until then. When he reached his own country he remembered his house, saw the door ajar and slipped in. He looked about and saw no one, only in the middle of the room was a table, well set with two glasses, two forks, two seats, service for two. 'How is this?' he said. 'I left my wife alone and here I find things arranged for two. There is some trouble.' So he hid himself under the bed to see what went on. A moment after he saw his wife enter, who had gone out a short time before for a pitcher of water. A little after he saw a sprucely dressed young priest come in and seat himself at the table. 'Ah, is that he?' and he was on the point of coming forth and giving him a sound beating; but there came to his mind the final admonition of the abbot: 'Think over a thing before you do it, for a thing deliberated is very fine;' and he refrained. He saw them both sit down at the table, but before eating his wife turned to the young priest and said: 'My son, let us say our accustomed Paternoster for your father.' When he heard this he came from under the bed crying and laughing for joy, and embraced and kissed them both so that it was affecting to see him. Then he remembered the loaf his master had given him and told him to eat in his happiness; he broke the loaf and there fell on the table all the three hundred ounces, which the master had secretly put in the loaf. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
910B | The Three Advices | Ireland | The same story is found in The Rural Repository, vol. 12-13, new series (Hudson, New York: William B. Stoddard, 1835-36), pp. 107-108. | T. Crofton Croker, 'The Three Advices: An Irish Moral Tale,' Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, vol. 4, no. 173 (May 23, 1835), pp. 131-32. | The stories current among the Irish peasantry are not very remarkable for the inculcation of any moral lesson, although numberless are the legends related of pious and 'good people,' the saints and fairies. The following tale of the Three Advices is the only one of a moral character which I remember to have heard. It was told to me by a professional storyteller, whose diction I have endeavored to preserve, although his soubriquet of 'Paddreen Trelah' or Paddy the Vagabond, from his wandering life, was not a particularly appropriate title for a moralist. The tale is certainly very ancient, and has probably found its way into Ireland from Wales, as it appears to be an amplification of a Bardic 'Triad of Wisdom.' There once came, what of late has happened so often in Ireland, a hard year. When the crops failed, there was beggary and misfortune from one end of the island to the other. At that time many poor people had to quit the country from want of employment, and through the high price of provisions. Among others, John Carson was under the necessity of going over to England, to try if he could get work; and of leaving his wife and family behind him, begging for a bite and a sup up and down, and trusting to the charity of good Christians. John was a smart young fellow, handy at any work, from the hay field to the stable, and willing to earn the bread he ate; and he was soon engaged by a gentleman. The English are mighty strict upon Irish servants; he was to have twelve guineas a year wages, but the money was not to be paid until the end of the year, and he was to forfeit the entire twelve guineas in the lump, if he misconducted himself in any way within the twelve months. John Carson was to be sure upon his best behavior, and conducted himself in every particular so well for the whole time, there was no faulting him late or early, and the wages were fairly his. The term of his agreement being expired, he determined on returning home, notwithstanding his master, who had a great regard for him, pressed him to remain, and asked him if he had any reason to be dissatisfied with his treatment. 'No reason in life, sir,' said John; 'you've been a good master and a kind master to me; the Lord spare you over your family; but I left a wife and two small children of my own at home, after me in Ireland, and your honor would never wish to keep me from them entirely, the wife and the children.' 'Well, John,' said the gentleman, 'you have earned your twelve guineas, and you have been, in every respect, so good a servant, that, if you are agreeable, I intend giving you what is worth the twelve guineas ten times over, in place of your wages. But you shall have your choice. Will you take what I offer, on my word'? John saw no reason to think that his master was jesting with him, or was insincere in making the offer; and, therefore, after a slight consideration, told him that he agreed to take for his wages whatever he would advise, whether it was the twelve guineas or not. 'Then listen attentively to my words,' said the gentleman. 'First, I would teach you this: Never to take a by-road when you have the highway. Secondly: Take heed not to lodge in the house where an old man is married to a young woman. And thirdly: Remember that honesty the best policy. These are the three advices I would pay you with; and they are in value far beyond any gold; however, here is a guinea for your traveling charges, and two cakes, one of which you must give to your wife, and the other you must not eat yourself until you have done so, and I charge you to be careful of them.' It was not without some reluctance on the part of John Carson that he was made to accept mere words for wages, or could be persuaded that they were more precious than golden guineas. His faith in his master was, however, so strong, that he at length became satisfied. John set out for Ireland the next morning early; but he had not proceeded far, before he overtook two pedlars who were traveling the same way. He entered into conversation with them, and found them a pair of merry fellows, who proved excellent company on the road. Now it happened, towards the end of their day's journey, when they were all tired with walking, that they came to a wood, through which there was a path that shortened the distance to the town they were going towards, by two miles. The pedlars advised John to go with them through the wood; but he refused to leave the highway, telling them, at the same time, he would meet them again at a certain house in the town where travelers put up. John was willing to try the worth of the advice which his master had given him, and he arrived in safety, and took up his quarters at the appointed place. While he was eating his supper, an old man came hobbling into the kitchen, and gave orders about different matters there, and then went out again. John would have taken no particular notice of this, but immediately after, a young woman, young enough to be the old man's daughter, came in, and gave orders exactly the contrary of what the old man had given, calling him, at the same time, such as old fool, and old dotard, and so on. When she was gone, John inquired who the old man was. 'He is the landlord,' said the servant; 'and, heaven help him! A dog's life has he led since he married his last wife.' 'What,' said John, with surprise, 'is that young woman the landlord's wife? I see I must not remain in this house tonight;' and, tired as he was, he got up to leave it, but went no further than the door before he met the two pedlars, all cut and bleeding, coming in, for they had been robbed and almost murdered in the wood. John was very sorry to see them in that condition, and advised them not to lodge in the house, telling them, with a significant nod that all was not right there; but the poor pedlars were so weary and so bruised, that they would stop where they were, and disregarded the advice. Rather than remain in the house, John retired to the stable, and laid himself down upon a bundle of straw, where he slept soundly for some time. About the middle of the night, he heard two persons come into the stable, and on listening to their conversation, discovered that it was the landlady and a man, laying a plan how to murder her husband. In the morning John renewed his journey; but at the next town he came to, he was told that the landlord in the town he had left had been murdered and that two pedlars, whose clothes were found all covered with blood, had been taken up for the crime, and were going to be hanged. John, without mentioning what he had overheard to any person, determined to save the pedlars if possible, and so returned, in order to intend their trial. On going into the court, he saw the two men at bar, and the young woman and the man whose voice he had heard in the stable, swearing their innocent lives away. But the judge allowed him to give his evidence, and he told every particular of what had occurred. The man and the young woman instantly confessed their guilt; the poor pedlars were at once acquitted; and the judge ordered a large reward to be paid to John Carson, as through his means the real murderers were brought to justice. John proceeded towards home, fully convinced of the value of two of the advices which his master had given him. On arriving at his cabin he found his wife and children rejoicing over a purse full of gold, which the eldest boy had picked up on the road that morning. Whilst he was away they had endured all the miseries which the wretched families of those who go over to seek work in England are exposed to. With precarious food, without a bed to lie down on, or a roof to shelter them, they had wandered through the country, seeking food from door to door of a starving population; and when a single potato was bestowed, showering down blessings and thanks on the giver, not in the set phrases of the mendicant, but in the burst of eloquence too fervid not to gush direct from the heart. Those only who have seen a family of such beggars as I describe, can fancy the joy with which the poor woman welcomed her husband back, and informed him of the purse full of gold. 'And where did Mick my boy, find it,' inquired John Carson. 'It was the young squire, for certain, who dropped it,' said his wife, 'for he rode down the road this morning, and was leaping his horse in the very gap where Micky picked it up; but sure, John, he has money enough, besides, and never the halfpenny have I to buy my poor childer a bit to eat this blessed night.' 'Never mind that,' said John. 'Do as I bid you, and take up the purse at once to the big house, and ask for the young squire. I have two cakes which I brought every step of the way with me from England, and they will do for the children's supper. I ought surely to remember, as good right I have, what my master told me for my twelvemonths' wages, seeing I never, as yet, found what he said to be wrong!' 'And what did he say,' inquired the wife. 'That honesty is the best policy,' answered John. ''Tis very well; and 'tis mighty easy for them to say so that have never been sore tempted by distress and famine to say otherwise, but your bidding is enough for me, John.' Straightways she went to the big house, and inquired for the young squire; but she was denied the liberty to speak to him. 'You must tell me your business, honest woman,' said the servant, with a head all powdered and frizzled like a cauliflower, and who had on a coat covered with gold and silver lace and buttons, and everything in the world. 'If you knew but all,' said she, 'I am an honest woman, for I've brought a purse full of gold to the young master; for surely it is his; as nobody else could have so much money.' 'Let me see it,' said the servant. 'Ay, it's all right. I'll take care of it. You need not trouble yourself any more about the matter;' and so saying, he slapped the door in her face. When she returned, her husband produced the two cakes which his master gave him on parting; and breaking one to divide between his children, how was he astonished to find six guineas, in it; and when he took the other and broke it, he found as many more. He then remembered the words of his generous master, who desired him to give one of the cakes to his wife, and not to eat the other himself until that time; and this was the way his master took to conceal his wages, lest he should have been robbed, or have lost the money on the road. The following day, as John was standing near his cabin door and turning over in his own mind what he should do with his money, the young squire came riding down the road. John pulled off his hat, for he had not forgotten his manners through the means of traveling to foreign parts, and then made so bold as to inquire if his honor had got the purse he lost. 'Why, it is true enough, my good fellow,' said the squire, 'I did lose my purse yesterday, and I hope you were lucky enough to find it; for if that is your cabin, you seem to be very poor, and shall keep it as a reward for your honesty.' 'Then the servant at the big house never gave it to you last night, after taking it from Nance -- she's my wife, your honor -- and telling her it was all right?' 'Oh, I must look into this business,' said the squire. 'Did you say your wife, my poor man, gave my purse to a servant -- to what servant?' 'I can't tell his name rightly,' said John, 'because I don't know it; but never trust Nance's eye again if she can't point him out to your honor, if so your honor is desirous of knowing.' 'Then do you and Nance, as you call her, come up to the hall this evening, and I'll inquire into the matter, I promise you.' So saying, the squire rode off. John and his wife went up accordingly in the evening, and he gave a small rap with the big knocker at the great door. The door was opened by a grand servant, who, without hearing what the poor people had to say, exclaimed, 'Oh, go! -- go! what business can you have here?' and shut the door. John's wife burst out a crying. 'There,' said she, so sobbing as if her heart would break. 'I knew that would be the end of it.' But John had not been in old England merely to get his twelve guineas packed in two cakes. 'No,' said he, firmly; 'right is right, and I'll see the end of it.' So he sat himself down on the steps of the door, determined not to go until he had seen the young squire, and as it happened, it was not long before he came out. 'I have been expecting you for some time, John,' said he; 'come in and bring your wife in;' and he made them go before him into the house. Immediately he directed all the servants to come up stairs; and such an army of them as there was! It was a real sight to see them. 'Which of you,' said the young squire, without making further words, 'which of you all did this honest woman give my purse to?' but there was no answer. 'Well I suppose she must be mistaken, unless she can tell herself.' John's wife at once pointed her finger towards the head footman; 'there he is,' said she, 'if all the world were in the fore -- clergyman, magistrate, judge, jury and all. There he is, and I am ready to take my bible-oath to him. There he is who told me it was all right when he took the purse, and slammed the door in my face, without as much as thank ye for it.' The conscious footman turned pale. 'What is this I hear?' said his master. 'If this woman gave you my purse, William, why did you not give it to me?' The servant stammered out a denial; but his master insisted on his being searched, and the purse was found in his pocket. 'John,' said the gentleman, turning round, 'you shall be no loser by this affair. Here are ten guineas for you; go home now, but I will not forget your wife's honesty.' Within a month John Carson was settled in a nice new-slated house, which the squire had furnished and made ready for him. What with his wages, and the reward he got from the judge, and the ten guineas for returning the purse, he was well to do in the world, and was soon able to stock a little farm, where he lived respected all his days. On his deathbed, he gave his children the very three advices which his master had given him on parting: Never to take a by-road when they could follow the highway. Never to lodge in a house where an old man was married to a young woman. And, above all, to remember that honesty is the best policy. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
910B | The Three Advices Which the King with the Red Soles Gave to His Son | Ireland | null | Patrick Kennedy, Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts (London: Macmillan and Company, 1866), pp. 73-77. | The name of the young chief was Illan, called Don, from his brown hair, and the first thing he set about doing after the funeral, was to test the wisdom of his father's counsels. So he went to the fair of Tailtean [now Telltown in Meath] with a fine mare of his, and rode up and down. He asked twenty gold rings for his beast, but the highest bid he got was only nineteen. To work out his design he would not abate a screpal, but rode home on her back in the evening. He could have readily crossed a ford that lay in his way near home; for sheer devilment he leaped the river higher up, where the banks on both sides were steep. The poor beast stumbled as she came near the edge, and was flung head foremost into the rocky bed, and killed. He was pitched forward, but his fall was broken by some shrubs that were growing in the face of the opposite bank. He was as sorry for the poor mare as any young fellow, fond of horses and dogs, could be. When he got home he sent a giolla to take off the animal's two forelegs at the knee, and these he hung up in the great hall of his dun, having first had them properly dried and prepared. Next day he repaired again to the fair, and got into conversation with a rich chief of Oriel, whose handsome daughter had come to the meeting to purchase some cows. Illan offered his services, as he knew most of the bodachs and the bodachs' wives who were there for the object of selling. A word to them from the handsome and popular young chief, and good bargains were given to the lady. So pleased was her father, ay and she too, with this civility that he forthwith received an invitation to hunt and fish at the northern rath, and very willingly he accepted it. So he returned home in a very pleasant state of mind, and was anxious that this second experiment should succeed better than the first. The visit was paid, and in the mornings there were pleasant walks in the woods with the young lady, while her little brother and sister were chasing one another through the trees, and the hunting and fishing went on afterwards, and there were feasts of venison, and wild boar, and drinking of wine and mead in the evenings, and stories in verse recited by bards, and sometimes moonlight walks on the ramparts of the fort, and at last marriage was proposed and accepted. One morning as Illan was musing on the happiness that was before him, an attendant on his promised bride walked into his room. 'Great must be your surprise, O Illan Don,' said she, 'at this my visit, but my respect for you will not allow me to see you fall into the pit that is gaping for you. Your affianced bride is an unchaste woman. You have remarked the deformed Fergus Rua, who plays on the small clarsech, and is the possessor of thrice fifty stories. He often attends in her room late in the evening to play soft music to her, and to put her to sleep with this soft music and his stories of the Danaan druids. Who would suspect the weak deformed creature, or the young lady of noble birth? By your hand, O Illan of the brown hair, if you marry her, you will bring disgrace on yourself and your clan. You do not trust my words! Then trust to your own senses. She would most willingly break off all connection with the lame wretch since she first laid eyes on you, but he has sworn to expose her before you and her father. When the household is at rest this night, wait at the entrance of the passage that leads to the women's apartments. I will meet you there. Tomorrow morning you will require no one's advice for your direction.' Before the sun tinged the purple clouds, next morning, Illan was crossing the outer moat of the lios, and lying behind him on the back of his trusty steed, was some long object carefully folded in skins. 'Tell your honored chief,' said he to the attendant who was conducting him, 'that I am obliged on a sudden to depart, and that I request him by his regard for me to return my visit a fortnight hence, and to bring his fair daughter with him.' On he rode, and muttered from time to time, 'Oh, had I slain the guilty pair, it would be a well merited death! the deformed wretch! the weak lost woman! Now for the third trial!' Illan had a married sister, whose rath was about twelve of our miles distant from his. To her home he repaired next day, changing clothes with a beggar whom he met on the road. When he arrived, he found that they were at dinner, and several neighboring families with them in the great hall. 'Tell my sister,' said he to a giolla who was lounging at the door, 'that I wish to speak with her.' 'Who is your sister?' said the other in an insolent tone, for he did not recognize the young chief in his beggar's dress. 'Who should she be but the Bhan a Teagh, you rascal!' The fellow began to laugh, but the open palm of the irritated young man coming like a sledge stroke on his cheek, dashed him on the ground, and set him a-roaring. 'Oh, what has caused this confusion?' said the lady of the house, coming out from the hall. 'I,' said her brother, 'punishing your giolla's disrespect.' 'Oh, brother, what has reduced you to such a condition?' 'An attack on my house, and a creagh made on my lands in my absence. I have neither gold nor silver vessels in my dun, nor rich cloaks, nor ornaments, nor arms for my followers. My cattle have been driven from my lands, and all as I was on a visit at the house of my intended bride. You must come to my relief; you will have to send cattle to my ravaged fields, gold and silver vessels, and ornaments and furs, and rich clothes to my house, to enable me to receive my bride and her father in a few days.' 'Poor dear Illan!' she answered, 'my heart bleeds for you. I fear I cannot aid you, nor can I ask you to join our company within in these rags. But you must be hungry; stay here till I send you some refreshment.' She quitted him, and did not return again, but an attendant came out with a griddle cake in one hand, and a porringer with some Danish beer in it in the other. Illan carried them away to the spot where he had quitted the beggar, and gave him the bread, and made him drink the beer. Then changing clothes with him, he rewarded him, and returned home, bearing the porringer as a trophy. On the day appointed with the father of his affianced, there were assembled in Illan's hall, his sister, his sister's husband, his affianced, her father, and some others. When an opportunity offered after meat and bread, and wine had gone the way of all food, Illan addressed his guests: 'Friends and relations, I am about confessing some of my faults before you, and hope you will be bettered by the hearing. My dying father charged me never to refuse a fair offer for horse, cow, or sheep, at a fair. For refusing a trifle less than I asked for my noble mare, there was nothing left to me but those bits of her forelegs you see hanging by the wall. He advised me never to put on an air of want when soliciting a favor. I begged help of my sister for a pretended need, and because I had nothing better than a beggar's cloak on me, I got nothing for my suit but the porringer that you see dangling by the poor remains of my mare. I wooed a strange lady to be my wife, contrary to my dying father's injunction, and after seeming to listen favorably to my suit, she at last said I should be satisfied with the crutches of her lame and deformed harper: there they are!' The sister blushed, and was ready to sink through the floor for shame. The bride was in a much more wretched state, and would have fainted, but it was not the fashion of the day. Her father stormed, and said this was but a subterfuge on the part of Illan. He deferred to her pleasure, but though torn with anguish for the loss of the young chief's love and respect, she took the blame on herself. The next morning saw the rath without a visitor; but within a quarter of a year, the kind faced, though not beautiful daughter of a neighboring Duine Uasal (gentleman) made the fort cheerful by her presence. Illan had known her since they were children. He was long aware of her excellent qualities, but had never thought of her as a wife till the morning after his speech. He was fonder of her a month after his marriage than he was on the marriage morning, and much fonder when a year had gone by, and presented his house with an heir. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Buttermilk Jack | null | According to the narrator, this song was sung at a country fair 'by a queer little man, with a twisted face, and a lurcher dog between his knees.' Thomas Hughes, best known for his novel Tom Brown's School Days (1857), was born in 1822 and died in 1896. | Thomas Hughes The Scouring of the White Horse; or, The Long Vacation Ramble of a London Clerk (Cambridge and London: Macmillan and Company, 1859), pp. 171-72. | Oh mother, my buttermilk I will sell, And all for a penny as you med zee; And with my penny then I will buy eggs, Vor I shall have seven for my penney. Oh mother, I'll set them all under our hen, And seven cock chickens might chance for to be; But seven cock chickens or seven cap hens, There'll be seven half-crownds for me. Oh, I'll go carry them to market, mother, And nothing but vine volk shall I zee; And with my money then I will buy land, Zo as a landlord I med be. 'Oh my dear zon, wilt thee know me, When thee hast gotten great store of wealth?' 'Oh, my dear mother, how shall I know thee, When I shall hardly know my own self?' Zo aal you as has got an old hen for to sett, Both by night and by day mind you has her well watched, Lest you should be like unto Buttermilk Jack, To reckon your chickens before thay are hatched. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Day-Dreaming | The 1001 Nights | Note by Jacobs: I have given the story of the barber's fifth brother from the Arabian Nights as another example of the rare instances of tales that have become current among the folk, but which can be definitely traced to literary sources, though possibly, in the far-off past, it was a folk tale arising in the East. The various stages by which the story came into Europe have been traced by Benfey in the introduction to his edition of Pantschatantra, § 209, and after him by Max Mueller in his essay 'On the Migration of Fables' (Chips from a German Workshop, iv., 145-209; it was thus a chip from another German's workshop). It came to Europe before the Arabian Nights and became popular in La Fontaine's fable of Perrette who counted her chickens before they were hatched, as the popular phrase puts it. In such a case one can only give a reproduction of the literary source, and it is a problem which of the various forms which appear in the folk books should be chosen. I have selected that from the Thousand and One Nights because I have given elsewhere the story of Perrette (Jacobs, Ãsop's Fables, no. 45), and did not care to repeat it in this place. I have made my version a sort of composite from those of Mr. Payne and Sir Richard Burton, and have made the few changes necessary to fit the tale to youthful minds. It is from the quasi-literary spread of stories like this that the claim for an Oriental origin of all folk tales has received its chief strength, and it was necessary, therefore, to include one or two of them in Europa's Fairy Book (Androcles is another). But the mode of transmission is quite different and definitely traceable and, for the most part, the tales remain entirely unchanged; whereas, in the true folk tale, the popular storytellers exercised their choice, modifying incidents and giving local color. (pp. 243-44) | Joseph Jacobs, Europa's Fairy Book (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1916), no. 15, pp. 110-14. | Now there was once a man at Bagdad who had seven sons, and when he died he left to each of them one hundred dirhams; and his fifth son, called Alnaschar the Babbler, invested all this money in some glassware, and, putting it in a big tray, from which to show and sell it, he sat down on a raised bench, at the foot of a wall, against which he leant back, placing the tray on the ground in front of him. As he sat he began day-dreaming and said to himself: I have laid out a hundred dirhams on this glass. Now I will surely sell it for two hundred, and with it I will buy more glass and sell that for four hundred; nor will I cease to buy and sell till I become master of much wealth. With this I will buy all kinds of merchandise and jewels and perfumes and gain great profit on them till, God willing, I will make my capital a hundred thousand dinars or two million dirhams. Then I will buy a handsome house, together with slaves and horses and trappings of gold, and eat and drink, nor will there be a singing girl in the city but I will have her to sing to me. This he said looking at the tray before him with glassware worth a hundred dirhams. Then he continued: When I have amassed a hundred thousand dinars I will send out marriage-brokers to demand for me in marriage the hand of the Vizier's daughter, for I hear that she is perfect in beauty and of surpassing grace. I will give her a dowry of a thousand dinars, and if her father consent, 'tis well; if not, I will take her by force, in spite of him. When I return home, I will buy ten little slaves and clothes for myself such as are worn by kings and sultans and get a saddle of gold, set thick with precious jewels. Then I will mount and parade the city, with slaves before and behind me, while the people will salute me and call down blessings upon me: after which I will go to the Vizier, the girl's father, with slaves behind and before me, as well as on either hand. When the Vizier sees me, he will rise and seating me in his own place, sit down below me, because I am his son-in-law. Now I will have with me two slaves with purses, in each a thousand dinars, and I will give him the thousand dinars of the dowry and make him a present of another thousand dinars so that he may recognize my nobility and generosity and greatness of mind and the littleness of the world in my eyes; and for every ten words he will say to me, I will answer him only two. Then I will return to my house, and if anyone come to me on the bride's part, I will make him a present of money and clothe him in a robe of honor; but if he bring me a present I will return it to him and will not accept it so that they may know how great of soul I am. After a while Alnaschar continued: Then I will command them to bring the Vizier's daughter to me in state and will get ready my house in fine condition to receive her. When the time of the unveiling of the bride is come, I will put on my richest clothes and sit down on a couch of brocaded silk, leaning on a cushion and turning my eyes neither to the right nor to the left, to show the haughtiness of my mind and the seriousness of my character. My bride shall stand before me like the full moon, in her robes and ornaments, and I, out of my pride and my disdain, will not look at her, till all who are present shall say to me: 'O my lord, thy wife and thy handmaid stands before thee; deign to look upon her, for standing is irksome to her.' And they will kiss the earth before me many times, whereupon I will lift my eyes and give one glance at her, then bend down my head again. Then they will carry her to the bride-chamber, and meanwhile I will rise and change my clothes for a richer suit. When they bring in the bride for the second time, I will not look at her till they have implored me several times, when I will glance at her and bow down my head; nor will I cease doing thus, till they have made an end of parading and displaying her. Then I will order one of my slaves to fetch a purse, and, giving it to the tire-women, command them to lead her to the bride-chamber. When they leave me alone with the bride, I will not look at her or speak to her, but will sit by her with averted face, that she may say I am high of soul. Presently her mother will come to me and kiss my head and hands and say to me: 'O my lord, look on thy handmaid, for she longs for thy favor, and heal her spirit.' But I will give her no answer; and when she sees this, she will come and kiss my feet and say, 'O my lord, verily my daughter is a beautiful girl, who has never seen man; and if thou show her this aversion, her heart will break; so do thou be gracious to her and speak to her.' Then she will rise and fetch a cup of wine, and her daughter will take it and come to me; but I will leave her standing before me, while I recline upon a cushion of cloth of gold, and will not look at her to show the haughtiness of my heart, so that she will think me to be a sultan of exceeding dignity and will say to me: 'O my lord, for God's sake, do not refuse to take the cup from thy servant's hand, for indeed I am thy handmaid.' But I will not speak to her, and she will press me, saying: 'Needs must thou drink it,' and put it to my lips. Then I will shake my fist in her face and spurn her with my foot thus. So saying, he gave a kick with his foot and knocked over the tray of glass, which fell over to the ground, and all that was in it was broken. Note by Jacobs: I have given the story of the barber's fifth brother from the Arabian Nights as another example of the rare instances of tales that have become current among the folk, but which can be definitely traced to literary sources, though possibly, in the far-off past, it was a folk tale arising in the East. The various stages by which the story came into Europe have been traced by Benfey in the introduction to his edition of Pantschatantra, § 209, and after him by Max Mueller in his essay 'On the Migration of Fables' (Chips from a German Workshop, iv., 145-209; it was thus a chip from another German's workshop). It came to Europe before the Arabian Nights and became popular in La Fontaine's fable of Perrette who counted her chickens before they were hatched, as the popular phrase puts it. In such a case one can only give a reproduction of the literary source, and it is a problem which of the various forms which appear in the folk books should be chosen. I have selected that from the Thousand and One Nights because I have given elsewhere the story of Perrette (Jacobs, Ãsop's Fables, no. 45), and did not care to repeat it in this place. I have made my version a sort of composite from those of Mr. Payne and Sir Richard Burton, and have made the few changes necessary to fit the tale to youthful minds. It is from the quasi-literary spread of stories like this that the claim for an Oriental origin of all folk tales has received its chief strength, and it was necessary, therefore, to include one or two of them in Europa's Fairy Book (Androcles is another). But the mode of transmission is quite different and definitely traceable and, for the most part, the tales remain entirely unchanged; whereas, in the true folk tale, the popular storytellers exercised their choice, modifying incidents and giving local color. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Lazy Heinz | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm | I have followed the Grimms' seventh and final edition (1857). This tale was added to their collection in the third edition (1837). Link to a separate file containing only the tale Lazy Heinz. | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 'Der faule Heinz,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen, vol. 2 (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 164, pp. 313-15. | Heinz was lazy, and although he had nothing else to do but to drive his goat out to the pasture every day, he nevertheless groaned every evening when he returned home after finishing his day's work. 'It is in truth a heavy burden,' he said, 'and a tiresome job, to drive such a goat out to the field year in and year out until late in the fall. If I could only lie down and sleep at it! But no, I must keep my eyes open so it won't damage the young trees, or force its way through the hedge into a garden, or even run away altogether. How can I get some rest and enjoy life?' He sat down, collected his thoughts, and considered how he could lift this burden from his shoulders. For a long time his thoughts led to nothing, but suddenly it was as if scales were removed from his eyes. 'I know what I will do,' he shouted. 'I will marry Fat Trina. She too has a goat, and she can drive mine out with hers, and then I shall no longer have to torment myself.' So Heinz got up, set his weary limbs into motion, and walked across the street, for it was no further than that, to where Fat Trina's parents lived, and asked for the hand in marriage of their industrious and virtuous daughter. Her parents did not think about it for long. 'Birds of a feather, flock together,' they thought, and gave their consent. So Fat Trina became Heinz's wife, and drove out both of the goats. Heinz now enjoyed life, having no work to rest from, but his own laziness. He went out with her only now and then, saying, 'I'm doing this so that afterwards I will enjoy resting more. Otherwise I shall lose all feeling for it.' However, Fat Trina was no less lazy. 'Dear Heinz,' she said one day, 'why should we make our lives so miserable, ruining the best days of our youth, when there is no need for it? The two goats disturb our best sleep every morning with their bleating. Wouldn't it be better for us to give them to our neighbor, who will give us a beehive for them? We will put the beehive in a sunny place behind the house, and then not give it any more thought. Bees do not have to be taken care of, nor driven into the field. They fly out and find their way home again by themselves, and they collect honey without any effort at all on our part.' 'You have spoken like a sensible woman,' replied Heinz. 'We will carry out your proposal without delay. And furthermore, honey tastes better and is more nourishing than goat's milk, and it keeps longer too.' The neighbor willingly gave them a beehive for the two goats. The bees flew tirelessly in and out from early morning until late evening, filling the hive with the best honey. Thus that fall-time, Heinz was able to take out a whole jugful. They placed the jug on a shelf on their bedroom wall. Fearing that it might be stolen, or that the mice might get into it, Trina brought in a stout hazel stick and put it beside her bed, so that she would be able to reach it without having to get up, and then from her place in bed drive away the uninvited guests. Lazy Heinz did not like to get out of bed before noon. 'He who rises early,' he would say, 'wastes his wealth.' One morning when he was still lying in the feathers in broad daylight, resting from his long sleep, he said to his wife, 'Women are fond of sweets, and you have been snacking on the honey. It would be better for us to exchange it for a goose with a young gosling, before you eat it all up.' 'But not before we have a child to take care of them.' replied Trina. Am I to torment myself with the young geese, wasting all my energy on them for no reason?' 'Do you think,' said Heinz, 'that the boy will tend geese? Nowadays children no longer obey. They do just as they please, because they think that they are smarter than their parents, just like that servant who was supposed to look for the cow and chased after three blackbirds.' 'Oh,' replied Trina, 'he will get it if he does not do what I say. I will take a stick and tan his hide with more blows than can be counted.' 'See here, Heinz,' she shouted in her fervor, seizing the stick that she intended to use to drive away the mice. 'See here! This is how I will beat him.' She struck forth, unfortunately hitting the jug of honey above the bed. The jug struck against the wall and fell down in pieces. The fine honey flowed out onto the floor. 'There lies the goose with the young gosling,' said Heinz. 'And they do not need to be tended. But it is lucky that the jug did not fall on my head. We have every reason to be satisfied with our fate.' Then noticing that there was still some honey in one of the pieces of the jug, he reached out for it, saying quite happily, 'Wife, let us enjoy the leftovers, and then we will rest a little from the fright we have had. What does it matter if we get up a little later than usual? The day will be long enough.' 'Yes,' answered Trina, 'there is always time enough. You know, the snail was once invited to a wedding and started on his way, but arrived at the child's baptism. In front of the house it fell over the fence, and said, 'Haste makes waste.'' Kinder- und Hausmärchen, vol. 2 (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 164, pp. 313-15. I have followed the Grimms' seventh and final edition (1857). This tale was added to their collection in the third edition (1837). | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Lean Lisa | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm | I have followed the Grimms' seventh and final edition (1857). This tale was added to their collection in the fourth edition (1840). Link to a separate file containing only the tale Lean Lisa. | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 'Die hagere Liese,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen, vol. 2 (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 168, pp. 332-33. | Lean Lisa was not at all like Lazy Heinz and Fat Trina, who would not allow anything to disturb their rest. She burned herself out from morning until evening and loaded so much work on her husband, Lanky Lenz, that it was harder for him than for a donkey loaded with three sacks. But it was all for naught. They had nothing, and they got nothing. One evening she was lying in bed, too tired to move a muscle but still unable to fall asleep, when she poked her husband in the side with her elbow and said, 'Lenz, listen to what I just thought of. If I were to find a florin, and you were to give me another one, then I'd borrow yet another one, and you'd give me still another one, and then I would take the four florins and buy a young cow.' The man agreed. 'I don't know,' he said, 'where I'm to get that florin I'm supposed to give you, but after you have the money to buy a cow, it will be a good thing.' Then he added, 'I'm looking forward to the time after the cow calves, so I can have some good refreshing milk to drink.' 'The milk is not for you,' said the woman. 'We will let the calf suck, so it will grow large and fat, and we can sell it for a good price.' 'Of course,' said the man, 'but it won't hurt anything if we take a little milk.' 'Who taught you about cows?' said the woman. 'I won't allow it, whether it will hurt anything or not. You can stand on your head, but you won't get a single drop of milk. Lanky Lenz, just because you are always hungry, you think that you can devour everything that my hard work brings in.' 'Woman,' said the man, 'be quiet, or I'll plant one on the side of your face.' 'What!' she cried. 'Are you threatening me! You glutton! You good-for-nothing! You lazybones!' She was reaching for his hair, but Lanky Lenz raised himself up, took hold of both her skinny arms with one hand, then pushed her head into the pillow with the other one. He held her there and let her scold until she fell asleep from exhaustion. The next morning when she woke up, I do not know whether she continued to quarrel, or whether she went out to look for the florin that she wanted to find. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Sheik Chilli | India, Alice Elizabeth Dracott | null | Alice Elizabeth Dracott, Simla Village Tales; or, Folk Tales from the Himalayas (London: John Murray, 1906), pp. 68-69. | The hero of this story was one day walking along with a vessel of oil upon his head. As he walked he kept thinking of the future: I will sell the oil, and with the money I shall buy a goat, and then I shall sell the kids, and then I shall buy a cow, and sell the milk, till I get a large sum of money; then I shall buy a pair of buffaloes, and a field, and plough the field, and gain more money, and build myself a house, and marry a wife, and have many sons and daughters. And when my wife comes to call me to dinner, I'll say: 'Dhur, away! I'll come when I think fit!' And with that he held up his head suddenly, and away fell the chattie with the oil, and it was all spilt. This upset Sheik Chilli so much that he began to yell: 'I have lost my goats, I have lost my cows, I have lost my buffaloes, and my house, and my wife and children.' That such dire calamity should befall a man caused great pity, so the bystanders took Sheik Chilli to the Rajah, who asked him how it had all happened. When he heard the story he laughed, and said: 'This boy has a good heart, let him be given a reward to compensate him for the loss of his oil.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | Story of an Old Woman, Carrying Milk to Market in an Earthen Vessel. | Jacques de Vitry | Crane considers the above tale to be 'the oldest European version of this famous fable.' Jacques de Vitry was born in central France between about 1160 and 1170, and died in Rome in 1240. | Jacques de Vitry The Exempla; Or, Illustrative Stories from the Sermones Vulgares, edited by Thomas Frederick Crane (London: Folk-Lore Society, 1890), no. 51, pp. 154-55. | An old woman, while carrying milk to market in an earthen vessel, began to consider in what way she could become rich. Reflecting that she might sell her milk for three pence (obolos), she thought she would buy with them a young hen, from whose eggs she would get many chickens, which she would sell and buy a pig. This she would fatten and sell and buy a foal, which she would rear until it was suitable to ride. And she began to say to herself, 'I shall ride that horse and lead it to pasture and say to it, 'Io! Io!'' While she was thinking of these things she began to move her feet and heels as if she had spurs on them, clapped her hands for joy, so that by the motion of her feet and the clapping of her hands she broke the pitcher, and the milk was spilled on the ground, and she was left with nothing in her hands. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Barber's Tale of His Fifth Brother | 1001 Nights | null | The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, translated from the Arabic by Richard F. Burton, reprinted from the original edition and edited by Leonard C. Smithers, vol. 1 (London: H. S. Nichols and Company , 1894), pp. 309-312. | When our father died, he left each of us one hundred dirhams. My fifth brother invested his inheritance in glassware, hoping to resell it at a handsome profit. He exhibited the glassware on a large tray, then fell to musing: These pieces will bring me two hundred dirhams, which I can use to buy more glass, which I will then sell for four hundred dirhams. With this money I can buy more glass and other merchandise to sell, and so on and so on until I have amassed a hundred thousand dirhams. Then I will purchase a fine house with slaves and eunuchs, and when my capital has grown to a hundred thousand dinars, I will demand to marry the Prime Minister's eldest daughter, and if he refuses consent, I will take her by force. On my wedding night I will don my finest attire and seat myself on a cushion of gold brocade to receive my bride. She will present herself in her most beautiful clothing, lovely as the full moon, but I will not even glance at her until her attendants kiss the ground before me and beg me to look at her, and then I will cast at her one single glance. When they leave us alone I will neither look at her nor speak to her, but will show my contempt by lying beside her with my face to the wall. Presently her mother will come into the chamber and beg of me, 'Please, my lord, your handmaid longs for your favor.' I will give no answer. Then she will kiss my feet and say, 'My lord, my daughter is truly a beautiful maid who has never before been with a man. Do speak to her and soothe her mind and spirit.' Then she will bring a cup of wine, hand it to her daughter, saying, 'Take this to your lord.' I will say nothing, leaning back so that she may see in me a sultan and a mighty man. She will say to me, 'My lord, do not refuse to take this cup from the hand of your servant.' I will say nothing, and she will insist, 'You must drink it,' and press the cup to my lips. Then I will shake my fist in her face and kick her with my foot. With that he struck out, catching the tray of glassware with his foot. It crashed to the ground and everything broke to pieces, and thus my brother lost both his capital and his profit. translated from the Arabic by Richard F. Burton, reprinted from the original edition and edited by Leonard C. Smithers, vol. 1 (London: H. S. Nichols and Company , 1894), pp. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Broken Pot | The Panchatantra | One of India's most influential contributions to world literature, The Panchatantra (also spelled Pañcatantra or Pañca-tantra) consists of five books of animal fables and magic tales (some 87 stories in all) that were compiled, in their current form, between the third and fifth centuries AD. The German Sanskrit scholar Johannes Hertel (1872-1955) believed that the original collection was compiled in Kashmir about 200 BC, and that at this time many of the stories were already ancient. The work's self-proclaimed purpose is to educate the sons of royalty. Although the original author's or compiler's name is unknown, an Arabic translation from about 750 AD attributes the Panchatantra to a wise man called Bidpai (also spelled Pilpay), which is probably a Sanskrit word meaning 'court scholar.' The fables of the Panchatantra found their way to Europe through oral folklore channels and by way of Persian and Arabic translations. They substantially influenced European fabulists. Link to a selection of tales from The Panchatantra. Link to Arthur W. Ryder's English translation of the Panchatantra. | Pantschatantra: Fünf Bücher indischer Fabeln, Märchen und Erzählungen, translated from the Sanskrit into German by Theodor Benfey, vol. 2 (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1859), book 5, story 9, pp. 345-46. | In a certain place there lived a Brahman by the name of Svabhâvakripana, which means 'luckless by his very nature.' By begging he acquired a quantity of rice gruel, and after he had eaten what he wanted, there was still a potful left. He hung this pot on a nail in the wall above his bed. As night progressed, he could not take his eyes from the pot. All the while he was thinking: This pot is filled to overflowing with rice gruel. If a famine should come to the land, then I could sell it for a hundred pieces of silver. Then I could buy a pair of goats. They have kids every six months, so I would soon have an entire herd of goats. Then I would trade the goats for cattle. As soon as the cows had calved, I would sell the calves. Then I would trade the cattle for buffalo. And the buffalo for horses. And when the horses foaled, I would own many horses. From their sale I would gain a large amount of gold. With this gold I would buy a house with four buildings in a rectangle. Then a Brahman would enter my house and give me a very beautiful girl with a large dowry for my wife. She will give birth to a son, and I will give him the name Somasarman. When he is old enough to be bounced on my knee, I will take a book, sit in the horse stall, and read. In the meantime, Somasarman will see me and want to be bounced on my knee. He will climb down from his mother's lap and walk toward me, coming close to the horses hooves. Then, filled with anger, I will shout at my wife, 'Take the child! Take the child!' But she, busy with her housework, will not hear me. So I will jump up and give her a kick! And, buried in his thoughts, he struck out with his foot, breaking the pot, and painting himself white with the rice gruel that had been in it. Therefore I say: He who dreams about unrealistic projects for the future will have the same fate as Somasarman's father: He will find himself lying there painted white with rice gruel. Märchen und Erzählungen, translated from the Sanskrit into German by Theodor Benfey, vol. 2 (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1859), book 5, story 9, pp. 345-46. The Panchatantra (also spelled Pañcatantra or Pañca-tantra) consists of five books of animal fables and magic tales (some 87 stories in all) that were compiled, in their current form, between the third and fifth centuries AD. The German Sanskrit scholar Johannes Hertel (1872-1955) believed that the original collection was compiled in Kashmir about 200 BC, and that at this time many of the stories were already ancient. The work's self-proclaimed purpose is to educate the sons of royalty. Although the original author's or compiler's name is unknown, an Arabic translation from about 750 AD attributes the Panchatantra to a wise man called Bidpai (also spelled Pilpay), which is probably a Sanskrit word meaning 'court scholar.' The fables of the Panchatantra found their way to Europe through oral folklore channels and by way of Persian and Arabic translations. They substantially influenced European fabulists. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk | France, Jean de La Fontaine | Jean de La Fontaine, The Fables of La Fontaine, translated from the French by Elizur Wright (London: George Bell and Sons, 1888), book 7, fable 10, pp. 159-60. Link to this fable in French: La laitière et le pot au lait. Jean de La Fontaine was born in 1621 and died in 1695. His Fables were first published in several volumes between 1668 and 1694. | null | A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; Short clad and light, with speed she went, Not fearing any accident; Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, Her dress that day, The truth to say, Was simple petticoat and slipper. And, thus bedight, Good Peggy, light, -- Her gains already counted, -- Laid out the cash At single dash, Which to a hundred eggs amounted. Three nests she made, Which, by the aid Of diligence and care were hatch'd. 'To raise the chicks, I'll easy fix,' Said she, 'beside our cottage thatch'd. The fox must get More cunning yet, Or leave enough to buy a pig. With little care And any fare, He'll grow quite fat and big; And then the price Will be so nice, For which the pork will sell! 'Twill go quite hard But in our yard I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell -- A calf to frisk among the flock!' The thought made Peggy do the same; And down at once the milk-pot came, And perish'd with the shock. Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! Your mistress' face is sad to view; She gives a tear to fortune spilt; Then with the downcast look of guilt Home to her husband empty goes, Somewhat in danger of his blows. Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air His cots, or seats, or castles fair? From kings to dairywomen, -- all, -- The wise, the foolish, great and small, -- Each thinks his waking dream the best. Some flattering error fills the breast: The world with all its wealth is ours, Its honors, dames, and loveliest bowers. Instinct with valor, when alone, I hurl the monarch from his throne; The people, glad to see him dead, Elect me monarch in his stead, And diadems rain on my head. Some accident then calls me back, And I'm no more than simple Jack. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Daydreamer | India, Henry Cecil Bompas | From Bompas' preface: 'The Santals are a Munda tribe, a branch of that aboriginal element which probably entered India from the northeast. At the present day they inhabit the eastern outskirts of the Chutia Nagpore plateau.' | Cecil Henry Bompas, Folklore of the Santal Parganas (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 39, pp. 140-141. | Once an oil man was going to market with his pots of oil arranged on a flat basket, and he engaged a Santal for two annas to carry the basket. And as he went along, the Santal thought: With one anna I will buy food and with the other I will buy chickens, and the chickens will grow up and multiply, and then I will sell some of the fowls and eggs, and with the money I will buy goats. And when the goats increase, I will sell some and buy cows, and then I will exchange some of the calves for she-buffaloes, and when the buffaloes breed, I will sell some and buy land and start cultivation, and then I will marry and have children, and I will hurry back from my work in the fields, and my wife will bring me water, and I will have a rest, and my children will say to me, 'Father, be quick and wash your hands for dinner,' but I will shake my head and say, 'No, no, not yet!' And as he thought about it he really shook his head, and the basket fell to the ground, and all the pots of oil were smashed. Then the oil man abused him and said that he must pay two rupees for the oil and one anna for the pots. But the Santal said that he had lost much more than that, and the oil man asked him how that could be, and the Santal explained how with his wages he was going to get fowls and then goats and then oxen and buffaloes and land, and how he came to spill the basket, and at that the oil man roared with laughter and said, 'Well, I have made up the account, and I find that our losses are equal, so we will cry quits.' And so saying they went their ways laughing. (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 39, pp. 140-141. From Bompas' preface: 'The Santals are a Munda tribe, a branch of that aboriginal element which probably entered India from the northeast. At the present day they inhabit the eastern outskirts of the Chutia Nagpore plateau.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Fakir and His Jar of Butter | The 1001 Nights | null | The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, translated by Richard F. Burton, vol. 9 (Benares: Printed by the Kamashastra Society for private subscribers only, 1885), pp. 40-41. | A fakir abode once with one of the nobles of a certain town, who made him a daily allowance of three scones and a little clarified butter and honey. Now such butter was dear in those parts and the devotee laid all that came to him together in a jar he had, till he filled it and hung it up over his head for safekeeping. One night, as he sat on his bed staff in hand, he fell a-musing upon the butter and the greatness of its price and said in himself: I sell all this butter I have accumulated and with the proceeds buy a ewe. The first year she will bear a male lamb and a female and the second a female and a male and these in their turn will bear other males and other females. The males I will sell and buy with them bulls and cows, which will also increase and multiply; after which I will purchase a piece of land and plant a garden therein and build thereon a fine palace. Moreover, I will purchase robes and raiment and slaves and slave-girls, and then hold a wedding exceeding all that have ever been seen. I will slaughter cattle and make rich meats and confections and assemble all the musicians and mimes and performers and invite rich and poor to the celebration. Lastly I will go in to my bride, after her unveiling and enjoy her beauty and loveliness. In due time my wife will bear me a boy, and I shall rejoice in him and make banquets in his honor and rear him daintily and teach him philosophy and mathematics and polite letters, so that I shall make his name renowned among men and glory in him among the assemblies of the learned; and I will bid him do good and he shall not contradict me, and I will forbid him from lewdness and iniquity and exhort him to piety and the practice of righteousness; and, I will bestow on him rich and goodly gifts. I will reward his obedience with rich gifts, but if I should ever see him incline to disobedience, I will come down on him with this staff. So saying, he raised his hand to beat his son, but the staff hit the jar of butter hanging above his head, and broke it. The shards fell upon him, and the butter ran down upon his head, his beard, his clothes, and his bed. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Lad and the Fox | Sweden | Nils Gabriel Djurklou was born in 1829 and died in 1904. | Gabriel Djurklou, Fairy Tales from the Swedish, translated by H. L. Brækstad (London: William Heinemann, 1901), pp. 85-86. | There was once upon a time a little lad, who was on his way to church, and when he came to a clearing in the forest he caught sight of a fox, who was lying on the top of a big stone fast asleep, so that the fox did not know the lad had seen him. 'If I kill that fox,' said the lad, taking a heavy stone in his fist, 'and sell the skin, I shall get money for it, and with that money I shall buy some rye, and that rye I shall sow in father's cornfield at home. When the people who are on their way to church pass by my field of rye they'll say, 'Oh, what splendid rye that lad has got!' Then I shall say to them, 'I say, keep away from my rye!' But they won't heed me. Then I shall shout to them, 'I say, keep away from my rye!' But still they won't take any notice of me. Then I shall scream with all my might, 'Keep away from my rye!' and then they'll listen to me.' But the lad screamed so loudly that the fox woke up and made off at once for the forest, so that the lad did not even get as much as a handful of his hair. No, it's best always to take what you can reach, for of undone deeds you should never screech, as the saying goes. translated by H. L. Brækstad (London: William Heinemann, 1901), pp. 85-86. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Milkmaid and Her Bucket | Ambrose Bierce | The American satirist Ambrose Bierce was born in 1842 and died about 1914. He was last seen in Chihuahua, Mexico. D. L. Ashliman's folktexts, a library of folktales, folklore, fairy tales, and mythology. | Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), p. 192. | A senator fell to musing as follows: 'With the money which I shall get for my vote in favour of the bill to subsidise cat-ranches, I can buy a kit of burglar's tools and open a bank. The profit of that enterprise will enable me to obtain a long, low, black schooner, raise a death's-head flag and engage in commerce on the high seas. From my gains in that business I can pay for the presidency, which at $50,000 a year will give me in four years --' but it took him so long to make the calculation that the bill to subsidise cat-ranches passed without his vote, and he was compelled to return to his constituents an honest man, tormented with a clean conscience. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Milkmaid and Her Pail | Aesop | null | Ãsop's Fables, translated by V. S. Vernon Jones (London: W. Heinemann; New York: Doubleday, Page and Company, 1916), pp. 25-26. | A farmer's daughter had been out to milk the cows, and was returning to the dairy carrying her pail of milk upon her head. As she walked along, she fell a-musing after this fashion: The milk in this pail will provide me with cream, which I will make into butter and take to market to sell. With the money I will buy a number of eggs, and these, when hatched, will produce chickens, and by and by I shall have quite a large poultry yard. Then I shall sell some of my fowls, and with the money which they will bring in I will buy myself a new gown, which I shall wear when I go to the fair; and all the young fellows will admire it, and come and make love to me, but I shall toss my head and have nothing to say to them. Forgetting all about the pail, and suiting the action to the word, she tossed her head. Down went the pail, all the milk was spilled, and all her fine castles in the air vanished in a moment! Moral: Do not count your chickens before they are hatched. (London: W. Heinemann; New York: Doubleday, Page and Company, 1916), pp. 25-26. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Peasant and the Cucumbers | Leo Tolstoy | Leo Tolstoy was born in 1828 and died in 1910. | Leo Tolstoy, Fables for Children; Stories for Children; Natural Science Stories, translated by Leo Wiener (London: J. M. Dent and Company, 1904), p. 40. | A peasant once went to the gardener's, to steal cucumbers. He crept up to the cucumbers, and thought, 'I will carry off a bag of cucumbers, which I will sell; with the money I will buy a hen. The hen will lay eggs, hatch them, and raise a lot of chicks. I will feed the chicks and sell them; then I will buy me a young sow, and she will bear a lot of pigs. I will sell the pigs, and buy me a mare; the mare will foal me some colts. I will raise the colts, and sell them. I will buy me a house, and start a garden. In the garden I will sow cucumbers, and will not let them be stolen, but will keep a sharp watch on them. I will hire watchmen, and put them in the cucumber patch, while I myself will come on them, unawares, and shout, 'Oh, there, keep a sharp lookout!'' And this he shouted as loud as he could. The watchmen heard it, and they rushed out and beat the peasant. translated by Leo Wiener (London: J. M. Dent and Company, 1904), p. 40. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Poor Man and the Flask of Oil | Bidpai | null | The Tortoise and the Geese and other Fables of Bidpai, retold by Maude Barrows Dutton (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1908), pp. 8-9. | There was once a poor man, who lived in a house next to a wealthy merchant who sold oil and honey. As the merchant was a kind neighbor, he one day sent a flask of oil to the poor man. The poor man was delighted, and put it carefully away on the top shelf. One evening, as he was gazing at it, he said half aloud, 'I wonder how much oil there is in that bottle. There is a large quantity. If I should sell it, I could buy five sheep. Every year I should have lambs, and before long I should own a flock. Then I should sell some of the sheep, and be rich enough to marry a wife. Perhaps we might have a son. And what a fine boy he would be! So tall, strong, and obedient! But if he should disobey me,' and he raised the staff which he held in his hand, 'I should punish him thus!' And he swung the staff over his head and brought it heavily to the ground, knocking, as he did so, the flask off the shelf so that the oil ran over him from head to foot. retold by Maude Barrows Dutton (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1908), pp. 8-9. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | The Story of the Devotee Who Spilt the Jar of Honey and Oil | India/Persia | null | The Anvár-i SuhailÃ; or, The Lights of Canopus, Being the Persion Version of The Fables of Pilpay, translated by Edward B. Eastwick (Hertford: Stephen Austin, 1854), p. 409. | They have related that a pious man had a house in the vicinity of a merchant, and lived happily through favor of his neighborly kindness. The merchant continually sold honey and oil, and made his profits by that traffic in unctuous and sweet commodities. Inasmuch as the pious man lived a blameless life, and ever sowed in the field of his guileless heart the seed of the love of God, the merchant reposed implicit confidence in him, and took the supply of his wants upon himself. And in this very thing is the use of riches: to win over the hearts of the poor, and to raise up a perpetual provision from perishable wealth. The merchant, too, considering the opportunity of doing good a blessing, sent every day somewhat from the stock, in the buying and selling of which he was occupied, for the support of the devotee. The latter used somewhat of this and stored up the rest in a corner. In a short time a jar was filled by these means. One day the pious man looked into that jar, and thought thus to himself, 'Well, now! What quantity of honey and oil is collected in this vessel?' At last he conjectured ten mans to be there, and said: If I can sell these for ten dirhams, I can buy for that sum five ewes, and these five will each have young every six months, and each will have two lambs. Thus in a year there will be twenty-five, and in ten years from their progeny there will be herds upon herds. So by these means I shall have an abundant supply, and will sell some, and lay in a handsome stock of furniture, and wed a wife of a noble family. After nine months, I shall have a son born to me, who will study science and polite manners. However, when the weakness of infancy is exchanged for the strength of youth, and that graceful cypress grows up in the garden of manhood, it is probable that he may transgress my orders, and begin to be refractory, and in that case it will be necessary for me to correct him, and I will do so with this very staff which I hold in my hand. He then lifted up his staff, and was so immersed in thought, that, fancying the head and neck of his rebellious son before him, he brought down the staff, and struck it on the jar of honey and oil. It happened that the jar was placed on a shelf, beneath which he sat with it facing him. As soon as his staff reached the jar, it broke it, and let out the honey and oil all over the head and face and vest and hair of the pious man. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | What Happened to a Woman Called Truhana | Spain, Prince Don Juan Manuel | This book (Libro de los ejemplos del conde Lucanor y de Patronio) was first written in 1335. Don Juan Manuel, Prince of Villena, was born in 1282 and died in 1348. | Prince Don Juan Manuel Count Lucanor; or, The Fifty Pleasant Stories of Patronio: The Tales of the 'Spanish Boccaccio', first done into English by James York, 1868 (London: Gibbings and Company, 1899), no. 28, pp. 147-49. | A woman named Truhana, who was not very rich, went one day to market, carrying on her head a jar of honey. Along the road she was calculating how she could sell the honey and buy eggs, these eggs would produce chickens, and with the produce of the sale of these latter she would buy lambs; and in this way was calculating how she would become richer than her neighbors, and looked forward with anxiety to well marrying her sons and daughters, and how she would go through the streets, accompanied by her sons and daughters-in-law, and how the people would say what a fortunate woman she was to become so rich, having been so very poor. Under the influence of these pleasurable thoughts, she laughed heartily; when, suddenly striking the jar with her hand, it fell to the ground and was broken. Seeing this, she was in great grief at being so suddenly deprived of all her flattering anticipations; for, having fixed all her thoughts upon an illusion, she lost that which was real. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1430 | What Happened to the Ascetic When He Lost His Honey and Oil | Kalilah and Dimnah | null | Kalilah and Dimnah; or, The Fables of Bidpai: Being an account of their literary history, with an English translationof the later Syriac version of the same, by I. G. N. Keith-Falconer (Cambridge: At the University Press, 1885), p. 170. | It is said that an ascetic derived his nourishment from a king, that is, the governor of a town, every day so much oil and so much honey. And whatever he had remaining, he used to pour into an earthenware vessel which he hung on a peg above the bedstead on which he slept. One day while sleeping on the bedstead, with the earthenware vessel full of oil and honey, he began to say within himself: If I sold this honey and oil, I might sell it for a dinar and with the dinar I might buy ten she-goats, and after five months they would have young, and after a lapse of five years these would have young and their number would become very large, and I should buy two yoke of oxen and a cow, and I should sow my fields and reap much corn and amass much oil, and I should buy a certain number of servants and maid-servants, and when I had taken to myself a wife of beautiful appearance and she had borne me a handsome son, I should instruct him and he would be secretary to the king. Now in his hand, was a staff, and while he was saying these things, he kept brandishing the staff with his hand, and struck the earthenware vessel with it and broke it, whereupon the oil and honey ran down on his head as he slept. So all his plans came to naught, and he was confounded. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
954 | Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves | Translated by Richard F. Burton | null | null | But the woman whom Ali Baba had married was poor and needy; they lived, therefore, in a mean hovel and Ali Baba eked out a scanty livelihood by the sale of fuel which he daily collected in the jungle and carried about the town to the Bazar upon his three asses. Now it chanced one day that Ali Baba had cut dead branches and dry fuel sufficient for his need, and had placed the load upon his beasts when suddenly he espied a dust-cloud spireing high in air to his right and moving rapidly towards him; and when he closely considered it he descried a troop of horsemen riding on amain and about to reach him. At this sight he was sore alarmed, and fearing lest perchance they were a band of bandits who would slay him and drive off his donkeys, in his affright he began to run; but forasmuch as they were near hand and he could not escape from out the forest, he drove his animals laden with the fuel into a bye-way of the bushes and swarmed up a thick trunk of a huge tree to hide himself therein; and he sat upon a branch whence he could descry everything beneath him whilst none below could catch a glimpse of him above; and that tree grew close beside a rock which towered high above-head. The horsemen, young, active, and doughty riders, came close up to the rock-face and all dismounted; whereat Ali Baba took good note of them and soon he was fully persuaded by their mien and demeanour that they were a troop of highwaymen who, having fallen upon a caravan had despoiled it and carried off the spoil and brought their booty to this place with intent of concealing it safely in some cache. Moreover he observed that they were forty in number. Ali Baba saw the robbers, as soon as they came under the tree, each unbridle his horse and hobble it; then all took off their saddle-bags which proved to be full of gold and silver. The man who seemed to be the captain presently pushed forwards, load on shoulder, through thorns and thickets, till he came up to a certain spot where he uttered these strange words, 'Open, O Simsim I' and forthwith appeared a wide doorway in the face of the rock. The robbers went in and last of all their Chief and then the portal shut of itself. Long while they stayed within the cave whilst Ali Baba was constrained to abide perched upon the tree, reflecting that if he came down peradventure the band might issue forth that very moment and seize him and slay him. At last he had determined to mount one of the horses and driving on his asses to return townwards, when suddenly the portal flew open. The robber-chief was first to issue forth; then, standing at the entrance, he saw and counted his men as they came out, and lastly he spake the magical words, 'Shut, O Simsim!' whereat the door closed of itself. When all had passed muster and review, each slung on his saddle-bags and bridled his own horse and as soon as ready they rode off, led by the leader, in the direction whence they came. Ali Baba remained still perched on the tree and watched their departure; nor would he descend until what time they were clean gone out of sight, lest perchance one of them return and look around and descry him. Then he thought within himself, 'I too will try the virtue of those magical words and see if at my bidding the door will open and close.' So he called out aloud, 'Open, O Simsim!' And no sooner had he spoken than straightway the portal flew open and he entered within. He saw a large cavern and a vaulted, in height equalling the stature of a full-grown man and it was hewn in the live stone and lighted up with light that came through air-holes and bullseyes in the upper surface of the rock which formed the roof. He had expected to find naught save outer gloom in this robbers' den, and he was surprised to see the whole room filled with bales of all manner stuffs, and heaped up from sole to ceiling with camel-loads of silks and brocades and embroidered cloths and mounds on mounds of vari-coloured carpetings; besides which he espied coins golden and silvern without measure or account, some piled upon the ground and others bound in leathern bags and sacks. Seeing these goods and moneys in such abundance, Ali Baba determined in his mind that not during a few years only but for many generations thieves must have stored their gains and spoils in this place. When he stood within the cave, its door had closed upon him, yet he was not dismayed since, he had kept in memory the magical words; and he took no heed of the precious stuffs around him, but applied himself only and wholly to the sacks of Ashrafis. Of these he carried out as many as he judged sufficient burthen for the beasts; then he loaded them upon his animals, and covered this plunder with sticks and fuel, so none might discern the bags, but might think that he was carrying home his usual ware. Lastly he called out, 'Shut, O Simsim!' and forthwith the door closed, for the spell so wrought that whensoever any entered the cave, its portal shut of itself behind him; and, as he issued therefrom, the same would neither open nor close again till he had pronounced the words, 'Shut, O Simsim!' Presently, having laden his asses Ali Baba urged them before him with all speed to the city and reaching home he drove them into the yard; and, shutting close the outer door, took down first the sticks and fuel and after the bags of gold which he carried in to his wife. She felt them and finding them full of coin suspected that Ali Baba had been robbing and fell to berating and blaming him for that he should do so ill a thing. Then quoth Ali Baba to his wife: 'Indeed I am no robber but rather do thou rejoice with me at our good fortune.' Hereupon he told her of his adventure and began to pour the gold from the bags in heaps before her, and her sight was dazzled by the sheen and her heart delighted at his recital and adventures. Then she began counting the gold, whereat quoth Ali Baba, 'O silly woman, how long wilt thou continue turning over the coin? Now let me dig a hole wherein to hide this treasure that none may know its secret.' Quoth she, 'Right is thy rede! still would I weigh the moneys and have some inkling of their amount;' and he replied, 'As thou pleasest, but see thou tell no man.' So she went off in haste to Kasim's home to borrow weights and scales wherewith she might balance the Ashrafis and make some reckoning of their value; and when she could not find Kaim she said to his wife, 'Lend me, I pray thee, thy scales for a moment.' Replied her sister-in-law, 'Hast thou need of the bigger balance or the smaller?' and the other rejoined, 'I need not the large scales, give me the little;' and her sister-in-law cried, 'Stay here a moment whilst I look about and find thy want.' With this pretext Kasim's wife went aside and secretly smeared wax and suet over the pan of the balance, that she might know what thing it was Ali Baba's wife would weigh, for she made sure that whatso it be some bit thereof would stick to the wax and fat. So the woman took this opportunity to satisfy her curiosity, and Ali Baba's wife suspecting naught thereof carried home the scales and began to weigh the gold, whilst Ali Baba ceased not digging; and, when the money was weighed, they twain stowed it into the hole which they carefully filled up with earth. Then the good wife took back the scales to her kinswoman, all unknowing that an Ashrafi had adhered to the cup of the scales; but when Kasim's wife espied the gold coin she fumed with envy and wrath, saying to herself, 'So ho! they borrowed my balance to weigh out Ashrafis?' and she marvelled greatly whence so poor a man as Ali Baba had gotten such store of wealth that he should be obliged to weigh it with a pair of scales. Now after long pondering the matter, when her husband returned home at eventide, she said to him, 'O man, thou deemest thyself a wight of wealth and substance, but lo, thy brother Ali Baba is an Emir by the side of thee and richer far than thou art. He hath such heaps of gold that he must needs weigh his moneys with scales, whilst thou, forsooth, art satisfied to count thy coin.' 'Whence knowe'st thou this?' asked Kasim, and in answer his wife related all anent the pair of scales and how she found an Ashrafi stuck to them, and shewed him the gold coin which bore the mark and superscription of some ancient king. No sleep had Kasim all that night by reason of his envy and jealousy and covetise; and next morning he rose betimes and going to Ali Baba said, 'O my brother, to all appearance thou art poor and needy; but in effect thou hast a store of wealth so abundant that perforce thou must weigh thy gold with scales.' Quoth Ali Baba, 'What is this thou sayest? I understand thee not; make clear thy purport;' and quoth Kasim with ready rage, 'Feign not that thou art ignorant of what I say and think not to deceive me.' Then showing him the Ashrafi he cried, 'Thousands of gold coins such as these thou hast put by; and meanwhile my wife found this one stuck to the cup of the scales.' Then Ali Baba understood how both Kasim and his wife knew that he had store of Ashrafis, and said in his mind that it would not avail him to keep the matter hidden, but would rather cause ill-will and mischief; and thus he was induced to tell his brother every whit concerning the bandits and also of the treasure trove in the cave. When he had heard the story, Kasim exclaimed, 'I would fain learn of thee the certainty of the place where them foundest the moneys; also the magical words whereby the door opened and closed; and I forewarn thee an thou tell me not the whole truth, I will give notice of those Ashrafis to the Wali; then shalt thou forfeit all thy wealth and be disgraced and thrown into gaol.' Thereupon Ali Baba told him his tale not forgetting the magical words; and Kasim who kept careful heed of all these matters next day set out, driving ten mules he had hired, and readily found the place which Ali Baba had described to him. And when he came to the aforesaid rock and to the tree whereon Ali Baba had hidden himself, and he had made sure of the door he cried in great joy, 'Open, O Simsim!' The portal yawned wide at once and Kasim went within and saw the piles of jewels and treasures lying ranged all around; and, as soon as he stood amongst them the door shut after him as wont to do. He walked about in ecstasy marvelling at the treasures, and when weary of admiration he gathered together bags of Ashrafis, a sufficient load for his ten mules, and placed them by the entrance in readiness to be carried outside and set upon the beasts. But by the will of Allah Almighty he had clean forgotten the cabalistic words and cried out, 'Open, O Barley!' whereat the door refused to move. Astonished and confused beyond measure he named the names of all manner of grains save sesame, which had slipped from his memory as though he had never heard the word; whereat in his dire distress he heeded not the Ashrafis that lay heaped at the entrance and paced to and fro, backwards and forwards, within the cave sorely puzzled and perplexed. The wealth whose sight had erewhile filled his heart with joy and gladness was now the cause of bitter grief and sadness. Kasini gave up all hope of the life which he by his greed and envy had so sore imperilled. It came to pass that at noontide the robbers, returning by that way, saw from afar some mules standing beside the entrance and much they marvelled at what had brought the beasts to that place; for, inasmuch as Kasim by mischance had failed to tether or hobble them, they had strayed about the jungle and were browsing hither and thither. However, the thieves paid scant regard to the estrays nor cared they to secure them, but only wondered by what means they had wandered so far from the town. Then, reaching the cave the Captain and his troop dismounted and going up to the door repeated the formula and at once it flew open. Now Kasim had heard from within the cave the horse-hooves drawing nigh and yet nigher; and he fell down to the ground in a fit of fear never doubting that it was the clatter of the banditti who would slaughter him without fail. Howbeit he presently took heart of grace and at the moment when the door flew open he rushed out hoping to make good his escape. But the unhappy ran full tilt against the Captain who stood in front of the band, and felled him to the ground; whereupon a robber standing near his chief at once bared his brand and with one cut clave Kasim clean in twain. Thereupon the robbers rushed into the cavern, and put back as they were before the bags of Ashrafis which Kasim had heaped up at the doorway ready for taking away; nor recked they aught of those which Ali Baba had removed, so dazed and amazed were they to discover by what means the strange man had effected an entrance. All knew that it was not possible for any to drop through the skylights so tall and steep was the rock's face, withal slippery of ascent; and also that none could enter by the portal unless he knew the magical words whereby to open it. However they presently quartered the dead body of Kasim and hung it to the door within the cavern, two parts to the right jamb and as many to the left that the sight might be a warning of approaching doom for all who dared enter the cave. Then coming out they closed the hoard door and rode away upon their wonted work. Now when night fell and Kasim came not home, his wife waxed uneasy in mind and running round to Ali Baba said, 'O my brother, Kasim hath not returned: thou knowest whither he went, and sore I fear me some misfortune hath betided him.' Ali Baba also divined that a mishap had happened to prevent his return; not the less, however, he strove to comfort his sister-in-law with words of cheer and said, 'O wife of my brother, Kasim haply exerciseth discretion and, avoiding the city, cometh by a roundabout road and will be here anon. This, I do believe, is the reason why he tarrieth.' Thereupon comforted in spirit Kasim's wife fared homewards and sat awaiting her husband's return; but when half the night was spent and still he came not, she was as one distraught. She feared to cry aloud for her grief, lest haply the neighbours hearing her should come and learn the secret; so she wept in silence and upbraiding herself fell to thinking, 'Wherefore did I disclose this secret to him and beget envy and jealousy of Ali Baba? this be the fruit thereof and hence the disaster that hath come down upon me.' She spent the rest of the night in bitter tears and early on the morrow hied in hottest hurry to Ali Baba and prayed that he would go forth in quest of his brother; so he strove to console her and straightway set out with his asses for the forest. Presently, reaching the rock he wondered to see stains of blood freshly shed and not finding his brother or the ten mules he forefelt a calamity from so evil a sign. He then went to the door and saving, 'Open, O Simsim!' he pushed in and saw the dead body of Kasim, two parts hanging to the right, and the rest to the left of the entrance. Albeit he was affrighted beyond measure of affright he wrapped the quarters in two cloths and laid them upon one of his asses, hiding them carefully with sticks and fuel that none might see them. Then he placed the bags of gold upon the two other animals and likewise covered them most carefully; and, when all was made ready he closed the cave-door with the magical words, and set him forth wending homewards with all ward and watchfulness. The asses with the load of Ashrafis he made over to his wife and bade her bury the bags with diligence; but he told her not the condition in which he had come upon his brother Kasim, Then he went with the other ass, to wit, the beast whereon was laid the corpse to the widow's house and knocked gently at the door. Now Kasim had a slave-girl shrewd and sharp-witted, Morgiana hight. She as softly undid the bolt and admitted Ali Baba and the ass into the courtyard of the house, when he let down the body from the beast's back and said, 'O Morgiana, haste thee and make thee ready to perform the rites for the burial of thy lord: I now go to tell the tidings to thy mistress and I will quickly return to help thee in this matter.' At that instant Kasim's widow seeing her brother-in-law, exclaimed, 'O Ali Baba, what news bringest thou of my spouse? Alas, I see grief tokens written upon thy countenance. Say quickly what hath happened.' Then he recounted to her how it had fared with her husband and how he had been slain by the robbers and in what wise he had brought home the dead body. Ali Baba pursued: 'O my lady, what was to happen hath happened, but it behoveth us to keep this matter secret, for that our lives depend upon privacy.' She wept with sore weeping and made answer, 'It hath fared with my husband according to the fiat of Fate; and now for thy safety's sake I give thee my word to keep the affair concealed.' He replied, 'Naught can avail when Allah hath decreed. Rest thee in patience; until the days of thy widowhood be accomplisht; after which time I will take thee to wife, and thou shalt live in comfort and happiness; and fear not lest my first spouse vex thee or show aught of jealousy, for that she is kindly and tender of heart.' The widow lamenting her loss noisily, cried, 'Be it as e'en thou please.' Then Ali Baba farewelled her, weeping and wailing for her husband; and joining Morgiana took counsel with her how to manage the burial of his brother. So, after much consultation and many warnings, he left the slave-girl and departed home driving his ass before him. As soon as Ali Baba had fared forth Morgiana went quickly to a druggist's shop; and, that she might the better dissemble with him and not make known the matter, she asked of him a drug often administered to men when diseased with dangerous distemper. He gave it saying, 'Who is there in thy house that lieth so ill as to require this medicine?' and said she, 'My Master Kasim is sick well nigh unto death: for many days he hath nor spoken nor tasted aught of food, so that almost we despair of his life.' Next day Morgiana went again and asked the druggist for more of medicine and essences such as are adhibited to the sick when at door of death, that the moribund may haply rally before the last breath. The man gave the potion and she taking it sighed aloud and wept, saying, 'I fear me he may not have strength to drink this draught: methinks all will be over with him ere I return to the house.' Meanwhile Ali Baba was anxiously awaiting to hear sounds of wailing and lamentation in Kasim's home that he might at such signal hasten thither and take part in the ceremonies of the funeral. Early on the second day Morgiana went with veiled face to one Baba Mustafa, a tailor well shotten in years whose craft was to make shrouds and cerecloths; and as soon as she saw him open his shop she gave him a gold piece and said, 'Do thou bind a bandage over thine eyes and come along with me.' Mustafa made as though he would not go, whereat Morgiana placed a second gold coin in his palm and entreated him to accompany her. The tailor presently consented for greed of gain, so tying a kerchief tightly over his eyes she led him by the hand to the house wherein lay the dead body of her master. Then, taking off the bandage in the darkened room she bade him sew together the quarters of the corpse, limb to its limb; and, casting a cloth upon the body, said to the tailor, 'Make haste and sew a shroud according to the size of this dead man and I will give thee therefor yet another ducat.' Baba Mustafa quickly made the cere cloth of fitting length and breadth, and Morgiana paid him the promised Ashrafi; then once more bandaging his eyes led him back to the place whence she had brought him. After this she returned hurriedly home and with the help of Ali Baba washed the body, in warm water and donning the shroud lay the corpse upon a clean place ready for burial. This done Morgiana went to the mosque and gave notice to an Imam that a funeral was awaiting the mourners in a certain household, and prayed that he would come to read the prayers for the dead; and the Imam went back with her. Then four neighbours took up the bier and bore it on tneir shoulders and fared forth with the Imam and others who were wont to give assistance at such obsequies. After the funeral prayers were ended four other men carried off the coffin; and Morgiana walked before it bare of head, striking her breast and weeping and wailing with exceeding loud lament, whilst Ali Baba and the neighbours came behind. In such order they entered the cemetery and buried him; then, leaving him to Munkar and Nakir -- the Questioners of the Dead -- all wended their ways. Presently the women of the quarter, according to the custom of the city, gathered together in the house of mourning and sat an hour with Kasim's widow comforting and condoling, presently leaving her somewhat resigned and cheered. Ali Baba stayed forty days at home in ceremonial lamentation for the loss of his brother; so none within the town save himself and his wife (Kasim's widow) and Morgiana knew aught about the secret. And when the forty days of mourning were ended Ali Baba removed to his own quarters all the property belonging to the deceased and openly married the widow; then he appointed his nephew, his brother's eldest son, who had lived a long time with a wealthy merchant and was perfect of knowledge in all matters of trade, such as selling and buying, to take charge of the defunct's shop and to carry on the business. It so chanced one day when the robbers, as was their wont, came to the treasurecave that they marvelled exceedingly to find nor sign nor trace of Kasim's body whilst they observed that much of gold had been carried off. Quoth the Captain, 'Now it behoveth us to make enquiry in this matter; else shall we suffer much of loss arid this our treasure, which we and our forefathers have amassed during the course of many years, will little by little be wasted and spoiled.' Hereto all assented and with single mind agreed that he whom they had slain had knowledge of the magical words whereby the door was made to open; moreover that some one beside him had cognizance of the spell and had carried off the body, and also much of gold; wherefore they needs must make diligent research and find out who the man ever might be. They then took counsel and determined that one amongst them, who should be sagacious and deft of wit, must don the dress of some merchant from foreign parts; then, repairing to the city he must go about from quarter to quarter and from street to street, and learn if any townsman had lately died and if so where he wont to dwell, that with this clue they might be enabled to find the wight they sought. Hereat said one of the robbers, 'Grant me leave that I fare and find out such tidings in the town and bring thee word anon; and if I fail of my purpose I hold my life in forfeit.' Accordingly that bandit, after disguising himself by dress, pushed at night into the town and next morning early he repaired to the market-square and saw that none of the shops had yet been opened, save only that of Baba Mustafa the tailor, who thread and needle in hand sat upon his working-stool. The thief bade him good day and said, ''Tis yet dark: how canst thou see to sew?' Said the tailor, 'I perceive thou art a stranger. Despite my years my eyesight is so keen that only yesterday I sewed together a dead body whilst sitting in a room quite darkened.' Quoth the bandit thereupon to himself, 'I shall get somewhat of my want from this snip;' and to secure a further clue he asked, 'Meseemeth thou wouldst jest with me and thou meanest that a cerecloth for a corpse was stitched by thee and that thy business is to sew shrouds.' Answered the tailor, 'It mattereth not to thee: question me no more questions.' Thereupon the robber placed an Ashrafi in his hand and continued, 'I desire not to discover aught thou hidest, albeit my breast like every honest man's is the grave of secrets; and this only would I learn of thee, in what house didst thou do that job? Canst thou direct me thither, or thyself conduct me thereto?' The tailor took the gold with greed and cried, 'I have not seen with my own eyes the way to that house. A certain bondswoman led me to a place which I know right well and there she bandaged my eyes and guided me to some tenement and lastly carried me into a darkened room where lay the dead body dismembered. Then she unbound the kerchief and bade me sew together first the corpse and then the shroud, which having done she again blindfolded me and led me back to the stead whence she had brought me and left me there. Thou seest then I am not able to tell thee where thou shalt find the house.' Quoth the robber, 'Albeit thou knowest not the dwelling whereof thou speakest, still canst thou take me to the place where thou wast blindfolded; then I will bind a kerchief over thine eyes and lead thee as thou wast led: on this wise perchance thou mayest hit upon the site. An thou wilt do this favour by me, see here another golden ducat is thine.' Thereupon the bandit slipped a second Ashrafi into the tailor's palm, and Baba Mustafa thrust it with the first into his pocket; then, leaving his shop as it was, he walked to the place where Morgiana had tied the kerchief around his eyes, and with him went the robber who, after binding on the bandage, led him by the hand. Baba Mustafa, who was clever and keen-witted, presently striking the street whereby he had fared with the handmaid, walked on counting step by step; then, halting suddenly, he said, 'Thus far I came with her;' and the twain stopped in front of Kasim's house wherein now dwelt his brother Ali Baba. The robber then made marks with white chalk upon the door to the end that he might readily find it at some future time, and removing the bandage from the tailor's eyes said, 'O Baba Mustafa, I thank thee for this favour: and Almighty Allah guerdon thee for thy goodness. Tell me now, I pray thee, who dwelleth in yonder house?' Quoth he, 'In very sooth I wot not, for I have little knowledge concerning this quarter of the city;' and the bandit, understanding that he could find no further clue from the tailor, dismissed him to his shop with abundant thanks, and hastened back to the tryst-place in the jungle where the band awaited his coming. Not long after it so fortuned that Morgiana, going out upon some errand, marvelled exceedingly at seeing the chalk-marks showing white in the door; she stood awhile deep in thought and presently divined that some enemy had made the signs that he might recognize the house and play some sleight upon her lord. She therefore chalked the doors of all her neighbours in like manner and kept the matter secret, never entrusting it or to master or to mistress. Meanwhile the robber told his comrades his tale of adventure and how he had found the clue; so the Captain and with him all the band went one after other by different ways till they entered the city ; and he who had placed the mark on Ali Baba's door accompanied the Chief to point out the place. He conducted him straightway to the house and shewing the sign exclaimed, 'Here dwelleth he of whom we are in search!' But when the Captain looked around him he saw that all the dwellings bore chalk-marks after like fashion and he wondered saying, 'By what manner of means knowest thou which house of all these houses that bear similar signs is that whereof thou spakest?' Hereat the robber-guide was confounded beyond measure of confusion, and could make no answer; then with an oath he cried, 'I did assuredly set a sign upon a door, but I know not whence came all the marks upon the other entrances; nor can I say for a surety which it was I chalked.' Thereupon the Captain returned to the market-place and said to his men, 'We have toiled and laboured in vain, nor have we found the house we went forth to seek. Return we now to the forest our rendezvous: I also will fare thither.' Then all trooped off and assembled together within the treasure-cave; and, when the robbers had all met, the Captain judged him worthy of punishment who had spoken falsely and had led them through the city to no purpose. So he imprisoned him in presence of them all; and then said he, 'To him amongst you will I show special favour who shall go to town and bring me intelligence whereby we may lay hands upon the plunderer of our property.' Hereat another of the company came forward and said, 'I am ready to go and enquire into the case, and 'tis I who will bring thee to thy wish.' The Captain after giving him presents and promises despatched him upon his errand; and by the decree of Destiny which none may gainsay, this second robber went first to the house of Baba Mustafa the tailor, as had done the thief who had foregone him. In like manner he also persuaded the snip with gifts of golden coin that he be led hoodwinked and thus too he was guided to Ali Baba's door. Here noting the work of his predecessor, he affixed to the jamb a mark with red chalk the better to distinguish it from the others whereon still showed the white. Then hied he back in stealth to his company; but Morgiana on her part also descried the red sign on the entrance and with subtle forethought marked all the others after the same fashion; nor told she any what she had done. Meanwhile the bandit rejoined his band and vauntingly said, 'O our Captain, I have found the house and thereon put a mark whereby I shall distinguish it clearly from all its neighbours.' The Captain despatched another of his men to the city and he found the place, but, as aforetime, when the troop repaired thither they saw each and every house marked with signs of red chalk. So they returned disappointed and the Captain, waxing displeased exceedingly and distraught, clapped also this spy into gaol. Then said the chief to himself, 'Two men have failed in their endeavour and have met their rightful meed of punishment; and I trow that none other of my band will essay to follow up their research; so I myself will go and find the house of this wight.' Accordingly he fared along and aided by the tailor Baba Mustafa, who had gained much gain of golden pieces in this matter, he hit upon the house of Ali Baba; and here he made no outward show or sign, but marked it on the tablet of his heart and impressed the picture upon the page of his memory. Then returning to the jungle he said to his men, 'I have full cognizance of the place and have limned it clearly in my mind ; so now there will be no difficulty in finding it. Go forth straightways and buy me and bring hither nineteen mules together with one large leathern jar of mustard oil and seven and thirty vessels of the same kind clean empty. Without me and the two locked up in gaol ye number thirty-seven souls; so I will stow you away armed and accoutred each within his jar and will load two upon each mule, and upon the nineteenth mule there shall be a man in an empty jar on one side, and on the other the jar full of oil. I for my part, in guise of an oil-merchant, will drive the mules into the town, arriving at the house by night, and will ask permission of its master to tarry there until morning. After this we shall seek occasion during the dark hours to rise up and fall upon him and slay him.' Furthermore the Captain spake saying, 'When we have made an end of trim we shall recover the gold and treasure whereof he robbed us and bring it back upon the mules.' This counsel pleased the robbers who went forthwith and purchased mules and huge leathern jars, and did as the Captain had bidden them. And after a delay of three days shortly before nightfall they arose; and over-smearing all the jars with oil of mustard, each hid him inside an empty vessel. The Chief then disguised himself in trader's gear and placed the jars upon the nineteen mules; to wit, the thirty-seven vessels in each of which lay a robber armed and accoutred, and the one that was full of oil. This done, he drove the beasts before him and presently he reached Ali Baba's place at nightfall; when it chanced that the house-master was strolling after supper to and fro in front of his home. The Captain saluted him with the salam and said, 'I come from such and such a village with oil; and ofttimes have I been here a-selling oil, but now to my grief I have arrived too late and I am sore troubled and perplexed as to where I shall spend the night. An thou have pity on me I pray thee grant that I tarry here in thy courtyard and ease the mules by taking down the jars and giving the beasts somewhat of fodder.' Albeit Ali Baba had heard the Captain's voice when perched upon the tree and had seen him enter the cave, yet by reason of the disguise he knew him not for the leader of the thieves, and granted his request with hearty welcome and gave him full license to halt there for the night. He then pointed out an empty shed wherein to tether the mules, and bade one of the slave-boys go fetch grain and water. He also gave orders to the slave-girl Morgiana saying, 'A guest hath come hither and tarrieth here to-night. Do thou busy thyself with all speed about his supper and make ready the guestbed for him.' Presently, when the Captain had let down all the jars and had fed and watered his mules, Ali Baba received him with all courtesy and kindness, and summoning Morgiana said in his presence, 'See thou fail not in service of this our stranger nor suffer him to lack for aught. To-morrow early I would fare to the Hammam and bathe; so do thou give my slave-boy Abdullah a suit of clean white clothes which I may put on after washing; moreover make thee ready a somewhat of broth overnight that I may drink it after my return home.' Replied she, 'I will have all in readiness as thou hast bidden.' So Ali Baba retired to his rest, and the Captain, having supped, repaired to the shed and saw that all the mules had their food and drink for the night. The Captain, after seeing to the mules and the jars which Ali Baba and his household held to be full of oil, finding utter privacy, whispered to his men who were in ambush, 'This night at midnight when ye hear my voice, do you quickly open with your sharp knives the leathern jars from top to bottom and issue forth without delay.' Then passing through the kitchen he reached the chamber wherein a bed had been dispread for him, Morgiana showing the way with a lamp. Quoth she, 'An thou need aught beside I pray thee command this thy slave who is ever ready to obey thy say!' He made answer, 'Naught else need I;' then, putting out the light, he lay him down on the bed to sleep awhile ere the time came to rouse his men and finish off the work. Meanwhile Morgiana did as her master had bidden her: she first took out a suit of clean white clothes and made it over to Abdullah who had not yet gone to rest; then she placed the pipkin upon the hearth to boil the broth and blew the fire till it burnt briskly. After a short delay she needs must see an the broth be boiling, but by that time all the lamps had gone out and she found that the oil was spent and that nowhere could she get a light. The slave-boy Abdullah observed that she was troubled and perplexed hereat, and quoth he to her, 'Why make so much ado? In yonder shed are many jars of oil: go now and take as much soever as thou listest.' Morgiana gave thanks to him for his suggestion; and Abdullah, who was lying at his ease in the hall, went off to sleep so that he might wake betimes and serve Ali Baba in the bath. So the handmaiden rose and with oil-can in hand walked to the shed where stood the leathern jars all ranged in rows. Now, as she drew nigh unto one of the vessels, the thief who was hidden therein hearing the tread of footsteps bethought him that it was of his Captain whose summons he awaited; so he whispered, 'Is it now time for us to sally forth?' Morgiana started back affrighted at the sound of human accents; but, inasmuch as she was bold and ready of wit, she replied, 'The time is not yet come,' and said to herself, 'These jars are not full of oil and herein I perceive a manner of mystery. Haply the oil merchant hatcheth some treacherous plot against my lord; so Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate, protect us from his snares!' Wherefore she answered in a voice made like to the Captain's, 'Not yet, the time is not come.' Then she went to the next jar and returned the same reply to him who was within, and so on to all the vessels one by one. Then said she in herself, 'Laud to the Lord! my master took this fellow in believing him to be an oil-merchant, but lo, he hath admitted a band of robbers, who only await the signal to fall upon him and plunder the place and do him die.' Then passed she on to the furthest jar and finding it brimming with oil, filled her can, and returning to the kitchen, trimmed the lamp and lit the wicks; then, bringing forth a large cauldron, she set it upon the fire, and filling it with oil from out the jar heaped wood upon the hearth and fanned it to a fierce flame the readier to boil its contents. When this was done she baled it out in potfuls and poured it seething hot into the leathern vessels one by one while the thieves unable to escape were scalded to death and every jar contained a corpse. Thus did this slave-girl by her subtle wit make a clean end of all noiselessly and unknown even to the dwellers m the house. Now when she had satisfied herself that each and every of the men had been slain, she went back to the kitchen and shutting to the door sat brewing Ali Baba's broth. Scarce had an hour passed before the Captain woke from sleep; and, opening wide his window, saw that all was dark and silent; so he clapped his hands as a signal for his men to come forth but not a sound was heard in return. After awhile he clapped again and called aloud but got no answer; and when he cried out a third time without reply he was perplexed and went out to the shed wherein stood the jars. He thought to himself, 'Perchance all are fallen asleep whenas the time for action is now at hand, so I must e'en awaken them without stay or delay.' Then approaching the nearest jar he was startled by a smell of oil and seething flesh; and touching it outside he felt it reeking hot; then going to the others one by one, he found all in like condition. Hereat he knew for a surety the fate which had betided his band and, fearing for his own safety, he clomb on to the wall, and thence dropping into a garden made his escape in high dudgeon and sore disappointment. Morgiana awaited awhile to see the Captain return from the shed but he came not; whereat she knew that he had scaled the wall and had taken to flight, for that the street-door was double-locked; and the thieves being all disposed of on this wise Morgiana laid her down to sleep in perfect solace and ease of mind. When two hours of darkness yet remained, Ali Baba awoke and went to the Hammam knowing naught of the night-adventure, for the gallant slave-girl had not aroused him, nor indeed had she deemed such action expedient, because had she sought an opportunity of reporting to him her plan, she might haply have lost her chance and spoiled the project. The sun was high over the horizon when Ali Baba walked back from the Baths; and he marvelled exceedingly to see the jars still standing under the shed and said, 'How cometh it that he, the oil-merchant my guest, hath not carried to the market his mules and jars of oil?' Ali Baba presently asked Morgiana what had befallen the oil-merchant his guest whom he had placed under her charge; and she answered, 'Allah Almighty vouchsafe to thee six score years and ten of safety! I will tell thee in privacy of this merchant.' So Ali Baba went apart with his slave-girl, who taking him without the house first locked the court-door; then showing him a jar she said, 'Prithee look into this and see if within there be oil or aught else.' Thereupon peering inside it he perceived a man at which sight he cried aloud and fain would have fled in his fright. Quoth Morgiana, 'Fear him not, this man hath no longer the force to work thee harm, he lieth dead and stone-dead.' Hearing such words of comfort and reassurance Ali Baba asked, 'O Morgiana, what evils have we escaped and by what means hath this wretch become the quarry of Fate?' She answered 'Alhamdolillah -- Praise be to Almighty Allah! -- I will inform thee fully of the case; but hush thee, speak not aloud, lest haply the neighbours learn the secret and it end in our confusion. Look now into all the jars, one by one from first to last.' So Ali Baba examined them severally and found in each a man fully armed and accoutred and all lay scalded to death. Hereat speechless for sheer amazement he stared at the jars, but presently recovering himself he asked, 'And where is he, the oil-merchant?' Answered she, 'Of him also I will inform thee. The villain was no trader but a traitorous assassin whose honied words would have ensnared thee to thy doom; and now I will tell thee what he was and what hath happened; but, meanwhile thou art fresh from the Hammam and thou shouldst first drink somewhat of this broth for thy stomach's and thy health's sake.' So Ali Baba went within and Morgiana served up the mess; after which quoth her master, 'I fain would hear this wondrous story: prithee tell it to me and set my heart at ease.' Hereat the handmaid fell to relating whatso had betided in these words: Accordingly, I took a can and went to the first vessel when suddenly I heard a voice within whisper with all caution, 'Is it now time for us to sally forth?' I was amazed thereat and judged that the pretended merchant had laid some plot to slay thee; so I replied, 'The time is not yet come.' Then I went to the second jar and heard another voice to which I made the like answer, and so on with all of them. I now was certified that these men awaited only some signal from their Chief whom thou didst take to guest within thy walls supposing him to be a merchant in oil; and that after thou receivedst him hospitably the miscreant had brought these men to murther thee and to plunder thy good and spoil thy house. But I gave him no opportunity to win his wish. The last jar I found full of oil and taking somewhat therefrom I lit the lamp; then, putting a large cauldron upon the fire, I filled it up with oil which I brought from the jar and made a fierce blaze under it; and, when the contents were seething hot, I took out sundry cansful with intent to scald them all to death, and going to each jar in due order, I poured within them one by one boiling oil. On this wise having destroyed them utterly, I returned to the kitchen and having extinguished the lamps stood by the window watching what might happen, and how that false merchant would act next. Not long after I had taken my station, the robber-captain awoke and ofttimes signalled to his thieves. Then getting no reply he came downstairs and went out to the jars, and finding that all his men were slain he fled through the darkness I know not whither. So when he had clean disappeared I was assured that, the door being double-locked, he had scaled the wall and dropped into the garden and made his escape. Then with my heart at rest I slept. Morgiana continued to Ali Baba: 'Judge now and see if these signs and all this villainy be not the work of the bandits of the forest, who marked our house that on such wise they might know it again. Of these forty thieves there yet remain two others concerning whose case I know naught; so beware of them, but chiefly of the third remaining robber, their Captain, who fled hence alive. Take good heed and be thou cautious of him, for, shouldst thou fall into his hands, he will in no wise spare thee but will surely murther thee. I will do all that lieth in me to save from hurt and harm thy life and property, nor shall thy slave be found wanting in any service to my lord.' Hearing these words Ali Baba rejoiced with exceeding joyance and said to her, 'I am well pleased with thee for this thy conduct ; and say me what wouldst thou have me do in thy behalf; I shall not fail to remember thy brave deed so long as breath in me remaineth.' Quoth she, 'It behoveth us before all things forthright to bury these bodies in the ground, that so the secret be not known to any one.' Hereupon Ali Baba took with him his slave-boy Abdullah into the garden and there under a tree they dug for the corpses of the thieves a deep pit in size proportionate to its conterits, and they dragged, the bodies (having carried off their weapons) to the fosse and threw them in; then, covering up the remains of the seven and thirty robbers they made the ground appear level and clean as it wont to be. They also hid the leathern jars and the gear and arms and presently Ali Baba sent the mules by ones and twos to the bazar and sold them all with the able aid of his slave-boy Abdullah. Thus the matter wras hushed up nor did it reach the ears of any; however, Ali Baba ceased not to be ill at ease lest haply the Captain or the surviving two robbers should wreak their vengeance on his head. He kept himself private with all caution and took heed that none learn a word of what had happened and of the wealth which he had carried off from the bandits' cave. Meanwhile the Captain of the thieves having escaped with his life, fled to the forest in hot wrath and sore irk of mind; and his senses were scattered and the colour of his visage vanished like ascending smoke. Then he thought the matter over again and again, and at last he firmly resolved that he needs must take the life of Ali Baba, else he would lose all the treasure which his enemy, by knowledge of the magical words, would take away and turn to his own use. Furthermore, he determined that he would undertake the business single-handed; and, that after getting rid of Ali Baba, he would gather together another band of banditti and would pursue his career of brigandage, as indeed his forbears had done for many generations. So he lay down to rest that night, and rising early in the morning donned a dress of suitable appearance; then going to the city alighted at a caravanserai, thinking to himself, 'Doubtless the murther of so many men hath reached the Wali's ears, and Ali Baba hath been seized and brought to justice, and his house is levelled and his good is confiscated. The townfolk must surely have heard tidings of these matters.' So he straightway asked of the keeper of the Khan, 'What strange things have happened in the city during the last few days?' and the other told him all that he had seen and heard, but the Captain could not learn a whit of that which most concerned him. Hereby he understood that Ali Baba was ware and wise, and that he had not only carried away such store of treasure but he had also destroyed so many lives and withal had come off scatheless; furthermore, that he himself must needs have all his wits alert not to fall into the hands of his foe and perish. With this resolve the Captain hired a shop in the Bazar, whither he bore whole bales of the finest stuffs and goodly merchandise from his forest treasure-house; and presently he took his seat within the store and fell to doing merchant's business. By chance his place fronted the booth of the defunct Kasim where his son, Ali Baba's nephew, now traded; and the Captain, who called himself Khwajah Hasan soon formed acquaintance and friendship with the shopkeepers around about him and treated all with profuse civilities, but he was especially gracious and cordial to the son of Kasim, a handsome youth and a well-dressed, and ofttimes he would sit and chat with him for a long while. A few days after it chanced that Ali Baba, as he was sometime wont to do, came to see his nephew, whom he found sitting in his shop. The Captain saw and recognised him at sight and one morning he asked the young man, saying, 'Prithee tell me, who is he that ever and anon cometh to thee at thy place of sale?' whereto the youth made answer, 'He is my uncle, the brother of my father.' Whereupon the Captain showed him yet greater favour and affection the better to deceive him for his own devices, and gave him presents and made him sit at meat with him and fed him with the daintiest of dishes. Presently Ali Baba's nephew bethought him it was only right and proper that he also should invite the merchant to supper, but whereas his own house was small, and he was straitened for room and could not make a show of splendour, as did Khwajah Hasan, he took counsel with his uncle on the matter. Ali Baba replied to his nephew: 'Thou sayest well: it behoveth thee to entreat thy friend in fairest fashion even as he hath entreated thee. On the morrow, which is Friday, shut thy shop as do all merchants of repute; then, after the early meal, take Khwajah Hasan to smell the air,and as thou walkest lead him hither unawares; meanwhile I will give orders that Morgiana shall make ready for his coming the best of viands and all necessaries for a feast. Trouble not thyself on any wise, but leave the matter in my hands.' Accordingly on the next day, to wit, Friday, the nephew of Ali Baba took Khwajah Hasan to walk about the garden; and, as they were returning he led him by the street wherein his uncle dwelt. When they came to the house, the youth stopped at the door and knocking said, 'O my lord, this is my second home: my uncle hath heard much of thee and of thy goodness mewards and desireth with exceeding desire to see thee; so, shouldst thou consent to enter and visit him, I shall be truly glad and thankful to thee.' Albeit Khwajah Hasan rejoiced in heart that he had thus found means whereby he might have access to his enemy's house and household, and although he hoped soon to attain his end by treachery, yet he hesitated to enter in and stood to make his excuses and walk away. But when the door was opened by the slave-porter, Ali Baba's nephew seized his companion's hand and after abundant persuasion led him in, whereat he entered with great show of cheerfulness as though much pleased and honoured. The housemaster received him with all favour and worship and asked him of his welfare, and said to him, 'O my lord, I am obliged and thankful to thee for that thou hast shewn favour to the son of my brother and I perceive that thou regardest him with an affection even fonder than my own.' Khwajah Hasan replied with pleasant words and said, 'Thy nephew vastly taketh my fancy and in him I am well pleased, for that although young in years yet he hath been endued by Allah with much of wisdom.' Thus they twain conversed with friendly conversation and presently the guest rose to depart and said, 'O my lord, thy slave must now farewell thee; but on some future day Inshallah he will again wait upon thee,' Ali Baba, however, would not let him leave and asked, 'Whither wendest thou, my friend ? I would invite thee to my table and I pray thee sit at meat with us and after hie thee home in peace. Perchance the dishes are not as delicate as those whereof thou art wont to eat, still deign grant me this request I pray thee and refresh thyself with my victual.' Quoth Khwajah Hasan, 'O my lord I am beholden to thee for thy gracious invitation, and with pleasure would I sit at meat with thee, but for a special reason must I needs excuse myself; suffer me therefore to depart for I may not tarry longer nor accept thy gracious offer.' Hereto the host made reply, 'I pray thee, O my lord, tell me what may be the reason so urgent and weighty?' And Khwajah Hasan answered, 'The cause is this: I must not, by order of the physician, who cured me lately of my complaint, eat aught of food prepared with salt.' Quoth Ali Baba, 'An this be all, deprive me not, I pray thee, of the honour thy company will confer upon me: as the meats are not yet cooked, I will forbid the kitchener to make use of any salt. Tarry here awhile and I will return anon to thee.' So saying Ali Baba went in to Morgiana and bade her not put salt into any one of the dishes; and she, while busied with her cooking, fell to marvelling greatly at such order and asked her master, 'Who is he that eateth meat wherein is no salt?' He answered, 'What to thee mattereth it who he may be? Only do thou my bidding.' She rejoined, ''Tis well: all shall be as thou wishest;' but in mind she wondered at the man who made such strange request and desired much to look upon him. Wherefore, when all the meats were ready for serving up, she helped the slave-boy Abdullah to spread the table and set on the meal; and no sooner did she see Khwajah Hasan than she knew who he was, albeit he had disguised himself in the dress of a stranger merchant; furthermore, when she eyed him attentively she espied a dagger hidden under his robe. 'So ho!' quoth she to herself, 'this is the cause why the villain eateth not of salt, for that he seeketh an opportunity to slay my master whose mortal enemy he is; howbeit I will be beforehand with him and despatch him ere he find a chance to harm my lord.' Morgiana, having spread a white cloth upon the table and served up the meal, went back to the kitchen and thought out her plot against the robber-Captain. Now when Ali Baba and Khwajah Hasan had eaten their sufficiency, the slave-boy Abdullah brought Morgiana word to serve the dessert, and she cleared the table and set on fruit fresh and dried in salvers, then she placed by the side of Ali Baba a small tripod for three cups with a flagon of wine, and lastly she went off with the slave-boy Abdullah into another room, as though she would herself eat supper. Then Khwajah Hasan, that is, the Captain of the robbers, perceiving that the coast was clear, exulted mightily saying to himself, 'The time hath come for me to take full vengeance; with one thrust of my dagger I will despatch this fellow, then escape across the garden and wend my ways. His nephew will not adventure to stay my hand, for an he do but move a finger or toe with that intent another stab will settle his earthly account. Still must I wait awhile until the slave-boy and the cook-maid shall have eaten and lain down to rest them in the kitchen.' Morgiana, however, watched him wistfully and divining his purpose said in her mind, 'I must not allow this villain advantage over my lord, but by some means I must make void his project and at once put an end to the life of him.' Accordingly, the trusty slave-girl changed her dress with all haste and donned such clothes as dancers wear; she veiled her face with a costly kerchief; around her head she bound a fine turband, and about her middle she tied a waist-cloth worked with gold and silver wherein she stuck a dagger, whose hilt was rich in filigree and jewelry. Thus disguised she said to the slave-boy Abdullah, 'Take now thy tambourine that we may play and sing and dance in honour of our master's guest.' So he did her bidding and the twain went into the room, the lad playing and the lass following. Then, making a low congee, they asked leave to perform and disport and play; and Ali Baba gave permission, saying, 'Dance now and do your best that this our guest may be mirthful and merry.' Quoth Khwajah Hasan, 'O my lord, thou dost indeed provide much pleasant entertainment.' Then the slave-boy Abdullah standing by began to strike the tambourine whilst Morgiana rose up and showed her perfect art and pleased them vastly with graceful steps and sportive motion; and suddenly drawing the poniard from her belt she brandished it and paced from side to side, a spectacle which pleased them most of all. At times also she stood before them, now clapping the sharp-edged dagger under her armpit and then setting it against her breast. Lastly she took the tambourine from the slave-boy Abdullah, and still holding the poniard in her right she went round for largesse as is the custom amongst merry-makers. First she stood before Ali Baba who threw a gold coin into the tambourine, and his nephew likewise put in an Ashrafi; then Khwajah Hasan, seeing her about to approach him, fell to pulling out his purse, when she heartened her heart and quick as the blinding leven she plunged the dagger into his vitals, and forthwith the miscreant fell back stone-dead. Ali Baba was dismayed and cried in his wrath, 'O unhappy, what is this deed thou hast done to bring about my ruin!' But she replied, 'Nay, O my lord, rather to save thee and not to cause thee harm have I slain this man: loosen his garments and see what thou wilt discover thereunder.' So Ali Baba searched the dead man's dress and found concealed therein a dagger. Then said Morgiana, 'This wretch was thy deadly enemy. Consider him well: he is none other than the oil merchant, the Captain of the band of robbers. Whenas he came hither with intent to take thy life, he would not eat thy salt; and when thou toldest me that he wished not any in the meat I suspected him and at first sight I was assured that he would surely do thee die; Almighty Allah be praised 'tis even as I thought.' Then Ali Babi lavished upon her thanks and expressions of gratitude, saying, 'Lo, these two times hast thou saved me from his hand,' and falling upon her neck he cried, 'See thou art free, and as reward for this thy fealty I have wedded thee to my nephew.' Then turning to the youth he said, 'Do as I bid thee and thou shalt prosper. I would that thou marry Morgiana, who is a model of duty and loyalty: thou seest now yon Khwajah Hasan sought thy friendship only that he might find opportunity to take my life, but this maiden with her good sense and her wisdom hath slain him and saved us.' Ali Baba's nephew straightway consented to marry Morgiana. After which the three, raising the dead body bore it forth with all heed and vigilance and privily buried it in the garden, and for many years no one knew aught thereof. In due time Ali Baba married his brother's son to Morgiana with great pomp, and spread a bride-feast in most sumptuous fashion for his friends and neighbours, and made merry with them and enjoyed singing and all manner of dancing and amusements. He prospered in every undertaking and Time smiled upon him and a new source of wealth was opened to him. For fear of the thieves he had not once visited the jungle-cave wherein lay the treasure, since the day he had carried forth the corpse of his brother Kasim. But some time after, he mounted his hackney one morning and journeyed thither, with all care and caution, till finding no signs of man or horse, and reassured in his mind he ventured to draw near the door. Then alighting from his beast he tied it up to a tree, and going to the entrance pronounced the words which he had not forgotten, 'Open, O Simsim!' Hereat, as was its wont, the door flew open, and entering thereby he saw the goods and hoard of gold and silver untouched and lying as he had left them. So he felt assured that not one of all the thieves remained alive, and, that save himself there was not a soul who knew the secret of the place. At once he bound in his saddlecloth a load of Ashrafis such as his horse could bear and brought it home; and in after days he showed the hoard to his sons and sons' sons and taught them how the door could be caused to open and shut. Thus Ali Baba and his household lived all their lives in wealth and joyance in that city where erst he had been a pauper, and by the blessing of that secret treasure he rose to high degree and dignities. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
954 | The Forty Thieves | Retold by Andrew Lang | null | null | In a town in Persia there dwelt two brothers, one named Cassim, the other Ali Baba. Cassim was married to a rich wife and lived in plenty, while Ali Baba had to maintain his wife and children by cutting wood in a neighboring forest and selling it in the town. One day, when Ali Baba was in the forest, he saw a troop of men on horseback, coming toward him in a cloud of dust. He was afraid they were robbers, and climbed into a tree for safety. When they came up to him and dismounted, he counted forty of them. They unbridled their horses and tied them to trees. The finest man among them, whom Ali Baba took to be their captain, went a little way among some bushes, and said, 'Open, Sesame!' so plainly that Ali Baba heard him. A door opened in the rocks, and having made the troop go in, he followed them, and the door shut again of itself. They stayed some time inside, and Ali Baba, fearing they might come out and catch him, was forced to sit patiently in the tree. At last the door opened again, and the Forty Thieves came out. As the Captain went in last he came out first, and made them all pass by him; he then closed the door, saying, 'Shut, Sesame!' Every man bridled his horse and mounted, the Captain put himself at their head, and they returned as they came. Then Ali Baba climbed down and went to the door concealed among the bushes, and said, 'Open, Sesame!' and it flew open. Ali Baba, who expected a dull, dismal place, was greatly surprised to find it large and well lighted, hollowed by the hand of man in the form of a vault, which received the light from an opening in the ceiling. He saw rich bales of merchandise -- silk, stuff-brocades, all piled together, and gold and silver in heaps, and money in leather purses. He went in and the door shut behind him. He did not look at the silver, but brought out as many bags of gold as he thought his asses, which were browsing outside, could carry, loaded them with the bags, and hid it all with fagots. Using the words, 'Shut, Sesame!' he closed the door and went home. Then he drove his asses into the yard, shut the gates, carried the money-bags to his wife, and emptied them out before her. He bade her keep the secret, and he would go and bury the gold. 'Let me first measure it,' said his wife. 'I will go borrow a measure of someone, while you dig the hole.' So she ran to the wife of Cassim and borrowed a measure. Knowing Ali Baba's poverty, the sister was curious to find out what sort of grain his wife wished to measure, and artfully put some suet at the bottom of the measure. Ali Baba's wife went home and set the measure on the heap of gold, and filled it and emptied it often, to her great content. She then carried it back to her sister, without noticing that a piece of gold was sticking to it, which Cassim's wife perceived directly her back was turned. She grew very curious, and said to Cassim when he came home, 'Cassim, your brother is richer than you. He does not count his money, he measures it.' He begged her to explain this riddle, which she did by showing him the piece of money and telling him where she found it. Then Cassim grew so envious that he could not sleep, and went to his brother in the morning before sunrise. 'Ali Baba,' he said, showing him the gold piece, 'you pretend to be poor and yet you measure gold.' By this Ali Baba perceived that through his wife's folly Cassim and his wife knew their secret, so he confessed all and offered Cassim a share. 'That I expect,' said Cassim; 'but I must know where to find the treasure, otherwise I will discover all, and you will lose all.' Ali Baba, more out of kindness than fear, told him of the cave, and the very words to use. Cassim left Ali Baba, meaning to be beforehand with him and get the treasure for himself. He rose early next morning, and set out with ten mules loaded with great chests. He soon found the place, and the door in the rock. He said, 'Open, Sesame!' and the door opened and shut behind him. He could have feasted his eyes all day on the treasures, but he now hastened to gather together as much of it as possible; but when he was ready to go he could not remember what to say for thinking of his great riches. Instead of 'Sesame,' he said, 'Open, Barley!' and the door remained fast. He named several different sorts of grain, all but the right one, and the door still stuck fast. He was so frightened at the danger he was in that he had as much forgotten the word as if he had never heard it. About noon the robbers returned to their cave, and saw Cassim's mules roving about with great chests on their backs. This gave them the alarm; they drew their sabers, and went to the door, which opened on their Captain's saying, 'Open, Sesame!' Cassim, who had heard the trampling of their horses' feet, resolved to sell his life dearly, so when the door opened he leaped out and threw the Captain down. In vain, however, for the robbers with their sabers soon killed him. On entering the cave they saw all the bags laid ready, and could not imagine how anyone had got in without knowing their secret. They cut Cassim's body into four quarters, and nailed them up inside the cave, in order to frighten anyone who should venture in, and went away in search of more treasure. As night drew on Cassim's wife grew very uneasy, and ran to her brother-in-law, and told him where her husband had gone. Ali Baba did his best to comfort her, and set out to the forest in search of Cassim. The first thing he saw on entering the cave was his dead brother. Full of horror, he put the body on one of his asses, and bags of gold on the other two, and, covering all with some fagots, returned home. He drove the two asses laden with gold into his own yard, and led the other to Cassim's house. The door was opened by the slave Morgiana, whom he knew to be both brave and cunning. Unloading the ass, he said to her, 'This is the body of your master, who has been murdered, but whom we must bury as though he had died in his bed. I will speak with you again, but now tell your mistress I am come.' The wife of Cassim, on learning the fate of her husband, broke out into cries and tears, but Ali Baba offered to take her to live with him and his wife if she would promise to keep his counsel and leave everything to Morgiana; whereupon she agreed, and dried her eyes. Morgiana, meanwhile, sought an apothecary and asked him for some lozenges. 'My poor master,' she said, 'can neither eat nor speak, and no one knows what his distemper is.' She carried home the lozenges and returned next day weeping, and asked for an essence only given to those just about to die. Thus, in the evening, no one was surprised to hear the wretched shrieks and cries of Cassim's wife and Morgiana, telling everyone that Cassim was dead. The day after Morgiana went to an old cobbler near the gates of the town who opened his stall early, put a piece of gold in his hand, and bade him follow her with his needle and thread. Having bound his eyes with a handkerchief, she took him to the room where the body lay, pulled off the bandage, and bade him sew the quarters together, after which she covered his eyes again and led him home. Then they buried Cassim, and Morgiana his slave followed him to the grave, weeping and tearing her hair, while Cassim's wife stayed at home uttering lamentable cries. Next day she went to live with Ali Baba, who gave Cassim's shop to his eldest son. The Forty Thieves, on their return to the cave, were much astonished to find Cassim's body gone and some of their money-bags. 'We are certainly discovered,' said the Captain, 'and shall be undone if we cannot find out who it is that knows our secret. Two men must have known it; we have killed one, we must now find the other. To this end one of you who is bold and artful must go into the city dressed as a traveler, and discover whom we have killed, and whether men talk of the strange manner of his death. If the messenger fails he must lose his life, lest we be betrayed.' One of the thieves started up and offered to do this, and after the rest had highly commended him for his bravery he disguised himself, and happened to enter the town at daybreak, just by Baba Mustapha's stall. The thief bade him good-day, saying, 'Honest man, how can you possibly see to stitch at your age?' 'Old as I am,' replied the cobbler, 'I have very good eyes, and will you believe me when I tell you that I sewed a dead body together in a place where I had less light than I have now.' The robber was overjoyed at his good fortune, and, giving him a piece of gold, desired to be shown the house where he stitched up the dead body. At first Mustapha refused, saying that he had been blindfolded; but when the robber gave him another piece of gold he began to think he might remember the turnings if blindfolded as before. This means succeeded; the robber partly led him, and was partly guided by him, right in front of Cassim's house, the door of which the robber marked with a piece of chalk. Then, well pleased, he bade farewell to Baba Mustapha and returned to the forest. By and by Morgiana, going out, saw the mark the robber had made, quickly guessed that some mischief was brewing, and fetching a piece of chalk marked two or three doors on each side, without saying anything to her master or mistress. The thief, meantime, told his comrades of his discovery. The Captain thanked him, and bade him show him the house he had marked. But when they came to it they saw that five or six of the houses were chalked in the same manner. The guide was so confounded that he knew not what answer to make, and when they returned he was at once beheaded for having failed. Another robber was dispatched, and, having won over Baba Mustapha, marked the house in red chalk; but Morgiana being again too clever for them, the second messenger was put to death also. The Captain now resolved to go himself, but, wiser than the others, he did not mark the house, but looked at it so closely that he could not fail to remember it. He returned, and ordered his men to go into the neighboring villages and buy nineteen mules, and thirty-eight leather jars, all empty except one, which was full of oil. The Captain put one of his men, fully armed, into each, rubbing the outside of the jars with oil from the full vessel. Then the nineteen mules were loaded with thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, and reached the town by dusk. The Captain stopped his mules in front of Ali Baba's house, and said to Ali Baba, who was sitting outside for coolness, 'I have brought some oil from a distance to sell at tomorrow's market, but it is now so late that I know not where to pass the night, unless you will do me the favor to take me in.' Though Ali Baba had seen the Captain of the robbers in the forest, he did not recognize him in the disguise of an oil merchant. He bade him welcome, opened his gates for the mules to enter, and went to Morgiana to bid her prepare a bed and supper for his guest. He brought the stranger into his hall, and after they had supped went again to speak to Morgiana in the kitchen, while the Captain went into the yard under pretense of seeing after his mules, but really to tell his men what to do. Beginning at the first jar and ending at the last, he said to each man, 'As soon as I throw some stones from the window of the chamber where I lie, cut the jars open with your knives and come out, and I will be with you in a trice.' He returned to the house, and Morgiana led him to his chamber. She then told Abdallah, her fellow slave, to set on the pot to make some broth for her master, who had gone to bed. Meanwhile her lamp went out, and she had no more oil in the house. 'Do not be uneasy,' said Abdallah; 'go into the yard and take some out of one of those jars.' Morgiana thanked him for his advice, took the oil pot, and went into the yard. When she came to the first jar the robber inside said softly, 'Is it time?' Any other slave but Morgiana, on finding a man in the jar instead of the oil she wanted, would have screamed and made a noise; but she, knowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and answered quietly, 'Not yet, but presently.' She went to all the jars, giving the same answer, till she came to the jar of oil. She now saw that her master, thinking to entertain an oil merchant, had let thirty-eight robbers into his house. She filled her oil pot, went back to the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil jar and filled a large kettle full of oil. When it boiled she went and poured enough oil into every jar to stifle and kill the robber inside. When this brave deed was done she went back to the kitchen, put out the fire and the lamp, and waited to see what would happen. In a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke, got up, and opened the window. As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little pebbles which hit the jars. He listened, and as none of his men seemed to stir he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard. On going to the first jar and saying, 'Are you asleep?' he smelt the hot boiled oil, and knew at once that his plot to murder Ali Baba and his household had been discovered. He found all the gang was dead, and, missing the oil out of the last jar, became aware of the manner of their death. He then forced the lock of a door leading into a garden, and climbing over several walls made his escape. Morgiana heard and saw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell asleep. At daybreak Ali Baba arose, and, seeing the oil jars still there, asked why the merchant had not gone with his mules. Morgiana bade him look in the first jar and see if there was any oil. Seeing a man, he started back in terror. 'Have no fear,' said Morgiana; 'the man cannot harm you; he is dead.' Ali Baba, when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment, asked what had become of the merchant. 'Merchant!' said she, 'he is no more a merchant than I am!' and she told him the whole story, assuring him that it was a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whom only three were left, and that the white and red chalk marks had something to do with it. Ali Baba at once gave Morgiana her freedom, saying that he owed her his life. They then buried the bodies in Ali Baba's garden, while the mules were sold in the market by his slaves. The Captain returned to his lonely cave, which seemed frightful to him without his lost companions, and firmly resolved to avenge them by killing Ali Baba. He dressed himself carefully, and went into the town, where he took lodgings in an inn. In the course of a great many journeys to the forest he carried away many rich stuffs and much fine linen, and set up a shop opposite that of Ali Baba's son. He called himself Cogia Hassan, and as he was both civil and well dressed he soon made friends with Ali Baba's son, and through him with Ali Baba, whom he was continually asking to sup with him. Ali Baba, wishing to return his kindness, invited him into his house and received him smiling, thanking him for his kindness to his son. When the merchant was about to take his leave Ali Baba stopped him, saying, 'Where are you going, sir, in such haste? Will you not stay and sup with me?' The merchant refused, saying that he had a reason; and, on Ali Baba's asking him what that was, he replied, 'It is, sir, that I can eat no victuals that have any salt in them.' 'If that is all,' said Ali Baba, 'let me tell you that there shall be no salt in either the meat or the bread that we eat to-night.' He went to give this order to Morgiana, who was much surprised. 'Who is this man,' she said, 'who eats no salt with his meat?' 'He is an honest man, Morgiana,' returned her master; 'therefore do as I bid you.' But she could not withstand a desire to see this strange man, so she helped Abdallah to carry up the dishes, and saw in a moment that Cogia Hassan was the robber Captain, and carried a dagger under his garment. 'I am not surprised,' she said to herself, 'that this wicked man, who intends to kill my master, will eat no salt with him; but I will hinder his plans.' She sent up the supper by Abdallah, while she made ready for one of the boldest acts that could be thought on. When the dessert had been served, Cogia Hassan was left alone with Ali Baba and his son, whom he thought to make drunk and then to murder them. Morgiana, meanwhile, put on a headdress like a dancing-girl's, and clasped a girdle round her waist, from which hung a dagger with a silver hilt, and said to Abdallah, 'Take your tabor, and let us go and divert our master and his guest.' Abdallah took his tabor and played before Morgiana until they came to the door, where Abdallah stopped playing and Morgiana made a low courtesy. 'Come in, Morgiana,' said Ali Baba, 'and let Cogia Hassan see what you can do'; and, turning to Cogia Hassan, he said, 'She's my slave and my housekeeper.' Cogia Hassan was by no means pleased, for he feared that his chance of killing Ali Baba was gone for the present; but he pretended great eagerness to see Morgiana, and Abdallah began to play and Morgiana to dance. After she had performed several dances she drew her dagger and made passes with it, sometimes pointing it at her own breast, sometimes at her master's, as if it were part of the dance. Suddenly, out of breath, she snatched the tabor from Abdallah with her left hand, and, holding the dagger in her right hand, held out the tabor to her master. Ali Baba and his son put a piece of gold into it, and Cogia Hassan, seeing that she was coming to him, pulled out his purse to make her a present, but while he was putting his hand into it Morgiana plunged the dagger into his heart. 'Unhappy girl!' cried Ali Baba and his son, 'what have you done to ruin us?' 'It was to preserve you, master, not to ruin you,' answered Morgiana. 'See here,' opening the false merchant's garment and showing the dagger; 'see what an enemy you have entertained! Remember, he would eat no salt with you, and what more would you have? Look at him! he is both the false oil merchant and the Captain of the Forty Thieves.' Ali Baba was so grateful to Morgiana for thus saving his life that he offered her to his son in marriage, who readily consented, and a few days after the wedding was celebrated with greatest splendor. At the end of a year Ali Baba, hearing nothing of the two remaining robbers, judged they were dead, and set out to the cave. The door opened on his saying, 'Open Sesame!' He went in, and saw that nobody had been there since the Captain left it. He brought away as much gold as he could carry, and returned to town. He told his son the secret of the cave, which his son handed down in his turn, so the children and grandchildren of Ali Baba were rich to the end of their lives. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | Androcles | Aesop | null | The Fables of Ãsop, selected, told anew, and their history traced by Joseph Jacobs (London: Macmillan and Company, 1902), no. 23, pp. 60-61. First published 1894. | A slave named Androcles once escaped from his master and fled to the forest. As he was wandering about there he came upon a lion lying down moaning and groaning. At first he turned to flee, but finding that the lion did not pursue him, he turned back and went up to him. As he came near, the lion put out his paw, which was all swollen and bleeding, and Androcles found that a huge thorn had got into it, and was causing all the pain. He pulled out the thorn and bound up the paw of the lion, who was soon able to rise and lick the hand of Androcles like a dog. Then the lion took Androcles to his cave, and every day used to bring him meat from which to live. But shortly afterwards both Androcles and the lion were captured, and the slave was sentenced to be thrown to the lion, after the latter had been kept without food for several days. The emperor and all his court came to see the spectacle, and Androcles was led out into the middle of the arena. Soon the lion was let loose from his den, and rushed bounding and roaring towards his victim. But as soon as he came near to Androcles he recognized his friend, and fawned upon him, and licked his hands like a friendly dog. The emperor, surprised at this, summoned Androcles to him, who told him the whole story. Whereupon the slave was pardoned and freed, and the lion let loose to his native forest. Moral: Gratitude is the sign of noble souls. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | Androcles and the Lion | Joseph Jacobs | Jacobs' story is a reconstruction from various historical sources. In 1912 George Bernard Shaw created a delightful, if irreverent, play, Androcles and the Lion from the traditional tale. | Joseph Jacobs, Europa's Fairy Book (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, © 1916), pp. 107-109. This book was also published under the title European Folk and Fairy Tales. | It happened in the old days at Rome that a slave named Androcles escaped from his master and fled into the forest, and he wandered there for a long time until he was weary and well nigh spent with hunger and despair. Just then he heard a lion near him moaning and groaning and at times roaring terribly. Tired as he was Androcles rose up and rushed away, as he thought, from the lion; but as he made his way through the bushes he stumbled over the root of a tree and fell down lamed, and when he tried to get up there he saw the lion coming towards him, limping on three feet and holding his forepaw in front of him. Poor Androcles was in despair; he had not strength to rise and run away, and there was the lion coming upon him. But when the great beast came up to him instead of attacking him it kept on moaning and groaning and looking at Androcles, who saw that the lion was holding out his right paw, which was covered with blood and much swollen. Looking more closely at it Androcles saw a great big thorn pressed into the paw, which was the cause of all the lion's trouble. Plucking up courage he seized hold of the thorn and drew it out of the lion's paw, who roared with pain when the thorn came out, but soon after found such relief from it that he fawned upon Androcles and showed, in every way that he knew, to whom he owed the relief. Instead of eating him up he brought him a young deer that he had slain, and Androcles managed to make a meal from it. For some time the lion continued to bring the game he had killed to Androcles, who became quite fond of the huge beast. But one day a number of soldiers came marching through the forest and found Androcles, and as he could not explain what he was doing they took him prisoner and brought him back to the town from which he had fled. Here his master soon found him and brought him before the authorities, and he was condemned to death because he had fled from his master. Now it used to be the custom to throw murderers and other criminals to the lions in a huge circus, so that while the criminals were punished the public could enjoy the spectacle of a combat between them and the wild beasts. So Androcles was condemned to be thrown to the lions, and on the appointed day he was led forth into the Arena and left there alone with only a spear to protect him from the lion. The Emperor was in the royal box that day and gave the signal for the lion to come out and attack Androcles. But when it came out of its cage and got near Androcles, what do you think it did? Instead of jumping upon him it fawned upon him and stroked him with its paw and made no attempt to do him any harm. It was of course the lion which Androcles had met in the forest. The Emperor, surprised at seeing such a strange behavior in so cruel a beast, summoned Androcles to him and asked him how it happened that this particular lion had lost all its cruelty of disposition. So Androcles told the Emperor all that had happened to him and how the lion was showing its gratitude for his having relieved it of the thorn. Thereupon the Emperor pardoned Androcles and ordered his master to set him free, while the lion was taken back into the forest and let loose to enjoy liberty once more. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | Of the Remembrance of Benefits | Gesta Romanorum | The Gesta Romanorum or 'Deeds of the Romans' is a collection of some 283 legends and fables. Created as a collection ca. 1330 in England, it served as a source of stories and plots for many of Europe's greatest writers. | Gesta Romanorum, translated by Charles Swan, revised and corrected by Wynnard Hooper (London: George Bell and Sons, 1906), no. 104, pp. 180-81. | There was a knight who devoted much of his time to hunting. It happened one day, as he was pursuing this diversion, that he was met by a lame lion, who showed him his foot. The knight dismounted, and drew from it a sharp thorn; and then applied an unguent to the wound, which speedily healed it. A while after this, the king of the country hunted in the same wood, and caught that lion, and held him captive for many years. Now, the knight, having offended the king, fled from his anger to the very forest in which he had been accustomed to hunt. There he betook himself to plunder, and spoiled and slew a multitude of travelers. But the king's sufferance was exhausted; he sent out an army, captured, and condemned him to be delivered to a fasting lion. The knight was accordingly thrown into a pit, and remained in terrified expectation of the hour when he should be devoured. But the lion, considering him attentively, and remembering his former friend, fawned upon him; and remained seven days with him destitute of food. When this reached the ears of the king, he was struck with wonder, and directed the knight to be taken from the pit. 'Friend,' said he, 'by what means have you been able to render the lion harmless?' 'As I once rode along the forest, my lord, that lion met me lame. I extracted from his foot a large thorn, and afterward healed the wound, and therefore he has spared me.' 'Well,' returned the king, 'since the lion has spared you, I will for this time ratify your pardon. Study to amend your life.' The knight gave thanks to the king, and ever afterwards conducted himself with all propriety. He lived to a good old age, and ended his days in peace. Application: My beloved, the knight is the world; the lame lion is the human race; the thorn, original sin, drawn out by baptism. The pit represents penitence, whence safety is derived. The Gesta Romanorum or 'Deeds of the Romans' is a collection of some 283 legends and fables. Created as a collection ca. 1330 in England, it served as a source of stories and plots for many of Europe's greatest writers. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | The Lion and the Saint | Andrew Lang | Link to a painting of Saint Jerome by Niccolò Antonio Colantonio. | Andrew Lang, The Red Book of Animal Stories (London: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1899), pp. 138-42. | If you should have the opportunity of seeing any large picture gallery abroad, or our own National Gallery in London, you will be very likely to come across some picture by one or other 'old master' representing an old man, with a long beard, sometimes reading or writing in a study, sometimes kneeling in a bare desert-place; but wherever he may be, or whatever he may be doing, there is almost always a lion with him. The old man with the beard is St. Jerome, who lived fifteen hundred years ago, and I want now to tell you why a lion generally appears in any picture of him. At one time of his life, St. Jerome lived in a monastery he had founded at Bethlehem. One day he and some of his monks were sitting to enjoy the cool of the evening at the gate of the monastery when a big lion suddenly appeared walking up to them. The monks were horribly frightened, and scampered off as fast as they could to take refuge indoors; but St. Jerome had noticed that as the lion walked he limped as though in pain, and the Saint, who always tried to help those in trouble, waited to see what he could do for the poor animal. The lion came near, and when he was quite close he held up one paw and looked plaintively at the men. St. Jerome fearlessly took the paw on his lap, and, on examining it, found a large thorn, which he pulled out, binding up the injured limb. The wound was rather a bad one, but St. Jerome kept the lion with him and nursed him carefully till he was quite well again. The lion was so grateful, and became so much attached to his kind doctor, that he would not leave him, but stayed on in the monastery. Now, in this house no one, from the highest to the lowest, man or beast, was allowed to lead an idle life. It was not easy to find employment for a lion; but at length a daily task was found for him. This was to guard and watch over the ass, who each day carried in the firewood which was cut and gathered in the forest. The lion and ass became great friends, and no doubt the ass felt much comfort in having such a powerful protector. But it happened, on one very hot summer's day, that whilst the ass was at pasture the lion fell asleep. Some merchants were passing that way and seeing the ass grazing quietly, and apparently alone, they stole her and carried her off with them. In due time the lion awoke; but when he looked for the ass she was not to be seen. In vain he roamed about, seeking everywhere; he could not find her; and when evening came he had to return to the monastery alone, and with his head and tail drooping to show how ashamed he felt. As he could not speak to explain matters, St. Jerome feared that he had not been able to resist the temptation to eat raw flesh once more, and that he had devoured the poor ass. He therefore ordered that the lion should perform the daily task of his missing companion, and carry the firewood instead of her. The lion meekly submitted, and allowed the load of faggots to be tied on his back, and carried them safely home. As soon as he was unloaded he would run about for some time, still hoping to find the ass. One day, as he was hunting about in this fashion, he saw a caravan coming along with a string of camels. The camels, as was usual in some places, were led by an ass, and to the lion's joy he recognised his lost friend. He instantly fell on the caravan, and, without hurting any of the camels, succeeded in frightening them all so completely that he had no difficulty in driving them into the monastery where St. Jerome met them. The merchants, much alarmed, confessed their theft, and St. Jerome forgave them, and was very kind to them; but the ass, of course, returned to her former owners. And the lion was much petted and praised for his goodness and cleverness, and lived with St. Jerome till the end of his life. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | The Lion and the Thorn | Ambrose Bierce | Link to an article about Ambrose Bierce. | Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), pp. 170-71. | A lion roaming through the forest, got a thorn in his foot, and, meeting a shepherd, asked him to remove it. The shepherd did so, and the lion, having just surfeited himself on another shepherd, went away without harming him. Some time afterward the shepherd was condemned on a false accusation to be cast to the lions in the amphitheater. When they were about to devour him, one of them said, 'This is the man who removed the thorn from my foot.' Hearing this, the others honorably abstained, and the claimant ate the shepherd all himself. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
156 | The Slave and the Lion | Aesop | null | Ãsop's Fables, translated by V. S. Vernon Jones (London: W. Heinemann, 1912), pp. 31-32. | A slave ran away from his master, by whom he had been most cruelly treated, and, in order to avoid capture, betook himself into the desert. As he wandered about in search of food and shelter, he came to a cave, which he entered and found to by unoccupied. Really, however, it was a lion's den, and almost immediately, to the horror of the wretched fugitive, the lion himself appeared. The man gave himself up for lost. But, to his utter astonishment, the lion, instead of springing upon him, came and fawned upon him, at the same time whining and lifting up his paw. Observing it to be much swollen and inflamed, he examined it and found a large thorn embedded in the ball of the foot. He accordingly removed it and dressed the wound as well as he could. And in course of time it healed up completely. The lion's gratitude was unbounded. He looked upon the man as his friend, and they shared the cave for some time together. A day came, however, when the slave began to long for the society of his follow men, and he bade farewell to the lion and returned to the town. Here he was presently recognized and carried off in chains to his former master, who resolved to make an example of him, and ordered that he should be thrown to the beasts at the next public spectacle in the theater. On the fatal day the beasts were loosed into the arena, and among the rest a lion of huge bulk and ferocious aspect. And then the wretched slave was cast in among them. What was the amazement of the spectators, when the lion after one glance bounded up to him and lay down at his feet with every expression of affection and delight! It was his old friend of the cave! The audience clamored that the slave's life should be spared. And the governor of the town, marveling at such gratitude and fidelity in a beast, decreed that both should receive their liberty. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | Chonguita the Monkey Wife (Fansler) | Philippines | Fansler's source: 'Narrated by Pilar Ejercito, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, Laguna. She heard the story from her aunt, who had heard it when she was still a little girl.' Fansler entitles this story simply 'Chonguita.' For comparison, follow this link to a collection of tales about Monkey Bridegrooms. | Dean S. Fansler, Filipino Popular Tales (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1921), no. 29, pp. 244-246. | There was a king who had three sons, named Pedro, Diego, and Juan. One day the king ordered these three gentlemen to set out from the kingdom and seek their fortunes. The three brothers took different directions, but before they separated they agreed to meet in a certain place in the forest. After walking for many days, Don Juan met an old man on the road. This old man gave Don Juan bread, and told him to go to a palace which was a mile away. 'But as you enter the gate,' said the old man, 'you must divide the bread which I have given you among the monkeys which are guarding the gate to the palace; otherwise you will not be able to enter.' Don Juan took the bread; and when he reached the palace, he did as the old man had advised him. After entering the gate, he saw a big monkey. Frightened at the sight of the animal, Don Juan was about to run away, when the animal called to him, and said, 'Don Juan, I know that your purpose in coming here was to find your fortune; and at this very moment my daughter Chonguita will marry you.' The archbishop of the monkeys was called, and Don Juan and Chonguita were married without delay. A few days afterwards Don Juan asked permission from his wife to go to the place where he and his brothers had agreed to meet. When Chonguita's mother heard that Don Juan was going away, she said to him, 'If you are going away, take Chonguita with you.' Although Don Juan was ashamed to go with Chonguita because she was a monkey, he was forced to take her, and they set out together. When Don Juan met his two brothers and their beautiful wives at the appointed place, he could not say a word. Don Diego, noticing the gloomy appearance of his brother, said, 'What is the matter with you? Where is your wife, Don Juan?' Don Juan sadly replied, 'Here she is.' 'Where?' asked Don Pedro. 'Behind me,' replied Don Juan. When Don Pedro and Don Diego saw the monkey, they were very much surprised. 'Oh!' exclaimed Don Pedro. 'What happened to you? Did you lose your head?' Don Juan could say nothing to this question. At last, however, he broke out, 'Let us go home! Our father must be waiting for us.' So saying, Don Juan turned around and began the journey. Don Pedro and Don Diego, together with their wives, followed Don Juan. Chonguita walked by her husband's side. When the return of the three brothers was announced to the king, the monarch hastened to meet them on the stairs. Upon learning that one of his sons had married a monkey, the king fainted; but after he had recovered his senses, he said to himself, 'This misfortune is God's will. I must therefore bear it with patience.' The king then assigned a house to each couple to live in. But the more the king thought of it, the greater appeared to be the disgrace that his youngest son had brought on the family. So one day he called his three sons together, and said to them, 'Tell your wives that I want each one of them to make me an embroidered coat. The one who fails to do this within three days will be put to death.' Now, the king issued this order in the hope that Chonguita would be put to death, because he thought that she would not be able to make the coat; but his hope was disappointed. On the third day his daughters-in-law presented to him the coats that they had made, and the one embroidered by Chonguita was the prettiest of all. Still anxious to get rid of the monkey wife, the king next ordered his daughters-in-law to embroider a cap for him in two days, under penalty of death in case of failure. The caps were all done on time. At last, thinking of no other way by which he could accomplish his end, the king summoned his three daughters-in-law, and said, 'The husband of the one who shall be able to draw the prettiest picture on the walls of my chamber within three days shall succeed me on the throne.' At the end of the three days the pictures were finished. When the king went to inspect them, he found that Chonguita's was by far the prettiest, and so Don Juan was crowned king. A great feast was held in the palace in honor of the new king. In the midst of the festivities Don Juan became very angry with his wife for insisting that he dance with her, and he hurled her against the wall. At this brutal action the hall suddenly became dark; but after a while it became bright again, and Chonguita had been transformed into a beautiful woman. New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1921), no. 29, pp. 244-246. Pagsanjan, Laguna. She heard the story from her aunt, who had heard it when she was still a little girl.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | Doll i' the Grass (Norway) | Norway | This tale differs from others in this group in that the 'creature' discovered by the hero in his search for a bride is not a creepy, crawly thing, but rather a beautiful -- but diminutive -- human (or possibly elfin) female. However, in all other aspects this story follows the outline of a traditional type 402 folktale. Link to the above tale in Norwegian: Dukken i gresset av Peter Christen Asbjørnsen og Jørgen Moe. | Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, Popular Tales from the Norse, translated by George Webbe Dasent (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1888), pp. 374-376. | Once on a time there was a king who had twelve sons. When they were grown big he told them they must go out into the world and win themselves wives, but these wives must each be able to spin, and weave, and sew a shirt in one day, else he wouldn't have them for daughters-in-law. To each he gave a horse and a new suit of mail, and they went out into the world to look after their brides; but when they had gone a bit of the way, they said they wouldn't have Boots, their youngest brother, with them. He wasn't fit for anything. Well, Boots had to stay behind, and he didn't know what to do or whither to turn; and so he grew so downcast, he got off his horse, and sat down in the tall grass to weep. But when he had sat a little while, one of the tufts in the grass began to stir and move, and out of it came a little white thing, and when it came nearer, Boots saw it was a charming little lassie, only such a tiny bit of a thing. So the lassie went up to him, and asked if he would come down below and see 'Doll i' the Grass.' Yes, he'd be very happy; and so he went. Now, when he got down, there sat Doll i' the Grass on a chair. She was so lovely and so smart, and she asked Boots wither he was going, and what was his business. So he told her how there were twelve brothers of them, and how the king had given them horse and mail, and said they must each go out into the world and find them a wife who could spin, and weave, and sew a shirt in a day. 'But if you'll only say at once you'll be my wife, I'll not go a step farther,' said Boots to Doll i' the Grass. Well, she was willing enough, and so she made haste and span, and wove, and sewed the shirt, but it was so tiny, tiny little. It wasn't longer than so ---- long. So Boots set off home with it, but when he brought it out he was almost ashamed, it was so small. Still the king said he should have her, and so Boots set off, glad and happy to fetch his little sweetheart. So when he got to Doll i' the Grass, he wished to take her up before him on his horse; but she wouldn't have that, for she said she would sit and drive along in a silver spoon, and that she had two small white horses to draw her. So off they set, he on his horse and she on her silver spoon, and the two horses that drew her were two tiny white mice. But Boots always kept the other side of the road, he was so afraid lest he should ride over her, she was so little. So when they had gone a bit of the way, they came to a great piece of water. Here Boots' horse got frightened, and shied across the road and upset the spoon, and Doll i' the Grass tumbled into the water. Then Boots got so sorrowful, because he didn't know how to get her out again. But in a little while up came a merman with her, and now she was as well and full grown as other men and women, and far lovelier than she had been before. So he took her up before him on his horse, and rode home. When Boots got home all his brothers had come back, each with his sweetheart, but these were all so ugly, and foul, and wicked, that they had done nothing but fight with one another on the way home, and on their heads they had a kind of hat that was daubed over with tar and soot, and so the rain had run down off the hats onto their faces, till they got far uglier and nastier than they had been before. When his brothers saw Boots and his sweetheart, they were all as jealous as jealous could be of her; but the king was so overjoyed with them both, that he drove all the others away, and so boots held his wedding feat with Doll i' the Grass, and after that they lived well and happily together a long, long time, and if they're not dead, why they're alive still. Popular Tales from the Norse, translated by George Webbe Dasent (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1888), pp. 374-376. This tale differs from others in this group in that the 'creature' discovered by the hero in his search for a bride is not a creepy, crawly thing, but rather a beautiful -- but diminutive -- human (or possibly elfin) female. However, in all other aspects this story follows the outline of a traditional type 402 folktale. gresset av Peter Christen Asbjørnsen og Jørgen Moe. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Cat Who Became a Queen (Knowles) | India | null | J. Hinton Knowles, Folk-Tales of Kashmir (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, and Company, 1893), pp. 8-10. | 'Ah me! Ah me! What availeth my marriage with all these women? Never a son has the Deity vouchsafed me. Must I die, and my name be altogether forgotten in the land?' Thus soliloquized one of the greatest monarchs that ever reigned in Kashmir, and then went to his zanána [the apartment where his wives lived], and threatened his numerous wives with banishment if they did not bear him a son within the next year. The women prayed most earnestly to the god Shiva to help them to fulfil the king's desire, and waited most anxiously for several months, hoping against hope, till at last they knew that it was all in vain, and that they must dissemble matters if they wished to remain in the royal household. Accordingly, on an appointed time, word was sent to the king that one of his wives was enciente, and a little while afterwards the news was spread abroad that a little princess was born. But this, as we have said, was not so. Nothing of the kind had happened. The truth was, that a cat had given birth to a lot of kittens, one of which had been appropriated by the king's wives. When his majesty heard the news he was exceedingly glad, and ordered the child to be brought to him -- a very natural request, which the king's wives had anticipated, and therefore were quite prepared with a reply. 'Go and tell the king,' said they to the messenger, 'that the Brahmans have declared that the child must not be seen by her father until she is married.' Thus the matter was hushed for a time. Constantly did the king inquire after his daughter, and received wonderful accounts of her beauty and cleverness; so that his joy was great. Of course he would like to have had a son, but since the Deity had not condescended to fulfil his desire, he comforted himself with the thought of marrying his daughter to some person worthy of her, and capable of ruling the country after him. Accordingly, at the proper time he commissioned his counselors to find a suitable match for his daughter. A clever, good, and handsome prince was soon found, and arrangements for the marriage were quickly concluded. What were the king's wives to do now? It was of no use for them to attempt to carry on their deceit any longer. The bridegroom would come and would wish to see his wife, and the king, too, would expect to see her. 'Better,' said they, 'that we send for this prince and reveal everything to him, and take our chance of the rest. Never mind the king. Some answer can be made to satisfy him for a while.' So they sent for the prince and told him everything, having previously made him swear that he would keep the secret, and not reveal it even to his father or mother. The marriage was celebrated in grand style, as became such great and wealthy kings, and the king was easily prevailed on to allow the palanquin containing the bride to leave the palace without looking at her. The cat only was in the palanquin, which reached the prince's country in safety. The prince took great care of the animal, which he kept locked up in his own private room, and would not allow anyone, not even his mother, to enter it. One day, however, while the prince was away, his mother thought that she would go and speak to her daughter-in-law from outside the door. 'O daughter-in-law,' she cried, 'I am very sorry that you are shut up in this room and not permitted to see anybody. It must be very dull for you. However, I am going out today; so you can leave the room without fear of seeing anyone. Will you come out?' The cat understood everything, and wept much, just like a human being. Oh those bitter tears! They pierced the mother's heart, so that she determined to speak very strictly to her son on the matter as soon as he should return. They also reached the ears of Párvatà [the wife of Shiva], who at once went to her lord and entreated him to have mercy on the poor helpless cat. 'Tell her,' said Shiva, 'to rub some oil over her fur, and she will became a beautiful woman. She will find the oil in the room where she now is.' Párvatà lost no time in disclosing this glad news to the cat, who quickly rubbed the oil over its body, and was changed into the most lovely woman that ever lived. But she left a little spot on one of her shoulders which remained covered with cat's fur, lest her husband should suspect some trickery and deny her. In the evening the prince returned and saw his beautiful wife, and was delighted. Then all anxiety as to what he should reply to his mother's earnest solicitations fled. She had only to see the happy, smiling, beautiful bride to know that her fears were altogether needless. In a few weeks the prince, accompanied by his wife, visited his father-in-law, who, of course, believed the princess to be his own daughter, and was glad beyond measure. His wives too rejoiced, because their prayer had been heard and their lives saved. In due time the king settled his country on the prince, who eventually ruled over both countries, his father's and his father-in-law's, and thus became the most illustrious and wealthy monarch in the world. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Dog Bride (Bompas) | India | From the preface: 'The Santals are a Munda tribe, a branch of that aboriginal element which probably entered India from the northeast. At the present day they inhabit the eastern outskirts of the Chutia Nagpore plateau.... The Santal Parganas is a district 4800 square miles in area, lying about 150 miles north of Calcutta.' | Cecil Henry Bompas, Folklore of the Santal Parganas (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 85, pp. 254-256. | Once upon a time there was a youth who used to herd buffaloes; and as he watched his animals graze he noticed that exactly at noon every day a she-dog used to make its way to a ravine, in which there were some pools of water. This made him curious and he wondered to whom it belonged and what it did in the ravine. So he decided to watch, and one day when the dog came he hid himself and saw that when it got to the water, it shed its dog skin, and out stepped a beautiful maiden and began to bathe. And when she had finished bathing she put on the skin and became a dog again, and went off to the village. The herdboy followed her and watched into what house she entered, and he inquired to whom the house belonged. Having found out all about it, he went back to his work. That year the herdboy's father and mother decided that it was time for him to marry and began to look about for a wife for him. But he announced that he had made up his mind to have a dog for his wife, and he would never marry a human girl. Everyone laughed at him for such an extraordinary idea, but he could not be moved. So at last they concluded that he must really have the soul of a dog in him, and that it was best to let him have his own way. So his father and mother asked him whether there was any particular dog he would like to have for his bride, and then he gave the name of the man into whose house he had tracked the dog that he had seen going to the ravine. The master of the dog laughed at the idea that anyone should wish to marry her, and gladly accepted a bride's price for her. So a day was fixed for the wedding and the booth built for the ceremony, and the bridegroom's party went to the bride's house, and the marriage took place in due form, and the bride was escorted to her husband's house. Every night when her husband was asleep, the bride used to come out of the dog's skin and go out of the house. And when her husband found out this, he one night only pretended to go to sleep and lay watching her. And when she was about to leave the room he jumped up and caught hold of her and seizing the dog skin, threw it into the fire, where it was burnt to ashes. So his bride remained a woman, but she was of more than human beauty. This soon became known in the village, and everyone congratulated the herdboy on his wisdom in marrying a dog. Now the herdboy had a friend named Jitu, and when Jitu saw what a prize his friend had got, he thought that he could not do better than marry a dog himself. His relations made no objection, and a bride was selected, and the marriage took place, but when they were putting vermilion on the bride's forehead she began to growl; but in spite of her growling they dragged her to the bridegroom's house, and forcibly anointed her with oil and turmeric. But when the bride's party set off home, the dog broke loose and ran after them. Then everyone shouted to Jitu to run after his bride and bring her back, but she only growled and bit at him, so that he had at last to give it up. Then everyone laughed at him so much that he was too ashamed to speak, and two or three days later he hanged himself. (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 85, pp. 254-256. From the preface: 'The Santals are a Munda tribe, a branch of that aboriginal element which probably entered India from the northeast. At the present day they inhabit the eastern outskirts of the Chutia Nagpore plateau.... The Santal Parganas is a district 4800 square miles in area, lying about 150 miles north of Calcutta.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Frog (Schneller) | Austria/Italy | null | Christian Schneller, Märchen und Sagen aus Wälschtirol: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Sagenkunde (Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner'schen Universitäts-Buchhandlung, 1867), no. 29, pp. 82-84. | A man and a woman had no children, although they would have given their lives to have some. They prayed for offspring, under any conditions. It appeared that heaven had mercy on them, but when the time came, the newborn was a female frog. Not letting themselves be distracted, the man and the woman raised her. They taught her music and all kinds of skills. Above all else the frog loved to sing, and she trained her voice and her range until one would think she was the best singer from the city. Other people had not seen the frog and thought indeed that she was an unknown singer and could not explain why she did not perform in public. One day the king's son passed by the house and heard the frog singing. He stopped and listened for a long time. He immediately fell in love with the unknown singer and approached her father with a request for permission to see her and speak with her, but the father refused. The prince heard her sing again and fell even more deeply in love with her. He demanded that her father give her to him in marriage. The father replied that he would have to ask his daughter. The frog agreed under the conditions that she be taken to the royal castle in an enclosed carriage and that she be allowed to enter the bridal chamber without being seen. The prince, his curiosity even more aroused, accepted the conditions. On the appointed day the frog rode to the royal castle in a tightly enclosed carriage and made her way to the splendid bridal chamber without being seen. She hid herself in one of the two beds that were there. The prince came that evening and was astonished when he could not find his bride. Disappointed, he went to bed. At midnight the frog crept out of the cushions and onto the prince's breast. Half asleep, he took the frog into his hand and threw her to the floor. She hopped angrily down the steps and home. The next morning the prince was sorry that he had thrown the frog to the floor, and he became sad and melancholy. Some time later he went back to the house. Hearing singing, he fell madly in love and began courting his bride anew. The frog accepted, this time without setting any conditions. She made a little carriage out of cardboard, hitched a rooster to it, and drove it herself to the royal castle. Three fairies were standing in the road. One of them had swallowed a fishbone, which stuck in her throat and was causing her great pain. When the three of them saw the frog driving by in her little carriage and cracking her whip so merrily, they all laughed out with joy. The fishbone dislodged itself from the one fairy's throat, freeing her suddenly of her pain. They approached the frog, and the first one said, 'I will give you a beautiful carriage with horses and servants!' And in an instant a carriage was there with horses and servants in beautiful livery. Then the second one said, 'I will give you expensive clothes and gold and silver!' And in an instant it was all there, gleaming and shimmering, and it was such a joy. Then came the third fairy, the one who had been freed of the fishbone by laughing, and she said, 'I will transform you!' In that instant the frog became a beautiful maiden. She graciously thanked the three kind fairies and drove happily to the royal castle and to her jubilant and joyful wedding. Wälschtirol: Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Sagenkunde (Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner'schen Universitäts-Buchhandlung, 1867), no. 29, pp. 82-84. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Frog's Bridegroom (Jungbauer) | Germany | null | Gustav Jungbauer, Böhmerwald-Märchen (Passau, 1923), no. 1. | Once upon a time there was a father who had three sons. He sent two of them out to find brides for themselves, but the third one, stupid Hansl, was to stay home and feed the animals. He was not satisfied with this, so the father finally said, 'Just go. You can look for a bride too.' So Hansl left, and he came to a great forest. On the other side of the forest there was a pond. A frog was sitting on the pond's bank, and it asked, 'Now there, Hansl, where are you going?' 'Oh, I'm looking for a bride!' 'Marry me!' said the frog, and this was all right with Hansl, because he did not know where he might find a bride. The frog jumped into the pond, and Hansl went back home. His brothers were already there, and they wanted to know if the fool had found a bride. 'Yes,' said Hansl, 'I have one already!' The next day the father gave each one a bundle of flax, saying, 'I will give the house to the one of you whose bride can spin the most beautiful yarn in three days.' Then each one left, including Hansl. The frog was again sitting on the bank of the pond. 'Now there, bridegroom, where are you going?' 'To you. Can you spin?' 'Yes,' said the frog. Just tie the flax onto my back.' Hansl did this, and the frog jumped into the pond. One strand of flax was sticking out below and the other one above. 'Too bad about the flax. It's gone,' thought Hans, and he sadly went back home. But nonetheless, on the third day he returned to the pond. The frog was again sitting on the bank, and it asked, 'Now there, bridegroom, where are you going?' 'Have you spun?' 'Yes,' said the frog, hopped into the pond, and returned with a skein of yarn that was more beautifully spun than any other. Hans was happy, and he joyfully ran back home, and he did indeed have the most beautiful yarn. The brothers complained, and then the father said, 'I will give the house to the one of you who brings home the most beautiful bride.' The brothers left once again, but this time Hansl took a water jug with him. The other two wanted to know, 'Why are you taking a water jug with you?' 'To put my bride in.' The two laughed, 'He must have some beautiful bride!' The frog was already sitting next to the pond. 'Now there, bridegroom, where are you going?' 'Today I am coming for you!' Then the frog jumped into the pond and came back with three keys. 'Go up there,' it said. 'There is a castle up there. One of these three keys unlocks the living room, one unlocks the stall, and one unlocks the carriage house. In the living room there are three robes: a red one, a green one, and a white one. In the stall there are two white horses, two black ones, and two brown ones. In the carriage house are three coaches: one of gold, one of silver, and one of glass. In each place you can take what you want.' Once in the castle Hansl first tried on the red robe, but he did not like it: 'It makes me look like a butcher.' He did not like the green one either: 'It makes me look like a hunter.' The white one suited him well. Then he went to the stall and took the brown horses. In the carriage house he first wanted to take the golden coach, but it was too lordly for him. The silver one was too heavy, so he took the glass one. He hitched up the brown horses and drove to the pond. A beautiful young woman was standing there. She said, 'You have redeemed me. If you had taken the best thing in each place then I would have had to remain a frog. And the great forest is a fruit orchard, and the pond is a rose garden. All this belongs to you. Let your brothers have the house. You can marry anyone you want to.' 'No, you must come with me, so that my father and my brothers can see you.' So she rode off with him. The father and the brothers were amazed when they saw Hansl with the beautiful young woman in the coach. But she suddenly disappeared and flew into the air as a white dove. Hansl gave the house to his brothers. He married a woman from his estate and was very happy. And if he hasn't died, then he still must be alive. 1923), no. 1. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Frog's Skin (Wardrop) | Georgia | null | Marjory Wardrop, Georgian Folk Tales (London, 1894), pp. 15-21. | There were once three brothers who wished to marry. They said, 'Let us each shoot an arrow, and each shall take his wife from the place where the arrow falls.' They shot their arrows; those of the two elder brothers fell on noblemen's houses, while the youngest brother's arrow fell in a lake. The two elder brothers led home their noble wives, and the youngest went to the shore of the lake. He saw a frog creep out of the lake and sit down upon a stone. He took it up and carried it back to the house. All the brothers came home with what fate had given them; the elder brothers with the noble maidens, and the youngest with a frog. The brothers went out to work. The wives prepared the dinner and attended to all their household duties. The frog sat by the fire croaking, and its eyes glittered. Thus they lived together a long time in love and harmony. At last the sisters-in-law wearied of the sight of the frog. When they swept the house, they threw out the frog with the dust. If the youngest brother found it, he took it up in his hand; if not, the frog would leap back to its place by the fire and begin to croak. The noble sisters did not like this, and said to their husbands, 'Drive this frog out, and get a real wife for your brother.' Every day the brothers bothered the youngest. He replied, saying, 'This frog is certainly my fate. I am worthy of no better. I must be faithful to it.' His sisters-in-law persisted in telling their husbands that the brother and his frog must be sent away, and at last they agreed. The young brother was now left quite desolate. There was no one to make his food, no one to stand watching at the door. For a short time a neighboring woman came to wait upon him, but she had not time, so he was left alone. The man became very melancholy. Once when he was thinking sadly of his loneliness, he went to work. When he had finished his day's labor, he went home. He looked into his house and was struck with amazement. The sideboard was well replenished; in one place was spread a cloth, and on the cloth were many different kinds of tempting dishes. He looked and saw the frog in its place croaking. He said to himself that his sisters-in-law must have done this for him, and went to his work again. He was out all day working, and when he came home he always found everything prepared for him. Once he said to himself, 'I will see for once who is this unseen benefactor, who comes to do good to me and look after me.' That day he stayed at home; he seated himself on the roof of the house and watched. In a short time the frog leaped out of the fireplace, jumped over to the doors, and all around the room. Seeing no one there, it went back and took off the frog's skin, put it near the fire, and came forth a beautiful maiden, fair as the sun; so lovely was she that the man could not imagine anything prettier. In the twinkling of an eye she had tidied everything, prepared the food, and cooked it. When everything was ready, she went to the fire, put on the skin again, and began to croak. When the man saw this he was very much astonished; he rejoiced exceedingly that God had granted him such happiness. He descended from the roof, went in, caressed his frog tenderly, and then sat down to his tasty supper. The next day the man hid himself in the place where he had been the day before. The frog, having satisfied itself that nobody was there, stripped off its skin and began its good work. This time the man stole silently into the house, seized the frog's skin in his hand and threw it into the fire. When the maiden saw this she entreated him, she wept, and she said, 'Do not burn it, or you shall surely be destroyed,' but the man had burned it in a moment. 'Now, if your happiness be turned to misery, it is not my fault,' said the sorrow-stricken woman. In a very short time the whole countryside knew that the man who had a frog now possessed in its place a lovely woman, who had come to him from heaven. The lord of the country heard of this, and wished to take her from him. He called the beautiful woman's husband to him and said, 'Sow a barnful of wheat in a day, or give me your wife.' When he had spoken thus, the man was obliged to consent, and he went home melancholy. When he went in he told his wife what had taken place. She reproached him, saying, 'I told you what would happen if you did burn the skin, and you did not heed me; but I will not blame you. Be not sad; go in the morning to the edge of the lake from which I came, and call out, 'Mother and Father! I pray you, lend me your swift bullocks.' Lead them away with you, and the bullocks will in one day plow the fields and sow the grain.' The husband did this. He went to the edge of the lake and called out, 'Mother and Father! I entreat you, lend me your swift bullocks today.' There came forth from the lake such a team of oxen as was never seen on sea or land. The youth drove the bullocks away, came to his lord's field, and plowed and sowed them in one day. His lord was very much surprised. He did not know if there was anything impossible to this man, whose wife he wanted. He called him a second time, and said, 'Go and gather up the wheat you have sown, that not a grain may be wanting, and that the barn may be full. If you do not do this, your wife is mine.' 'This is impossible,' said the man to himself. He went home to his wife, who again reproached him, and then said, 'Go to the lake's edge and ask for the jackdaws.' The husband went to the edge of the lake and called out, 'Mother and Father! I beg you to lend me your jackdaws today.' From the lake came forth flocks of jackdaws; they flew to the plowed ground, each gathered up a seed and put it into the barn. The lord came and cried out, 'There is one seed short; I know each one, and one is missing.' At that moment a jackdaw's caw was heard; it came with the missing seed, but owing to a lame foot it was a little late. The lord was very angry that even the impossible was possible to this man, and could not think what to give him to do. He puzzled his brain until he thought of the following plan. He called the man and said to him, 'My mother, who died in this village, took with her a ring. If you go to the other world and bring that ring back to me, it is well; if not, I shall take away your wife.' The man said to himself, 'This is quite impossible.' He went home and complained to his wife. She reproached him, and then said, 'Go to the lake and ask for the ram.' The husband went to the lake and called out, 'Mother and Father! Give me your ram today, I pray you.' From the lake there came forth a ram with twisted horns; from its mouth issued a flame of fire. It said to the man, 'Mount on my back!' The man sat down, and, quick as lightning, the ram descended towards the lower regions. It went on and shot like an arrow through the earth. They traveled on, and saw in one place a man and woman sitting on a bullock's skin, which was not big enough for them, and they were like to fall off. The man called out to them, 'What can be the meaning of this, that this bullock skin is not big enough for two people?' They said, 'We have seen many pass by like you, but none has returned. When you come back we shall answer your question.' They went on their way and saw a man and woman sitting on an ax handle, and they were not afraid of falling. The man called out to them, 'Are you not afraid of falling from the handle of an ax?' They said to him, 'We have seen many pass by like you, but none has returned. When you come back we shall answer your question.' They went on their way again, until they came to a place where they saw a priest feeding cattle. This priest had such a long beard that it spread over the ground, and the cattle, instead of eating grass, fed on the priest's beard, and he could not prevent it. The man called out, 'Priest, what is the meaning of this? Why is your beard pasture for these cattle?' The priest replied, 'I have seen many pass by like you, but none has returned. When you come back I shall answer your question.' They journeyed on again until they came to a place where they saw nothing but boiling pitch, and a flame came forth from it -- and this was hell. The ram said, 'Sit firmly on my back, for we must pass through this fire.' The man held fast. The ram gave a leap, and they escaped through the fire unhurt. There they saw a melancholy woman seated on a golden throne. She said; 'What is it, my child? What troubles you? What has brought you here?' He told her everything that had happened to him. She said, 'I must punish this very wicked child of mine, and you must take him a casket from me.' She gave him a casket, and said, 'Whatever you do, do not open this casket yourself. Take it with you, give it to your lord, and run quickly away from him.' The man took the casket and went away. He came to the place where the priest was feeding the cattle. The priest said, 'I promised you an answer. Hearken unto my words: In life I loved nothing but myself; I cared for nothing else. My flocks I fed on other pastures than my own, and the neighboring cattle died of starvation. Now I am paying the penalty.' Then he went on to the place where the man and woman were sitting on the handle of the ax. They said, 'We promised you an answer. Hearken unto our words: We loved each other too well on earth, and it is the same with us here.' Then he came to the two seated on the bullock skin, which was not big enough for them. They said, 'We promised you an answer. Hearken unto our words: We despised each other in life, and we equally despise each other here.' At last the man came up on earth, descended from the ram, and went to his lord. He gave him the casket and quickly ran away. The lord opened the casket, and there came forth fire, which swallowed him up. Our brother was thus victorious over his enemy, and no one took his wife from him. They lived lovingly together, and blessed God as their deliverer. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Mouse Maiden (Parker) | Sri Lanka | Parker's source: A tom-tom beater from the Northwestern province. Punctuation revised by D. L. Ashliman. | H. Parker, Village Folk Tales of Ceylon (London: Luzac and Company, 1910), no. 54, pp. 295-298. | There are a king and a queen of a certain city, and there is a daughter of the queen. They asked permission to summon the daughter to go in marriage to the prince of another city. The king said, 'Ha,' so they came from that city to summon the king's princess. After coming, they told the bride to come out of her chamber in order to eat the rice of the wedding feast. The queen said, 'She is eating cooked rice in the house.' Then they told her to come out in order to dress her in the robes sent by the bridegroom. The queen said, 'She is putting on robes in her chamber.' Then they told her to come out in order to go to the bridegroom's city. So the queen told two persons to come, and, having put a female mouseling in an incense box, brought it, and gave it into the hands of the two persons, and said, 'Take this, and until seven days have gone by, do not open the mouth of the box.' Having taken it to the city, when they opened the mouth of the box after seven days, a mouse sprang out, and hid itself among the cooking pots. There was also a servant girl at the prince's house. The girl apportioned and gave cooked rice and vegetable curry to the prince, and covered up the cooking pots containing the rest of the food. Then the mouseling came and, having taken and eaten some of the cooked rice and vegetables, covered up the cooking pots, and went again among the pots. On the following day the same thing occurred. The prince said to the girl, 'Does the mouseling eat the cooked rice? Look and come back.' The girl, having gone and looked, came back and said, 'She has eaten the cooked rice, and covered the cooking pots, and has gone.' The prince said, 'Go also, and eat rice, and come back.' So the girl went and ate rice, and returned. Next day the prince said, 'I am going to cut paddy (growing rice). Remain at the house, and in the evening place the articles for cooking near the hearth.' Then the prince went. Afterwards, in the evening, the girl placed the things for cooking near the hearth, and went out of the way. The mouseling came, and cooked, and placed the food ready, and again went behind the pots. After evening had come, that girl apportioned and gave the rice to the prince. The prince ate, and told the girl, 'Go also, and eat rice, and come back.' So the girl went and ate rice, and, having covered the cooking pots, came to the place where the prince was. Then the mouseling came and ate rice, and covered up the pots. After that, she said to the other mice, 'Let us go and cut the paddy,' and, collecting a great number of mice, cut all the paddy, and again returned to the house, and stayed among the pots. Next day when the prince went to the rice field to cut the paddy, all had been cut. Afterwards the prince came back, and, saying 'Let us go and collect and stack the paddy,' collected the men, and stacked it, and threshed it by trampling it with buffaloes. Then they went and called the women, and, having got rid of the chaff in the wind, brought the paddy home. After they had brought it, the prince went near the place where the cooking pots were stored, at which the mouseling was hidden, and said, 'Having pounded this paddy to remove the husk, and cooked rice, let us go to your village to present it to your parents as the first-fruits.' The mouseling said, 'I will not. You go.' So the prince told the girl to pound the paddy and cook rice, and having done this she gave it to the prince. The prince took the package of cooked rice, and went to the mouseling's village, and gave it to the mouseling's mother. The queen asked at the hand of the prince, 'Where is the girl?' The prince said, 'She refused to come.' The queen said, 'Go back to the city, and, having placed the articles for cooking near the hearth, get hid, and stay in the house.' After the prince returned to the city, he did as she had told him. The mouseling, having come out, took off her mouse jacket, and, assuming her shape as a girl, put on other clothes. While she was preparing to cook, the prince took the mouse jacket and burnt it. Afterwards, when the girl went to the place where the mouse jacket had been, and looked for it, it was not there. Then she looked in the hearth, and saw that there was one sleeve in it. While she was there weeping and weeping, the prince came forward and said, 'Your mother told me to burn the mouse jacket.' So the mouseling became the princess again, and the prince and princess remained there. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The She-Wolf (Shewolf) | Croatia | The motif of the stolen skin is also found in many tales from the Swan Maiden and the Mermaid Wife groups. 'The She-Wolf' is, of course, a variant of the many werewolf legends that exist throughout Europe. Link to additional werewolf legends. | A. H. Wratislaw, Sixty Folk-Tales from Exclusively Slavonic Sources (London: Elliot Stock, 1889), pp. 290-291. | There was an enchanted mill, so that no one could stay there, because a she-wolf always haunted it. A soldier went once into the mill to sleep. He made a fire in the parlor, went up into the garret above, bored a hole with an auger in the floor, and peeped down into the parlor. A she-wolf came in and looked about the mill to see whether she could find anything to eat. She found nothing, and then went to the fire, and said, 'Skin down! Skin down! Skin down!' She raised herself upon her hind-legs, and her skin fell down. She took the skin, and hung it on a peg, and out of the wolf came a damsel. The damsel went to the fire, and fell asleep there. He came down from the garret, took the skin, nailed it fast to the mill-wheel, then came into the mill, shouted over her, and said, 'Good morning, damsel! How do you do? She began to scream, 'Skin on me! Skin on me! Skin on me!' But the skin could not come down, for it was fast nailed. The pair married and had two children. As soon as the elder son got to know that his mother was a wolf, he said to her, 'Mamma! Mamma! I have heard that you are a wolf.' His mother replied, 'What nonsense are you talking! How can you say that I am a wolf?' The father of the two children went one day into the field to plow, and his son said, 'Papa, let me, too, go with you.' His father said, 'Come.' When they had come to the field, the son asked his father, 'Papa, is it true that our mother is a wolf?' The father said, 'It is.' The son inquired, 'And where is her skin?' His father said, 'There it is, on the mill-wheel.' No sooner had the son got home, than he said at once to his mother, 'Mamma! Mamma! You are a wolf! I know where your skin is.' His mother asked him, 'Where is my skin?' He said, 'There, on the mill-wheel.' His mother said to him, 'Thank you, sonny, for rescuing me.' Then she went away, and was never heard of more. Maiden and the Mermaid Wife groups. that exist throughout Europe. Link to additional werewolf legends. Wilhelm Grimm, Children's and Household Tales, no. 63). The German text of the above tale: Die drei Federn von den Brüdern Grimm. This is a text from the Projekt Gutenberg-DE. (Germany, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Children's and Household Tales, no. 106). The German text of the above tale: Der arme Müllerbursch und das Kätzchen von den Brüdern Grimm. This is a text from the Projekt Gutenberg-DE. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Tsarevna Frog (Tsarevna) | Russia | Type 402, 'The Animal Bride'; followed by type 302, 'The Giant Whose Heart Was in an Egg.' | Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal, Folk Tales from the Russian (Chicago, New York, and London: Rand, McNally and Compnay, 1903), pp. 13-26. | In old, old Russian tsarstvo, I do not know when, there lived a sovereign prince with the princess his wife. They had three sons, all of them young, and such brave fellows that no pen could describe them. The youngest had the name of Ivan Tsarevitch. One day their father said to his sons: ''My dear boys, take each of you an arrow, draw your strong bow and let your arrow fly; in whatever court it falls, in that court there will be a wife for you.' The arrow of the oldest Tsarevitch fell on a boyar-house just in front of the terem where women live; the arrow of the second Tsarevitch flew to the red porch of a rich merchant, and on the porch there stood a sweet girl, the merchant's daughter. The youngest, the brave Tsarevitch Ivan, had the ill luck to send his arrow into the midst of a swamp, where it was caught by a croaking frog. Ivan Tsarevitch came to his father: 'How can I marry the frog?' complained the son. 'Is she my equal? Certainly she is not.' 'Never mind, 'replied his father. 'You have to marry the frog, for such is evidently your destiny.' Thus the brothers were married: the oldest to a young boyarishnia, a nobleman's child; the second to the merchant's beautiful daughter, and the youngest, Tsarevitch Ivan, to a croaking frog. After a while the sovereign prince called his three sons and said to them: 'Have each of your wives bake a loaf of bread by tomorrow morning.' Ivan returned home. There was no smile on his face, and his brow was clouded. 'C-r-o-a-k! C-r-o-a-k! Dear husband of mine, Tsarevitch Ivan, why so sad?' gently asked the frog. ''Was there anything disagreeable in the palace?' 'Disagreeable indeed,' answered Ivan Tsarevitch; 'the Tsar, my father, wants you to bake a loaf of white bread by tomorrow.' 'Do not worry, Tsarevitch. Go to bed; the morning hour is a better adviser than the dark evening.' The Tsarevitch, taking his wife's advice, went to sleep. Then the frog threw off her frog skin and turned into a beautiful, sweet girl, Vassilissa by name. She now stepped out on the porch and called aloud: 'Nurses and waitresses, come to me at once and prepare a loaf of white bread for tomorrow morning, a loaf exactly like those I used to eat in my royal father's palace.' In the morning Tsarevitch Ivan awoke with the crowing cocks, and you know the cocks and chickens are never late. Yet the loaf was already made, and so fine it was that nobody could even describe it, for only in fairyland one finds such marvelous loaves. It was adorned all about with pretty figures, with towns and fortresses on each side, and within it was white as snow and light as a feather. The Tsar father was pleased and the Tsarevitch received his special thanks. 'Now there is another task,' said the Tsar smilingly. 'Have each of your wives weave a rug by tomorrow.' Tsarevitch Ivan came back to his home. There was no smile on his face and his brow was clouded. 'C-r-o-a-k! C-r-o-a-k! Dear Tsarevitch Ivan, my husband and master, why so troubled again? Was not father pleased?' ''How can I be otherwise? The Tsar, my father, has ordered a rug by tomorrow.' 'Do not worry, Tsarevitch. Go to bed; go to sleep. The morning hour will bring help.' Again the frog turned into Vassilissa, the wise maiden, and again she called aloud: 'Dear nurses and faithful waitresses, come to me for new work. Weave a silk rug like the one I used to sit upon in the palace of the king, my father.' Once said, quickly done. When the cocks began their early 'cock-a-doodle-doo,' Tsarevitch Ivan awoke, and lo! there lay the most beautiful silk rug before him, a rug that no one could begin to describe. Threads of silver and gold were interwoven among bright-colored silken ones, and the rug was too beautiful for anything but to admire. The Tsar father was pleased, thanked his son Ivan, and issued a new order. He now wished to see the three wives of his handsome sons, and they were to present their brides on the next day. The Tsarevitch Ivan returned home. Cloudy was his brow, more cloudy than before. 'C-r-o-a-k! C-r-o-a-k! Tsarevitch, my dear husband and master, why so sad ? Hast thou heard anything unpleasant at the palace?' 'Unpleasant enough, indeed! My father, the Tsar, ordered all of us to present our wives to him. Now tell me, how could I dare go with thee?' 'It is not so bad after all, and could be much worse,' answered the frog, gently croaking. 'Thou shalt go alone and I will follow thee. When thou hearest a noise, a great noise, do not be afraid; simply say: 'There is my miserable froggy coming in her miserable box.'' The two elder brothers arrived first with their wives, beautiful, bright, and cheerful, and dressed in rich garments. Both the happy bridegrooms made fun of the Tsarevitch Ivan. 'Why alone, brother?' they laughingly said to him. 'Why didst thou not bring thy wife along with thee? Was there no rag to cover her? Where couldst thou have gotten such a beauty? We are ready to wager that in all the swamps in the dominion of our father it would be hard to find another one like her.' And they laughed and laughed. Lo! what a noise! The palace trembled, the guests were all frightened. Tsarevitch Ivan alone remained quiet and said: ''No danger; it is my froggy coming in her box.' To the red porch came flying a golden carriage drawn by six splendid white horses, and Vassilissa, beautiful beyond all description, gently reached her hand to her husband. He led her with him to the heavy oak tables, which were covered with snow-white linen and loaded with many wonderful dishes such as are known and eaten only in the land of fairies and never anywhere else. The guests were eating and chatting gaily. Vassilissa drank some wine, and what was left in the tumbler she poured into her left sleeve. She ate some of the fried swan, and the bones she threw into her right sleeve. The wives of the two elder brothers watched her and did exactly the same. When the long, hearty dinner was over, the guests began dancing and singing. The beautiful Vassilissa came forward, as bright as a star, bowed to her sovereign, bowed to the honorable guests and danced with her husband, the happy Tsarevitch Ivan. While dancing, Vassilissa waved her left sleeve and a pretty lake appeared in the midst of the hall and cooled the air. She waved her right sleeve and white swans swam on the water. The Tsar, the guests, the servants, even the gray cat sitting in the corner, all were amazed and wondered at the beautiful Vassilissa. Her two sisters-in-law alone envied her. When their turn came to dance, they also waved their left sleeves as Vassilissa had done, and, oh, wonder! they sprinkled wine all around. They waved their right sleeves, and instead of swans the bones flew in the face of the Tsar father. The Tsar grew very angry and bade them leave the palace. In the meantime Ivan Tsarevitch watched a moment to slip away unseen. He ran home, found the frog skin, and burned it in the fire. Vassilissa, when she came back, searched for the skin, and when she could not find it her beautiful face grew sad and her bright eyes filled with tears. She said to Tsarevitch Ivan, her husband: ''Oh, dear Tsarevitch, what hast thou done? There was but a short time left for me to wear the ugly frog skin. The moment was near when we could have been happy together forever. Now I must bid thee goodbye. Look for me in a faraway country to which no one knows the roads, at the palace of Kostshei the Deathless;' and Vassilissa turned into a white swan and flew away through the window. Tsarevitch Ivan wept bitterly. Then he prayed to the almighty God, and making the sign of the cross northward, southward, eastward, and westward, he went on a mysterious journey. No one knows how long his journey was, but one day he met an old, old man. He bowed to the old man, who said: 'Good-day, brave fellow. What art thou searching for, and whither art thou going?' Tsarevitch Ivan answered sincerely, telling all about his misfortune without hiding anything. ''And why didst thou burn the frog skin? It was wrong to do so. Listen now to me. Vassilissa was born wiser than her own father, and as he envied his daughter's wisdom he condemned her to be a frog for three long years. But I pity thee and want to help thee. Here is a magic ball. In whatever direction this ball rolls, follow without fear.' Ivan Tsarevitch thanked the good old man, and followed his new guide, the ball. Long, very long, was his road. One day in a wide, flowery field he met a bear, a big Russian bear. Ivan Tsarevitch took his bow and was ready to shoot the bear. 'Do not kill me, kind Tsarevitch,' said the bear. 'Who knows but that I maybe useful to thee?' And Ivan did not shoot the bear. Above in the sunny air there flew a duck, a lovely white duck. Again the Tsarevitch drew his bow to shoot it. But the duck said to him: 'Do not kill me, good Tsarevitch. I certainly shall be useful to thee some day.' And this time he obeyed the command of the duck and passed by. Continuing his way he saw a blinking hare. The Tsarevitch prepared an arrow to shoot it, but the gray, blinking hare said: 'Do not kill me, brave Tsarevitch. I shall prove myself grateful to thee in a very short time.' The Tsarevitch did not shoot the hare, but passed by. He walked farther and farther after the rolling ball, and came to the deep blue sea. On the sand there lay a fish. I do not remember the name of the fish, but it was a big fish, almost dying on the dry sand. ' O Tsarevitch Ivan!' prayed the fish, 'have mercy upon me and push me back into the cool sea.' The Tsarevitch did so, and walked along the shore. The ball, rolling all the time, brought Ivan to a hut, a queer, tiny hut standing on tiny hen's feet. 'Izboushka! Izboushka!' -- for so in Russia do they name small huts -- 'Izboushka, I want thee to turn thy front to me,' cried Ivan, and lo! the tiny hut turned its front at once. Ivan stepped in and saw a witch, one of the ugliest witches he could imagine. 'Ho! Ivan Tsarevitch! What brings thee here?' was his greeting from the witch. 'O, thou old mischief!' shouted Ivan with anger. 'Is it the way in holy Russia to ask questions before the tired guest gets something to eat, something to drink, and some hot water to wash the dust off?' Baba Yaga, the witch, gave the Tsarevitch plenty to eat and drink, besides hot water to wash the dust off. Tsarevitch Ivan felt refreshed. Soon he became talkative, and related the wonderful story of his marriage. He told how he had lost his dear wife, and that his only desire was to find her. 'I know all about it,' answered the witch. 'She is now at the palace of Kostshei the Deathless, and thou must understand that Kostshei is terrible. He watches her day and night and no one can ever conquer him. His death depends on a magic needle. That needle is within a hare; that hare is within a large trunk; that trunk is hidden in the branches of an old oak tree; and that oak tree is watched by Kostshei as closely as Vassilissa herself, which means closer than any treasure he has.' Then the witch told Ivan Tsarevitch how and where to find the oak tree. Ivan hastily went to the place. But when he perceived the oak tree he was much discouraged, not knowing what to do or how to begin the work. Lo and behold! that old acquaintance of his, the Russian bear, came running along, approached the tree, uprooted it, and the trunk fell and broke. A hare jumped out of the trunk and began to run fast; but another hare, Ivan's friend, came running after, caught it and tore it to pieces. Out of the hare there flew a duck, a gray one which flew very high and was almost invisible, but the beautiful white duck followed the bird and struck its gray enemy, which lost an egg. That egg fell into the deep sea. Ivan meanwhile was anxiously watching his faithful friends helping him. But when the egg disappeared in the blue waters he could not help weeping. All of a sudden a big fish came swimming up, the same fish he had saved, and brought the egg in his mouth. How happy Ivan was when he took it! He broke it and found the needle inside, the magic needle upon which everything depended. At the same moment Kostshei lost his strength and power forever. Ivan Tsarevitch entered his vast dominions, killed him with the magic needle, and in one of the palaces found his own dear wife, his beautiful Vassilissa. He took her home and they were very happy ever after. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | Of the Woman Who Loved a Serpent Who Lived in a Lake | Passamaquoddy | The Passamaquoddy Indians formerly occupied an area between present-day Maine and New Brunswick. Today they live primarily in Maine. | Charles G. Leland, The Algonquin Legends of New England; or, Myths and Folk Lore of the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscot Tribes (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, 1884), pp. 273-274. | This, the sixth, was such a silent man that he passed for a fool. But he was wiser than people thought. He came to believe, by thinking it over, that this woman had some strange secret. He resolved to find it out. So he watched her all the time. He kept his eye on her by night and by day. It was summer, and she proposed to go into the woods to pick berries, and to camp there. By and by, when they were in the forest, she suggested that he should go on to the spot where they intended to remain and build a wigwam. He said that he would do so. But he went a little way into the woods and watched her. As soon as she believed that he was gone, she rose and walked rapidly onwards. He followed her, unseen. She went on, till, in a deep, wild place among the rocks, she came to a pond. She sat down and sang a song. A great foam, or froth, rose to the surface of the water. Then in the foam appeared the tail of a serpent. The creature was of immense size. The woman, who had laid aside all her garments, embraced the serpent, which twined around her, enveloping all her limbs and body in his folds. The husband watched it all. He now understood that, the venom of the serpent having entered the woman, she had saved her life by transferring it to others, who died. He went on to the camping ground and built a wigwam. He made up two beds. He built a fire. His wife came. She was earnest that there should be only a single bed. He sternly bade her lie by herself. She was afraid of him. She laid down and went to sleep. He arose three times during the night to replenish the fire. Every time he called her, and there was no answer. In the morning he shook her. She was dead. She had died by the poison of the serpent. They sunk her in the pond where the snake lived. Return to D. L. Ashliman's folktexts, a library of folktales, folklore, fairy tales, and mythology. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Bear Who Married a Woman | Tsimshian | The Tsmimshian Indians are native to the coastal regions of British Columbia and southern Alaska. | Franz Boas, Tsimshian Mythology (Washington, DC: United States Government Printing Office, 1916), p. 19. | Once upon a time there lived a widow of the tribe of the Gispaxlâ'ts. Many men tried to marry her daughter, but she declined them all. The mother said, 'When a man comes to marry you, feel of the palms of his hands. If they are soft, decline him. If they are rough, accept him.' She meant that she wanted to have for a son-in-law a man skillful in building canoes. Her daughter obeyed her commands and refused the wooings of all young men. One night a youth came to her bed. The palms of his hands were very rough, and therefore she accepted his suit. Early in the morning, however, he had suddenly disappeared, even before she had seen him. When her mother arose early in the morning and went out, she found a halibut on the beach in front of the house, although it was midwinter. The following evening the young man came back, but disappeared again before the dawn of the day. In the morning the widow found a seal in front of the house. Thus they lived for some time. The young woman never saw the face of her husband; but every morning she found an animal on the beach, every day a larger one. Thus the widow came to be very rich. She was anxious to see her son-in-law, and one day she waited until he arrived. Suddenly she saw a red bear emerge from the water. He carried a whale on each side, and put them down on the beach. As soon as he noticed that he was observed, he was transformed into a rock, which may be seen up to this day. He was a supernatural being of the sea. States Government Printing Office, 1916), p. 19. Columbia and southern Alaska. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Bear Woman | Okanagon | This tale was collected by James A. Teit. The Okanagon tribe belongs to the Salish group. Their territory included present-day British Columbia, northern Washington and Idaho, and western Montana. | Franz Boas, Folk-Tales of Salishan and Sahaptin Tribes = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 90-92. | It was late fall, and people were in the mountains hunting. Six people were living together: a man and his wife, his parents, and his two sisters. One day when out hunting, the man came on a patch of lily roots. On his return home he said to his wife, 'I saw a fine patch of large lilies. Tomorrow morning we shall move there and stay for a few days, so that you can dig them.' They set up a lodge near the place. And on the following morning early, on his way to hunt, he showed his wife the place and left her there to dig. In the afternoon a large grizzly bear appeared at the place. The woman was intent on her work and did not notice the bear until he was close to her. He said to her, 'I want you to be my wife.' She agreed, for she knew he would kill her if she refused. He took her on his back and carried her to his house. Towards evening the hunter returned carrying a load of deer meat. His wife was not there. He thought, 'She is late and will come soon.' He roasted meat for both of them. He ate, and then took his bow and arrows and went in search of his wife. He saw where she had been digging roots. He called, but received no answer. It grew dark, and he returned to his camp. He could not sleep. At daybreak he went out again. He saw the tracks of the grizzly bear going away, but no tracks of his wife leaving the spot. He thought she might have gone to his parents' camp, or the bear might have killed her, but he saw neither her tracks nor signs of a struggle with the bear. He went to the camp. His father told him that she had not arrived. He related what he had seen, and his father said, 'The grizzly bear has not killed her. He has married her.' The man could neither sleep nor eat. At last the fourth night he slept, for he was very tired. His wife appeared to him in a dream and said, 'The grizzly has taken me.' She told him where the bear's house was. She said, 'Every morning at daybreak he takes me to dig roots at a certain place. If you are strong, you can kill him; but he is very fierce and endowed with magic power. You must fix your arrows as I direct you, and sit where I tell you. I have prepared a hiding place for you, where you may sit on a boulder. Prepare medicine to wash me with, for otherwise, when the bear dies, I shall die too through his power. If he kills you, I shall kill myself. Get young fir-tops and konêlps [veratrum californicum, durand], and soak them in water. With these you must rub me. Prepare one arrow by rubbing it with fat of snakes, and the other arrow anoint with rattlesnake poison. Sit down on the rock in the place that I have prepared; and on the fourth morning, when I bring the bear past close to the rock, shoot him in the throat.' The hunter prepared everything as directed. He made two new arrows with detachable foreshafts. He made them very carefully, and put good stone heads on them. He searched for snakes, and anointed the foreshafts of his arrows and the points. Early in the morning he was at the place indicated. The grizzly bear's house was a cave in a cliff, and at daybreak the man saw the smoke from his fire coming out through a hole in the top of the cliff. Soon he saw his wife and the bear emerge from the entrance. Her face was painted, and she carried her root digger. She dug roots, and the bear gathered them. The man returned home and told what he had seen to his father, who said, 'I have a strong guardian spirit, and I shall protect you. Do not be afraid. Act according the directions your wife has given to you in your dream, and kill the bear.' On the fourth morning at daybreak he was sitting on the rock. His wife and the bear drew near. She was digging in circles, and the grizzly bear followed her. When she made the fourth circle, she passed quite close to the rock. He aimed an arrow at his wife, and she cried, 'Husbands never kill their wives!' He lowered his bow and laughed. The bear stood up and was angry. He abused the woman, calling her bad names. Just then he was close to the rock. The hunter spoke to him, and the bear turned to look at the hunter, who shot him right in the throat. The grizzly bear tried to pull out the arrow, but could remove only the shaft. He rushed at the hunter, but could not reach him. The hunter shot his second arrow with such great force that the shaft fell off. The bear fell over and died. Then his wife swooned, and would have died through the bear's power, had not her husband rubbed her with fir-tops and veratrum. She revived and stood up. She said, 'I warn you not to have connection with me. The influence of the bear is still over me. Build a lodge of fir brush for me some distance away from the people. Let your sisters feed me, and wash me with fir and veratrum leaves. You may speak to me from a distance. Next spring, when the snow is almost gone, I shall be your wife again.' In the spring she washed at a stream, using hot water, and her sisters-in-law rubbed her with fir boughs. The hunter also washed. Then she went into his lodge, and lived with him as before. New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 90-92. included present-day British Columbia, northern Washington and Idaho, and western Montana. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Fish-Man | Salish | This tale was collected by James A. Teit. A note by Teit concerning his source: 'This myth ... I collected at Hope [on the Fraser River], where interior influence is rather strong. Similar versions are said to be current among the Spuzzum Indians. The narrator was an old man who could speak some Thompson. The Fraser River flows through British Columbia, Canada, into the Strait of Georgia at the site of present-day Vancouver. | Franz Boas, Folk-Tales of Salishan and Sahaptin Tribes = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), p. 131. | Somewhere near the mouth of the Fraser River lived a girl who had refused all suitors. After a while a man came to visit her, and lay with her at night. The girl said to him, 'You must stay until daylight, and show yourself to my parents.' He answered, 'No, I am too poor. Your people would not like me.' As he continued to come every night, the girl told her parents, and they were very angry. Then Fish-Man caused the sea to recede for many miles from the village. He let all the freshwater streams dry up, and no rain fall. The animals became thirsty, and left the country. The people could get no fish, no game, and no water to drink. The girl told the people, 'My lover has done this, because you were wroth with him and refused him.' Then the people made a long walk of planks over the mud to the edge of the sea. At the end of this they built a large platform of planks, which they covered with mats. They heaped many woolen blankets on it. Then they dressed the girl in a fine robe, combed and oiled her hair, painted her face, and put down on her head. Then they placed her on the top of the blankets and left her there. At once the sky became overcast, rain fell, the springs burst out, the streams ran, and the sea came in. The people watched until the sea rose, and floated the platform with the blankets. They saw a man climb up beside the girl They stood up; and the girl called, 'Now all is well. I shall visit you soon.' Night came on, and they saw them no more. In two days she came back, and told the people, 'I live below the sea, in the fish country. The houses there are just the same as here, and the people live in the same way.' She returned again with her husband bringing presents of fish. She said, 'Henceforth people here shall always be able to catch plenty of fish.' Once more she came to show them her newly born child. After that she returned to the sea, and was never seen again. New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), p. 131. A note by Teit concerning his source: 'This myth ... I collected at Hope [on the Fraser River], where interior influence is rather strong. Similar versions are said to be current among the Spuzzum Indians. The narrator was an old man who could speak some Thompson. Strait of Georgia at the site of present-day Vancouver. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Girl Who Married the Crow | Thompson (Ntlakyapamuk) | This tale was collected by James A. Teit. The place names mentioned in this legend (Lytton, Spences Bridge, Nicola, Kamloops, and Lillooet) are all in southern British Columbia. Lytton is at the junction of the Thompson and Fraser rivers. | Franz Boas, Folk-Tales of Salishan and Sahaptin Tribes = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 30-32. | A girl belonging to a village of four underground lodges near Lytton refused all suitors who had come from Spences Bridge, Nicola, Kamloops, and Lillooet, although they brought as marriage gifts robes, dentalia, and other valuables. Her parents and the chief of the village were angry with her for refusing so many good suitors. Therefore she became sad, and would have committed suicide had not her brothers talked kindly with her. One morning, when she had gone to the river to bathe and to draw water for the house, she thought, 'I wish a man from far away would come and take me!' Crow-Man, who lived at the mouth of the river, heard her. He said, 'A pretty girl far away wants a husband. I wish I could go to her!' At once a man appeared to him and said, 'I will help you, if you will do as I direct you. You must shut your eyes and pray to me, and I shall grant your desire. Now begin!' Crow-Man knelt down and prayed that he might be enabled to go to the girl. His eyes closed while he was praying. Then his helper told him to open his eyes and look at himself. He saw that he had been transformed into a crow, with wings and with black feathers all over his body. He was afraid, and remained silent. His helper told him that he would not be a crow always, but only for the journey to the girl. He said, 'Now, fly up the river! And early in the morning you will see a girl bathing near four underground lodges. She is the wife that you desire!' It was springtime, when crows come up the river. Three mornings the girl had repeated her supplication for a husband. Early the fourth morning she went to the accustomed place, put down her bark water baskets, took off her clothes, and went to bathe. She had just made her supplication when a crow came up the river and passed close to her head. She called him nasty names and said, 'Why do you fly so close to my head, you black ugly bird? You will blind me with the dirt of your feet.' It was Crow-Man, who was acting under the instructions of his helper. He flew past out of sight, alighted on the ground, shut his eyes, and prayed. When he opened his eyes, he was a man again. He walked back to where the girl was washing herself in the water, and sat down on her clothes. Presently she saw him, and asked him to leave. She pleaded with him to go away, but he paid no heed. When she had asked him four times, he replied, 'If you will become my wife, I will release your clothes.' She assented, saying, 'You must be my husband, for you have seen my naked body.' Crow-Man shut his eyes and prayed. When he opened them again, a large beaverskin robe was there, and a dugout cedar canoe. He gave the robe to his wife. They embarked in the canoe and went downstream. As the girl did not return, the people looked for her. They found her clothes and the water baskets, and thought that she had drowned herself. She lived in her husband's country for a while, and bore a son to him. When the boy was growing up, he wished to see his grandparents. Every day he asked for them. Finally his parents determined to take him to see them. They went up the river in a canoe loaded with presents of many kinds, and eventually reached Lytton. They moored their canoe at the watering place. The weather was warm, and the woman's parents were living in a mat tent. Her younger sister came down to draw water and discovered them. She went back with the news; and the parents cleaned their house, and made ready to receive their son-in-law. He gave his father-in-law all the presents, and the people danced to welcome them. He made up his mind to live there and became an adopted member of the tribe. = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 30-32. The place names mentioned in this legend (Lytton, Spences Bridge, Nicola, Kamloops, and Lillooet) are all in southern British Columbia. Lytton is at the junction of the Thompson and Fraser rivers. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Man Who Married a Bear | Nez Percé | This tale was collected by Herbert J. Spinden. According to Spinden, 'this is supposed to be a true tale of recent times, and not a myth.' Asotin Creek is in southeastern Washington. It flows into the Snake River near Lewiston, Idaho. The Grande Ronde River is mostly in northeastern Oregon and also flows into the Snake River. | Franz Boas, Folk-Tales of Salishan and Sahaptin Tribes = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 198-200. | A man name Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War (Pákatamápaütx) lived with his father at Asotin, and in the spring of the year the youth would go away from home and lose himself till fall. He would tell no one where he had been. Now, he really was accustomed to go up the Little Salmon (Hune'he) branch of the Grande Ronde River to fish for salmon. It was the second year that he went there that this thing happened. A bear girl lived just below the forks of Asotin Creek, and from that place she used to go over onto the Little Salmon, where Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War had a camp made of boughs. One day, after fishing, he was lying in his camp not quite asleep. He heard the noise of someone walking in the woods. He heard the noise of walking go all around the camp. The grizzly-bear girl was afraid to go near the man, and soon she went away and left him Next morning he tried to track her; and while he could see the tracks in the grass, he could not tell what it was that made them. Next day the youth hunted deer in order to have dried meat for the winter; and that evening the grizzly-bear girl, dressed up as a human being, came into his camp. Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War had just finished his supper when he heard the footfalls, and, looking out into the forest, he saw a fine girl come into the open. He wondered if this person was what he had heard the night before. He asked the girl to tell him what she wanted, and she came and sat down beside him. The youth was bashful and could not talk to her, although she was a pretty girl. Then he said, 'Where are you camping?' And she told him that three days before she had come from the forks of Asotin Creek. 'I came to see you, and to find out whether or not you would marry me.' Now, Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War did not know of anyone who lived above the mouth of Asotin Creek, and for that reason he told the girl he would take home his meat and salmon and return in ten days. So the girl went back to the forks of Asotin Creek, and the youth to the mouth of the stream with his meat. Then they returned and met; and the youth fell deeply in love with the girl, and married her. So they lived in his camp until she said to him, 'Now we will go to my home.' And when they arrived, he saw that she had a fine supply of winter food -- dried salmon, dried meat, camas, kaus, sanitx, serviceberries, and huckleberries. But what most surprised him was that they went into a hole in the ground, because then he knew she must be a bear. It grew late in the fall, and they had to stay in the cave, for the girl could not go out. In the dead of winter they were still in the cave when the snow began to settle and harden. One night, near midnight, when both were asleep in their beds, the grizzly-bear girl dreamed, and roared out in her sleep. She told her husband to build a fire and make a light. Then the grizzly-bear girl sang a song, and blood came running from her mouth. She said, 'This blood you see coming from my mouth is not my blood. It is the blood of men. Down at the mouth of Asotin Creek the hunters are making ready for a bear hunt. They have observed this cave, and five hunters are coming here to see if a bear is in it.' The grizzly-bear girl in her sleep knew that the hunters were making ready. Next morning the five hunters went up to that place, and that same morning the grizzly-bear girl donned a different dress from what she usually wore, a dress that was painted red. She told her husband, 'Soon after the sun leaves the earth, these hunters will be here, and then I will do my killing.' They arrived, and Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War heard them talking. He heard them say that something must be living in the cave. When the first hunter came to the door of the cave, the grizzly-bear girl rushed out and killed him. Then the four other hunters went home and told the news, and ten hunters made ready to come up and kill the bear. They camped close by for the night. About midnight the grizzly-bear girl had another dream. She sang a song, and told her husband, 'I will leave you as soon as the sun is up. This blood you see coming out of my mouth is my own blood. The hunters are close by, and will soon be here.' Soon the youth could hear the hunters talking. Then they took a pole and hung an empty garment near the mouth of the cave, and the bear rushed out at this decoy. When she turned to go back, they fired, and killed her. The youth in the cave heard the hunters say, 'Watch out! There must be another one in the cave.' So he decided he would go out; and when he came into the light, the hunters recognized him. He went home with them and told the story. This was the year before the French trappers came, and Five-Times-Surrounded-in-War went away with them. In a year he returned, and after that he disappeared. New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), pp. 198-200. times, and not a myth.' Asotin Creek is in southeastern Washington. It flows into the Snake River near Lewiston, Idaho. The Grande Ronde River is mostly in northeastern Oregon and also flows into the Snake River. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Woman Who Became a Horse (Horse) | Thompson (Ntlakyapamuk) | This tale was collected by James A. Teit. A note by Teit about his source: 'The narrator said he thought there was a little more to this story, but he did not remember it. He said the story was common to both the Thompson and the Okanagon. He had first heart it himself from an Okanagon over fifty years ago; but it was probably in vogue among the Thompson before that, although he had not heard it. | Franz Boas, Folk-Tales of Salishan and Sahaptin Tribes = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 11 (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), p. 53. | A chief had many horses, and among them a stallion which his wife often rode. The woman and stallion became enamoured of each other and cohabited. The woman grew careless of her household duties and always wanted to look after the horses. When the people moved camp, and the horses were brought in, it was noticed that the stallion made right for the woman and sniffed about her as stallions do with mares. After this she was watched. When her husband learned the truth, he shot the stallion. The woman cried and would not go to bed. At daybreak she was gone, no one knew where. About a year after this it was discovered that she had gone off with some wild horses. One day when the people were traveling over a large open place they saw a band of horses, and the woman among them. She had partly changed into a horse. Her pubic hair had grown so long that it resembled a tail. She also had much hair on her body, and the hair of her head had grown to resemble a horse's mane. Her arms and legs had also changed considerably; but her face was still human, and bore some resemblance to her original self. The chief sent some young men to chase her. All the wild horses ran away, but she could not run so fast as they, and was run down and lassoed. She was brought into her husband's lodge; and the people watched her for some time, trying to tame her, but she continued to act and whinny like a horse. At last they let her free. The following year they saw her again. She had become almost entirely horse, and had a colt by her side. She had many children afterwards. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
402 | The Woman Who Became a Horse (Horse2) | Skidi Pawnee | null | George A. Dorsey, Traditions of the Skidi Pawnee = Memoirs of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 8 (Boston and New York: Published for the American Folk-Lore Society by Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, 1904), pp. 294-295. | A chief had many horses, and among them a stallion which his wife often rode. The woman and stallion became enamoured of each other and cohabited. The woman grew careless of her household duties and always wanted to look after the horses. When the people moved camp, and the horses were brought in, it was noticed that the stallion made right for the woman and sniffed about her as stallions do with mares. After this she was watched. When her husband learned the truth, he shot the stallion. The woman cried and would not go to bed. At daybreak she was gone, no one knew where. About a year after this it was discovered that she had gone off with some wild horses. One day when the people were traveling over a large open place they saw a band of horses, and the woman among them. She had partly changed into a horse. Her pubic hair had grown so long that it resembled a tail. She also had much hair on her body, and the hair of her head had grown to resemble a horse's mane. Her arms and legs had also changed considerably; but her face was still human, and bore some resemblance to her original self. The chief sent some young men to chase her. All the wild horses ran away, but she could not run so fast as they, and was run down and lassoed. She was brought into her husband's lodge; and the people watched her for some time, trying to tame her, but she continued to act and whinny like a horse. At last they let her free. The following year they saw her again. She had become almost entirely horse, and had a colt by her side. She had many children afterwards. New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1917), p. 53. A note by Teit about his source: 'The narrator said he thought there was a little more to this story, but he did not remember it. He said the story was common to both the Thompson and the Okanagon. He had first heart it himself from an Okanagon over fifty years ago; but it was probably in vogue among the Thompson before that, although he had not heard it. There was a village, and the men decided to go on a warpath. So these men started, and they journeyed for several days toward the south. They came to a thickly wooded country. They found wild horses, and among them was a spotted pony. One man caught the spotted pony and took care of it. He took it home, and instructed his wife to look after it, as if it were their chief. This she did, and, further, she liked the horse very much. She took it where there was good grass. In the winter time she cut young cottonwood shoots for it, so that the horse was always fat. In the night, if it was stormy, she pulled a lot of dry grass, and when she put the blanket over the horse and tied it up, she stuffed the grass under the blanket, so the horse never got cold. It was always fine and sleek. One summer evening she went to where she had tied the horse, and she met a fine-looking man, who had on a buffalo robe with a spotted horse pictured on it. She liked him; he smelt finely. She followed him until they came to where the horse had been, and the man said, 'You went with me. It is I who was a horse.' She was glad, for she liked the horse. For several years they were together, and the woman gave birth, and it was a spotted pony. When the pony was born, the woman found she had a tail like that of a horse. She also had long hair. When the colt sucked, the woman stood up. For several years they roamed about, and had more ponies, all spotted. At home the man mourned for his lost wife. He could not make out why should go off. People went on a hunt many years afterward, and they came across these spotted ponies. People did not care to attack them, for among them was a strange looking animal. But, as they came across them now and then, they decided to catch them. They were hard to catch, but at last they caught them, all but the woman, for she could run fast; but as they caught her children, she gave in and was caught. People said, 'This is the woman who was lost.' And some said, 'No, it is not.' Her husband was sent for, and he recognized her. He took his bow and arrows out and shot her dead, for he did not like to see her with the horse's tail. The other spotted ponies were kept, and as they increased, they were spotted. So the people had many spotted ponies. of the American Folk-Lore Society, vol. 8 (Boston and New York: Published for the American Folk-Lore Society by Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, 1904), pp. 294-295. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | An Ant and a Grasshopper | Anianus (L'Estrange, 1692) | L'Estrange attributes this fable to Anianus [Avianus], a Latin fable writer who lived about 400 AD. Link the text of this fable in Latin: De Formica et Cicada. | Source (Internet Archive): Roger L'Estrange Fables of Ãsop and Other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections (London: Printed for R. Sare, et al., 1692), no. 217, p. 189. Source (books.google.com): Roger L'Estrange Fables of Ãsop and Other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections (London: Printed for R. Sare, et al., 1699), no. 217, p. 197. | As the ants were airing their provisions one winter, up comes a hungry grasshopper to 'em, and begs a charity. They told him that he should have wrought in summer, if he would not have wanted in winter. 'Well,' says the grasshopper, 'but I was not idle neither; for I sung out the whole season.' 'Nay then,' said they, 'you shall e'en do well to make a merry year on't, and dance in winter to the tune that you sung in summer.' The moral: A life of sloth is the life of a brute; but action and industry is the bus'ness of a great, a wife, and a good man. Reflexion: Here's a reproof to men of sensuality, and pleasure. The moral preaches industry, and beats down sloth, and shews that after-wit is nothing worth. It must be an industrious youth that provides against the inconveniencies, and necessities of old age; and he that fools away the one, must either beg or starve in the other. 'Go to the ant thou sluggard,' says the wise-man, which in few words summs up the moral of this fable. 'Tis hard to say of laziness, or luxury, whether it be the more scandalous, or the more dangerous evil. The very soul of the slothful, does effectually but lie drowzing in his body, and the whole man is totally given up to his senses: whereas the profit and the comfort of industry, is substantial, firm, and lasting; the blessings of security and plenty go along with it, and it is never out of season. What's the grasshopper's entertainment now, but a summer's song? A vain and an empty pleasure? Let it be understood, however, that we are not to pass avarice upon the world under the title of good husbandry, and thrift, and under that cover to extinguish charity by not distributing the fruits of it. We are in the first place, to consult our own necessities, but we are then to consider in the second place that the necessities of our neighbours have a Christian right to a part of what we have to spare. For the common offices of humanity are as much duties of self-preservation, as what every individual contributes to its own well-being. It is, in short, the great interest and obligation of particulars, to advance the good of the community. The stress of this moral lies upon the preference of honest labour to idleness; and the refusal of relief, on the one hand, is intended only for a reproof to the inconsiderate loss of opportunity on the other. This does not hinder yet, but that the ants, out of their abundance, ought to have reliev'd the grasshopper in her distress, though 'twas her own fault that brought her to't. For if one man's faults could discharge another man of his duty, there would be no longer any place left for the common offices of society. To conclude, we have our failings, every mother's child of us, and the improvidence of my neighbour must not make me inhumane. The ant did well to reprove the grasshopper for her slothfulness; but she did ill then to refuse her a charity in her distress. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | An Ant Formerly a Man | Aesop (L'Estrange, 1692) | This fable is number 166 in the Perry Index, and is not included in most collections of Aesopic fables. | Source (Internet Archive): Roger L'Estrange Fables of Ãsop and Other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections (London: Printed for R. Sare, et al., 1692), no. 188, p. 158. Source (books.google.com): Roger L'Estrange Fables of Ãsop and Other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections (London: Printed for R. Sare, et al., 1699), no. 188, p. 166. | The Moral: That which some call good husbandry, industry, and providence, others call raking, avarice, and oppression: So that the vertue and the vice in many cases are hardly distinguishable but by the name. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Ant and the Grasshopper (Bewick) | Aesop (Bewick, 1818) | null | Source (Internet Archive): The Fables of Aesop and Others, with designs on wood, by Thomas Bewick (Newcastle: Printed by R. Walker for T. Bewick and Son, 1818), pp. 307-308. Source (books.google.com): The Fables of Aesop and Others, with designs on wood, by Thomas Bewick (Newcastle: Printed by R. Walker for T. Bewick and Son, 1818), pp. 307-308. | One of the ants asked him how he had disposed of his time in summer, that he had not taken pains and laid in a stock, as they had done. 'Alas! my friends,' says he, 'I passed away the time merrily and pleasantly, in drinking, singing, and dancing, and never once thought of winter. 'If that be the case,' replied the ant, 'all I have to say is this: that they who drink, sing, and dance in the summer, run a great risk of starving in the winter.' Application: As summer is the season in which the industrious laborious husbandman lays up his supplies for the winter, so youth and manhood are the times of life which we should employ in laying in such a stock as may suffice for helpless old age; yet there are many whom we call rational creatures, who squander away in a profuse prodigality, whatever they get in their younger days, as if the infirmity of age would require no supplies to support it, or at least would find them administered to it in some miraculous way. From this fable we learn this admirable lesson, never to lose the present opportunity of fairly and honestly providing against the future evils and accidents of life; and while health and the vigour of our faculties remain firm and entire, to lay them out to the best advantage; so that when age and infirmities despoil us of our strength and abilities, we may not have to bewail that we have neglected to provide for the wants of our latter days: for it should always be remembered, that 'a youth of revels breeds an age of care,' and that temperance in youth lays the foundation of health and comfort for old age. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Ant and the Grasshopper (Croxall) | Aesop (Croxall, 1775) | null | Fables of Ãsop and Others, translated into English with instructive applications, and a print before each fable, by Samuel Croxall, tenth edition, carefully revised and improved (London: Printed for W. Strahan et al., 1775), no. 121, pp. 205-206. | A grasshopper, who had chanced to outlive the summer, and was ready to starve with cold and hunger, approached them with great humility, and begged that they would relieve his necessity, with one grain of wheat or rye. One of the ants asked him, how he had disposed of his time in summer, that he had not taken pains, and laid in a stock, as they had done. 'Alas, gentlemen,' says he, 'I passed away the time merrily and pleasantly, in drinking, singing, and dancing, and never once thought of winter.' 'If that be the case,' replied the ant, laughing, 'all I have to say is, that they who drink, sing, and dance in summer, must starve in winter.' The Application: As summer is the season of the year in which the industrious and laborious husbandman gathers and lays up such fruits as may supply his necessities in winter; so youth and manhood are the times of life which we should employ and bestow in laying in such a stock of all kind of necessaries, as many suffice for the craving demands of helpless old age. Yet notwithstanding the truth of this, there are many of those which we call rational creatures, who live in a method quite opposite to it, and make it their business to squander away in a profuse prodigality, whatever they get in their younger days: as if the infirmity of age would require so supplies to support it; or, at least, would find them administered to it in some miraculous way. From this fable we learn the admirable lesson, never to lose any present opportunity of providing against the future evils and accidents of life. While health and the flower and vigour of our age remain firm and entire, let us lay them out to the best advantage; that when the latter days take hold of us, and spoil us of our strength and abilities, we may have a store moderately sufficient to subsist upon, which we laid up in the morning of our age. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Ant and the Grasshopper (Jacobs) | Aesop (Jacobs, 1894) | null | Source (Internet Archive): The Fables of Ãsop, selected, and told anew, and their history traced by Joseph Jacobs (London and New York: Macmillan and Company, 1894), pp. 86-87. Source (books.google.com): The Fables of Ãsop, selected, and told anew, and their history traced by Joseph Jacobs (London and New York: Macmillan and Company, 1894), pp. 86-87. | 'Why not come and chat with me,' said the grasshopper, 'instead of toiling and moiling in that way?' 'I am helping to lay up food for the winter,' said the ant, 'and recommend you to do the same.' 'Why bother about winter?' said the grasshopper. 'We have got plenty of food at present.' But the ant went on its way and continued its toil. When the winter came the grasshopper had no food, and found itself dying of hunger, while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the grasshopper knew: It is best to prepare for the days of necessity. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Ant and the Grasshopper (James) | Aesop, James, 1848 | null | Source (Internet Archive): Ãsop's Fables: A New Version, Chiefly from Original Sources, by Thomas James, with more than 100 illustrations designed by John Tenniel (London: John Murray, 1848), fable 12, p. 12. Source (books.google.com): Ãsop's Fables: A New Version, Chiefly from Original Sources, by Thomas James, with more than 100 illustrations designed by John Tenniel (London: John Murray, 1848), fable 12, p. 12. | 'What were you doing,' said the ant, 'this last summer?' 'Oh,' said the grasshopper, 'I was not idle. I kept singing all the summer long.' Said the ant, laughing and shutting up his granary, 'Since you could sing all summer, you may dance all winter.' Winter finds out what summer lays by. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Ants and the Grasshopper | Ambrose Bierce | null | Source (Internet Archive): Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), p. 188. Source (books.google.com): Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), p. 188. | Some members of a legislature were making schedules of their wealth at the end of the session, when an honest miner came along and asked them to divide with him. The members of the legislature inquired: 'Why did you not acquire property of your own?' ' Because,' replied the honest miner, 'I was so busy digging out gold that I had no leisure to lay up something worth while.' Then the members of the legislature derided him, saying: 'If you waste your time in profitless amusement, you cannot, of course, expect to share the rewards of industry.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Fable of the Ant and of the Sygalle [Cigala, Grasshopper] | Aesop (Caxton, 1484) | null | Source (books.google.com): The Fables of Aesop, as first printed by William Caxton in 1484 with those of Avian, Alfonso, and Poggio, now again edited and induced by Joseph Jacobs. Vol. 2: Text and Glossary (London: David Nutt, 1889), no. 17, p. 123. Source (Internet Archive): The Fables of Aesop, as first printed by William Caxton in 1484 with those of Avian, Alfonso, and Poggio, now again edited and induced by Joseph Jacobs. Vol. 2: Text and Glossary (London: David Nutt, 1889), no. 17, p. 123. | It is good to purveye him self in the somer season of such thynges / wherof he shall myster and have nede in wynter season / As thow mayst see by this present fable / of the sygalle / whiche in the wynter tyme went and demaunded of the ant somme of her Corne for to ete / And thenne the ant sayd to the sygall / what hast thow done al the somer last passed / And the sygalle ansuerd / I have songe / And after sayd the ante to her / of my corne shallt not thou nonef have / and yf thow hast songe alle the somer / danse now in wynter / And therfore there is one tyme for to doo some labour and werk / And one tyme for to have rest / For he that werketh not he doth no good / shal have ofte at his teeth grete cold and lacke at his nede / | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Grasshopper and the Ant | Ambrose Bierce | null | Source (Internet Archive): Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), p. 165. Source (books.google.com): Ambrose Bierce, Fantastic Fables (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899), p. 165. | 'Why,' said the ant, 'did you not store up some food for yourself, instead of singing all the time?' 'So I did,' said the grasshopper. 'So I did; but you fellows broke in and carried it all away.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Grasshopper and the Ants | Aesop (Jones, 1912) | null | Source (Internet Archive): Ãsop's Fables, a new translation by V. S. Vernon Jones, with an introduction by G. K. Chesterton and illustrations by Arthur Rackham (London: William Heinemann; New York: Doubleday, Page, and Company, 1916), p. 125. First published in 1912. Source (books.google.com): Ãsop's Fables, a new translation by V. S. Vernon Jones, with an introduction by G. K. Chesterton and illustrations by Arthur Rackham (London: William Heinemann; New York: Doubleday, Page, and Company, 1916), p. 125. First published in 1912. | One fine day in winter some ants were busy drying their store of corn, which had got rather damp during a long spell of rain. Presently up came a grasshopper and begged them to spare her a few grains, 'For,' she said, 'I'm simply starving.' The ants stopped work for a moment, though this was against their principles. 'May we ask,' said they, 'what you were doing with yourself all last summer? Why didn't you collect a store of food for the winter?' 'The fact is,' replied the grasshopper, 'I was so busy singing that I hadn't the time.' 'If you spent the summer singing,' replied the ants, 'you can't do better than spend the winter dancing.' And they chuckled and went on with their work. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
280A | The Story of the Little Red Hen | Children's Story, USA | Link to another version of this story: 'The Little Red Hen and the Grain of Wheat: An English Folk Tale,' In the Nursery of My Bookhouse, edited by Olive Beaupré Miller (Chicago: The Bookhouse for Children Publishers, 1920), pp. 60-63. Link to a book version of this story: The Little Red Hen: An Old English Folk Tale, retold and illustrated by Florence White Williams (Chicago, Akron, and New York: The Saalfield Publishing Company, 1918). | Mary Mapes Dodge, editor, St. Nicholas, vol. 1, no. 11 (September 1874), pp. 680-81. | There was once a little red hen. She was scratching near the barn one day, when she found a grain of wheat. She said, 'Who will plant this wheat?' The rat said, 'I won't.' The cat said, 'I won't.' The dog said, 'I won't.' The duck said, 'I won't.' And the pig said, 'I won't.' The little red hen said, 'I will, then.' So she planted the grain of wheat. After the wheat grew up and was ripe, the little red hen said, 'Who will reap this wheat?' The rat said, 'I won't.' The cat said, 'I won't.' The dog said, 'I won't.' The duck said, 'I won't.' And the pig said, 'I won't.' The little red hen said, 'I will, then.' So she reaped the wheat. Then she said, 'Who will take this wheat to mill to be ground into flour?' The rat said, 'I won't.' The cat said, 'I won't.' The dog said, 'I won't.' The duck said, 'I won't.' And the pig said, 'I won't.' The little red hen said, 'I will, then.' So she took the wheat to mill. When she came back with the flour, she said, 'Who will make this into bread?' The rat said, 'I won't.' The cat said, 'I won't.' The dog said, 'I won't.' The duck said, 'I won't.' And the pig said, 'I won't.' The little red hen said, 'I will, then.' So she made it into bread. Then she said, 'Who will bake this bread?' The rat said, 'I won't.' The cat said, 'I won't.' The dog said, 'I won't.' The duck said, 'I won't.' And the pig said, 'I won't.' The little red hen said, 'I will, then.' When the bread was baked, the little red hen said, 'Who will eat this bread?' The rat said, 'I WILL.' The cat said, 'I WILL.' The dog said, 'I WILL.' The duck said, 'I WILL.' And the pig said, 'I WILL.' The little red hen said, 'No, you WON'T, for I am going to do that myself.' And she picked up the bread and ran off with it. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | Peer Gynt and the Trolls | Norway | Bræksted's source: Peter Christian Asbjørnsen, Norske Huldreeventyr og Folkesagn, vol. 2 (Christiania [Oslo]: Forlagt af C. A. Dybwad, 1848), pp. 77-84. Bræksted anglicizes the hero's name to Peter Gynt, but I have chosen to retain the Norwegian (and more familiar) form: Peer Gynt. | Peter Christian Asbjørnsen, Folk and Fairy Tales, translated by H. L. Brækstad (New York: A. C. Armstrong and Son, 1883), pp. 149-50. | In the olden days there lived in Kvam a hunter, whose name was Peer Gynt, and who was always roaming about in the mountains after bears and elks, for in those days there were more forests on the mountains than there are now, and consequently plenty of wild beasts.... Shortly before Christmas, Peer set out again on another expedition. He had heard of a farm on Dovrefell which was invaded by such a number of trolls every Christmas Eve that the people on the farm had to move out, and get shelter at some of their neighbors. He was anxious to go there, for he had a great fancy to come across the trolls again. He dressed himself in some old ragged clothes, and took a tame white bear, which he had, with him, as well as an awl, some pitch, and twine. When he came to the farm he went in and asked for lodgings. 'God help us!' said the farmer; ' we can't give you any lodgings. We have to clear out of the house ourselves soon and look for lodgings, for every Christmas Eve we have the trolls here.' But Peer thought he should be able to clear the trolls out -- he had done such a thing before; and then he got leave to stay, and a pig's skin into the bargain. The bear lay down behind the fireplace, and Peer took out his awl, and pitch, and twine, and began making a big, big shoe, which it took the whole pig's skin to make. He put a strong rope in for laces, that he might pull the shoe tightly together, and, finally, he armed himself with a couple of handspikes. Shortly he heard the trolls coming. They had a fiddler with them, and some began dancing, while others fell to eating the Christmas fare on the table -- some fried bacon, and some fried frogs and toads, and other nasty things which they had brought with them. During this some of the trolls found the shoe Peer had made. They thought it must belong to a very big foot. They all wanted to try it on at once, so they put a foot each into it; but Peer made haste and tightened the rope, took one of the handspikes and fastened the rope round it, and got them at last securely tied up in the shoe. Just then the bear put his nose out from behind the fireplace, where he was lying, and smelt they were frying something. 'Will you have a sausage, pussy?' said one of the trolls, and threw a hot frog right into the bear's jaw. 'Scratch them, pussy!' said Peer The bear got so angry that he rushed at the trolls and scratched them all over, while Peer took the other handspike and hammered away at them as if he wanted to beat their brains out. The trolls had to clear out at last, but Peer stayed and enjoyed himself with all the Christmas fare the whole week. After that the trolls were not heard of there for many years. Some years afterwards, about Christmastime, the farmer was out in the forest cutting wood for the holidays, when a troll came up to him and shouted: 'Have you got that big pussy of yours, yet?' 'Oh, yes, she is at home behind the fireplace,' said the farmer; 'and she has got seven kittens all bigger and larger than herself.' 'We'll never come to you any more, then,' said the troll. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Cat Mill | Germany | The supernatural creature whom I have called a kobold (a generic term) is identified by Kuhn and Schwartz as a Bieresel (beer-donkey), a spook in German folklore that would assume the form of an animal, then come into a tavern or other establishment and drink the guests' beer. | A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräche aus Meklenburg, Pommern, der Mark, Sachsen, Thüringen, Braunschweig, Hannover, Oldenburg und Westfalen: Aus dem Munde des Volkes gesammelt (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1848), p. 203. | In times past, a kobold frequented a hill above the mill, and every evening he would enter the mill and demand a certain measure of beer, which he then drank. Once a bear trainer was spending the night in the mill with his bears. The kobold arrived, jumping onto first one and then onto another one of the bears, when they turned on him and mauled him terribly. Injured, he was barely able to escape. He did not return to the mill, and one day, looking down from the hilltop, he saw the miller and asked, 'Miller, do you still have those mean cats?' And that is how the mill came to be known as the Cat Mill. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Cat of Norrhult | Sweden | This legend is from Ãstergötland, a province in southeastern Sweden. Note by Hofberg: 'Not longer than thirty years ago a cross, said to be the one raised on this occasion, was still standing in Norrhult.' | Herman Hofberg, Swedish Fairy Tales, translated by W. H. Myers (Chicago: Belford-Clarke Company, 1890), pp. 126-128. | On the estate of Norrhult, in the parish of Rumskulla, the people in olden times were very much troubled by trolls and ghosts. The disturbances finally became so unbearable that they were compelled to desert house and home, and seek an asylum with their neighbors. One old man was left behind, and he, because he was so feeble that he could not move with the rest. Some time thereafter, there came one evening a man having with him a bear, and asked for lodgings for himself and companion. The old man consented, but expressed doubts about his guest being able to endure the disturbances that were likely to occur during the night. The stranger replied that he was not afraid of noises, and laid himself down, with his bear, near the old man's bed. Only a few hours had passed, when a multitude of trolls came into the hut and began their usual clatter. Some of them built the fire in the fireplace, others set the kettle upon the fire, and others again put into the kettle a mess of filth, such as lizards, frogs, worms, etc. When the mess was cooked, the table was laid, and the trolls sat down to the repast. One of them threw a worm to the bear, and said, 'Will you have a fish, kitty?' Another went to the bear-keeper and asked him if he would not have some of their food. At this the latter let loose the bear, which struck about him so lustily that soon the whole swarm was flying through the door. Some time after, the door was again opened, and a troll with mouth so large that it filled the whole opening peeked in. 'Sic him!' said the bear-keeper, and the bear soon hunted him away also. In the morning the stranger gathered the people of the village around him and directed them to raise a cross upon the estate, and to engrave a prayer on Cross Mountain, where the trolls dwelt, and they would be freed from their troublesome visitors. Seven years later a resident of Norrhult went to Norrköping. On his way home he met a man who asked him where he came from, and, upon being informed, claimed to be a neighbor, and invited the peasant to ride with him on his black horse Away they went at a lively trot along the road, the peasant supposed, but in fact high up in the air. When it became quite dark the horse stumbled so that the peasant came near falling off. 'It is well you were able to hold on,' said the horseman. 'That was the point of the steeple of Linköping's cathedral that the horse stumbled against. Listen!' continued he. 'Seven years ago I visited Norrhult. You then had a vicious cat there. Is it still alive?' 'Yes, truly, and many more,' said the peasant. After a time the rider checked his horse and bade the peasant dismount. When the latter looked around him he found himself at Cross Mountain, near his home. Some time later another troll came to the peasant's cottage and asked if that great savage cat still lived. 'Look out!' said the peasant. 'She is lying there by the oven, and has seven young ones, all worse than she.' 'Oh!' cried the troll, and rushed for the door. From that time no trolls have ever visited Norrhult. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Cat on the Dovrefjell | Norway | I used the following translation: 'The Cat on the Dovrefell,' Popular Tales from the Norse, 2nd edition, translated by George Webbe Dasent (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1859), pp. 103-104. Finnmark is the northernmost county in Norway. The Dovrefjell (sometimes spelled Dovrefell in English) is a mountain range in central Norway. | Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, Kjetta på Dovre, Norske Folkeeventyr (1852). | Once upon a time there was a man up in Finnmark who had caught a large white bear, which he was going to take to the King of Denmark. It so happened that he came to the Dovrefjell on Christmas Eve. He went to a cottage where a man lived whose name was Halvor, and he asked the man for lodging for himself and his white bear. 'God bless us!' said the man, 'but we can't give anyone lodging just now, for every Christmas Eve the house is so full of trolls that we are forced to move out, and we'll have no shelter over our own heads, to say nothing of providing for anyone else.' 'Oh?' said the man, 'If that's all, you can very well let me use your house. My bear can sleep under the stove here, and I can sleep in the storeroom.' Well, he begged so hard, that at last he got permission to stay there. The people of the house moved out, but before they went, everything was made ready for the trolls. The table was set with cream porridge and fish and sausages and everything else that was good, just as for any other grand feast. When everything was ready, in came the trolls. Some were large, and some were small. Some had long tails, and some had no tails at all. And some had long, long noses. They ate and drank and tasted everything. Then one of the troll youngsters saw the white bear lying under the stove, so he took a piece of sausage, stuck it onto a fork, and went and poked it against the white bear's nose, burning it. Then he shrieked, 'Kitty, do you want some sausage?' The white bear rose up and growled, and then chased the whole pack of them out, both large and small. A year later Halvor was out in the woods at midday of Christmas Eve, gathering wood for the holidays, for he expected the trolls again. As he was chopping, he heard a voice shouting from the woods, 'Halvor! Halvor!' 'Yes?' said Halvor. 'Do you still have that big cat?' 'Yes,' said Halvor. 'She's lying at home under the stove, and what's more, she now has seven kittens, far bigger and fiercer than she is herself.' 'Then, we'll never come to your place again,' shouted the troll in the woods, and since that time the trolls have never eaten their Yule porridge with Halvor on the Dovrefjell.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Kelpie and the Boar | Scotland | The kelpie is a demonic 'water horse' featured in many Scottish and Irish superstitions and folktales. | Walter Gregor, 'Kelpie Stories from the North of Scotland,' The Folk-Lore Journal, vol. 1, part 9 (September 1883), p. 293. | A miller was annoyed by a kelpie entering his mill during night and playing havoc among the grain and meal. One night he shut up in the mill his boar, for a miller generally kept a good many pigs and a breeding sow or two. As usual kelpie entered the mill. The boar stood on his defence, and fought the kelpie. Next night the creature appeared at the miller's window, and called to him, 'Is there a chattie i' the mill the nicht?' 'Aye, there is a chattie i' the mill, an will be for ever mair,' was the answer. Kelpie returned no more to the mill. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Kobold and the Polar Bear | Germany | Taylor's source: an anonymous Middle High German story, probably drawn from Scandinavian sources. | Archer Taylor, 'Schrätel und Wasserbär,' Modern Philology, vol. 17, no. 6 (October 1919), pp. 305-306. | The king of Norway sends a polar bear (wazzerber) as a gift to the king of Denmark. The bear and its leader have just landed in Denmark when night overtakes them and they hasten on to a house by the roadside. The Norseman explains to the fanner that the bear is not a dangerous monster and asks quarters for the night. This request the farmer would gladly grant, but he confesses that he has no power over his homestead after nightfall, for a malicious kobold (schretel) drives him and his cattle away each evening. The stranger declares his reliance on God, and repeats his request, to which the host gives unwilling assent. Well supplied with food, man and bear prepare to spend the night in the bakery. While both are asleep a red-capped kobold scarcely three spans long comes up to the fire and begins to roast some meat on an iron spit. Jealously it eyes the interlopers, particularly the bear, until passion so overcomes it that it strikes the bear on the back of the head. The bear snarls but makes no move. When the meat drips fat the schretel deals another blow and the bear 'turns the other cheek.' Finally, when the chop sizzles with the heat, the little fellow raises spit and all high above his head and brings it down on the bear's mouth. Then the bear does not prove to be so lazy after all, and the scuffle begins in earnest. For some time neither side has an advantage, but ultimately the kobold is obliged to give in. All the while the bear's master has been watching the melee from a safe retreat in the oven, and even when the disturber of the peace has fled he does not venture forth. On the morrow the householder inquires somewhat anxiously about the health of his visitors, and before they go on learns the events of the night. Later that morning when the farmer has gone out into the field to plow, the disheveled kobold comes running up to him with the query: 'Is your big cat still alive?' With ready wit the farmer grasps the situation, and assures the kobold that the 'old cat' in addition to being alive is now the mother of five young ones. Thereupon the kobold flees forever, and since then the farmer and his family have lived happily in the farmhouse. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Troll and the Bear | Norway | null | William A. Craigie, Scandinavian Folk-Lore: Illustrations of the Traditional Beliefs of the Northern Peoples (London: Alexander Gardner, 1896), pp. 65-66. | In Højegaard in old days no one could stay over Christmas Eve. All the folk had to go down to the old farm in Rønnebæk, which has long been given up, and stay there till Christmas morning, for every Christmas Eve there came an ugly troll from Dragehøi, with a sackful of toads on his back, which he roasted at the fire in the sitting room, and ate one after another; but if any one ventured to stay there over night, he might be prepared to be torn in pieces by the troll. One time, just as the folk were leaving the farm, there came a man who went about with a bear, exhibiting it. They told him why they had to leave, and advised him also to get away from there; but the man begged to be allowed to stay overnight, and as he was bent on doing so they finally gave him leave. Towards evening, the troll came with his sack on his back, sat down by the fire, opened it and pulled out the one toad after the other, took each by a hind leg and held it over the fire till it was roasted, and then swallowed it. So one toad after the other went into him for some time, till he began to be satisfied. Then he turned to the man, and said, 'What's your dog's name?' 'Toad,' said the man. The troll took a toad, roasted it, and held it out to the bear, saying, 'Toad shall have a toad,' but the bear growled, and began to rise. 'Yes,' said the man to the troll, 'just you take care, and not make him angry, or he'll tear you in pieces.' The troll looked quite frightened, and asked, 'Have you any more like him?' 'Yes,' said the man, 'this one has five young ones, which are lying outside on the baking oven.' The troll made haste to tie up the toads he had left in the sack, threw it on his back, and went out at the door in a hurry. Next morning, when the people of the farm came home, the man was lying all right in the bed, and the bear beside the fire, both quite comfortable. When the man told them how he had got on, they were very glad, and bade him come again next Christmas Eve, which he did, but the troll did not come, and has never shown himself there since. Peoples (London: Alexander Gardner, 1896), pp. 65-66. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Water-Man | Moravia | Moravia, a traditional kingdom and region in central Europe with mixed Slavic and German populations, was incorporated in the twentieth century into Czechoslovakia, and subsequently into the Czech Republic. | Marie Kosch, 'Vom Wassermann,' Deutsche Volksmärchen aus Mähren (Kremsier: Druck und Commissionsverlag Heinrich Gusek, 1899), no. 1, pp. 103-104. | A bear trainer with his dancing bear once came to an isolated mill and asked the miller to take them in for the night, as there was no village far and wide, and night was already falling. 'I would be glad to take you in,' said the miller, 'if you are not afraid, for a water-man comes into the mill every night and plays pranks on anyone sleeping or even just passing time in the grinding room, and I don't have room for you anywhere else.' 'What sort of pranks?' asked the bear trainer. 'Just practical jokes,' replied the miller, 'but they make the people who come to the mill angry, and they won't come back. I've lost a lot of customers because of this. Once he smeared pitch on someone's boot soles, so that he stuck to the floor when he stood up. He poured water into someone else's boots, or sprinkled bran in their hair. He sewed another person's pockets shut. Once he even put someone who was sleeping in the mill into a sack and hung it on a beam, and more such pranks.' 'If that's all there is, it won' bother me,' said the bear trainer. 'I'll stay.' So the miller put a bundle of straw on the floor for him, and the man lay down with the bear at his side, and they slept until twelve o'clock. The trainer was awakened by the bear's roaring. He jumped up and saw the bear wrestling with the water-man. The latter had never seen a bear before, and when he took hold of the bear's fur, the bear held him tightly with his paws. The trainer quickly went to the mill and started it running. Then he grabbed the water-man by his feet. The bear held him up, and thus they set him on the millstone and held him there, in spite of his cries, until half of his behind had been ground away. Then they let him go, and went back to sleep. Early the next morning the miller came out and was amazed that both of them were sleeping so soundly. When the trainer woke up he told the miller about their last night's adventure, at which the miller had to laugh until he held his belly. As they parted, the miller gave presents to the bear trainer, and invited him to stay with him the next time he came that way. Then he lit his pipe and lay down contentedly near the window. A little dwarf came up to him. He was wearing yellow trousers, a bright-red vest, a green jacket, and a blue cap. He said to the smoker, 'Miller, do you still have that big cat?' 'Yes,' said the latter, 'I still have her.' 'Farewell then. You'll never see me again,' he said, and trotted away. aus Mähren (Kremsier: Druck und Commissionsverlag Heinrich Gusek, 1899), no. 1, pp. 103-104. Moravia, a traditional kingdom and region in central Europe with mixed Slavic and German populations, was incorporated in the twentieth century into Czechoslovakia, and subsequently into the Czech Republic. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
1161 | The Water Nix in the Oil Mill near Frauendorf | Germany | null | Karl Haupt, 'Der Wassernix und der Bär in der Oelmühle bei Freuendorf,' Sagenbuch der Lausitz, vol. 1 (Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm Engelmann, 1862), no. 49, pp. 52-53. | Ages ago a water nix would bring fish to the so-called Oil Mill located at Frauendorf Manor on a channel of the River Spree near Cottbus. The nix would ask the miller to cook the fish, after which the nix would eat them right at the mill. With time these uncanny visits came to annoy the miller, but he never dared to turn down his uninvited visitor's requests. However, the time came when fate freed him from the nix. One evening a bear trainer came to Frauendorf with his tamed bear and asked the miller for a night's lodging. The latter, a good-hearted man, did not refuse him. To keep it from harming anyone, the bear was chained up behind the table in the main room. Not long afterward the nix entered the mill with a catch of fish. With the miller's permission he cooked them, and then sat down next to the bear behind the table and began to eat them. The hungry bear could not resist the tempting smell of the tasty meal, and wasted no time in helping himself from the nix's plate. This angered the nix, who struck at the bear's paws with his spoon. The bear let this happen a few times, but when the blows became more painful, he became furious. He grabbed the nix and crushed him terribly, until the bear trainer jumped up and rescued the nearly dead nix from the beast's claws. The nix ran quickly out the door, jumped into the water, and was not seen again for a whole year. At the end of this time, the miller was one day working near his waterway, when the nix, wearing his red cap, suddenly emerged from the water, greeted the miller, then asked with a whining voice, 'Master miller, do you still have that large cat?' The miller, fearing that the nix wanted to take up his regular visits again, quickly answered, 'Yes, she is lying behind the stove, and she has ninety-nine young ones!' To this the nix replied, 'I'll never again come to your place!' Then he disappeared beneath the water and was never seen there again. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | Bearskin (Grimm) | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm | The Grimms' source: The Haxthausen family and story by Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen (ca. 1622-1676) entitled 'Vom Ursprung des Namens Bärnhäuter,' first published in 1670. The Grimms first published this tale under the title 'Der Teufel Grünrock' (Devil Greenjacket) in the first edition of their Kinder- und Hausmärchen, vol. 2 (1815), no. 15. They substantially revised the tale with their fifth edition (1843). | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 'Der Bärenhäuter,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales), 7th edition, vol. 2 (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 101, pp. 81-86. | His parents were dead, and he had no longer a home, so he went to his brothers and asked them to support him until there was another war. The brothers, however, were hardhearted and said, 'What can we do with you? We have no work for you. See that you go and make a living for yourself.' The soldier had nothing left but his gun, so, putting it on his shoulder, he went forth into the world. He came to a large heath, on which nothing was to be seen but a circle of trees. Filled with sorrow, he sat down beneath them and thought about his fate. 'I have no money,' he thought, 'and the only trade I have learned is that of making war, and now that they have made peace they can no longer use me, so I see that I shall starve.' Suddenly he heard a rustling sound, and when he looked around, a strange man was standing before him. He wore a green jacket and looked quite stately, but he had a hideous horse's foot. 'I know what you are in need of,' said the man. 'You shall have money and property, as much as you, with all your might, can squander away, but first I must know if you are fearless, so that I won't be giving away my money for nothing.' 'A soldier and fear -- how can those go together?' he answered, 'You can put me to the test.' 'Very well,' answered the man, 'look behind you.' The soldier turned around and saw a large growling bear running towards him. 'Aha,' shouted the soldier, 'I'll tickle your nose until you lose your desire for growling.' Then taking aim at the bear, he shot it in the snout, and it fell down motionless. 'I see quite well,' said the stranger, 'that you do not lack for courage, but there is one more condition that you will have to fulfill.' 'If it does not endanger my salvation,' answered the soldier, who knew quite well who was standing before him. 'Otherwise I'll have nothing to do with it.' 'You'll see about that for yourself,' answered Greenjacket. 'For the next seven years you are neither to wash yourself, nor comb your beard and hair, nor cut your nails, nor say the Lord's prayer. I will give you a jacket and a cloak, which you must wear during this time. If you die during these seven years, you are mine. If you stay alive, you are free, and rich as well, for all the rest of your life.' The soldier thought about his desperate situation, and having faced death so often before, he decided to risk it now as well, and he entered into the agreement. The devil took off his green jacket and gave it to the soldier, saying, 'Whenever you wear this jacket and reach into its pocket, you will find a handful of money.' Then he pulled the skin off the bear and said, 'This shall be your cloak, and your bed as well, for you are to sleep on it, and you are not allowed to lie in any other bed. Because of your clothing you shall you be called Bearskin.' With that the devil disappeared. The soldier put on the jacket, immediately reached into the pocket, and found that the promise was really true. Then he put on the bearskin and went forth into the world. He did whatever he pleased, refraining from nothing that did him good and his money harm. During the first year his appearance was still acceptable, but during the second he looked like a monster. His hair covered nearly his entire face. His beard looked like a piece of coarse felt cloth. His fingers had claws, and his face was so covered with dirt that if someone had planted cress on it, it would have grown. Everyone who saw him ran away. However, because everywhere he went he gave money to the poor to pray that he might not die during the seven years, and because he paid well for everything, he always found shelter. In the fourth year he arrived an inn. The innkeeper would not let him enter, refusing even to let him have a place in the stable because he was afraid he would frighten the horses. However, when Bearskin reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the innkeeper softened and gave him a room in an outbuilding. Bearskin, however, had to promise not to let himself be seen, lest the inn should get a bad name. One evening Bearskin was sitting alone, wishing with all his heart that the seven years were over, he heard a loud moaning in a neighboring room. He had a compassionate heart, so he opened the door and saw an old man weeping bitterly and striking his hands together above his head. Bearskin went nearer, but the man jumped to his feet and tried to run away. At last, hearing a human voice, the man let Bearskin talk to him, and with friendly words Bearskin succeeded in getting the old man to reveal the cause of his grief. Slowly but surely the old man had lost his wealth, and now he and his daughters would have to starve. He was so poor that he could not pay the innkeeper and was to be sent to prison. 'If that is your only problem,' said Bearskin, 'I have money enough.' He called for the innkeeper and paid him, and then put a bag full of gold into the poor man's pocket. When the old man saw that he was freed from all his troubles he did not know how to show his gratitude. 'Come with me,' he said to Bearskin. 'My daughters are all miracles of beauty. Choose one of them for your wife. When she hears what you have done for me she will not refuse you. You do look a little strange, to be sure, but she will put you in order again.' This pleased Bearskin well, and he went with the old man. When the oldest daughter saw him she was so terrified at his face that she screamed and ran away. The second one stood still and looked at him from head to foot, but then she said, 'How can I accept a husband who no longer has a human form? The shaved bear that once was here and passed itself off for a man pleased me far better. At least it was wearing a hussar's fur and white gloves. If ugliness were his only flaw, I could get used to him.' The youngest one, however, said, 'Father, dear, he must be a good man to have helped you out of your trouble. If you promised him a bride for doing so, your word must be kept.' It was a pity that Bearskin's face was covered with dirt and hair, for otherwise they would have seen how his heart laughed within his body when he heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, and gave her one half. He kept the other half himself. He then wrote his name inside her half, and her name inside his. He asked her to take good care of her piece. Then he took leave saying, 'I must wander about for three more years. If I do not return at that time you are free, for I shall be dead. But ask God to preserve my life.' The poor bride-to-be dressed herself entirely in black, and when she thought about her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes. From her sisters she received nothing but contempt and scorn. 'Be careful,' said the oldest. 'If you give him your hand, he will hit you with his claws.' 'Beware,' said the second. 'Bears like sweet things, and if he takes a liking to you, he will eat you up.' 'You must always do what he wants you to,' continued the oldest, 'or he will begin to growl.' And the second added, 'But the wedding will be merry, for bears dance well.' The bride-to-be said nothing and did not let them irritate her. Bearskin, however, traveled about the world from one place to another, did good wherever he could, and gave generously to the poor that they might pray for him. Finally, at dawn on the last day of the seven years, he went once more out to the heath, and seated himself beneath the circle of trees. Before long the wind began to howl, and the devil stood before him, looking at him angrily. He threw Bearskin's old jacket to him and demanded the return of his own green one. 'We haven't gotten that far yet,' answered Bearskin. 'First of all you have to clean me up.' Whether the devil wanted to or not, he had to fetch water and wash off Bearskin, comb his hair, and cut his nails. After this he looked like a brave soldier and was much better looking than he had ever been before. When the devil was safely gone Bearskin was quite lighthearted. He went into the town, purchased a splendid velvet jacket, seated himself in a carriage drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride's house. No one recognized him. The father took him for a distinguished colonel and led him into the room where his daughters were sitting. He was given a seat between the two oldest ones. They poured wine for him, served him the finest things to eat, and thought that they had never seen a more handsome man in all the world. The bride-to-be, however, sat across from him in her black dress without raising her eyes or speaking a word. Finally he asked the father if he would give him one of his daughters for a wife, whereupon the two oldest ones jumped up and ran into their bedrooms to put on splendid dresses, for each of them thought that she was the chosen one. As soon as he was alone with his bride-to-be, the stranger brought out his half of the ring and dropped it into a glass of wine, which he handed across the table to her. She took the wine, but when she had drunk it and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began to beat. She took the other half, which she wore on a ribbon around her neck, put them together, and saw that the two pieces matched perfectly. Then he said, 'I am your betrothed bridegroom, whom you saw as Bearskin. Through God's grace I have regained my human form and have become clean again.' He went to her, embraced her, and gave her a kiss. In the meantime the two sisters came back in full dress. When they saw that the youngest sister had received the handsome man, and heard that he was Bearskin, they ran out filled with anger and rage. One of them drowned herself in the well. The other hanged herself on a tree. That evening, someone knocked at the door, and when the bridegroom opened it, it was the devil in his green jacket, who said, 'You see, I now have two souls for the one of yours.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | Bearskin (Grimmelshausen) | Hans Jakob Christoph von Grimmelshausen | I used this edition: Hans Jacob Christoph von Grimmelshausen, Simplicianische Schriften, edited by Julius Tittmann, vol. 1 (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1877), pp. 247-53. | Abstracted from Hans Jakob Christoph von Grimmelshausen, 'Vom Ursprung des Namens Bärnhäuter' (1670). | The foes of war were soon replaced by the enemies cold, thirst, and hunger. With nowhere to turn for help, he was about to surrender to the powers of despair, when without warning an awful spirit appeared before him. He offered the poor soldier great wealth, if he would but serve this uncanny master for seven years. Seeing no other escape from his misery, the soldier agreed. The terms of the pact were quickly stated: For seven years the soldier was to wear only a bearskin robe, both day and night. He was to say no prayers. Neither comb nor shears were to touch his hair and beard. He was not to wash, nor cut his nails, nor blow his nose, nor even wipe his behind. In return, the spirit would provide him with tobacco, food, drink, and an endless supply of money. The soldier, who by his very nature was not especially fond of either prayers or of cleanliness, entered into the agreement. He took lodgings in a village inn, and discovered soon enough that his great wealth was ample compensation for his strange looks and ill smell. A nobleman frequented this inn. Impressed by Bearskin's lavish and generous expenditures, he presented him with a proposal. 'I have three beautiful daughters,' he said. 'If the terms are right, you may choose any one of them for a bride.' Bearskin named a sum that was acceptable to the nobleman, and the two set forth to the palace to make the selection. The two older daughters made no attempt to hide their repugnance of the strange suitor, but the youngest unhesitatingly accepted her father's will. Bearskin formalized the betrothal by removing a ring from his own finger and twisting it into two pieces. One piece he gave to his future bride; the other he kept. Saying that soon he would return, he departed. The seven years were nearly finished, so a short time later Bearskin did indeed come back for his bride. Now freshly bathed, neatly shorn, elegantly dressed, and riding in a luxurious carriage, he was a suitor worthy of a princess. Identifying himself with his half of the twisted ring, he claimed his bride. Beside themselves with envy, and furious that they had squandered their rights to this handsome nobleman, one of the bride's older sisters hanged herself from a tree and the other one drowned herself in a well. Thus the devil gained two souls for the one that he had lost. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | Don Giovanni de la Fortuna | Sicily | Lang's source: Laura Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Märchen: Aus dem Volksmund gesammelt, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Engelmann, 1870), no. 72, pp. 89-93. | Andrew Lang, The Pink Fairy Book (New York, London, and Bombay: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1897), pp. 356-360. | One day he was walking down a broad road when he was stopped by a handsome man he had never seen before, who, little as Don Giovanni knew it, was the devil himself. 'Would you like to be rich,' asked the devil, 'and to lead a pleasant life?' 'Yes, of course I should,' replied the Don. 'Well, here is a purse. Take it and say to it, 'Dear purse, give me some money,' and you will get as much as you can want. But the charm will only work if you promise to remain three years, three months, and three days without washing and without combing and without shaving your beard or changing your clothes. If you do all this faithfully, when the time is up you shall keep the purse for yourself, and I will let you off any other conditions.' Now Don Giovanni was a man who never troubled his head about the future. He did not once think how very uncomfortable he should be all those three years, but only that he should be able, by means of the purse, to have all sorts of things he had been obliged to do without. So he joyfully put the purse in his pocket and went on his way. He soon began to ask for money for the mere pleasure of it, and there was always as much as he needed. For a little while he even forgot to notice how dirty he was getting, but this did not last long, for his hair became matted with dirt and hung over his eyes, and his pilgrim's dress was a mass of horrible rags and tatters. He was in this state when, one morning, he happened to be passing a fine palace; and, as the sun was shining bright and warm, he sat down on the steps and tried to shake off some of the dust which he had picked up on the road. But in a few minutes a maid saw him, and said to her master, 'I pray you sir, to drive away that beggar who is sitting on the steps, or he will fill the whole house with his dirt.' So the master went out and called from some distance off, for he was really afraid to go near the man, 'You filthy beggar, leave my house at once!' 'You need not be so rude,' said Don Giovanni; 'I am not a beggar, and if I chose, I could force you and your wife to leave your house.' 'What is that you can do?' laughed the gentleman. 'Will you sell me your house?' asked Don Giovanni. 'I will buy it from you on the spot.' 'Oh, the dirty creature is quite mad!' thought the gentleman. 'I shall just accept his offer for a joke.' And aloud he said, 'All right. Follow me, and we will go to a lawyer and get him to make a contract.' And Don Giovanni followed him, and an agreement was drawn up by which the house was to be sold at once, and a large sum of money paid down in eight days. Then the Don want to an inn, where he hired two rooms, and, standing in one of them, said to his purse, 'Dear purse, fill this room with gold.' And when the eight days were up it was so full you could not have put in another sovereign. When the owner of the house came to take away his money Don Giovanni led him into the room and said, 'There, just pocket what you want.' The gentleman stared with open mouth at the astonishing sight. But he had given his word to sell the house, so he took his money, as he was told, and went away with his wife to look for some place to live in. And Don Giovanni left the inn and dwelt in the beautiful rooms, where his rags and dirt looked sadly out of place. And every day these got worse and worse. By and by the fame of his riches reached the ears of the king, and, as he himself was always in need of money, he sent for Don Giovanni, as he wished to borrow a large sum. Don Giovanni readily agreed to lend him what he wanted, and sent next day a huge wagon laden with sacks of gold. 'Who can he be?' thought the king to himself. 'Why, he is much richer than I!' The king took as much as he had need of, then ordered the rest to be returned to Don Giovanni, who refused to receive it, saying, 'Tell his majesty I am much hurt at his proposal. I shall certainly not take back that handful of gold, and, if he declines to accept it, keep it yourself.' The servant departed and delivered the message, and the king wondered more than ever how anyone could be so rich. At last he spoke to the queen, 'Dear wife, this man has done me a great service, and has, besides, behaved like a gentleman in not allowing me to send back the money. I wish to give him the hand of our eldest daughter.' The queen was quite pleased at this idea, and again a messenger was sent to Don Giovanni, offering him the hand of the eldest princess. 'His majesty is too good,' he replied. 'I can only humbly accept the honor.' The messenger took back this answer, but a second time returned with the request that Don Giovanni would present them with his picture, so that they might know what sort of a person to expect. But when it came, and the princess saw the horrible figure, she screamed out, 'What! Marry this dirty beggar? Never, never!' 'Ah, child,' answered the king, 'how could I ever guess that the rich Don Giovanni would ever look like that? But I have passed my royal word, and I cannot break it, so there is no help for you.' 'No, father, you may cut off my head, if you choose, but marry that horrible beggar -- I never will!' And the queen took her part, and reproached her husband bitterly for wishing his daughter to marry a creature like that. Then the youngest daughter spoke, 'Dear father, do not look so sad. As you have given your word, I will marry Don Giovanni.' The king fell on her neck, and thanked her and kissed her, but the queen and the elder girl had nothing for her but laughs and jeers. So it was settled, and then the king bade one of his lords go to Don Giovanni and ask him when the wedding day was to be, so that the princess might make ready. 'Let it be in two months,' answered Don Giovanni, for the time was nearly up that the devil had fixed, and he wanted a whole month to himself to wash off the dirt of the past three years. The very minute that the compact with the devil had come to an end his beard was shaved, his hair was cut, and his rags were burned, and day and night he lay in a bath of clear warm water. At length he felt he was clean again, and he put on splendid clothes, and hired a beautiful ship, and arrived in state at the king's palace. The whole of the royal family came down to the ship to receive him, and the whole way the queen and the elder princess teased the sister about the dirty husband she was going to have. But when they saw how handsome he really was their hearts were filled with envy and anger, so that their eyes were blinded, and they fell over into the sea and were drowned. And the youngest daughter rejoiced in the good luck that had come to her, and they had a splendid wedding when the days of mourning for her mother and sister were ended. Soon after, the old king died, and Don Giovanni became king. And he was rich and happy to the end of his days, for he loved his wife, and his purse always gave him money. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | Hell's Gatekeeper | Austria | This cautionary tale presents a contrary view to the one presented by the other stories in this group. | Ignaz Vincenz Zingerle and Joseph Zingerle, 'Der höllische Thorwartl,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner'schen Buchhandlung, 1852), no. 7, pp. 41-42. | There was a very filthy boy who would never let himself be washed, always walking around with an unclean face. No amount of warning or pleading did any good, so every day the filthy one became more filthy. Now when people are very dirty and go about unwashed the evil one gains power over them. Many have painfully and bitterly experienced this, repenting too late. That is what happened to this boy. He suddenly disappeared. They saw neither hide nor hair of him, and no one knew what had become of him. Seven years passed since his disappearance, and he had nearly been forgotten when he suddenly showed up again. He had changed and aged so much that his closest acquaintances could scarcely recognize him. His skin color was now entirely black and his hair was very shaggy. Furthermore he was very quiet, saying almost nothing. But he did talk about one thing, especially to children. He told them that he had come under the power of the devil because of his refusal to wash, and that he had been forced to serve as a gatekeeper to Hell. Thus he had seen everyone who had gone through this fiery gate during this time, and there had been so many that he couldn't account for them all. Rich and noble, poor and lowly, men and women had to go past this gatekeeper, and he thanked God that he himself did not have to enter there and that his time of service was only seven years. He now resolved to wash himself thoroughly and never let himself become dirty. He faithfully kept this resolution, for he did not want to become Hell's gatekeeper once again and see the damned ones pass by him. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | Never-Wash | Russia | The great Russian folktale collector's name is also anglicized as Aleksandr Afanas'ev. | Alexander Afanasyev, Russian Folk-Tales, translated by Leonard A. Magnus (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916), pp. 311-14. | Once upon a time there was a soldier who had served through three campaigns, but had never earned as much as an addled egg, and was then put on the retired list. Then, as he went on the road marching on and on, he became tired and sat down by a lake. And, as he rested, he began thinking things out, 'Where shall I now betake myself, and how shall I feed myself, and how the devil shall I enter into any service?' As soon as he had spoken these words a little devil rose up at once in front of him and said, 'Hail, soldier, what do you wish? Did you just now not say that you wished to become one of our servants? Why, soldier, come up and be hired; we will pay you well.' 'What is the work?' 'Oh, the work is easy enough: for fifteen years you must not shave, you must not have your hair cut, you must not blow your nose, and you must not change your garb. If you serve this service, then we will go to the king, who has three daughters. Two of them are mine, but the third shall be yours.' 'Very well,' said the soldier, 'I will undertake the contract; but I require in return to get anything my soul hankers after.' 'It shall be so; be at peace; we shall not be in default.' 'Well, let it befall at once. Carry me at once into the capital and give me a pile of money; you know yourself how little of these goods a soldier ever gets.' So the little devil dashed into the lake, got out a pile of gold, and instantaneously carried the soldier into the great city, and all at once he was there! 'What a fool I have been!' said the soldier. 'I have not done any service, no work, and I now have the money!' So he took a room, never cut his hair, never shaved, never wiped his nose, never changed his garb, and he lived on and grew wealthy, so wealthy he did not know what to do with his money. What was he to do with his silver and gold? 'Oh, very well, I will start helping the poor; possibly they may pray for my soul.' So the soldier began distributing alms to the needy, to the right and to the left, and he still had money over, however much he gave away! His fame spread over the whole kingdom, came to the ears of all. So the soldier lived for fourteen years, and on the fifteenth year the tsar's exchequer gave out. So he summoned the soldier. So the soldier came to him unwashed, unshaved, uncombed, with his nose unwiped and his dress unchanged. 'Health, your majesty!' 'Listen, soldier. You, they say, are good to all folks; will you lend me some money? I have not enough to pay my troops. If you will I will make you a general at once.' 'No, your Majesty, I do not wish to be a general; but if you will do me a favor, give me one of your daughters as my wife, and you shall have as much money as you wish for the Treasury.' So the king began to think. He was very fond of his daughters, but still he could not do anything whatsoever without money. 'Well,' he said, 'I agree. Have a portrait taken of yourself; I will show it to my daughters and ask which of them will take you.' So the soldier returned, had the portrait painted, which was feature for feature, unshaved, unwashed, uncombed, his nose unwiped, and in his old garb, and sent it to the tsar. Now, the tsar had three daughters, and the father summoned them and showed them the soldier's portrait. He said to the eldest, 'Will you go and marry him? He will redeem me from very great embarrassment.' The tsarevna saw what a monstrous animal had been painted, with tangled hair, uncut nails and unwiped nose. 'I certainly won't!' she said, ' I would sooner go to the devil.' And from somewhere or other the devil appeared, stood behind her with pen and paper, heard what she said, and entered her soul on his register. Then the father asked the next daughter, 'Will you go and marry the soldier? ' 'What! I would rather remain a maiden; I would rather tie myself up with the devil than go with him.' So the devil went and inscribed her soul as well. Then the father asked his youngest daughter, and she answered, 'Evidently this must be my lot. I will go and marry him and see what God shall give.' Then the tsar was very blithe at this, and he went and told the soldier to make ready for the betrothal, and he sent him twelve carts to carry the money away. Then the soldier made use of his devil. 'There are twelve carts; pile them all high at once with gold.' So the devil ran into the lake and the unholy ones set to work. Some of them brought up one sack, some two, and they soon filled the carts and sent them to the tsar, into his palace. Then the tsar looked, and now summoned the soldier to him every day, sat with him at one table, and ate and drank with him. When they got ready for the marriage the term of fifteen years was over. So he called the little devil and said, 'Now my service is over. Turn me into a youth.' So the devil cut him up into little bits, threw them into a cauldron, and began to brew him -- brewed him, washed him and collected all his bones, one by one, in the proper way, every bone with every bone, every joint with every joint, every nerve with every nerve. Then he sprinkled them with the water of life, and the soldier arose, such a fine young man as no tale can tell and no pen can write. He then married the youngest tsarevna, and they began to live a merry life of good. I was at the wedding. I drank mead and beer. They also had wine, and I drank it to the very dregs. But the little devil ran back into the lake, for his elder hauled him over the coals to answer for what he had done with the soldier. 'He has served out his period faithfully and honorably: he has never once shaved himself, nor cut his hair, nor wiped his nose, nor changed his clothes.' Then the elder was very angry. He said, 'In fifteen years you were not able to corrupt the soldier! Was all the money given in vain? What sort of a devil will you be after this?' And he had him thrown into the burning pitch. 'Oh no, please, grandfather,' said the grandson, ' I have lost the soldier's soul, but I have gained two others.' ' What?' 'Look: the soldier thought of marrying a tsarevna; the two elder daughters both declined and said they would rather marry a devil than the soldier. So there they are, and they belong to us.' So the grandfather devil approved what the grandson imp had done, and set him free. 'Yes,' he said, 'you know your business very well indeed.' Folk-Tales, translated by Leonard A. Magnus (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916), pp. 311-14. Aleksandr Afanas'ev. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | The Devil as Partner | Switzerland | null | Otto Sutermeister, 'Der Teufel als Schwager,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus der Schweiz (Aarau: Sauerländer, 1873), no. 27, pp. 83-86. | One evening a traveling journeyman came to an inn, and because he had been strenuously walking for several days in a row, he decided to rest a few days. It didn't bother him that his purse would not cover his costs. The innkeeper got wind of this, and one evening he said, 'My good friend, you are now well rested. Be so good as to be on your way early in the morning. Here is the bill for what you owe me.' This brought both chills and fever to journeyman, who asked the innkeeper if he at least could not wait until tomorrow to be paid. 'Tomorrow,' he said, 'is one more day.' 'Good,' said the innkeeper, 'but be careful that you don't end up in the Black Tower Inn. Around here that's where folks stay who eat and drink more than their purses will cover.' As soon as the innkeeper had left, the journeyman threw himself onto his bed, but fear and worry kept him awake the entire night. Then suddenly a black figure approached his bed, and the journeyman recognized him as the devil for sure. He said, 'Fear not, my dear companion, if you'll provide the sausage, I'll bring the drinks. Lend me a hand, and I'll help you out of your predicament.' 'Doing what?' asked the journeyman. 'Just stay here in this inn for seven years,' said the devil. 'I'll keep you out of debt and provide you with everything you need. Afterward you'll be even better off, and you'll have money like the leaves on trees. In return for this you must neither wash yourself, nor comb your hair, nor cut your hair or nails.' 'That job is worth the pay,' thought the journeyman, and he entered the agreement without further hesitation. When the innkeeper appeared the next morning, the journeyman paid him every last penny that was due, and he still had a good surplus for future bills. The journeyman stayed at the inn for years and days, spending money as though it were sand on the beach. But he became as wild as the night, and no one wanted to look at him. One fine morning a merchant who lived nearby came to the inn. He had three strikingly beautiful daughters. He had come to tell his sorrows to the innkeeper, for he had badly miscalculated in a business deal and did not know how he was going to get out of the difficulty. 'Listen,' said the innkeeper. 'There's help for you here. A strange fellow has been living upstairs in my rented room for more than six years now. He lets himself go completely, and looks as bad as sin, but he has money like hay, and is a free-spender. Give him a try. Anyway, I've long noticed that he often stares at your house. Who knows, perhaps he's got his eye on one of your daughters. This advice made good sense to the merchant. He went upstairs to the journeyman, and the two of them soon struck a deal. The journeyman would pay the merchant's debts, and the merchant would give one of his daughters to the journeyman in marriage. However, when they went to the three daughters, and the father explained the situation to them, the oldest one ran away, crying out, 'Phooey, father! What sort of a monster is this that you've brought home? I'd sooner jump into water than to marry him.' The second daughter did no better. She cried out, 'Phooey, father! What sort of a creature is this that you've brought home? I'd sooner hang myself than to marry him.' But the third and youngest daughter said, 'He must be a good man, father, if he wants to rescue you. I'll take him.' She turned her eyes to the floor and did not look at him, but he took a great liking to her, and the wedding was set. The seven years that the devil had demanded were now past. On the morning of the wedding day a splendid coach, sparkling with gold and precious stones, drove up to the merchant's house. Out jumped the journeyman, who had now become a fine young nobleman. The bride breathed a sigh of relief, and there was endless rejoicing. The wedding party went to the church in a long procession, for the merchant and the innkeeper had invited all their relatives. Only the happy bride's two older sisters did not participate. They angrily took their own lives, the one at the end of a rope, the other in water. And as the bridegroom was leaving the church, he saw the devil again, the first time in seven years. He was sitting on a roof, laughing with satisfaction, and saying: Partner, I did better than you, You got one, and I got two. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | The King's Tabernacle | Wales | null | Source (books.google.com): Hermann Pückler-Muskau, Tour in England, Ireland, and France in the Years 1826, 1827, 1828, and 1829 (Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard, 1833), letter 28, p. 318. Source (Internet Archive): Hermann Pückler-Muskau, Tour in England, Ireland, and France in the Years 1826, 1827, 1828, and 1829 (Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard, 1833), letter 28, p. 318. | K___ Park, August 4th, 1828. Yesterday I took a very agreeable ride of some twenty miles on an untireable horse of iny host's; for distances disappear before the excellence of the horses and of the roads. I must tell you all I saw. I rode first to the small town of St. Asaph to look at the cathedral, which is adorned with a beautiful window of modern painted glass. Many coats of arms were extremely well executed, and the artist had the good sense to avoid the cominon error of endeavouring to represent objects not suited to his art, which requires masses of colour and no delicate and floating shades. To obtain a more perfect knowledge of the country, I ascended the tower. At a distance of about twelve miles I espied a church-like building on the summit of a high mountain, and asked the clerk what it was. He replied, in broken English, that it was 'the king's tabernacle,' and that whoever would pass seven years without washing himself, cutting his nails, or shaving his beard, would be allowed to live there; and at the expiration of the seventh year he would have a right to go to London, where the king must give him a pension and make him a 'gentleman.' The man believed this wild story implicitly, aud swore to its truth: 'Voila ce que c'est que la foi [That is what faith is].' I inquired afterwards the true state of the affair, and heard the origin of this history; namely, that the building was erected by the province, or 'county,' to commemorate the jubilee of the last king's reign, and had stood empty ever since; but that a wag had advertised a considerable reward in the newspapers, to any man who would fulfil the above-named conditions. The common people had mixed up this strange ordeal with the 'tabernacle' of King George III. fairy tales, and mythology. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
361 | The Reward of Kindness | Philippines | Fansler's source: 'Narrated by Elisa Cordero, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, La Laguna, who heard the story from a Tagalog friend.' Note: The narrator names both the hero's mother and his mother-in-law 'Clara,' probably an unintended oversight. | Dean S. Fansler, Filipino Popular Tales (Lancaster and New York: American Folk-Lore Society, 1921), no. 22, pp. 207-209. | In a certain town there once lived a couple who had never had a child. They had been married for nearly five years, and were very anxious for a son. The name of the wife was Clara; and of the man, Philip. One cloudy night in December, while they were talking by the window of their house, Clara said to her husband that she was going to pray the novena [nine consecutive days of praying], so that heaven would give them a child. 'I would even let my son serve the devil, if he would but give us a son!' As her husband was willing that she should pray the novena, Clara began the next day her fervent devotions to the Virgin Mary. She went to church every afternoon for nine days. She carried a small prayer book with her, and prayed until six o'clock every evening. At last she finished her novenario, but no child was born to them, and the couple was disappointed. A month had passed, when, to their great happiness, Clara gave birth to a son. The child they nicknamed Idó. Idó was greatly cherished by his parents, for he was their only child; but he did not care much to stay at home. He early began to show a fondness for travelling abroad, and was always to be found in the dense woods on the outskirts of the town. One afternoon, when the family was gathered together around a small table, talking, a knock was heard at the door. 'Come in!' said Philip. 'No, I just want to talk with your wife,' answered a hoarse voice from without. Clara, trembling, opened the door, and, to her great surprise, she saw standing there a man who looked like a bear. 'A devil, a devil!' she exclaimed. But the devil pacified her, and said, 'Clara, I have come here to get your son you promised me a long time ago. Now that the day has come when your son can be of some service to me, will you deny your promise?' Clara could make no reply at first. She merely called her son; and when he came, she said to the devil, 'Here is my son. Take him, since he is yours.' Idó, who was at this time about seventeen years old, was not frightened by the devil. 'Come,' said the devil, 'and be my follower!' At first Idó refused. But he finally consented to go, because of his mother's promise. The devil now took Idó to his cave, far away outside the town. He tried in many ways to tempt Idó, but was unable to do so, because Idó was a youth of strong character. Finally the devil decided to exchange clothes with him. Idó was obliged to put on the bear-like clothes of the devil and to give him his own soldier suit. Then the devil produced a large bag full of money, and said to Idó, 'Take this money and go traveling about the world for seven years. If you live to the end of that time, and spend this money only in doing good, I will set you free. If, however, you spend the money extravagantly, you will have to go to hell with me.' When had said these words, he disappeared. Idó now began his wanderings from town to town. Whenever people saw him, they were afraid of him, and would refuse to give him shelter; but Idó would give them money from his bag, and then they would gather about him and be kind to him. After many years he happened to come to a town where he saw an old woman summoned before a court of justice. She was accused of owing a sum of money, but was unable to pay her debt and the fine imposed on her. When Idó paid her fine for her and thus released her from prison, the woman could hardly express her gratitude. As most of the other people about were afraid of Idó and he had no place to sleep, this woman decided to take him home with her. Now, this old woman had three daughters. When she reached home with the bear-like man, she called her eldest daughter, and said, 'Now, my daughter, here is a man who delivered me from prison. As I can do nothing to reward him for his great kindness, I want you to take him for your husband.' The daughter replied, 'Mother, why have you brought this ugly man here? No, I cannot marry him. I can find a better husband.' On hearing this harsh reply, the mother could not say a word. She called her second daughter, and explained her wishes to her; but the younger daughter refused, just as her sister had refused, and she made fun of the man. The mother was very much disappointed, but she was unable to persuade her daughters to marry her benefactor. Finally she determined to try her youngest daughter. When the daughter heard her mother's request, she said, 'Mother, if to have me marry this man is the only way by which you can repay him for his kindness, I'll gladly marry him.' The mother was very much pleased, but the two older daughters were very angry with their sister. The mother told the man of the decision of her youngest daughter, and a contract was signed between them. But before they were married, the bear-like man asked permission from the girl to be absent for one more year to finish his duty. She consented to his going, and gave him half her ring as a memento. At the end of the year, which was the last of his seven years' wandering, the bear-like man went to the devil, and told him that he had finished his duty. The devil said, 'You have beaten me. Now that you have performed your seven years' wandering, and have spent the money honestly, let us exchange clothes again!' So the man received back his soldier-like suit, which made him look like a knight, and the devil took back his bearskin. Then the man returned to Clara's house. When his arrival was announced to the family, the two older daughters dressed themselves in their best, for they thought that he was a suitor come to see them. But when the man showed the ring and asked for the hand of Clara's youngest daughter, the two nearly died with vexation, while the youngest daughter was very happy. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Beauty and the Beast (Basque) | Basque | Webster's source: Estefanella Hirigaray. | Wentworth Webster, Basque Legends, 2nd edition (London: Griffith and Farran, 1879), pp. 167-72. | As there are many in the world in its state now, there was a king who had three daughters. He used continually to bring handsome presents to his two elder daughters, but did not pay any attention at all to his youngest daughter, and yet she was the prettiest and most amiable. The king kept going from fair to fair, and from feast to feast, and from everywhere he used to bring something for the two eldest daughters. One day, when he was going to a feast, he said to his youngest daughter, 'I never bring anything home for you; tell me then what you want and you shall have it.' She said to her father, 'And I do not want anything.' 'Yes, yes, I am going to bring you something.' 'Very well then, bring me a flower.' He goes off, and is busy buying and buying; for one a hat, for the other a beautiful piece of stuff for a dress, and for the first again a shawl; and he was returning home, when in passing before a beautiful castle, he sees a garden quite full of flowers, and he says to himself, 'What! I was going home without a flower for my daughter; here I shall have plenty of them.' He takes some then, and as soon, as he has done so, a voice says to him, 'Who gave you permission to take that flower? As you have three daughters, if you do not bring me one of them before the year be finished, you shall be burnt wherever you are -- you, and your whole kingdom.' The king goes off home. He gives his elder daughters their presents, and her nosegay to the youngest. She thanks her father. After a certain time this king became sad. His eldest daughter said to him, 'What is the matter with you ?' He says to her, 'If one of my daughters will not go to such a spot before the end of the year, I shall be burned.' His eldest daughter answers him, 'Be burned if you like; as for me, I shall not go. I have no wish at all to go there. Settle it with the others.' The second also asks him, 'You seem very sad, papa; what is the matter with you?' He told her how he is bound to send one of his daughters to such a place before the end of the year, otherwise he should be burned. This one too says to him, 'Manage your own business as you like, but do not reckon upon me.' The youngest, after some days, said to him, 'What is the matter with you, my father, that you are so sad? Has someone done you some hurt?' He said to her, 'When I went to get your nosegay, a voice said to me, 'I must have one of your daughters before the year be completed,' and now I do not knew what I must do. It told me that I shall be burned.' This daughter said to him, 'My father, do not be troubled about it. I will go.' And she sets out immediately in a carriage. She arrives at the castle and goes in, and she hears music and sounds of rejoicing everywhere, and yet she did not see anyone. She finds her chocolate ready (in the morning), and her dinner the same. She goes to bed, and still she does not see anyone. The next morning a voice says to her, 'Shut your eyes; I wish to place my head on your knees for a moment.' 'Come, come; I am not afraid.' There appears then an enormous serpent. Without intending it, the young lady could not help giving a little shudder. An instant after the serpent went away; and the young lady lived very happily, without lacking anything. One day the voice asked her if she did not wish to go home. She answers, 'I am very happy here. I have no longing for it.' 'Yes, if you like, you may go for three days.' He gives her a ring, and says to her, 'If that changes colour, I shall be ill, and if it turns to blood, I shall be in great misery.' The young lady sets out for her father's house. Her father was very glad (to see her). Her sisters said to her, 'You must be happy there. You are prettier than you were before. With whom do you live there?' She told them, 'With a serpent.' They would not believe her. The three days flew by like a dream, and she forgot her serpent. The fourth day she looked at her ring, and she saw that it was changed. She rubs it with her finger, and it begins to bleed. Seeing that she goes running to her father, and says to him that she is going. She arrives at the castle, and finds everything sad. The music will not play -- everything was shut up. She called the serpent (his name was Azor, and hers Fifine). She kept on calling and crying out to him, but Azor appeared nowhere. After having searched the whole house, after having taken off her shoes, she goes to the garden, and there too she cries out. She finds a corner of the earth in the garden quite frozen, and immediately she makes a great fire over this spot, and there Azor comes out, and he says to her, 'You had forgotten me, then. If you had not made this fire, it would have been all up with me.' Fifine said to him, 'Yes, I had forgotten you, but the ring made me think of you.' Azor said to her, 'I knew what was going to happen; that is why I gave you the ring.' And coming into the house, she finds it as before, all full of rejoicings -- the music was playing on all sides. Some days after that Azor said to her, 'You must marry me.' Fifine gives no answer. He asks her again like that three times, and still she remained silent, silent. The whole house becomes sad again. She has no more her meals ready. Again Azor asks her if she will marry him. Still she does not answer, and she remains like that in darkness several days without eating anything, and she said to herself, 'Whatever it shall cost me I must say yes.' When the serpent asks her again, 'Will you marry me?' she answers, 'Not with the serpent, but with the man.' As soon as she had said that the music begins as before. Azor says to her that she must go to her father's house and get all things ready that are necessary, and they will marry the next day. The young lady goes as he had told her. She says to her father that she is going to be married to the serpent tomorrow, (and asks him) if he will prepare everything for that. The father consents, but he is vexed. Her sisters, too, ask her whom she is going to marry, and they are astounded at hearing that it is with a serpent. Fifine goes back again, and Azor says to her, 'Which would you prefer, from the house to the church, serpent, or from the church to the house, serpent?' Fifine says to him, 'From the house to the church, serpent.' Azor says to her, 'I, too.' A beautiful carriage comes to the door. The serpent gets in, and Fifine places herself at his side, and when they arrive at the king's house the serpent says to her, 'Shut the doors and the curtains, that nobody may see.' Fifine says to him, 'But they will see you as you get down.' 'No matter; shut them all the same.' She goes to her father. Her father comes with all his court to fetch the serpent. He opens the door, and who is astonished ? Why, everybody. Instead of a serpent there is a charming young man; and they all go to the church. When they come out there is a grand dinner at the king's, but the bridegroom says to his wife, 'Today we must not make a feast at all. We have a great business to do in the house; we will come another day for the feast.' She told that to her father, and they go on to their house. When they are come there her husband brings her in a large basket a serpent's skin, and says to her, 'You will make a great fire, and when you hear the first stroke of midnight you will throw this serpent's skin into the fire. That must be burnt up, and you must throw the ashes out of window before the last stroke of twelve has ceased striking. If you do not do that I shall be wretched forever.' The lady says to him, 'Certainly; I will do everything that I can to succeed.' She begins before midnight to make the fire. As soon as she heard the first stroke she throws the serpent's skin on the fire, and takes two spits and stirs the fire, and moves about the skin and burns it, till ten strokes have gone. Then she takes a shovel, and throws the ashes outside as the last twelfth stroke is ending. Then a terrible voice says, 'I curse your cleverness, and what you have just done.' At the same time her husband comes in. He did not know where he was for joy. He kisses her, and does not know how to tell his wife what great good she has done him. 'Now I do not fear anything. If you had not done as I told you, I should have been enchanted for twenty-one years more. Now it is all over, and we will go at our ease tomorrow to your father's house for the wedding feast.' They go the next day and enjoy themselves very much. They return to their palace to take away the handsomest things, because they did not wish to stop any more in that corner of the mountain. They load all their valuable things in carts and waggons, and go to live with the king. This young lady has four children, two boys and two girls, and as her sisters were very jealous of her, their father sent them out of the house. The king gave his crown to his son-in-law, who was already a son of a king. As they had lived well, they died well too. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Beauty and the Beast (Jacobs) | Joseph Jacobs | null | Joseph Jacobs, Europa's Fairy Book [also published under the title European Folk and Fairy Tales] (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1916), no. 5, pp. 34-41. Reconstructed from various European sources. | There was once a merchant that had three daughters, and he loved them better than himself. Now it happened that he had to go a long journey to buy some goods, and when he was just starting he said to them, 'What shall I bring you back, my dears?' And the eldest daughter asked to have a necklace; and the second daughter wished to have a gold chain; but the youngest daughter said, 'Bring back yourself, papa, and that is what I want the most.' 'Nonsense, child,' said her father, 'you must say something that I may remember to bring back for you.' 'So,' she said, 'then bring me back a rose, father.' Well, the merchant went on his journey and did his business and bought a pearl necklace for his eldest daughter, and a gold chain for his second daughter; but he knew it was no use getting a rose for the youngest while he was so far away because it would fade before he got home. So he made up his mind he would get a rose for her the day he got near his house. When all his merchanting was done he rode off home and forgot all about the rose till he was near his house; then he suddenly remembered what he had promised his youngest daughter, and looked about to see if he could find a rose. Near where he had stopped he saw a great garden, and getting off his horse he wandered about in it till he found a lovely rosebush; and he plucked the most beautiful rose he could see on it. At that moment he heard a crash like thunder, and looking around he saw a huge monster -- two tusks in his mouth and fiery eyes surrounded by bristles, and horns coming out of its head and spreading over its back. 'Mortal,' said the beast, 'who told you you might pluck my roses?' 'Please, sir,' said the merchant in fear and terror for his life, 'I promised my daughter to bring her home a rose and forgot about it till the last moment, and then I saw your beautiful garden and thought you would not miss a single rose, or else I would have asked your permission.' 'Thieving is thieving,' said the beast, 'whether it be a rose or a diamond; your life is forfeit.' The merchant fell on his knees and begged for his life for the sake of his three daughters who had none but him to support them. 'Well, mortal, well,' said the beast, 'I grant your life on one condition: Seven days from now you must bring this youngest daughter of yours, for whose sake you have broken into my garden, and leave her here in your stead. Otherwise swear that you will return and place yourself at my disposal.' So the merchant swore, and taking his rose mounted his horse and rode home. As soon as he got into his house his daughters came rushing round him, clapping their hands and showing their joy in every way, and soon he gave the necklace to his eldest daughter, the chain to his second daughter, and then he gave the rose to his youngest, and as he gave it he sighed. 'Oh, thank you, father,' they all cried. But the youngest said, 'Why did you sigh so deeply when you gave me my rose?' 'Later on I will tell you,' said the merchant. So for several days they lived happily together, though the merchant wandered about gloomy and sad, and nothing his daughters could do would cheer him up till at last he took his youngest daughter aside and said to her, 'Bella, do you love your father?' 'Of course I do, father, of course I do.' 'Well, now you have a chance of showing it'; and then he told her of all that had occurred with the beast when he got the rose for her. Bella was very sad, as you can well think, and then she said, 'Oh, father, it was all on account of me that you fell into the power of this beast; so I will go with you to him; perhaps he will do me no harm; but even if he does -- better harm to me than evil to my dear father.' So next day the merchant took Bella behind him on his horse, as was the custom in those days, and rode off to the dwelling of the beast. And when he got there and they alighted from his horse the doors of the house opened, and what do you think they saw there! Nothing. So they went up the steps and went through the hall, and went into the dining room, and there they saw a table spread with all manner of beautiful glasses and plates and dishes and napery, with plenty to eat upon it. So they waited and they waited, thinking that the owner of the house would appear, till at last the merchant said, 'Let's sit down and see what will happen then.' And when they sat down invisible hands passed them things to eat and to drink, and they ate and drank to their heart's content. And when they arose from the table it arose too and disappeared through the door as if it were being carried by invisible servants. Suddenly there appeared before them the beast who said to the merchant, 'Is this your youngest daughter?' And when he had said that it was, he said, 'Is she willing to stop here with me?' And then he looked at Bella who said, in a trembling voice, 'Yes, sir.' 'Well, no harm shall befall you.' With that he led the merchant down to his horse and told him he might come that day each week to visit his daughter. Then the beast returned to Bella and said to her, 'This house with all that therein is is yours; if you desire aught, clap your hands and say the word and it shall be brought unto you.' And with that he made a sort of bow and went away. So Bella lived on in the home with the beast and was waited on by invisible servants and had whatever she liked to eat and to drink; but she soon got tired of the solitude and, next day, when the beast came to her, though he looked so terrible, she had been so well treated that she had lost a great deal of her terror of him. So they spoke together about the garden and about the house and about her father's business and about all manner of things, so that Bella lost altogether her fear of the beast. Shortly afterwards her father came to see her and found her quite happy, and he felt much less dread of her fate at the hands of the beast. So it went on for many days, Bella seeing and talking to the beast every day, till she got quite to like him, until one day the beast did not come at his usual time, just after the midday meal, and Bella quite missed him. So she wandered about the garden trying to find him, calling out his name, but received no reply. At last she came to the rosebush from which her father had plucked the rose, and there, under it, what do you think she saw! There was the beast lying huddled up without any life or motion. Then Bella was sorry indeed and remembered all the kindness that the beast had shown her; and she threw herself down by it and said, 'Oh, Beast, Beast, why did you die? I was getting to love you so much.' No sooner had she said this than the hide of the beast split in two and out came the most handsome young prince who told her that he had been enchanted by a magician and that he could not recover his natural form unless a maiden should, of her own accord, declare that she loved him. Thereupon the prince sent for the merchant and his daughters, and he was married to Bella, and they all lived happy together ever afterwards. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Beauty and the Horse | Denmark | Bay's sources for this collection: Svend Grundtvig, E. T. Kristensen, Ingvor Bondesen, and L. Budde. | J. Christian Bay, Danish Fairy and Folk Tales (New York and London: Harper and Brothers, 1899), pp. 14-20. | There was once a merchant whose business was so immense that he was the wealthiest tradesman known. He had three daughters, one of whom was named Beauty. One day the merchant received word from friends far away, informing him of the failure of one of his connections, and he at once prepared himself for a journey to that place. The two older daughters asked him to buy all sorts of finery and dresses for them, but Beauty asked for nothing at all. When the merchant left, these two girls had rubbed their eyes with onions in order to look as if they were sorry to bid him good-bye; but Beauty needed no such artifice; her tears were quite natural. So the merchant went away, and in due time arrived at the place where the tradesman of whom he had heard the bad news was living. But instead of obtaining money, as he hoped, he was kicked and beaten so violently that it seems a great wonder he came away without losing his life. Of course he had now nothing to do but return, so he mounted his horse and turned homeward. Towards evening he unfortunately lost his way, and when it became quite dark he knew no better than to ride in the direction of a light which was shining from a distance. At length he reached a beautiful little palace, but although it was lighted, there seemed to be no one at home. After a while he found a shelter and food for his horse -- pure oats, and nothing else. The animal might well dance for joy, for both man and beast were well-nigh exhausted from the long ride. When the horse had been provided for, the master stepped into the palace. There a light was burning, and a table was laid for one person, but no one was to be seen. As the merchant was tired, he sat down without invitation, and ate a hearty supper. A fine bed was there, too, and when he had eaten enough he stretched himself among the pillows and enjoyed a good night's rest. The next morning everything appeared as on the evening before. The horse was well supplied, and as breakfast was ready on the table, the merchant seated himself, doing justice to the good meal. At he was now ready to leave, he thought it might be well to look over the premises, and glancing into the garden he perceived some exquisite flowers. He went down, intending to carry some of them home with him as a present for Beauty; but no sooner had he touched them than a horse came running towards him as fast as it could trot, saying, 'You thoughtless man; I was good to you last night, I gave you shelter and provisions, and now you would even take with you the most beautiful flowers in my garden.' The merchant immediately begged pardon, saying that he had intended the flowers as a gift for Beauty, his daughter. 'Have you several daughters?' asked the horse. 'Yes, I have three, and Beauty is the youngest one,' he replied. 'Now you must promise me,' said the horse, 'that you will give me the daughter whose name is Beauty; if you refuse, I will take your life.' Well, the merchant did not wish to lose his life, so he promised to bring his daughter to the palace, whereupon the horse disappeared among the trees, and the man rode home. As soon as he reached his house, the two older daughters came out and asked him for the fine things which they were expecting. But Beauty came and bid him welcome. He produced the flowers and gave them to her, saying, 'These are for you, but they cost your life,' and he then told her how he had been obliged to make the fatal promise to the horse, in order to save his life. Beauty at once said, 'I am willing to follow you, father, and am always glad to help you.' They started on their journey, and soon arrived at the palace. As before, no one was to be seen, but the merchant found food for his horses and a good stable The table was also laid for two persons, and there were two beds. Having done justice to the supper, father and daughter retired and slept soundly. When they awoke the next morning, they found breakfast ready for both, ate heartily, and having exchanged many loving and tender words, they separated, the father riding away. We will let him proceed, and see what occurred at the palace. Shortly before dinnertime the horse arrived. He came into the room and said, 'Welcome, Beauty!' She did not feel very glad, and had all she could do in keeping her tears back. 'You shall do nothing but walk around in these rooms and in the garden,' continued the horse. 'Your meals are provided for. I shall come home every day at noon; at other times you must not expect me.' Time passed, and Beauty felt so lonely that she often longed for noon, when the horse came home, and she could talk with him. She gradually came to look at him more and more kindly; but one thing caused her great distress, namely, that she had no news from her father. One day she mentioned this to the horse. 'Yes,' said he, 'I understand that very well. In the large room you will find a mirror in which you can see all that you are thinking of.' She was happy to learn this, and went straight into the room where the mirror was hanging. As soon as she thought of her father, her old home was visible in the glass, and she noticed how he was sitting in his chair with a sorrowful expression upon his countenance, while his two daughters were singing and dancing. Beauty felt sorry over this state of affairs, and the next day she told the horse what she had seen. 'Your father is sorry, I suppose,' said the horse, ' because he has lost you. He will soon feel better, however.' But on the next day, when Beauty consulted the mirror, her father looked pale and ill, like one who is deadly sick; both of her sisters were dressed for a ball, and neither of them seemed to care for the weak man. Beauty burst into tears, and when the horse came home, asking what ailed her, she told him of the bad state of affairs, wishing that he would allow her to return and nurse her poor father during his illness. 'If you will promise to come back,' said the horse, 'you may return and stay for three days; but under no condition must you break your word.' Beauty told him she would come back in three days. 'Tonight,' resumed the horse, 'before going to bed, you must place the mirror under your pillow, saying, 'I wish to be home tomorrow.' Then your wish will be fulfilled. When you desire to return, you must do likewise.' The next morning, when Beauty awoke, she was at her old home. Her father became so glad to see her again that he at once felt a great deal better. She cared so well for him that the next day he was able to be up, and on the third day he was almost well. As he wished her to stay with him a few days longer, she complied, thinking that no harm would come from it. On the third day after, however, when she looked into the mirror, she saw the horse stretched on the ground in front of the bench which was her favorite seat in the garden. She now felt that it would be impossible for her to remain longer, hence in the evening, before going to bed, she placed the mirror under her pillow, saying: 'I wish to be at the palace tomorrow morning.' She promptly awoke in the palace the following morning, and hurrying into the garden she found the horse so very sick that he could not stand on his legs. Beauty knelt down and asked him to forgive her for staying away longer than she had promised. The horse asked her if she could not persuade herself to stay with him all her life, but she answered that it would seem very singular to live with a horse all her lifetime. The poor animal now sighed so deeply that she took pity on him and said, fearing that he might die then and there, that she would always stay with him and never leave him. As soon as she had made this promise, the horse vanished, and a beautiful young prince stood before her. He seized her hand and asked whether she was not sorry for the promise she had made. No, she said, she would rather stay with him now than when he was in the shape of a horse. He now told her that both he and the whole land had been enchanted by his wicked stepmother, who had converted him into a horse, and told him that only when a beautiful young girl would promise to stay with him, in his altered shape, would the enchantment be over. He wanted to marry Beauty, and live in the palace which belonged to him. So they sent for her father to take up his residence with them, and now the marriage was performed and celebrated in a splendid manner. They lived long and happily together, the prince and his Beauty. Fairy and Folk Tales (New York and London: Harper and Brothers, 1899), pp. 14-20. Ingvor Bondesen, and L. Budde. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Little Broomstick | Germany | Ludwig Bechstein (1801-1860) was Germany's most widely read collector and editor of folktales during the nineteenth century, his popularity within Germany at that time surpassing that of his more scholarly contemporaries, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. | Ludwig Bechstein, 'Besenstielchen,' Deutsches Märchenbuch, 5th edition (Leipzig: Verlag von Georg Wigand, 1847), pp. 228-32. | There was once a merchant who had three daughters. The two older ones were proud and haughty. The younger one, however, was well behaved and modest, although her beauty greatly surpassed that of her sisters. She dressed simply, and thus unconsciously enhanced her beauty more than her sisters were able to do with the most expensive clothing and jewelry. Nettchen, that was the name of the merchant's youngest daughter, had a dear girlfriend who was very poor, but equally beautiful and virtuous. She was a broom binder's daughter, and was for this reason was called Little Broomstick by young and old alike. Both girls were of one heart and one soul. They entrusted one another with their little secrets, and between them all class distinctions fell by the wayside. This angered the older sisters greatly, but Nettchen let them scold, and loved her Little Broomstick nonetheless. Once the merchant was planning a long journey, although the season was already very advanced. He asked his daughters if they had a wish as to what he should bring home to them. The oldest one said, 'Bring me a golden necklace!' The second, 'Bring me a pair of earrings that are so beautiful that all women be envious of me because of them!' The youngest said that she had no wish, because her father, in his goodness, had already given her everything. But the merchant insisted, so she answered with a smile, 'Then bring me three roses growing on one stem.' She was convinced that her father would not be able to find such a present in the middle of winter. He kissed her for her modesty and set forth on his journey. He was on his way home when he remembered the presents that he was supposed to get for his daughters. He soon found a golden necklace and a pair of splendid earrings, but not so the three roses for Nettchen. The father had just decided to buy some other valuable present for his darling, when suddenly -- to his surprise -- he came upon a green area. He stepped through a wide gateway and found himself in a large, blossoming garden adjacent to a splendid castle. Outside everything was covered with snow, but in the garden the trees were in blossom, nightingales were singing in the bushes, and finally he even saw a blossoming rosebush, and on one of its branches were three of the most beautiful half-open buds. Elated, he thought that now he would be able to fulfill Nettchen's wish, and he broke off the branch. He had scarcely done so when an enormous beast with a long ugly snout, ears hanging down, and a shaggy coat and tail appeared before him and laid his long sharp claws on his shoulder. The merchant was deathly frightened, and even worse when the beast began to speak, threatening him with death for his misdeed. The merchant begged, telling him why he wanted the roses, whereupon the beast answered, 'Your youngest daughter must be a true pearl of her sex. Very well, if you will promise to give her to me as a wife in seven months, then you shall live and return to your people.' As terrified as the merchant was at this proposal, his fear nevertheless led him to make the promise, thinking that he would be able to trick the monster. The merchant returned to his people and distributed the presents. However, he was sad and melancholy, and they noticed that he was carrying a great burden in his heart. Nettchen asked him to tell her what was troubling him, but he only gave her excuses. He told the secret only to the two older daughters, who wickedly took pleasure in the situation. So that the father could keep his eyes on her, Nettchen was almost never allowed to leave the house. Only Little Broomstick came to visit her from time to time. One day -- the seventh month had just passed -- she and Little Broomstick were again together when a carriage stopped before the house. A servant, gesturing silently, handed a note to the merchant. On it were written the words, 'Fulfill your promise!' The merchant was terrified, but he collected himself and asked Little Broomstick to come to him. The girl came, expecting nothing bad. The merchant pointed at her. She was lifted into the carriage, and away they went in a thundering gallop. However, the beast recognized the deception as soon as Little Broomstick was brought before him, and he ordered the girl to go home immediately and bring back the right one. The carriage stopped again before the merchant's house, and when Little Broomstick stepped out, Nettchen fell around her neck with friendly greetings. But then she was picked up and shoved into the carriage, which drove away with its booty as fast as an arrow. Nettchen was very frightened, but she soon collected herself. Inside the strange, beautiful castle she was received with honor, although with silent gestures, and she no longer felt concerned. Silent servants brought her the most delicious things to eat and showed her to a bedroom, where a blinding white canopy bed invited her to rest. After saying her prayers, she surrendered to the arms of sleep. When she awoke she saw to her fright that a disgusting shaggy monster lay next to her. But it was lying there still and quiet, so she left it alone. Then it left, and she had time to think about her adventure. The ugly beast gradually became her sleeping companion, and she grew less and less afraid of him. He cuddled up to her, and she stroked his shaggy coat and even allowed him to touch her lips with his long, cold snout. This had gone on for four weeks when one night the beast did not come to her. Nettchen could not sleep for worry and concern about what might have happened to the beast, whom she had become quite fond of. The next morning she was walking in the garden when she saw the beast lying all stretched out on the bank of a pond that served as a bath. He did not move a limb and showed every sign of being dead. A bitter pain penetrated her breast, and she cried over the death of the poor beast. But her tears had scarcely started to flow when the monster was transformed into a handsome youth. He stood up before her, pressed her hand to his breast, and said, 'You have redeemed me from a terrible curse. My father wanted me to marry a woman whom I did not love. I refused steadfastly, and in his anger, my father had a sorceress transform me into a monster. The transformation was to last until an innocent virgin would fall in love with me in spite of my ugly form, and would cry tears on my behalf. You with your heart of an angel have done just that, and I cannot thank you enough. If you will become my wife, I will repay with love what you have done for me.' Nettchen extended him her hand, and they were married. Then the deathly quiet castle awoke in a hustle and bustle. Joy ruled everywhere, and the newlyweds lived in bliss. Now the young wife had been given the requirement that she not return to her father's house for one year. However, she obtained a mirror in which she could see everything that was happening in her family circle. Nettchen looked into the mirror often, and she saw her father in his sorrow, although her sisters were cheerful and gay. She observed Little Broomstick as well, and how she mourned for her lost girlfriend. She did not look into the mirror for some time, and when she returned to it, she saw her father on his deathbed and her sisters in the next room making merry with their friends. This saddened the good sister, and she confided her sorrow with her husband. He comforted her, saying, 'Your father will not die. In my garden there is a plant whose sap can call back the fleeing life-spirits. The year is nearly over. Then we will fetch your father, and you will not have to be separated from him any longer.' Nettchen was pleased with this, and as soon as the year had passed, the husband and wife and their magnificent entourage journeyed to Nettchen's home city. The two older sisters nearly burst with envy and anger, while the father's joy brought back his health, so that evil turned to good. The sap restored his full strength and wellbeing. Little Broomstick too was overjoyed, and Nettchen was her old girlfriend once again. She and the merchant accompanied them back to the prince's castle. Nettchen had a forgiving heart, and however much she had been hurt by her sisters, she wanted to share her good fortune with them. Therefore she invited them to visit her, and showed them all her wealth. However, the splendor angered the sisters, and they resolved to kill their happy sister. Once when they were in the bath, they forced Nettchen under the water, and she drowned. They had scarcely done this when a tall female figure rose up before them and glared at them with angry eyes. She touched the dead woman with a wand, and she came back to life. 'I am the sorceress who once transformed the prince,' said the tall figure. I have noted your good heart and taken you under my protection. These miserable ones killed you. Now I leave their fate in your hands!' Nettchen begged for mercy for them, but the sorceress shook her head and said, 'They must die, for you will never be safe from their malice, and as soon as they have been punished, my power will cease.' 'Then do with them what you will!' sobbed Nettchen. 'Let them be transformed into columns and remain such until a man falls in love with them, and that will never happen.' She touched the sisters with her hand, and they were immediately transformed into two stone columns, which to this day are still standing in the garden of the splendid castle, for it has not yet occurred to any man that he should fall in love with cold, heartless stones. The good Little Broomstick remained Nettchen's most faithful girlfriend. She still shares her good fortune with her, if in the meantime the two of them have not died. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Rose | Irish-American | Newell's source: 'Obtained in Cambridge, Mass., from the recitation of Mary Brown, who heard it in New Brunswick from a woman of Irish extraction, born in the province.' | W. W. Newell, 'English Folk-Tales in America Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 2, no. 6 (July - September, 1889), pp. 213-14. | Once it was necessary for him to go on a long journey. He asked each of his daughters what he should bring them for a present. The elder daughters wanted silk dresses, jewelry, and all that was rare. Little Rose stood by, not saying a word. Her father asked: 'Little Rose, what can I bring for you?' 'Nothing, father, but a rose.' And she kissed her father, and bade him good-by. 'Rose, I shall bring you a rose, the very prettiest I can get, if it should cost me my life.' After he got to his journey's end, he came to a splendid palace. The house was empty, but all in order. His breakfast was ready, but he could see no one. He stayed all night, in the morning went into the garden, and oh, the beautiful rose! After he plucked the rose, and had gone a few steps, a great lion met him, frothing at the mouth, and told him, 'For this rose you shall die.' The father said that he had a very beautiful daughter at home, whose name was Rose, and that, as he was leaving, he promised to bring her a rose; and he pleaded, 'If you will only let me go home to my little daughter to bid her farewell.' So the lion let him go home, on condition that he was to return. And as he came home Rose was looking out of the window and saw her father coming, and ran to meet him. 'Why,' said she, 'father, what makes you look so sad?' 'Nothing, my child, except that I have plucked a rose, and for this rose I must die.' 'No, father, you shall not go back and die for the rose, but I will go back and ask to have you pardoned.' So she went to the palace. As she entered it seemed to her that everything which her eyes fell on seemed to say, 'Welcome, Beauty, here!' Even on her cup and saucer, and on every piece of furniture in her chamber were the words, 'Welcome, Beauty, here!' She went out to find the lion, and said that she had come to ask him to forgive her father, and that the rose was for her. But the lion said he would not do it unless she would promise to be his wife. Her father was very dear to her, yet she did not like to marry a lion. The lion gave her a beautiful gold ring, and told her that whenever she wanted to see her father she was to lay the ring on her table before going to sleep, and wish to see her father, and she would be at home in the morning. Her father was now getting old, and she grieved for him. At night she laid her ring on the table, at the same time making a wish that she would like to see her father. The next morning she found herself with her father, whom she found much changed. His hair had turned white from grief at the thought of losing his Rose, or having her marry the lion. That night she laid her ring on the table, and wished herself back at the palace. The palace was more beautiful than before, and the table all ready. On every plate were the words, 'Welcome, Beauty, here!' On the first morning she went out into the garden. The poor lion was lying very sick, and she looked at him. 'Oh, I cannot bear to see my poor lion die; what am I to do?' Finally, she said that she could not bear it any longer, and she called out, 'I will be your wife.' With this a beautiful young prince stood before her. So they were married, and he sent for her father, and the stepsisters who had been so cruel to her were made servants to stand at the post of the gate before the palace, and all the people were happy. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Bear Prince | Switzerland | null | Otto Sutermeister, 'Der Bärenprinz,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus der Schweiz (Aarau: H. R. Sauerländer, 1873), no. 37, pp. 112-15. | A merchant once wanted to go to market. He asked his three daughters what he should bring home for them. The oldest one said, 'I would like pearls and precious stones.' 'You can buy a sky-blue dress for me,' said the middle one. But the youngest one said, 'Nothing in the world would be dearer to me than a grape.' Once at the market, the merchant saw as many pearls and precious stones as he could possibly want. And he soon purchased a sky-blue dress as well. But as for a grape, he could not find one anywhere at the market. This saddened him greatly, because he loved his youngest daughter most of all. Buried thus in his thoughts, he was making his way toward home when a little dwarf stepped before him. He asked, 'Why are you so sad?' 'Oh,' answered the merchant, 'I was supposed to bring home a grape for my youngest daughter, but I was not able to find one anywhere at the market.' The dwarf said, 'Just take a few steps into that meadow down there, and you will come to a large vineyard. A white bear will be there. He will growl fiercely when you approach, but don't let that frighten you. You'll get a grape after all.' So the merchant went down into the meadow, and it happened just as the dwarf had said. A white bear was keeping guard at the vineyard, and he growled at the merchant when he was still a long way off. 'What do you want here?' 'Be so good,' said the merchant, 'and let me take a grape for my youngest daughter, just a single one.' 'You cannot have one,' said the bear, 'unless you promise to give me that which will first greet you upon your arrival home.' The merchant did not think long about this before accepting the bear's terms. Then he was permitted to take a grape, and he happily made his way toward home. Upon his arrival home, the youngest daughter ran out to meet him, for she -- more than anyone else -- had missed him, and she could hardly wait to see him. Seeing the grape in his hand, she threw her arms around his neck and could scarcely contain herself for joy. But the father was overcome with sorrow, and he could not tell anyone why. Every day he expected the white bear to come and demand from him his dearest child. When exactly one year had passed since he taken the grape from the vineyard, the bear did indeed trot up, confronted the merchant, and said, 'Now give me that which first greeted you upon your arrival home, or I'll eat you.' The merchant had not lost all of his senses, and he said, 'Take my dog. He jumped right out the door when he saw me coming.' But the bear began to growl loudly and said, 'He is not the right one. If you don't keep your promise, I'll eat you.' Then the merchant said, 'So just take the apple tree in front of the house. That was the first thing that I met.' But the bear growled even stronger and said, 'That is not the right one. If you don't keep your promise immediately, I'll eat you.' Nothing more would help. The merchant had to surrender his youngest daughter. When she came out, a coach drove up. The bear led her inside, sat down next to her, and away they went. After a while the coach stopped in the courtyard of a castle, and the bear led the daughter into the castle and welcomed her. This was his home, he said, and from now on she would be his wife. He gave her everything that her heart could desire, so that with time it no longer occurred to her that her husband was a bear. There were just two things that seemed strange to her: Why did the bear insist on having no lights at nighttime, and why did he always feel so cold? After she had been with him for some time he asked her, 'Do you know how long you have been here?' 'No,' she said, 'I haven't been thinking about time at all.' 'All the better,' said the bear. 'It's been exactly one year. Get ready for a journey, for we must visit your father once again.' She did so with great joy, and after arriving at her father's she told him all about her life in the castle. Afterward, when she was taking leave from him, he secretly gave her some matches that the bear was not supposed to see. But the bear did see them, and he growled angrily, 'Stop that, or I'll eat you.' Then he took his wife back to the castle, and they lived there together as before. Some time later the bear said, 'Do you know how long you have been here?' 'No,' she said, 'I don't notice the time.' 'All the better,' said the bear. 'You have been here exactly two years. Get ready for a journey. It is time for us to visit your father once again.' She did it once again, and everything happened as the first time. But when she visited her father the third time, the bear failed to see that her father secretly gave her some matches. After arriving back at the castle, she could hardly wait for night to come when the bear was sleeping next to her in bed. Silently she struck a light and was startled with amazement and joy, for next to her was lying a handsome youth with a golden crown on his head. He smiled at her and said, 'Many thanks for redeeming me. You were the wife of an enchanted prince. Now we can celebrate our wedding properly, for now I am the king of this land.' With that the entire castle came alive. Servants and attendants came from all sides, wishing good luck to the king and the queen. und Hausmärchen aus der Schweiz (Aarau: H. R. Sauerländer, 1873), no. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Clinking Clanking Lowesleaf | Germany | null | Carl and Theodor Colshorn, 'Vom klinkesklanken Lowesblatt,' Märchen und Sagen aus Hannover (Hannover: Verlag von Carl Ruempler, 1854), no. 20, pp. 64-69. | Once upon a time there was a king who had three daughters. The youngest was his pride and joy. One day he wanted to go to the fair to buy something, and he asked his three daughters what he should bring home for them. The first one asked for a golden spinning wheel. The second one a golden yarn reel, and the third one a clinking clanking lowesleaf. The king promised to bring these things and rode away. At the fair he bought the golden spinning wheel and the golden yarn reel, but no one had a clinking clanking lowesleaf for sale. He looked everywhere, but could not find one. This saddened him, because the youngest daughter was the joy of his life, and he wanted to please her ever so much. As he sorrowfully made his way homeward, he came to a great, great forest and to a large birch tree. Under the birch tree there lay a large black poodle dog. Because the king looked so sad, the dog asked him what was the matter. 'Oh,' answered the king, 'I was supposed to bring a clinking clanking lowesleaf to my youngest daughter, whom I love above anything else, but I cannot find one anywhere, and that is why I am so sad.' 'I can help you,' said the poodle. 'The clinking clanking lowesleaf grows in this tree. If a year and a day from now you will give me that which first greets you upon your arrival home today, then you can have it.' At first the king did not want to agree, but he thought about it long and hard, then said to himself, 'What could it be but our dog? Go ahead and make the promise.' And he made the promise. The poodle wagged his tail, climbed up into the birch, broke off the leaf with his frizzy-haired paw, and gave it to the king, saying, 'You had better keep your word, or you will wish that you had!' The king repeated his promise, took the leaf, and rode on joyfully. As he approached home, his youngest daughter jumped out with joy to greet him. The king was horrified. His heart was so filled with grief that he pushed her aside. She started to cry, thinking, 'What does this mean, that father is pushing me away?' and she went inside and complained to her mother. Soon the king came in. He gave the oldest girl the golden spinning wheel, the middle one the golden yarn reel, and the youngest one the clinking clanking lowesleaf, and he was quiet and sad. Then the queen asked him was wrong with him, and why he had pushed the youngest daughter away; but he said nothing. He grieved the entire year. He lamented and mourned and became thin and pale, so concerned was he. Whenever the queen asked him what was wrong, he only shook his head or walked away. Finally, when the year was nearly at its end, he could not longer keep still, and he told her about his misfortune, and thought that his wife would die of shock. She too was horrified, but she soon took hold of herself and said, 'You men don't think of anything! After all, don't we have the goose herder's daughter? Let's dress her up and give her to the poodle. A stupid poodle will never know the difference.' The day arrived, and they dressed up the goose girl in their youngest daughter's clothes until she looked just perfect. They had scarcely finished when they heard a bark outside, and a scratching sound at the gate. They looked out, and sure enough, it was the large black poodle dog. They wondered who had taught him to count. After all, a year has more than three hundred days, and even a human can lose count, to say nothing of a dog! But he had not lost count. He had come to take away the princess. The king and queen greeted him in a friendly manner, then led him outside to the goose girl. He wagged his tail and pawed at her, then he lay down on his belly and said, Sit upon my tail, And I'll take you away! She sat down on him, and he took off across the heath. Soon they came to a great, great forest. When they came to the large birch tree, the poodle stopped to rest a while, for it was a hot day, and it was cool and shady here. Around and about there were many daisies [called Gänseblümchen -- goose flowers -- in German] poking up their white heads from the beautiful grass, and the girl thought about her parents, and sighed, 'Oh, if only my father were here. He could graze the geese so nicely here in this beautiful, lush meadow.' The poodle stood up, shook himself, and said, 'Just what kind of a girl are you?' 'I am a goose girl, and my father tends geese,' she answered. She would have liked to say what the queen had told her to say, but it was impossible for anyone to tell a lie under this tree. She could not, and she could not. He jumped up abruptly, looked at her threateningly, and said, 'You are not the right one. I have no use for you:' They were not far from the king's house, when the queen saw them and realized which way the wind was blowing. Therefore she took the broom binder's daughter, dressed her up in even more beautiful clothes. When the poodle arrived and made nasty threats, she brought the broom girl out to him, saying, 'This is the right girl!' 'We shall see,' responded the poodle dog. The queen became very uneasy, and the king's throat tightened, but the poodle wagged his tail and scratched, then lay down on his belly, saying, The broom girl sat down on him, and he took off across the heath. Soon they too came to the great forest and to the large birch tree. As they sat there resting, the girl thought about her parents, and sighed, 'Oh, if only my father were here. He could make brooms so easily, for here there are masses of thin twigs!' She wanted to lie, for the queen had ordered her to, and she was a very strict mistress, but she could not, because she was under this tree, and she answered, 'I am a broom girl, and my father makes brooms.' He jumped up as though he were mad, looked at her threateningly, and said, 'You are not the right one. I have no use for you:' They approached the king's house, and the king and queen, who had been steadily looking out the window, began to moan and cry, especially the king, for the youngest daughter was the apple of his eye. The court officials cried and sobbed as well, and there was nothing but mourning everywhere. But it was to no avail. The poodle arrived and said, 'This time give me the right girl, or you will wish that you had!' He spoke with such a frightful voice and made such angry gestures, that everyone's heart stood still, and their skin shuddered. Then they led out the youngest daughter, dressed in white, and as pale as snow. It was as though the moon had just come out from behind dark clouds. The poodle knew that she was the right one, and said with a caressing voice, He ran much more gently this time, and did not stop in the great forest under the birch tree, but hurried deeper and deeper into the woods until they finally reached a small house, where he quietly lay the princess, who had fallen asleep, onto a soft bed. She slumbered on and dreamed about her parents, and about the strange ride, and she laughed and cried in her sleep. The poodle lay down in his hut and kept watch over the little house and the princess. When she awoke the next morning and found herself soul alone, she cried and grieved and wanted to run away, but she could not, because the house was enchanted. It let people enter, but no one could leave. There was plenty there to eat and drink, everything that even a princess could desire, but she did not want anything and did not take a single bite. She could neither see nor hear the poodle, but the birds sang wonderfully. There were deer grazing around and about, and they looked at the princess with their large eyes. The morning wind curled her golden locks and poured fresh color over her face. The princess sighed and said, 'Oh, if only someone were here, even if it were the most miserable, dirty beggar woman. I would kiss her and hug her and love her and honor her!' 'Is that true?' screeched a harsh voice close behind her, startling the princess. She looked around, and there stood a bleary-eyed woman as old as the hills. She glared at the princess and said, 'You called for a beggar woman, and a beggar woman is here! In the future do not despise beggar women. Now listen well! The poodle dog is an enchanted prince, this hut an enchanted castle, the forest an enchanted city, and all the animals enchanted people. If you are a genuine princess and are also kind to poor people, then you can redeem them all and become rich and happy. The poodle goes away every morning, because he has to, and every evening he returns home, because he wants to. At midnight he pulls off his rough hide and becomes an ordinary man. If he knocks on your bedroom door, do not let him in, however much he asks and begs, not the first night, not the second night, and especially not the third night. During the third night, after he has tired himself out talking and has fallen asleep, take the hide, make a large fire, and burn it. But first lock your bedroom door securely, so that he cannot get in, and do not open it when he scratches on the door, if you cherish your life. And on your wedding day say three times, don't forget it now, say three times: Old tongues, Old lungs! and I will see you again.' The princess took very careful notice of everything, and the old woman disappeared. The first night the prince asked and begged her to open her door, but she answered, 'No, I'll not do it,' and she did not do it. The second night he asked her even more sweetly, but she did not answer at all. She buried her head in her pillow, and she did not open the door. The third night he asked her so touchingly and sang such beautiful melodies to her, that she wanted to jump up and open the door for him, but fortunately she remembered the old woman and her mother and father. She pulled the bedcovers over her head, and did not open the door. Complaining, the prince walked away, but she did not hear him leave. While he slept she built up the fire, crept out on tiptoe, picked up the rough hide from the corner where the poodle always put it, barred the bedroom door, and threw it into the flames. The poodle jumped up howling, gnawed and clawed at the door, threatened, begged, growled, and howled again. But she did not open the door, and he could not open the door, however fiercely he threw himself against it. The fire flamed up brightly one last time, and there was an enormous bang, as if heaven and hell had exploded. Standing before her was the most handsome prince in the world. The hut was now a magnificent castle, the forest a great city full of palaces, and the animals were all kinds of people. At their wedding ceremony, the prince and the princess were seated at the table with the old king and the old queen and the two sisters and many rich and important people, when the bride called out three times, and the tattered old woman came in. The old queen scolded, and the two princesses scolded, and they wanted to chase her away, but the young queen stood up and let the old woman sit down at her place, eat from her plate, and drink from her goblet. When the old woman had eaten and drunk her fill, she looked at the old queen and the evil daughters, and they became crooked and lame. But she blessed the young queen, and she became seven times more beautiful, and no one ever saw or heard from the old woman again. klinkesklanken Lowesblatt,' Märchen und Sagen aus Hannover (Hannover: Verlag von Carl Ruempler, 1854), no. 20, pp. 64-69. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Enchanted Tsarévich | Russia | Magnus' source is the great collection of Alexander Afanasyev (1826-1871). | Leonard A. Magnus, Russian Folk-Tales (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916), pp. 283-86. | Once upon a time there was a merchant who had three daughters. It so happened he had one day to go to strange countries to buy wares, and so he asked his daughters, 'What shall I bring you from beyond the seas?' The eldest asked for a new coat, and the next one also asked for a new coat; but the youngest one only took a sheet of paper and sketched a flower on it. 'Bring me, bátyushka [father], a flower like this!' So the merchant went and made a long journey to foreign kingdoms, but he could never see such a flower. So he came back home, and he saw on his way a splendid lofty palace with watchtowers, turrets, and a garden. He went a walk in the garden, and you cannot imagine how many trees he saw and flowers, every flower fairer than the other flowers. And then he looked and he saw a single one like the one which his daughter had sketched. 'Oh,' he said, 'I will tear off and bring this to my beloved daughter; evidently there is nobody here to watch me.' So he ran up and broke it off, and as soon as he had done it, in that very instant a boisterous wind arose and thunder thundered, and a fearful monster stood in front of him, a formless, winged snake with three heads. 'How dared you play the master in my garden!' cried the snake to the merchant. 'Why have you broken off a blossom?' The merchant was frightened, fell on his knees and besought pardon. 'Very well,' said the snake, 'I will forgive you, but on condition that whoever meets you first, when you reach home, you must give me for all eternity; and, if you deceive me, do not forget, nobody can ever hide himself from me. I shall find you wherever you are.' The merchant agreed to the condition and came back home. And the youngest daughter saw him from the window and ran out to meet him. Then the merchant hung his head, looked at his beloved daughter, and began to shed bitter tears. 'What is the matter with you? Why are you weeping, bátyushka?' He gave her the blossom and told what had befallen him. 'Do not grieve, bátyushka ,' said the youngest daughter. 'It is God's gift. Perhaps I shall fare well. Take me to the snake.' So the father took her away, set her in the palace, bade farewell, and set out home. Then the fair maiden, the daughter of the merchant, went in the different rooms, and beheld everywhere gold and velvet; but no one was there to be seen, not a single human soul. Time went by and went by, and the fair damsel became hungry and thought, 'Oh, if I could only have something to eat!' But before ever she had thought, in front of her stood a table, and on the table were dishes and drinks and refreshments. The only thing that was not there was birds' milk. Then she sat down to the table, drank and ate, got up, and it had all vanished. Darkness now came on, and the merchant's daughter went into the bedroom, wishing to lie down and sleep. Then a boisterous wind rustled round and the three- headed snake appeared in front of her. 'Hail, fair maiden! Put my bed outside this door!' So the fair maiden put the bed outside the door and herself lay on the bedstead. She awoke in the morning, and again in the entire house there was not a single soul to be seen. And it all went well with her. Whatever she wished for appeared on the spot. In the evening the snake flew to her and ordered, 'Now, fair maiden, put my bed next to your bedstead.' She then laid it next to her bedstead, and the night went by, and the maiden awoke, and again there was never a soul in the palace. And for the third time the snake came in the evening and said, 'Now, fair maiden, I am going to lie with you in the bedstead.' The merchant's daughter was fearfully afraid of lying on a single bed with such a formless monster. But she could not help herself, so she strengthened her heart and lay down with him. In the morning the serpent said to her, 'If you are now weary, fair maiden, go to your father and your sisters. Spend a day with them, and in the evening come back to me. But see to it that you are not late. If you are one single minute late I shall die of grief.' 'No, I shall not be late,' said the maiden, the merchant's daughter, and descended the steps; there was a barouche ready for her, and she sat down. That very instant she arrived at her father's courtyard. Then the father saw, welcomed, kissed her, and asked her, 'How has God been dealing with you, my beloved daughter ? Has it been well with you?' 'Very well, father!' And she started telling of all the wealth there was in the palace, how the snake loved her, how whatever she only thought of was in that instant fulfilled. The sisters heard, and did not know what to do out of sheer envy. Now the day was ebbing away, and the fair maiden made ready to go back, and was bidding farewell to her father and her sisters, saying, 'This is the time I must go back. I was bidden keep to my term.' But the envious sisters rubbed onions on their eyes and made as though they were weeping: 'Do not go away, sister; stay until tomorrow.' She was very sorry for her sisters, and stayed one day more. In the morning she bade farewell to them all and went to the palace. When she arrived it was as empty as before. She went into the garden, and she saw the serpent lying dead in the pond! He had thrown himself for sheer grief into the water. 'Oh, my God, what have I done!' cried out the fair maiden, and she wept bitter tears, ran. up to the pond, hauled the snake out of the water, embraced one head and kissed it with all her might. And the snake trembled, and in a minute turned into a good youth. 'I thank you, fair maiden,' he said. 'You have saved me from the greatest misfortune. I am no snake, but an enchanted prince.' Then they went back to the merchant's house, were betrothed, lived long, and lived for good and happy things. Folk-Tales (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916), pp. 283-86. (1826-1871). | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Fairy Serpent | China Additional tales about animal brides and bridegrooms | Fielde's source: 'These tales have been heard or overheard by the writer, as they were told in the Swatow vernacular, by persons who could not read.' | Adele M. Fielde, Chinese Nights Entertainment (New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1893), pp. 45-41. | Once there was a man who had three daughters, of whom he was devotedly fond. They were skilful in embroidery; and he used every day on his way home from work to gather some flowers for them to use as patterns. One day when he found no flowers along his route homeward he went into the woods to look for wild blossoms, and he unwittingly invaded the domain of a fairy serpent, that coiled around him, held him tightly, and railed at him for having entered his garden. The man excused himself, saying that he came merely to get a few flowers for his daughters, who would be sorely disappointed were he to go home without his usual gift to them. The snake asked him the number, the names, and the ages of his daughters, and then refused to let him go unless he promised one of them in marriage to him. The poor man tried every argument he could think of to induce the snake to release him upon easier terms, but the reptile would accept no other ransom. At last the father, dreading greater evil to his daughters should they be deprived of his protection, gave the required promise and went home. He could eat no supper, however, for he knew the power of fairies to afflict those who offend them, and he was full of anxiety concerning the misfortunes that must overwhelm his whole family should the compact be disregarded. Some days passed; his daughters carefully prepared his meals, and affectionately besought him to eat them, but he would not come to the table. He was always plunged in sorrowful meditation. They conferred among themselves as to the cause of his uncommon behavior, and, having decided that one of them must have displeased him, they agreed to try to find out which one it might be, by going separately, each in turn, to urge him to eat. The eldest went, expressed her distress at his loss of appetite, and urged him to partake of food. He replied that he would do so if she would for his sake marry the snake to whom he had promised a wife. She bluntly refused to carry out her father's contract, and left him in deeper trouble than before. The second daughter then went to beg him to take food, received the same reply, and likewise declined meeting the engagement he had made. The youngest daughter then went and entreated him to eat, heard his story, and at once declared that, if he would care for his own health properly, she would become the bride of the serpent. The father therefore took his meals again, the days sped without bringing calamity, and the welfare of the family for a time seemed secure. But one morning, as the girls were sitting at their embroidery, a wasp flew into the room and sang: 'Buzz! I buzz and come the faster; Who will wed the snake, my master? Whenever the wasp alighted the girls prodded him with their needles, and followed him up so closely that he had to flee for his life. The next morning two wasps came, singing the same refrain; the third morning three wasps came; and the number of wasps increased day by day, until the girls could no longer put them to rout, nor endure their stings. Then the youngest said that, in order to relieve the family of the buzzing plague, she would go to her uncanny bridegroom. The wasps accompanied her on the road, and guided her into the woods where the fairy serpent awaited her in a palace that he had built for her reception. There were spacious rooms with carved furniture inlaid with precious stones, chests full of silken fabrics, caskets of jade, and jewels of gold. The snake had beautiful eyes and a musical voice; but his skin was warty, and the girl shuddered at the thought of daily seeing him about. After the wedding supper, at which the two sat alone, the girl told her spouse that she appreciated the excellence of all that he had provided for her, and that she should perform all her domestic duties exactly. For many days she kept the house neat, cooked the food, and made all things pleasant for her repulsive bridegroom. He doted upon her, and pined whenever she was out of his sight. So heedful was he of her wishes and her welfare, that she grew to like his companionship, and to feel a great lonesomeness whenever he was absent. Having no help in her household work, she was, one day, on finding the well dried up, obliged to go into the forest in search of water, which she finally discovered and toilsomely brought back from a distant spring. On returning she found the snake dying of thirst, and in her eagerness to save his life she grasped and plunged him into the water, from which he rose transformed, a strong and handsome man. He had been the subject of wicked enchantment, from which her dutiful quest and gracious pity set him free. Thereafter she often with her admirable husband visited her old home and carried gifts to those who were less happy than she. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Little Nut Twig | Germany | Ludwig Bechstein (1801-1860) was Germany's most widely read collector and editor of folktales during the nineteenth century, his popularity within Germany at that time surpassing that of his more scholarly contemporaries, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. | Ludwig Bechstein, 'Das Nusszweiglein,' Deutsches Märchenbuch, 5th edition (Leipzig: Verlag von Georg Wigand, 1847), pp. 81-85. | Once upon a time there was a rich merchant whose business required him to travel abroad. Taking leave, he said to his three daughters, 'Dear daughters, I would like to have something nice for you when I return. What should I bring home for you?' The oldest one said, 'Father dear, a beautiful pearl necklace for me!' The second one said, 'I would like a finger ring with a diamond stone.' The youngest one cuddled up to her father and whispered, 'Daddy, a pretty green nut twig for me.' 'Good, my dear daughters,' said the merchant, 'I will remember. Farewell.' The merchant traveled far and purchased many goods, but he also faithfully remembered his daughters' wishes. To please his eldest he had packed a costly pearl necklace into his baggage, and he had also purchased an equally valuable diamond ring for the middle daughter. But, however much he tried, he could not find a green nut twig. For this reason he went on foot a good distance on his homeward journey. His way led him in large part through the woods, and he hoped thus finally to find a nut twig. However, he did not succeed, and the good father became very depressed that he had not been able to fulfill the harmless request of his youngest and dearest child. Finally, as he was sadly making his way down a path that led through a dark forest and next to a dense thicket, his hat rubbed against a twig, and it made a sound like hailstones falling on it. Looking up he saw that it was a pretty green nut twig, from which was hanging a cluster of golden nuts. The man was delighted. He reached his hand up and plucked the magnificent twig. But in that same instant, a wild bear shot out from the thicket and stood up on his back paws, growling fiercely, as though he were about to tear the merchant to pieces. With a terrible voice he bellowed, 'Why did you pick my nut twig, you? Why? I will eat you up!' Shaking and trembling with fear the merchant said, 'Dear bear, don't eat me. Let me go on my way with the little nut twig. I'll give you a large ham and many sausages for it!' But the bear bellowed again, 'Keep your ham and your sausages! I will not eat you, only if you will promise to give me the first thing that meets you upon your arrival home.' The merchant gladly agreed to this, for he recalled how his poodle usually ran out to greet him, and he would gladly sacrifice the poodle in order to save his own life. Following a crude handshake the bear lumbered back into the thicket. The merchant, breathing a sigh of relief, went hurriedly and happily on his way. The golden nut twig decorated the merchant's had splendidly as he hurried homeward. Filled with joy, the youngest girl ran to greet her dear father. The poodle followed her with bold leaps. The oldest daughters and the mother were not quite so fast to step out the door and greet home-comer. The merchant was horrified to see that the first one to greet him was his youngest daughter. Concerned and saddened, he withdrew from the happy child's embrace, and -- following the initial greetings -- told them all that had happened with the nut twig. They all cried and were very sad, but the youngest daughter showed the most courage, and she resolved to fulfill her father's promise. The mother soon thought up a good plan. She said, 'Dear ones, let's not be afraid. If the bear should come to hold you to your promise, dear husband, instead of giving him our youngest daughter, let's give him the herdsman's daughter. He will be satisfied with her.' This proposal was accepted. The daughters were happy once again, and they were very pleased with their beautiful presents. The youngest one always kept her nut twig with her, and she soon forgot the bear and her father's promise. But one day a dark carriage rattled through the street and up to the front of the merchant's house. The ugly bear climbed out and walked into the house growling. He went up to the startled man and asked that his promise be fulfilled. Quickly and secretly they fetched the herdsman's daughter, who was very ugly, dressed her in good clothes, and put her in the bear's carriage. The journey began. Once outside the town, the bear laid his wild shaggy head in the shepherd girl's lap and growled, The girl began to do so, but she did not do it the way the bear wanted her to, and he realized that he had been deceived. He was about to eat the disguised shepherd girl, but in her fright she quickly fled from the carriage. Then the bear rode back to the merchant's house and, with terrible threats, demanded the right bride. So the dear maiden had to come forward, and -- following a bitterly sorrowful farewell -- she rode away with the ugly bridegroom. Once outside the town, he laid his coarse head in the girl's lap and growled again, And the girl did just that, and she did it so softly that it pacified him, and his terrible bearish expression became friendly. Gradually the bear's poor bride began to gain some trust toward him. The journey did not last long, for the carriage traveled extremely fast, like a windstorm through the air. They soon came to a very dark forest, and the carriage suddenly stopped in front of a dark and yawning cave. This was where the bear lived. Oh, how the girl trembled! The bear embraced her with his claw-arms and said to her with a friendly growl, 'This is where you will live, my little bride; and you will be happy, as long as you behave yourself here, otherwise my wild animals will tear you apart.' As soon as they had gone a few steps inside the dark cave, he unlocked an iron door and stepped with his bride into a room that was filled with poisonous worms. They hissed at them rapaciously. The bear growled into his little bride's ear, Then the girl did indeed walk through the room without looking around, and all the while not a single worm stirred or moved. And in this manner they went through ten more rooms, and the last one was filled with the most terrible creatures: dragons and snakes, toads swollen with poison, basilisks and lindorms. And in each room the bear growled, The girl trembled and quaked with fear, like the leaves of an aspen, but she remained steadfast and did not look around, neither right nor left. When the door to the twelfth room opened up, a glistening stream of light shone toward the two of them. The most beautiful music sounded from within, and everywhere there were cries of joy. Before the bride could comprehend this -- she was still trembling from seeing such horrible things, and now this surprising loveliness -- there was a terrible clap of thunder, and she thought that earth and heaven were breaking apart. It was soon quiet once again. The forest, the cave, the poisonous animals, and the bear had all disappeared. In their place stood a splendid castle with rooms decorated in gold and with beautifully dressed servants. And the bear had been transformed into a handsome young man. He was the prince of this magnificent castle, and he pressed his little bride to his heart, thanking her a thousand times that she had redeemed him and his servants -- the wild animals -- from their enchantment. She was now a high and wealthy princess, but she always wore the beautiful nut twig on her breast. It never wilted, and she especially liked to wear it, because it had been the key to her good fortune. Her parents and sisters were soon informed of this happy turn of events. The bear prince had them brought to the castle, where they lived in splendid happiness forever after. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Singing Rose | Austria | null | Source: Ignaz and Joseph Zingerle, 'Die singende Rose,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Innsbruck: Verlag der Wagner'schen Buchhandlung, 1852), no. 30, pp. 183-88. | A king had three daughters. They were more beautiful than the young women of today, and each had passed her sixteenth year of life. The king thought about making one of his daughters queen, but he did not know which one he should select over the other two. One day he summoned all three and said to them, 'My dear children, I am now old and frail, and every day is a gift. Before I die, I would like to bring everything in my realm into order and name one of you as the heir to my kingdom. Now go out into the wide world, and the one of you who brings back a singing rose shall inherit my throne, and she shall be queen over the entire land.' When the three daughters had heard this, they tearfully took leave of their old father, then -- trusting their luck -- set forth for foreign lands, each taking a different path. It happened that the youngest and most beautiful of them had to go through a dark pine forest. All kinds of birds were singing at the same time. It was wonderful to listen to them. It began to get dark, the birds flew to their nests, and after a while it became quiet as a mouse. Then suddenly a bright, beautiful, loud tone sounded forth, such as the princess had never heard before, neither from birds nor from humans, and she immediately thought, 'That can only be the singing rose.' She hurried on in the direction that the marvelous sounds seemed to be coming from. She had not walked long before she saw a large, old-fashioned castle on a cliff. She eagerly climbed up to the castle and pulled several times on the latch. Finally the gate opened with a creaking sound, and an old man with a long, ice-gray beard looked out. 'What is your wish?' he grumpily asked the startled maiden. 'I would like a singing rose,' she answered. 'Do you have such a thing in your garden?' 'Yes indeed,' answered the old man. 'What will you take for it, if I could get it from you?' 'You need give me nothing for the singing rose. You can have it today, but as payment, I will come to you in seven years and bring you back with me to this, my castle.' 'Just bring me quickly the valuable flower,' shouted the maiden joyfully, for she was thinking only about the singing rose and the kingdom, but not about what would happen after seven years. The old man went back into the castle, and returned soon with a full, glowing rose. It was singing so beautifully that the maiden's heart jumped for joy. She eagerly reached out her hand for it, and as soon as she had the flower in her hands she ran down the mountain like a deer. The old man called after her with a serious voice, 'I will see you in seven years!' The maiden wandered the entire night through the dark woods with her rose. Her pleasure in the singing flower and the inherited kingdom caused her to forget all fear. The rose sang without pause the entire way; and the louder and more beautifully it sang, the faster the princess hurried on toward her homeland. She arrived home and told her father everything that had happened to her, and the rose sang beautifully. Immeasurable joy ruled in the castle, and the king gave one celebration after the other. Soon the two older sisters returned. They had found nothing, and had had to return home empty handed. And now the youngest daughter, who had brought back the rose, became queen, although the old father continued to rule. The royal family lived beautiful, joyful days. Day after day and year after year slipped by. Finally the seventh year came to an end, and on the first day of the eighth year the old man from the castle appeared before the king and demanded from him the one of his daughter who had brought home the singing rose. The king presented to him his oldest daughter, but the old man rejected her, shaking his head and growling, 'She is not the right one.' When the king saw that he could not get away with deception, he -- with a bleeding heart -- turned over the youngest and dearest of his children. The princess now had to go with the grumbling graybeard to his castle, from which she had once obtained the singing rose. The beautiful maiden was very sad, for she had no one there except for her old master. Day after day she sorrowfully thought about her father and her sisters. In the castle there were other pleasures in abundance, but they did not comfort her, for she did not have the company of her loved ones. Her thoughts were always in her homeland. Further, all the doors and chests in the castle were locked, and the old man did not let her have access to a single key. One day she learned -- God knows from where! -- that her oldest sister was to marry a neighboring prince, and that the wedding would take place in a few days. Disquieted, she went to the old man and asked him for permission to attend her sister's wedding. 'Just go!' growled the old man. 'But I am telling you in advance, do not laugh once during the entire wedding day. If you disobey my order, I will tear you into a thousand pieces. I myself will continually be by your side, and if you as much as open your mouth to laugh, it will be over with you. Take notice!' The princess thought that this would be easy to follow, and on the announced day she appeared with the old graybeard at her sister's wedding. Joy ruled in the king's castle when they saw the long missing queen returning. She was very happy and took advantage of the day, but she did not forget the old man's order, and she did not once open her mouth to laugh. That evening she had to take leave from her loved ones, and she sadly returned to the lonely castle with her companion. Her time of monotony began once again, and the poor princess was always glad when a day finally ended. Then the rumor came to her ears that the other sister would marry soon. This disquieted her again, and she asked the old man if she could not attend her second sister's wedding. 'Just go!' growled the old man.' But this time you are not allowed to speak a single word the entire day. I will go with you again and observe you vigilantly. The princess thought that this would be easy to follow, and on the announced day she appeared with the old graybeard at her sister's wedding. Joy ruled in the king's castle when they saw the long missing queen returning. Everyone ran out to meet her. They greeted her and welcomed her and asked her about everything. But she pretended that she could not talk, and did not allow a single sound to escape from her beautiful lips. But this time she did not keep up her courage as well as she had the last time, and that evening when everyone was talking together until it was humming like a beehive, a little word slipped out. The old man quickly jumped up, took her by the hand, and led her out of the hall and back to his lonely castle. Here the princess had other things in great abundance, but she greatly missed the company of her loved ones, and everything seemed terribly monotonous to her. One day when she was sadly walking through the garden where the rose had previously blossomed and sung, the old man came to her and said with a serious expression, 'Your majesty, if tomorrow while it is striking twelve you will cut off my head in three blows, then everything that you find in the castle will be yours, and you will be free forever!' The princess took heart from the old man's speech and decided to attempt the risky deed. The next day -- it was Saturday -- the old man appeared a little before twelve o'clock and uncovered his neck. She drew the sword that she had hung about her waist, and as the castle clock struck one she swung the sword once, then quickly again two more times. The old man's head rolled away on the floor. But behold! Instead of blood, a key fell from the head. It opened all the chests and doors in the entire castle. There the princess found many, many precious things, and she was rich and free forever. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Small-Tooth Dog | England | null | Sidney Oldall Addy, Household Tales and Other Traditional Remains: Collected in the Counties of York, Lincoln, Derby, and Nottingham (London: David Nutt; Sheffield: Pawson and Brailsford, 1895), no. 1, pp. 1-4. | Once upon a time there was a merchant who traveled about the world a great deal. On one of his journeys thieves attacked him, and they would have taken both his life and his money if a large dog had not come to his rescue and driven the thieves away. When the dog had driven the thieves away he took the merchant to his house, which was a very handsome one, and dressed his wounds and nursed him till he was well. As soon as he was able to travel the merchant began his journey home, but before starting he told the dog how grateful he was for his kindness, and asked him what reward he could offer in return, and he said he would not refuse to give the most precious thing he had. And so the merchant said to the dog, 'Will you accept a fish I have that can speak twelve languages?' 'No,' said the dog, 'I will not.' 'Or a goose that lays golden eggs?' 'No,' said the dog, 'I will not.' 'Or a mirror in which you can see what anybody is thinking about?' 'No,' said the dog, 'I will not.' 'Then what will you have?' said the merchant. 'I will have none of such presents,' said the dog; 'but let me fetch your daughter, and bring her to my house.' When the merchant heard this he was grieved, but what he had promised had to be done, so he said to the dog, 'You can come and fetch my daughter after I have been home for a week.' So at the end of the week, the dog came to the merchant's house to fetch his daughter, but when he got there he stayed outside the door, and would not go in. But the merchant's daughter did as her father told her, and came out of the house dressed for a journey and ready to go with the dog. When the dog saw her he looked pleased, and said, 'Jump on my back, and I will take you away to my house.' So she mounted on the dog's back, and away they went at a great pace, until they reached the dog's house, which was many miles off. But after she had been a month at the dog's house she began to mope and cry. 'What are you crying for?' said the dog. 'Because I want to go back to my father,' she said. The dog said, 'If you will promise me that you will not stay there more than three days I will take you there. But first of all,' said he, 'what do you call me?' 'A great, foul, small-tooth dog,' said she. 'Then,' said he, 'I will not let you go.' But she cried so pitifully that he promised again to take her home. 'But before we start,' he said, 'tell me what you call me.' 'Oh,' she said, 'your name is Sweet-as-a-Honeycomb.' 'Jump on my back,' said he, 'and I'll take you home.' So he trotted away with her on his back for forty miles, when they came to a stile. 'And what do you call me?' said he, before they got over the stile. Thinking she was safe on her way, the girl said, 'A great, foul, small-tooth dog.' But when she said this, he did not jump over the stile, but turned right round again at once, and galloped back to his own house with the girl on his back. Another week went by, and again the girl wept so bitterly that the dog promised to take her to her father's house. So the girl got on the dog's back again, and they reached the first stile, as before, and the dog stopped and said, 'And what do you call me?' 'Sweet-as-a-Honeycomb,' she replied. So the dog leaped over the stile, and they went on for twenty miles until they came to another stile. 'And what do you call me?' said the dog with a wag of his tail. She was thinking more of her father and her own house than of the dog, so she answered, 'A great, foul, small-tooth dog.' Then the dog was in a great rage, and he turned right round about, and galloped back to his own house as before. After she had cried for another week, the dog promised again to take her back to her father's house. So she mounted upon his back once more, and when they got to the first stile, the dog said, 'And what do you call me?' 'Sweet-as-a-Honeycomb,' she said. So the dog jumped over the stile, and away they went -- for now the girl made up her mind to say the most loving things she could think of -- until they reached her father's house. When they got to the door of the merchant's house, the dog said, 'And what do you call me?' Just at that moment the girl forgot the loving things she meant to say and began, 'A great --,' but the dog began to turn, and she got fast hold of the door latch, and was going to say 'foul,' when she saw how grieved the dog looked and remembered how good and patient he had been with her, so she said, 'Sweeter-than-a-Honeycomb.' When she had said this she thought the dog would have been content and have galloped away, but instead of that he suddenly stood upon his hind legs, and with his forelegs he pulled off his dog's head and tossed it high in the air. His hairy coat dropped off, and there stood the handsomest young man in the world, with the finest and smallest teeth you ever saw. Of course they were married, and lived together happily. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Snake-Prince | Greece | null | Lucy M. J. Garnett, Greek Wonder Tales (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1913), , no. 11, pp. 180-88. | Scarlet thread, spun on the wheel, Twisting on the twirling reel, Like the dancers turn and spin, While I now my tale begin! Once upon a time there was a merchant, and he traded 'all the way to Bagdad,' as the saying is. He had twelve ships which sailed to foreign countries, and he had besides three pretty daughters. Well, as time went on, luck turned against the merchant. His wife died; one by one he lost his ships; and every year he became poorer and poorer. At last he had lost all his property with the exception of one farm, and he went to live there with his daughters. As they had now no money to hire laborers, the merchant told the girls that they must set to and work on the farm in order that they might gain a living. 'We cannot do farm work,' replied the two eldest, tossing their heads. 'We are not accustomed to it.' But the youngest, whose name was Rosa, loved her father very dearly; and she at once prepared to do as he wished. So she set to with a will, and digged in the garden, and raked, and planted; and when the fruits and vegetables were grown, she rose early in the morning to gather them for her father to carry to market. Time passed, and after many months tidings came to the merchant that three of his belated ships had come into port laden with costly goods, when he immediately prepared to go to the city. But before mounting his horse, he asked his daughters what each desired as a present. The two eldest begged for fine silken gowns; but when he asked the youngest, she said, 'I want nothing, papa mine, now that I see you released from your poverty.' And when her father pressed her, she said, 'Well, then, papa mine, bring me a rose, a beautiful, sweet-smelling damask rose.' So the merchant set off for the port, and landed his goods. In twelve days' time he had sold them all save the two silken gowns which he had kept for his daughters; but he had found no rose for the youngest. As he was riding home to his farm, it began to rain so heavily that when they came to the open gateway of a house by the wayside, his horse trotted through it into the courtyard. There was no one about, so he put the horse in the stable, and went up to the house. The door stood wide open, so he walked in and sate himself down on a seat in the hall. At once he found by his side coffee and sweetmeats, and a long pipe filled with fragrant tobacco, without his seeing who had brought them. Presently the rain ceased, and the merchant arose and went from chamber to chamber to seek the host and thank him for the shelter and entertainment. Finding no one, however, he was going forth to take his beast from the stable and continue his journey, when, as he crossed the courtyard, he caught sight of a bush of damask roses which had three blossoms on one stem. No sooner, however, had he stretched out his hand and plucked them than there appeared at his feet a snake, who said, 'Ah, thankless man! After I have opened my doors to save thee from the storm, canst not see a rose or two without desiring and plucking them?' 'I sought through the chambers to find the host and say a 'Thank you' to him, but found him not,' the merchant replied. 'Listen to me,' then said the snake. 'Thou hast three daughters, and thou must bring me the youngest. Think not to thyself that I am only a snake, and cannot come and find thee if thou dost not my bidding.' The poor man asked how many days' grace he would give him; and he granted him forty days. At last he got home to his house; his daughters gathered round him; and when the two eldest had got their gowns he gave the roses to the youngest, and then sat down weeping. 'What is the matter, papa mine, that you weep?' she asked, anxiously. Then, as the merchant related his adventure, Rosa's sisters began to reproach her, and point their fingers at her, saying, 'Wretched girl that thou art! A gown was not good enough for thee, but thou must have a damask rose, forsooth, that the snake might come and destroy us!' When her father had also told them of the forty days' grace, Rosa went to her chamber and wrote down the date; and she did not seem at all troubled, though her sisters were continually reproaching her. On the thirty-eighth day she went to her father and said, 'Papa mine, saddle now the horse so that we may go where I am invited.' 'Can I take thee, my darling child, to the snake who will destroy thee?' cried the unhappy man. 'The snake will not destroy me, if I do his bidding,' replied Rosa. 'What ill-will can he have against me? Arise, and let us be gone.' She bade farewell to her sisters; she and her father set out on their journey, and on the fortieth day they arrived at the snake's abode. The gate was open, as before, and when the merchant had stabled his horse he led his daughter into the house, and they sate them down. Soon came coffee and sweets, as before, without anyone being seen; and in a little while the snake appeared and said to the merchant, 'So thou hast done my bidding and brought thy daughter?' 'Yea, I have brought her, as I promised,' he replied; and when he had kissed and embraced his daughter, he mounted his horse and rode home again. But in a few days he fell ill with grief and took to his bed. So the poor girl was left alone with the snake. And it became the snake's custom, every day when she was taking her coffee after dinner, to climb into her lap and ask her, 'Wilt thou take me for thy husband?' And she would reply, 'But I am afraid of thee.' And she was very sad and lonely because her father did not come to see her as he had promised. Well, one day, as she was sitting at the table, it suddenly opened before her and disclosed a mirror in which all the world was reflected; and, when she saw in it her father lying ill in bed, she began to weep and tear her hair. The snake, who was in the garden, hearing her cries and her breast-beatings, hurried to her and asked, 'What ails thee, my Rose?' 'See in the mirror,' she cried, 'how my father lies nigh unto death!' Then said the snake, 'Open the table drawer and thou wilt find a ring. Put it on thy finger, and tell me how many days thou wilt be absent?' 'I will come back,' she replied, 'as soon as my father recovers.' 'Well, I will give thee thirty-one days' leave. If thou come one day later, thou wilt find me dead on some mound in the garden.' 'Do thyself no harm,' said the girl. 'When my leave has expired I will return to thee.' The snake ordered supper to be served, and when she had eaten, he said, 'Put the ring on thy tongue, and thou wilt find thyself at home in thy chamber.' Rosa lay down, put the ring on her tongue, and closed her eyes. Her father's servants, passing the door of her chamber, heard her breathing, and ran to tell their young mistresses, who hastened in and found her asleep on her bed. The maiden awoke, and when she found that she was indeed at home again she praised God. Her father was rejoiced to see his Rosa again, and asked her many questions about her life with the snake. When she told him what the snake had said to her every day at dinner time, and that she had replied, 'But I am afraid of thee,' he said to her, 'My daughter dear, the next time he asks thee that question, do thou answer, 'Yea, I will take thee!' and we shall see what will hap.' And she promised to say this. Her sisters, however, tried to persuade her not to go back, so that the snake might die and they would be rid of him. But Rosa was indignant, and replied, 'How could I leave my beast to die, who have received such help from him?' So she remained with her father, whose joy she was, for as many days as she had leave. Then, bidding him and her sisters farewell, she lay down on her bed, put the ring in her mouth, and went back to the snake. When he saw her, he said, 'Ah, thou hast come back to me, my Rose!' And after dinner, when coffee was served, and he lay in her lap as before and asked, 'Wilt thou take me for thy husband?' she replied, 'Yea, I will take thee!' When she had said these words the snake's skin fell off him, and he became a handsome prince. And the table again opened and all the world was seen therein. Then Rosa asked him what manner of man he was, and how he had become a snake. And he told her how that he had fallen under the spell of an enchantress who had changed him into a snake, and had doomed him to retain that shape until he should find a maiden who would consent to marry him. 'But now,' he said, 'I will return to my kingdom. Thy father and sisters shall be conveyed thither, and then we will hold our wedding.' So they were married, and the prince made his father-in-law his grand vizier. And we will leave them well, and return and find them better -- God be praised! | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | The Summer and Winter Garden | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm | 'The Summer and Winter Garden' was replaced in the Grimms' collection by 'The Singing, Springing Lark,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1814), vol. 2, no. 2. Since 1819 'The Singing, Springing Lark' has carried the KHM number 88. Link to the Grimm brothers' The Singing, Springing Lark. | Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 'Von dem Sommer- und Wintergarten,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1812), vol. 1, no. 68. | A merchant was planning to go to a fair, so he asked his three daughters what he should bring back for them. The oldest one said, 'A beautiful dress.' The second, 'A pair of pretty shoes.' The third, 'A rose.' To find a rose would be difficult, for it was the middle of winter, but because the youngest daughter was the most beautiful, and because she took great pleasure in flowers, the father said that he would do his best to find her one. The merchant was now on his homeward trip. He had a splendid dress for the oldest daughter, a pair of beautiful shoes for the second one, but he had not been able to get a rose for the third one. Whenever he had entered a garden looking for roses, the people just laughed at him, asking him if he believed that roses grew in the snow. He was very sad about this, and as he was thinking about what he might bring his dearest child, he came to a castle. It had an adjoining garden where it was half summer and half winter. On the one side the most beautiful flowers were blossoming -- large and small. On the other side everything was bare and covered with deep snow. The man climbed from his horse. He was overjoyed to see an entire hedge full of roses on the summer side. He approached it, picked one of them, and then rode off. He had already ridden some distance when he heard something running and panting behind him. Turning around, he saw a large black beast, that called out, 'Give me back my rose, or I'll kill you! Give me back my rose, or I'll kill you!' The man said, 'Please let me have the rose. I am supposed to bring one home for my daughter, the most beautiful daughter in the world.' 'For all I care, but then give me your beautiful daughter for a wife!' In order to get rid of the beast, the man said yes, thinking that he would not come to claim her. However, the beast shouted back to him, 'In eight days I will come and get my bride.' So the merchant brought each daughter what she had wanted, and each one was delighted, especially the youngest with her rose. Eight days later the three sisters were sitting together at the table when something came stepping heavily up the stairs to the door. 'Open up! Open up!' it shouted. They opened the door, and were terrified when a large black beast stepped inside. 'Because my bride did not come to me, and the time is up, I will fetch her myself.' With that he went to the youngest daughter and grabbed hold of her. She began to scream, but it did not help. She had to go away with him. And when the father came home, his dearest child had been taken away. The black beast carried the beautiful maiden to his castle where everything was beautiful and wonderful. Musicians were playing there, and below there was the garden, half summer and half winter, and the beast did everything to make her happy, fulfilling even her unspoken desires. They ate together, and she had to scoop up his food for him, for otherwise he would not have eaten. She was dear to the beast, and finally she grew very fond of him. One day she said to him, 'I am afraid, and don't know why. It seems to me that my father or one of my sisters is sick. Couldn't I see them just once?' So the beast led her to a mirror and said, 'Look inside.' She looked into the mirror, and it was as though she were at home. She saw her living room and her father. He really was sick, from a broken heart, because he held himself guilty that his dearest child had been taken away by a wild beast and surely had been eaten up. If he could know how well off she was, then he would not be so sad. She also saw her two sisters sitting on the bed and crying. Her heart was heavy because of all this, and she asked the beast to allow her to go home for a few days. The beast refused for a long time, but she grieved so much that he finally had pity on her and said, 'Go to your father, but promise me that you will be back here in eight days.' She promised, and as she was leaving, he called out again, 'Do not stay longer than eight days.' When she arrived home her father was overjoyed to see her once again, but sickness and grief had already eaten away at his heart so much that he could not regain his health, and within a few days he died. Because of her sadness, she could think of nothing else. Her father was buried, and she went to the funeral. The sisters cried together, and consoled one another, and when her thoughts finally turned to her dear beast, the eight days were long past. She became frightened, and it seemed to her that he too was sick. She set forth immediately and returned to his castle. When she arrived there everything was still and sad inside. The musicians were not playing. Black cloth hung everywhere. The garden was entirely in winter and covered with snow. She looked for the beast, but he was not there. She looked everywhere, but could not find him. Then she was doubly sad, and did not know how to console herself. She sadly went into the garden where she saw a pile of cabbage heads. They were old and rotten, and she pushed them aside. After turning over a few of them she saw her dear beast. He was lying beneath them and was dead. She quickly fetched some water and poured it over him without stopping. Then he jumped up and was instantly transformed into a handsome prince. They got married, and the musicians began to play again, and the summer side of the garden appeared in its splendor, and the black cloth was all ripped down, and together they lived happily ever after. dem Sommer- und Wintergarten,' Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1812), vol. 1, no. 68. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
425C | Zelinda and the Monster | Italy | null | Thomas Frederick Crane, Italian Popular Tales (London: Macmillan and Company, 1885), no. 2, pp. 7-11. | There was once a poor man who had three daughters; and as the youngest was the fairest and most civil, and had the best disposition, her other two sisters envied her with a deadly envy, although her father, on the contrary, loved her dearly. It happened that in a neighboring town, in the month of January, there was a great fair, and that poor man was obliged to go there to lay in the provisions necessary for the support of his family; and before departing he asked his three daughters if they would like some small presents in proportion, you understand, to his means. Rosina wished a dress, Marietta asked him for a shawl, but Zelinda was satisfied with a handsome rose. The poor man set out on his journey early the next day, and when he arrived at the fair quickly bought what he needed, and afterward easily found Rosina's dress and Marietta's shawl; but at that season he could not find a rose for his Zelinda, although he took great pains in looking everywhere for one. However, anxious to please his dear Zelinda, he took the first road he came to, and after journeying a while arrived at a handsome garden enclosed by high walls; but as the gate was partly open he entered softly. He found the garden filled with every kind of flowers and plants, and in a corner was a tall rosebush full of beautiful rosebuds. Wherever he looked no living soul appeared from whom he might ask a rose as a gift or for money, so the poor man, without thinking, stretched out his hand, and picked a rose for his Zelinda. Mercy! Scarcely had he pulled the flower from the stalk when there arose a great noise, and flames darted from the earth, and all at once there appeared a terrible monster with the figure of a dragon, and hissed with all his might, and cried out, enraged at that poor Christian, 'Rash man! what have you done? Now you must die at once, for you have had the audacity to touch and destroy my rosebush.' The poor man, more than half dead with terror, began to weep and beg for mercy on his knees, asking pardon for the fault he had committed, and told why he had picked the rose; and then he added, 'Let me depart; I have a family, and if I am killed they will go to destruction' But the monster, more wicked than ever, responded, 'Listen; one must die. Either bring me the girl that asked for the rose or I will kill you this very moment.' It was impossible to move him by prayers or lamentations; the monster persisted in his decision, and did not let the poor man go until he had sworn to bring him there in the garden his daughter Zelinda. Imagine how downhearted that poor man returned home! He gave his oldest daughters their presents and Zelinda her rose; but his face was distorted and as white as though he had arisen from the dead; so that the girls, in terror, asked him what had happened and whether he had met with any misfortune. They were urgent, and at last the poor man, weeping bitterly, related the misfortunes of that unhappy journey and on what condition he had been able finally to return home. 'In short,' he exclaimed, 'either Zelinda or I must be eaten alive by the monster.' Then the two sisters emptied the vials of their wrath on Zelinda. 'Just see,' they said, 'that affected, capricious girl! She shall go to the monster! She who wanted roses at this season. No, indeed! Papa must stay with us. The stupid creature!' At all these taunts Zelinda, without growing angry, simply said, 'It is right that the one who has caused the misfortune should pay for it. I will go to the monster's. Yes, Papa, take me to the garden, and the Lord's will be done.' The next day Zelinda and her sorrowful father began their journey and at nightfall arrived at the garden gate. When they entered they saw as usual no one, but they beheld a lordly palace all lighted and the doors wide open. When the two travelers entered the vestibule, suddenly four marble statues, with lighted torches in their hands, descended from their pedestals, and accompanied them up the stairs to a large hall where a table was lavishly spread. The travelers, who were very hungry, sat down and began to eat without ceremony; and when they had finished, the same statues conducted them to two handsome chambers for the night. Zelinda and her father were so weary that they slept like dormice all night. At daybreak Zelinda and her father arose, and were served with everything for breakfast by invisible hands. Then they descended to the garden, and began to seek the monster. When they came to the rosebush he appeared in all his frightful ugliness. Zelinda, on seeing him, became pale with fear, and her limbs trembled, but the monster regarded her attentively with his great fiery eyes, and afterward said to the poor man, 'Very well; you have kept your word, and I am satisfied. Now depart and leave me alone here with the young girl.' At this command the old man thought he should die; and Zelinda, too, stood there half stupefied and her eyes full of tears; but entreaties were of no avail; the monster remained as obdurate as a stone, and the poor man was obliged to depart, leaving his dear Zelinda in the monster's power. When the monster was alone with Zelinda he began to caress her, and make loving speeches to her, and managed to appear quite civil. There was no danger of his forgetting her, and he saw that she wanted nothing, and every day, talking with her in the garden, he asked her, 'Do you love me, Zelinda? Will you be my wife?' The young girl always answered him in the same way, 'I like you, sir, but I will never be your wife.' Then the monster appeared very sorrowful, and redoubled his caresses and attentions, and, sighing deeply, said, 'But you see, Zelinda, if you should marry me wonderful things would happen. What they are I cannot tell you until you will be my wife.' Zelinda, although in her heart not dissatisfied with that beautiful place and with being treated like a queen, still did not feel at all like marrying the monster, because he was too ugly and looked like a beast, and always answered his requests in the same manner. One day, however, the monster called Zelinda in haste, and said, 'Listen, Zelinda; if you do not consent to marry me it is fated that your father must die. He is ill and near the end of his life, and you will not be able even to see him again. See whether I am telling you the truth.' And, drawing out an enchanted mirror, the monster showed Zelinda her father on his deathbed. At that spectacle Zelinda, in despair and half mad with grief, cried, 'Oh, save my father, for mercy's sake! Let me be able to embrace him once more before he dies. Yes, yes, I promise you I will be your faithful and constant wife, and that without delay. But save my father from death.' Scarcely had Zelinda uttered these words when suddenly the monster was transformed into a very handsome youth. Zelinda was astounded by this unexpected change, and the young man took her by the hand, and said, 'Know, dear Zelinda, that I am the son of the King of the Oranges. An old witch, touching me, changed me into the terrible monster I was, and condemned me to be hidden in this rosebush until a beautiful girl consented to become my wife.' Popular Tales (London: Macmillan and Company, 1885), no. 2, pp. 7-11. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
207C | Of the Vicissitude of Everything Good, and Especially of a Right Justice (Gestaromanorum) | Gesta Romanorum Application | The Gesta Romanorum (Deeds of the Romans) is a collection of tales compiled about 1300 and intended for the use of Christian preachers. Link to a retold version of this tale: Horace Elisha Scudder, 'The Bell of Justice,' The Book of Legends: Told Over Again (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1899), pp. 16-17. | Gesta Romanorum, translated from the Latin by Charles Swan, revised and corrected by Wynnard Hooper (London: George Bell and Sons, 1906), no. 105, pp. 182-83. | The Emperor Theodosius had the misfortune to lose his sight. He put up a bell in his palace; and the law was, that whoever had any suit to make should pull the string with his own hands. When the bell rang, a judge, appointed to this end, descended and administered justice. It chanced that a serpent made her nest immediately under the bell-rope, and in due time brought forth young. When they were old enough, one day she conducted them forth to enjoy the fresh air beyond the city. Now, while the serpent was absent, a toad entered and occupied her nest. When, therefore, the former returned with her young, she found the toad in possession, and instantly began an attack. But the latter baffled her attempts, and obstinately maintained his station. The serpent, perceiving her inability to eject the intruder, coiled her tail around the bell-rope, and forcibly rang the bell; as though she had said, 'Descend, judge, and give me justice; for the toad has wrongfully seized my nest.' The judge, hearing the bell, descended; but not seeing anyone, returned. The serpent, finding her design abortive, once more sounded the alarm. The judge again appeared, and upon this occasion, seeing the serpent attached to the bell-rope, and the toad in possession of her nest, declared the whole circumstance to the emperor. 'Go down, my lord,' said the latter, 'and not only drive away the toad, but kill him; let the serpent possess her right.' All which was done. On a subsequent day, as the king lay in his bed, the serpent entered the bedchamber carrying a precious stone in her mouth. The servants, perceiving this, informed the emperor, who gave directions that they should not harm it; 'for,' added he, 'it will do me no injury.' The serpent, gliding along, ascended the bed, and approaching the emperor's eyes, let the stone fall upon them, and immediately left the room. No sooner, however, had the stone touched the eyes than their sight was completely restored. Infinitely rejoiced at what had happened, the emperor made inquiry after the serpent, but it was not heard of again. He carefully treasured this invaluable stone, and ended his days in peace. My beloved, the emperor is any worldly-minded man who is blind to spiritual affairs. The bell is the tongue of a preacher; the cord is the Bible. The serpent is a wise confessor, who brings forth young -- that is, good works. But prelates and confessors are often timid and negligent, and follow earthly more than heavenly matters; and then the toad, which is the devil, occupies their place. The serpent carries a stone -- and the confessor the Sacred Writings, which alone are able to give sight to the blind. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
207C | The Bell of Atri (Longfellow) | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 'The Bell of Atri' is 'The Sicilian's Tale' from part two of Tales of a Wayside Inn. Part one of this book was first published in 1863 and part two in 1872. The book follows a storytelling tradition dating back most prominently to Chaucer and Boccaccio in which wayfarers entertain one another by telling tales. Link to additional folklore ballads by Longfellow. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, [1915]), pp. 137-41. | At Atri in Abruzzo, a small town Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, One of those little places that have run Half up the hill, beneath a blazing sun, And then sat down to rest, as if to say, 'I climb no farther upward, come what may,' -- The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame, So many monarchs since have borne the name, Had a great bell hung in the market-place, Beneath a roof, projecting some small space By way of shelter from the sun and rain. Then rode he through the streets with all his train, And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long, Made proclamation, that whenever wrong Was done to any man, he should but ring The great bell in the square, and he, the King, Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon. Such was the proclamation of King John. How swift the happy days in Atri sped, What wrongs were righted, need not here be said. Suffice it that, as all things must decay, The hempen rope at length was worn away, Unraveled at the end, and, strand by strand, Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand, Till one, who noted this in passing by, Mended the rope with braids of briony, So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine Hung like a votive garland at a shrine. By chance it happened that in Atri dwelt A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt, Who loved to hunt the wild-boar in the woods, Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods, Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports And prodigalities of camps and courts; -- Loved, or had loved them; for at last, grown old, His only passion was the love of gold. He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds, Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all, To starve and shiver in a naked stall, And day by day sat brooding in his chair, Devising plans how best to hoard and spare. At length he said: 'What is the use or need To keep at my own cost this lazy steed, Eating his head off in my stables here, When rents are low and provender is dear? Let him go feed upon the public ways; I want him only for the holidays.' So the old steed was turned into the heat; Of the long, lonely, silent, shadeless street; And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn, Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn. One afternoon, as in that sultry clime It is the custom in the summer time, With bolted doors and window-shutters closed, The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed; When suddenly upon their senses fell The loud alarm of the accusing bell! The Syndic started from his deep repose, Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace Went panting forth into the market-place, Where the great bell upon its cross-beams swung, Reiterating with persistent tongue, In half-articulate jargon, the old song: 'Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a wrong!' But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, No shape of human form of woman born, But a poor steed dejected and forlorn, Who with uplifted head and eager eye Was tugging at the vines of briony. 'Domeneddio!' cried the Syndic straight, 'This is the Knight of Atri's steed of state! He calls for justice, being sore distressed, And pleads his cause as loudly as the best.' Meanwhile from street and land a noisy crowd Had rolled together like a summer cloud, And told the story of the wretched beast In five-and-twenty different ways at least, With much gesticulation and appeal To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. The Knight was called and questioned; in reply Did not confess the fact, did not deny; Treated the matter as a pleasant jest, And set at naught the Syndic and the rest, Maintaining, in an angry undertone, That he should do what pleased him with his own. And thereupon the Syndic gravely read The proclamation of the King; then said: 'Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay, But cometh back on foot, and begs its way; Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds, Of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds! These are familiar proverbs; but I fear They never yet have reached your knightly ear. What fair renown, what honor, what repute Can come to you from starving this poor brute? He who serves well and speaks not, merits more Than they who clamor loudest at the door. Therefore the law decrees that as this steed Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take heed To comfort his old age, and to provide Shelter in stall, and food and field beside.' The Knight withdrew abashed; the people all Led home the steed in triumph to his stall. The King heard and approved, and laughed in glee, And cried aloud: 'Right well it pleaseth me! Church-bells at best but ring us to the door; But go not in to mass; my bell doth more: It cometh into court and pleads the cause Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws; And this shall make, in every Christian clime, The Bell of Atri famous for all time.' | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
207C | The Dumb Plaintiff (Eckhardtsberg) | Germany | null | H. A. Guerber Legends of the Rhine, 3rd ed. (New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1899), pp. 308-309. | The story of 'The Bell of Atri,' which Longfellow has so charmingly told in his Tales of a Wayside Inn, is said to have originated in Eckhardtsberg near Breisach. In early days, when the ruins now crowning the hill were part of a strong fortress, the lord of Eckhardtsberg, wishing to render justice to all men, placed a bell in his tower. He fastened to it a long piece of rope which hung outside the gate, within easy reach of every hand, and bade all those who wished redress to ring it loudly, promising to grant them an immediate hearing. One day the bell pealed loudly, and when in answer to its call the lord of Eckhardtsberg, followed by all his retainers, came out to hear the complaint, he was surprised to find a poor old horse, which, urged by hunger, was trying to chew the end of the hempen rope. One of the bystanders immediately recognized the horse as belonging to a neighboring knight. For many a year the horse had been his favorite steed, had borne him safely through many a fight, but now that it was old and useless the cruel master had turned it out to seek pasture along the highway, where it found but scant subsistence. The lord of Eckhardtsberg, seeing the animal's sorry plight, and hearing how faithfully it had served its master in the days of its youth, declared that in return for its former services it should now be treated with respect, and condemned the unfeeling, avaricious owner to give it a place in his stable and plenty of food as long as it lived. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
207C | The Emperor Charlemagne and the Serpent (Zurich) | Switzerland | Guerber's probably source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 'Der Kaiser und die Schlange,' Deutsche Sagen, vol. 2 (Berlin: In der Nicolaischen Buchhandlung, 1818), no. 453, pp. 130-32. In later editions this legend is given the number 459. | H. A. Guerber Legends of Switzerland (New York: Dodd, Mean, and Company, 1905), pp. 248-52. | Zürich, the old Roman Turicum, on either side of the Limmat at the point where it flows out of the green-hued lake, is the capital of the canton of the same name, and noted alike for the beauty of its situation and for its famous university. In the days of the early Christian persecution, Felix and Regula, the patron saints of Zürich, were beheaded near this town. Strange to relate, though, immediately after the execution, both martyrs picked up their severed heads, tucked them under their arms, and stalked off to the spot where the minster now stands, where they wound up their marvelous performances by burying themselves comfortably! On the spot where they suffered martyrdom Charlemagne erected a memorial pillar, above which he hung a bell, saying that it could be rung by anyone who had been wronged, and that they should receive immediate justice. During one of his visits to Zürich, Charlemagne took up his abode in the Choristers' House, and while he sat there at table one day he suddenly heard a loud peal from the bell of justice. He immediately dispatched a servant to see what wrong had been done, and was greatly annoyed when the man reported that careful search had failed to reveal the presence of any living creature. A few moments later the bell rang again, but when the servant once more announced that no one was there, the emperor bade his guards hide near the pillar, and seize the miscreant who dared to pull the bell of justice in mere fun. Before long the bell sounded a third time, and a few moments later the guards rushed into the emperor's presence with faces blanched with fear, to report that a snake had coiled itself around the pillar, and seizing the rope in its teeth, tugged until the bell rang forth loud and clear. The emperor immediately rose from table, saying he must see this phenomenon with his own eyes, and followed by all his court went down to the pillar. As he drew near, the snake came forward to meet him, and rising upon its coiled tail, bowed low before the monarch in evident recognition of his exalted station. Then, dropping down to the earth once more, it crept away, turning from time to time, and making signs as if to invite the emperor to follow. The serpent's actions were so eloquent that Charlemagne, understanding them, obediently followed it down to the edge of the water, where, parting the reeds, the snake showed him its nest, in which sat an enormous toad. Charlemagne now bade his guards seize and kill the intruder, and when the snake had bowed its thanks and contentedly coiled itself around its eggs, he went back to his interrupted meal, loudly praising the bell by means of which even dumb animals could appeal for justice. The next day, while the emperor again sat at dinner, the guards rushed in breathlessly to announce the coming of the strange snake. Charlemagne quickly bade them stand aside and not try to hinder the reptile, which now crawled into the room where he sat, climbed upon the table, did obeisance to the emperor, and delicately lifting the cover of his drinking cup, dropped into it a jewel of fabulous price. Then, replacing the cover of the vessel, the snake bowed low again, and creeping down, left the cloister to return to its nest by the lake. According to one version of this legend, Charlemagne set this precious stone in a ring which he gave to his wife, Frastrada. Unknown to him, however, the stone had the magic power of fixing his affections upon its wearer. When the queen, therefore, thought she was about to die, she slipped the ring into her mouth to prevent its falling into the hands of some rival. For eighteen years Charlemagne refused to part with his wife's body, and carried it with him wherever he went. But at the end of that time his minister Turpin discovered the secret of his infatuation, and obtaining possession of the magic stone, soon saw all Charlemagne's affections fixed upon him. As the emperor's devotion proved somewhat of a bore to the old minister, he tried to get rid of the spell by casting the ring into the mineral springs at Aix-la-Chapelle. While out hunting the next day, Charlemagne urged his steed to drink of that water, and when the animal hastily withdrew its foot and refused to approach the pool again, the emperor dismounted to investigate the cause. Touching the imprint of the horse's hoof, Charlemagne discovered that the mud was very warm, for he was near the hottest of these thermal springs. While resting near that pool, he was seized with such an affection for the spot that he soon founded there his capital of Aix-la-Chapelle. In memory of the horse which guided him hither, the Cathedral was built in the shape of a horseshoe, and as Charlemagne could not endure the thought of ever leaving this enchanted neighborhood, he left orders to bury him in the minster of Aix-la-Chapelle. On the spot where Charlemagne's famous bell once hung, at Zurich, stands the Wasserkirche, which now contains a large library with valuable and interesting manuscripts. Charlemagne's great-grandson Louis II. often visited Zürich, where his two pious daughters induced him to build a convent and the Frauenmünster. It is said that the place for these buildings was staked out by angel hands, and that the stakes were connected by a silken string of the finest make. This rope was hung above the altar of the new church, where it remained until the Reformation. It was then removed with many other relics, and served for years as ordinary bell-rope in a private house. The king's daughters, who both became abbesses, long dwelt at Baldern Castle, whence, however, they went down to the Frauenmünster whenever the bell rang for prayers. They even attended the midnight services there, and when it was very dark a stately stag invariably walked before them carrying a flaming torch between its antlers. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
150 | Of Hearing Good Counsel | Gesta Romanorum | null | Gesta Romanorum, translated by Charles Swan (London: George Bell and Sons, 1877), no. 167, pp. 318-319. | An archer, catching a little bird called a nightingale, was about to put her to death. But, being gifted with language, she said to him, 'What will it advantage you to kill me? I cannot satisfy your appetite. Let me go, and I will give you three rules, from which you will derive great benefit, if you follow them accurately.' Astonished at hearing the bird speak, he promised her liberty on the conditions she had stated. 'Hear, then,' said she. 'Never attempt impossibilities. Secondly, do not lament an irrecoverable loss. Thirdly, do not credit things that are incredible. If you keep these three maxims with wisdom, they will infinitely profit you.' The man, faithful to his promise, let the bird escape. Winging her flight through the air, she commenced a most exquisite song, and, having finished, said to the archer, 'You are a silly fellow, and have today lost a great treasure. There is in my bowels a pearl bigger than the egg of an ostrich.' Full of vexation at her escape, he immediately spread his nets and endeavored to take her a second time, but she eluded his art. 'Come into my house, sweet bird,' said he, 'and I will show you every kindness. I will feed you with my own hands, and permit you to fly abroad at pleasure.' The nightingale answered, 'Now I am certain you are a fool, and pay no regard to the counsel I gave you: 'Regret not what is irrecoverable.' You cannot take me again, yet you have spread your snares for that purpose. Moreover, you believe that my bowels contain a pearl larger than the egg of an ostrich, when I myself am nothing near that size! You are a fool, and a fool you will always remain.' With this consolatory assurance she flew away. The man returned sorrowfully to his own house, but never again obtained a sight of the nightingale. Application: My beloved, the archer is any Christian. The nightingale is Christ, and man attempts to kill him as often as he sins. George Bell and Sons, 1877), no. 167, pp. 318-319. The Gesta Romanorum or 'Deeds of the Romans' is a collection of some 283 legends and fables. Created as a collection ca. 1330 in England, it served as a source of stories and plots for many of Europe's greatest writers. The anonymous collectors and editors, most likely monks, concluded each tale with a so-called 'application,' thus attempting to place each story within Christian moral context. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
150 | The Three Proverbs | Poland | null | Otto Knoop, 'Die drei Sprüche,' Ostmärkische Sagen, Märchen und Erzählungen (Lissa: Oskar Eulitz' Verlag, 1909), no. 72, pp. 147-149. | A rich man was once walking about in his garden. He was cheerful and happy. Suddenly he noticed a small bird that had been captured in a small net. He took hold of it and was more than a little surprised when it began to speak, saying, 'Give me my freedom, dear man! Of what use is it to you to lock me in a cage? Looking at me will not please you, for I do not have beautiful feathers. I cannot entertain you, for I do not sing like other birds. And I cannot provide you with nourishment. I am much too small for that. But I will tell you three wise teachings if you will give my freedom.' The master of the garden looked at the little creature and said, 'If you do not sing then of course you cannot entertain me. Let me hear your wisdom, and if it teaches me anything, I will give you your freedom.' Then the little bird said, 'First: Do not grieve over things that have already happened. Second: Do not wish for that which is unattainable. Third: Do not believe in that which cannot be possible.' Then the master of the garden said, 'You have indeed taught me something. I will give you your freedom.' Letting the bird fly away, he thought seriously about its words. Then he heard it laughing quietly. Its voice came from a tree where the bird was sitting. 'Why are you laughing so cheerfully?' shouted the man. 'About my easily won freedom,' answered the bird, 'and more than that, about the foolishness of humans who believe they are smarter than all other creatures. If you had been smarter, only just as smart as I am, then you would now be the richest man.' 'How would that have been possible?' asked the master of the garden. The bird replied, 'If, instead of giving me my freedom, you had kept me, for in my body I have a diamond the size of a hen's egg.' The man stood there as though he were petrified. After recovering from the surprise, he began to speak, 'You think that you are happy because I gave you your freedom. But summer will soon be over and winter with its storms will arrive. The brooks will freeze over, and you will not be able to find a single drop of water to quench your thirst. The fields will be covered with snow, and you will not find anything to eat. But I will give you a warm place where you can freely fly around, and you can have as much water and bread as you want. Come down, and I will show you that you are better off with me than with your freedom.' Thus spoke the master of the garden, but the little bird laughed louder than before, making the man even angrier. 'You are still laughing?' asked the man. 'Of course,' replied the bird. 'See, you gave me my freedom on account of the teachings that I gave you, and now you are so foolish that you do not take the teachings to heart. I earned my freedom fairly, but you forgot my teachings after only a few minutes. You should not grieve over things that have already happened, but still you are grieving that you gave me my freedom. You should not wish for things that you cannot obtain, and yet you want me, for whom freedom is my whole life, to voluntarily enter a prison. You should not believe that which is impossible, and yet you believe that I am carrying about inside my body a diamond as large as a hen's egg, although I myself am only half the size of a hen's egg.' And with that the bird flew away. Sagen, Märchen und Erzählungen (Lissa: Oskar Eulitz' Verlag, 1909), no. 72, pp. 147-149. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
850 | The Emperor's Daughter and the Swineherd | Slavic | null | Source (books.google.com): Friedrich S. Krauss, Sagen und Märchern der Südslaven: Zum groÃen Teil aus ungedruckten Quellen, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm Friedrich, 1884), no. 131, pp. 302-306. Source (Internet Archive): Friedrich S. Krauss, Sagen und Märchern der Südslaven: Zum groÃen Teil aus ungedruckten Quellen, vol. 2 (Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm Friedrich, 1884), no. 131, pp. 302-306. | Once upon a time there was an emperor who had a daughter with three birthmarks on her body: on her forehead one shaped like a star, on her bosom one shaped like the sun, and on her knee one shaped like the moon. When she reached the age of marriage she said to her father that she would marry only the man who could guess what her birthmarks were, be he the poorest man in the world, even a beggar. If he could guess her birthmarks, she would marry him. This proclamation was made to the whole world, and many emperors and kings sought her hand, but none could guess what the birthmarks were. One day she was walking with her maidens-in-waiting when they met a poor lad who was tending a sow with three suckling piglets. Seeing the cute piglets, she stepped aside from the other maidens and approached the swineherd, who was standing near the sow, and asked him, 'Would you give me one of the sow's piglets?' 'Yes, and as payment you will only have to loosen your veil so I can see your face.' Suspecting nothing, the emperor's daughter uncovered her face, and the swineherd saw the birthmark on her forehead. He then caught a piglet and handed it to her. She returned home happily, accompanied by the other maidens. When in the evening the swineherd drove the sow with two piglets home, his father accosted him with curse words: 'Where is the other piglet? Damn you!' Not wanting to admit what had happened, he said that he had taken a nap and that the piglet had disappeared while he was asleep. Meanwhile the emperor's daughter showed the piglet that she had won to her father and mother, and it was so cute that they both fell in love with it immediately. They told their daughter that it would be good if she could get another one, to which she answered that the swineherd had two more. Thus the next day she again went out with her maidens-in-waiting, found the swineherd, and asked for another piglet. The lad agreed, on the condition that she would let him see her bosom. She immediately undid her bodice, and after he had seen the birthmark on her breast he gave her the second piglet. The delighted princess hurried home with the piglet, and the swineherd returned to his home with the sow and only one piglet. His father scolded him even more severely than before. On the third day the princess went out once again and asked the swineherd for the third piglet. He promised it to her if she would uncover her legs and let him see her knees. This she did, and after seeing the birthmark he gave her the third piglet. Then she returned to her home, and he to his; and his parents scolded him all the more severely. Some time later the lad asked his mother to bake a flatbread, roast a chicken, fill a bottle with wine, and prepare a bunch of basil for him. She did this, then put it all into a knapsack. He threw the knapsack over his shoulders and went on his way, saying to his mother as he left, 'Mother, I'm going to the emperor's daughter to guess her birthmarks. Perhaps I'll be lucky, and with God's help will guess them.' His mother replied, 'Oh, my child, we will never be so lucky!' To which he said, 'I have hope, if God is willing.' Thus he made his way to the emperor's court, where a Turk had arrived, also wanting to guess the princess's birthmarks. Both were taken before the princess, and the Turk said to the swineherd, 'My friend, you speak first. I already know what I am going to say.' With this the lad began: 'Maiden, do you have a star on your forehead?' These words had barely escaped his lips when the Turk said, 'My goodness, we have the same thoughts!' The maiden took off her veil and said to the lad, 'You guessed right. Continue. What kind of birthmark do I have on my breast?' The youth answered: 'A sun.' And the Turk interrupted, 'So help me, I was about to say the same thing.' The maiden uncovered her breast and said to the youth, 'You were right on that one as well. Now tell me, what do I have on my knee?' The youth: 'A moon.' The Turk: 'By my holy faith, what will we do now? I knew that as well.' Thus there was confusion as to who should get the maiden. She, of course preferred the Turk, who was a handsome, well-dressed young man, whereas the swineherd was standing there in tattered clothes. Finally it was decided that the two of them should spend the night with the maiden. Whoever she was facing the next morning would be the winner. That evening they all went to bed, and the maiden turned to face the Turk. Then the swineherd got up and went outside. The princess said to the Turk, 'Follow him, and whatever he does, you should do as well.' Once outside, the swineherd squatted down in the dark, took the flatbread, the roasted chicken, and the wine out of his knapsack, then began to eat and drink. In the darkness, the Turk thought that he saw the swineherd doing that which even the emperor has to get out his saddle to do, so he too squatted down and strained until he had relieved himself. Meanwhile the Turk noticed that the swineherd was eating something, and thinking that he was eating his own dung, the Turk began to eat what he himself had just left on the ground. After eating all he wanted, the swineherd rubbed the basil over his face. Thinking that the swineherd was rubbing filth on his face, the Turk did the same thing with rest of his own dung. With this the two of them returned to the princess: one at her one side, the other at her other side. Once again the maiden turned to face the Turk, but unable to stand the stink of the dung, she immediately turned toward the swineherd, who smelled like basil. When they looked in on her in the morning she was still facing him. The swineherd remained at court as the emperor's son-in-law. He sent for his father and mother, and they all lived there happily until they died. | Ashliman's Folktexts | 2021-03-10 |
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