FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[224]The adjectivelikhoihas two opposite meanings, sometimes signifying what is evil, hurtful, malicious, &c., sometimes what is bold, vigorous, and therefore to be admired. As a substantive,likhoconveys the idea of something malevolent or unfortunate. The Polishlichoproperly signifiesuneven. But odd numbers are sometimes considered unlucky. Polish housewives, for instance, think it imprudent to allow their hens to sit on an uneven number of eggs. But the peasantry also describe byLichoan evil spirit, a sort of devil. (Wojcicki in the “Encyklopedyja Powszechna,” xvii. p. 17.) “When Likho sleeps, awake it not,” says a proverb common to Poland and South Russia.[225]Afanasief, iii. No. 14. From the Voroneje Government.[226]From an article by Borovikovsky in the “Otech. Zap.” 1840, No. 2.[227]“Les Avadânas,” vol. i. No. 9, p. 51.[228]In the “Philogische und historische Abhandlungen,” of the Berlin Academy of Sciences for 1857, pp. 1-30. See also Buslaef, “Ist. Och.,” i. 327-331.; Campbell’s “West Highland Tales,” i. p. 132, &c.[229]Ednookie(ednoorodno= one;oko= eye). A Slavonic equivalent of the name “Arimaspians,” from the Scythicarima= one andspû= eye. Mr. Rawlinson associatesarima, throughfarima, with Goth.fruma, Lat.primus, &c., andspûwith Lat. rootspicorspec—inspecio,specto, &c., and with our “spy,” &c.[230]Grimm, No. 130, &c.[231]Afanasief, vi. No. 55.[232]See the “Songs of the Russian People,” p. 30.[233]Afanasief, v. No. 34. From the Novgorod Government.[234]Opokhmyelit’sya: “to drink off the effects of his debauch.”[235]Erlenvein, No. 21.[236]Our “Sunday gown.”[237]Afanasief, viii. p. 408.[238]Properly speaking “grief,” that which morallykrushìtor crushes a man.[239]Kruchìna, as an abstract idea, is of the feminine gender. But it is here personified as a male being.[240]Afanasief, v. p. 237.[241]Spasibois the word in popular use as an expression of thanks, and it now means nothing more than “thank you!” But it is really a contraction ofspasi Bog!“God save (you)!” as our “Good-bye!” is of “God be with you!”[242]Maksimovich, “Tri Skazki” (quoted by Afanasief, viii. p. 406).[243]Vuk Karajich, No. 13.[244]Afanasief, viii. No. 21.[245]SchastieandNeschastie—Luck and Bad-luck—the exact counterparts of the Indian Lakshmí and Alakshmí.[246]Afanasief, iii. No. 9.[247]Afanasief viii. pp. 32-4.[248]Bezdolny(bez= without;dolya= lot, share, etc.).[249]Everyone knows how frequent are the allusions to good and bad fortune in Oriental fiction, so that there is no occasion to do more than allude to the stories in which they occur—one of the most interesting of which is that of Víra-vara in the “Hitopadesa” (chap. iii. Fable 9), who finds one night a young and beautiful woman, richly decked with jewels, weeping outside the city in which dwells his royal master Sudraka, and asks her who she is, and why she weeps. To which (in Mr. Johnson’s translation) she replies “I am the Fortune of this King Sudraka, beneath the shadow of whose arm I have long reposed very happily. Through the fault of the queen the king will die on the third day. I shall be without a protector, and shall stay no longer; therefore do I weep.” On the variants of this story, see Benfey’s “Panchatantra,” i. pp. 415-16.[250]Frompyat= five, Friday being the fifth working day. Similarly Tuesday is calledVtornik, fromvtoroi= second; Wednesday isSereda, “the middle;” ThursdayChetverg, fromchetverty= fourth. But Saturday isSubbòta.[251]P.V.S., i. 230. See also Buslaef, “Ist. Och.” pp. 323, 503-4.[252]A tradition of our own relates that the Lords of the Admiralty, wishing to prove the absurdity of the English sailor’s horror of Friday, commenced a ship on a Friday, launched her on a Friday, named her “The Friday,” procured a Captain Friday to command her, and sent her to sea on a Friday, and—she was never heard of again.[253]Afanasief, “Legendui,” No. 13. From the Tambof Government.[254]For an account of various similar superstitions connected with Wednesday and Thursday, see Mannhardt’s “Germanische Mythen,” p. 15, 16, and W. Schmidt’s “Das Jahr und seine Tage,” p. 19.[255]Khudyakof, No. 166. From the Orel Government.[256]Doubtful. The Russian word is “Svarit,” properly “to cook.”[257]Compare the English nursery rhyme addressed to the lady-bird:“Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,Your house is a-fire, your children at home.”[258]Wednesday in this, and Friday in the preceding story, are the exact counterparts of Lithuanian Laumes. According to Schleicher (“Lituanica,” p. 109), Thursday evening is called in LithuaniaLaumiú vákars, the Laume’s Eve. No work ought to be done on a Thursday evening, and it is especially imprudent to spin then. For at night, when the Laumes come, as they are accustomed to do between Thursday evening and Friday morning, they seize any spinning which has been begun, work away at it till cock-crow, and then carry it off. In modern Greece the women attribute all nightly meddling with their spinning to theNeraïdes(the representatives of the Hellenic Nereids. See Bernhard Schmidt’s “Volksleben der Neugriechen,” p. 111). In some respects theNeraïdaclosely resemble theLamia, and both of them have many features in common with theLaume. The latter name (which in Lettish is written Lauma) has never been satisfactorily explained. Can it be connected with the GreekLamiawhich is now written also asΛάμνια,ΛάμναandΛάμνισσα?[259]The wordNedyelyanow means “a week.” But it originally meant Sunday, the non-working day (ne= not,dyelat’= to do or work.) After a time, the name for the first day of the week became transferred to the week itself.[260]That of “Wilisch Witiâsu,” Schott, No. 11.[261]That of “Trandafíru,” Schott, No. 23.[262]J. Wenzig’s “Westslawischer Märchenschatz,” pp. 144-155. According to Wenzig Nedĕlka is “the personified first Sunday after the new moon.” The part here attributed to St. Nedĕlka is played by a Vila in one of the Songs of Montenegro. According to an ancient Indian tradition, the Aswattha-tree “is to be touched only on a Sunday, for on every other day Poverty or Misfortune abides in it: on Sunday it is the residence of Lakshmí” (Good Fortune). H. H. Wilson “Works,” iii. 70.[263]“Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 120-153.[264]Afanasief, vii. No. 33. The name Léshy or Lyeshy is derived fromlyes, a forest.[265]Literally “as alun,” a kind of hawk (falco rusticolus).Lunalso means a greyish light.[266]Ottogo ya i cyed chto chortof dyed.[267]Afanasief,P.V.S.,ii.226.[268]Afanasief, iv. No. 40. From the Tver Government.[269]Translated literally from Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 227.[270]Yastreb = vulture or goshawk[271]Quoted fromBorichefsky(pp. 183-5) by Afanasief.[272]Tereshchenko, v. 43, 44.[273]Literally “Life disgusted them worse than a bitter radish.”[274]Translated literally from Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 230.[275]“Deutsche Mythologie,” 462.[276]Afanasief,loc. cit.p. 231.[277]Afanasief, iv. No. 42. From the Vologda Government.[278]Chelpan, a sort of dough cake, or pie without stuffing.[279]Bogatiris the regular term for a Russian “hero of romance.” Its origin is disputed, but it appears to be of Tartar extraction.[280]Nast, snow that has thawed and frozen again.[281]Suzhenoi-ryazhenoi.[282]Zhenikhi.[283]Sil’no priudaril, mightily smote harder.[284]Okostenyeli, were petrified.[285]Afanasief,P.V.S.i. 318-19.[286]Ibid. i. 312.[287]As with Der Frostige in the German story of “Die sechs Diener,”KM., No. 134, p. 519, and “The Man with the White Hat,” in that of “Sechse kommen durch die ganze Welt,” No. 71, p. 295, and their variants in different lands. See Grimm, iii. p. 122.[288]No. 13, “The Stepmother’s Daughter and the Stepdaughter,” written down in Kazan.[289]This is a thoroughly Buddhistic idea. According to Buddhist belief, the treasure which has belonged to anyone in a former existence may come to him in the shape of a man who, when killed, turns to gold. The first story of the fifth book of the “Panchatantra,” is based upon an idea of this kind. A man is told in a vision to kill a monk. He does so, and the monk becomes a heap of gold. A barber, seeing this, kills several monks, but to no purpose. See Benfey’s Introduction, pp. 477-8.[290]For an account of theovin, and the respect paid to it or to the demons supposed to haunt it see “The Songs of the Russian People,” p. 257.[291]Chudinsky, No. 13. “The Daughter and the Stepdaughter.” From the Nijegorod Government.[292]Vikhr’orVikhor’fromvit’, to whirl or twist.[293]Khudyakof, No. 82. The story ends in the same way as that of Norka. See supra, p.73.[294]Khudyakof, No. 86. Morfei the Cook is merely a development of the magic cudgel which in so many stories (e.g.the sixth of the Calmuck tales) is often exchanged for other treasures by its master, to whom it soon returns—it being itself a degraded form of the hammer of Thor, the lance of Indra, which always came back to the divine hand that had hurled it.[295]Khudyakof, No. 19. The rest of the story is that of “Der Gaudief un sin Meester,” Grimm’sKM.No. 68. (See also vol. iii. p. 118 of that work, where a long list is given of similar stories in various languages.)

[224]The adjectivelikhoihas two opposite meanings, sometimes signifying what is evil, hurtful, malicious, &c., sometimes what is bold, vigorous, and therefore to be admired. As a substantive,likhoconveys the idea of something malevolent or unfortunate. The Polishlichoproperly signifiesuneven. But odd numbers are sometimes considered unlucky. Polish housewives, for instance, think it imprudent to allow their hens to sit on an uneven number of eggs. But the peasantry also describe byLichoan evil spirit, a sort of devil. (Wojcicki in the “Encyklopedyja Powszechna,” xvii. p. 17.) “When Likho sleeps, awake it not,” says a proverb common to Poland and South Russia.

[225]Afanasief, iii. No. 14. From the Voroneje Government.

[226]From an article by Borovikovsky in the “Otech. Zap.” 1840, No. 2.

[227]“Les Avadânas,” vol. i. No. 9, p. 51.

[228]In the “Philogische und historische Abhandlungen,” of the Berlin Academy of Sciences for 1857, pp. 1-30. See also Buslaef, “Ist. Och.,” i. 327-331.; Campbell’s “West Highland Tales,” i. p. 132, &c.

[229]Ednookie(ednoorodno= one;oko= eye). A Slavonic equivalent of the name “Arimaspians,” from the Scythicarima= one andspû= eye. Mr. Rawlinson associatesarima, throughfarima, with Goth.fruma, Lat.primus, &c., andspûwith Lat. rootspicorspec—inspecio,specto, &c., and with our “spy,” &c.

[230]Grimm, No. 130, &c.

[231]Afanasief, vi. No. 55.

[232]See the “Songs of the Russian People,” p. 30.

[233]Afanasief, v. No. 34. From the Novgorod Government.

[234]Opokhmyelit’sya: “to drink off the effects of his debauch.”

[235]Erlenvein, No. 21.

[236]Our “Sunday gown.”

[237]Afanasief, viii. p. 408.

[238]Properly speaking “grief,” that which morallykrushìtor crushes a man.

[239]Kruchìna, as an abstract idea, is of the feminine gender. But it is here personified as a male being.

[240]Afanasief, v. p. 237.

[241]Spasibois the word in popular use as an expression of thanks, and it now means nothing more than “thank you!” But it is really a contraction ofspasi Bog!“God save (you)!” as our “Good-bye!” is of “God be with you!”

[242]Maksimovich, “Tri Skazki” (quoted by Afanasief, viii. p. 406).

[243]Vuk Karajich, No. 13.

[244]Afanasief, viii. No. 21.

[245]SchastieandNeschastie—Luck and Bad-luck—the exact counterparts of the Indian Lakshmí and Alakshmí.

[246]Afanasief, iii. No. 9.

[247]Afanasief viii. pp. 32-4.

[248]Bezdolny(bez= without;dolya= lot, share, etc.).

[249]Everyone knows how frequent are the allusions to good and bad fortune in Oriental fiction, so that there is no occasion to do more than allude to the stories in which they occur—one of the most interesting of which is that of Víra-vara in the “Hitopadesa” (chap. iii. Fable 9), who finds one night a young and beautiful woman, richly decked with jewels, weeping outside the city in which dwells his royal master Sudraka, and asks her who she is, and why she weeps. To which (in Mr. Johnson’s translation) she replies “I am the Fortune of this King Sudraka, beneath the shadow of whose arm I have long reposed very happily. Through the fault of the queen the king will die on the third day. I shall be without a protector, and shall stay no longer; therefore do I weep.” On the variants of this story, see Benfey’s “Panchatantra,” i. pp. 415-16.

[250]Frompyat= five, Friday being the fifth working day. Similarly Tuesday is calledVtornik, fromvtoroi= second; Wednesday isSereda, “the middle;” ThursdayChetverg, fromchetverty= fourth. But Saturday isSubbòta.

[251]P.V.S., i. 230. See also Buslaef, “Ist. Och.” pp. 323, 503-4.

[252]A tradition of our own relates that the Lords of the Admiralty, wishing to prove the absurdity of the English sailor’s horror of Friday, commenced a ship on a Friday, launched her on a Friday, named her “The Friday,” procured a Captain Friday to command her, and sent her to sea on a Friday, and—she was never heard of again.

[253]Afanasief, “Legendui,” No. 13. From the Tambof Government.

[254]For an account of various similar superstitions connected with Wednesday and Thursday, see Mannhardt’s “Germanische Mythen,” p. 15, 16, and W. Schmidt’s “Das Jahr und seine Tage,” p. 19.

[255]Khudyakof, No. 166. From the Orel Government.

[256]Doubtful. The Russian word is “Svarit,” properly “to cook.”

[257]Compare the English nursery rhyme addressed to the lady-bird:“Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,Your house is a-fire, your children at home.”

[257]Compare the English nursery rhyme addressed to the lady-bird:

“Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,Your house is a-fire, your children at home.”

[258]Wednesday in this, and Friday in the preceding story, are the exact counterparts of Lithuanian Laumes. According to Schleicher (“Lituanica,” p. 109), Thursday evening is called in LithuaniaLaumiú vákars, the Laume’s Eve. No work ought to be done on a Thursday evening, and it is especially imprudent to spin then. For at night, when the Laumes come, as they are accustomed to do between Thursday evening and Friday morning, they seize any spinning which has been begun, work away at it till cock-crow, and then carry it off. In modern Greece the women attribute all nightly meddling with their spinning to theNeraïdes(the representatives of the Hellenic Nereids. See Bernhard Schmidt’s “Volksleben der Neugriechen,” p. 111). In some respects theNeraïdaclosely resemble theLamia, and both of them have many features in common with theLaume. The latter name (which in Lettish is written Lauma) has never been satisfactorily explained. Can it be connected with the GreekLamiawhich is now written also asΛάμνια,ΛάμναandΛάμνισσα?

[259]The wordNedyelyanow means “a week.” But it originally meant Sunday, the non-working day (ne= not,dyelat’= to do or work.) After a time, the name for the first day of the week became transferred to the week itself.

[260]That of “Wilisch Witiâsu,” Schott, No. 11.

[261]That of “Trandafíru,” Schott, No. 23.

[262]J. Wenzig’s “Westslawischer Märchenschatz,” pp. 144-155. According to Wenzig Nedĕlka is “the personified first Sunday after the new moon.” The part here attributed to St. Nedĕlka is played by a Vila in one of the Songs of Montenegro. According to an ancient Indian tradition, the Aswattha-tree “is to be touched only on a Sunday, for on every other day Poverty or Misfortune abides in it: on Sunday it is the residence of Lakshmí” (Good Fortune). H. H. Wilson “Works,” iii. 70.

[263]“Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 120-153.

[264]Afanasief, vii. No. 33. The name Léshy or Lyeshy is derived fromlyes, a forest.

[265]Literally “as alun,” a kind of hawk (falco rusticolus).Lunalso means a greyish light.

[266]Ottogo ya i cyed chto chortof dyed.

[267]Afanasief,P.V.S.,ii.226.

[268]Afanasief, iv. No. 40. From the Tver Government.

[269]Translated literally from Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 227.

[270]Yastreb = vulture or goshawk

[271]Quoted fromBorichefsky(pp. 183-5) by Afanasief.

[272]Tereshchenko, v. 43, 44.

[273]Literally “Life disgusted them worse than a bitter radish.”

[274]Translated literally from Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 230.

[275]“Deutsche Mythologie,” 462.

[276]Afanasief,loc. cit.p. 231.

[277]Afanasief, iv. No. 42. From the Vologda Government.

[278]Chelpan, a sort of dough cake, or pie without stuffing.

[279]Bogatiris the regular term for a Russian “hero of romance.” Its origin is disputed, but it appears to be of Tartar extraction.

[280]Nast, snow that has thawed and frozen again.

[281]Suzhenoi-ryazhenoi.

[282]Zhenikhi.

[283]Sil’no priudaril, mightily smote harder.

[284]Okostenyeli, were petrified.

[285]Afanasief,P.V.S.i. 318-19.

[286]Ibid. i. 312.

[287]As with Der Frostige in the German story of “Die sechs Diener,”KM., No. 134, p. 519, and “The Man with the White Hat,” in that of “Sechse kommen durch die ganze Welt,” No. 71, p. 295, and their variants in different lands. See Grimm, iii. p. 122.

[288]No. 13, “The Stepmother’s Daughter and the Stepdaughter,” written down in Kazan.

[289]This is a thoroughly Buddhistic idea. According to Buddhist belief, the treasure which has belonged to anyone in a former existence may come to him in the shape of a man who, when killed, turns to gold. The first story of the fifth book of the “Panchatantra,” is based upon an idea of this kind. A man is told in a vision to kill a monk. He does so, and the monk becomes a heap of gold. A barber, seeing this, kills several monks, but to no purpose. See Benfey’s Introduction, pp. 477-8.

[290]For an account of theovin, and the respect paid to it or to the demons supposed to haunt it see “The Songs of the Russian People,” p. 257.

[291]Chudinsky, No. 13. “The Daughter and the Stepdaughter.” From the Nijegorod Government.

[292]Vikhr’orVikhor’fromvit’, to whirl or twist.

[293]Khudyakof, No. 82. The story ends in the same way as that of Norka. See supra, p.73.

[294]Khudyakof, No. 86. Morfei the Cook is merely a development of the magic cudgel which in so many stories (e.g.the sixth of the Calmuck tales) is often exchanged for other treasures by its master, to whom it soon returns—it being itself a degraded form of the hammer of Thor, the lance of Indra, which always came back to the divine hand that had hurled it.

[295]Khudyakof, No. 19. The rest of the story is that of “Der Gaudief un sin Meester,” Grimm’sKM.No. 68. (See also vol. iii. p. 118 of that work, where a long list is given of similar stories in various languages.)

Most of the magical “properties” of the “skazka-drama,” closely resemble those which have already been rendered familiar to us by well-known folk-tales. Of such as these—of “caps of darkness,” of “seven-leagued boots,” of “magic cudgels,” of “Fortunatus’s purses,” and the like[296]—it is unnecessary, for the present, to say more than that they are of as common occurrence in Slavonic as in other stories. But there are some among them which materially differ from their counterparts in more western lands, and are therefore worthy of special notice. To the latter class belong the Dolls of which mention has already been made, and the Waters of Life and Death of which I am now about to speak.

A Water of Life plays an important part in the folk-tales of every land.[297]When the hero of a “fairy story”has been done to death by evil hands, his resuscitation by means of a healing and vivifying lotion or ointment[298]follows almost as a matter of course. And by common consent the Raven (or some sort of crow) is supposed to know where this invaluable specific is to be found,[299]a knowledge which it shares with various supernatural beings as well as with some human adepts in magic, and sometimes with the Snake. In all these matters the Russian and the Western tales agree, but the Skazka differs from most stories of its kind in this respect, that it almost invariably speaks oftwokinds of magic waters as being employed for the restoration of life. We have already seen in the story of “Marya Morevna,” that one of these, sometimes called themertvaya voda—the “dead water,” or “Water of Death”—when sprinkled over a mutilated corpse, heals all its wounds; while the other, which bears the name of thezhivaya voda,—the “living water,” or “Water of Life”—endows it once more with vitality.

[In a Norse tale in Asbjörnsen’s new series, No. 72, mention is made of a Water of Death, as opposed to a Water of Life. The Death Water (Doasens Vana) throws all whom it touches into a magic sleep, from which only Life Water (Livsens Vand) can rouse them (p. 57). In the Rámáyana, Hanuman fetches four different kinds of herbs in order to resuscitate his dead monkeys: “the first restore the dead to life, the second drive away all pain, the third join broken parts, the fourth cure all wounds, &c.” Talboys Wheeler, “History of India,” ii. 368. In the Egyptian story alreadymentioned (at p. 113), Satou’s corpse quivers and opens its eyes when his heart has become saturated with a healing liquid. But he does not actually come to life till the remainder of the liquid has been poured down his throat.In a Kirghiz story, quoted by Bronevsky,[300]a golden-haired hero finds, after long search, the maiden to whom he had in very early life been betrothed. Her father has him murdered. She persuades the murderer to show her the body of her dead love, and weeps over it bitterly. A spirit appears and tells her to sprinkle it with water from a neighboring well. The well is very deep, but she induces the murderer to allow her to lower him into it by means of her remarkably long hair. He descends and hands up to her a cup of water. Having received it, she cuts off her hair, and lets the murderer drop and be drowned. Then she sprinkles her lover’s corpse with the water, and he revives. But he lives only three days. She refuses to survive him, and is buried by his side. From the graves of the lovers spring two willows, which mingle their boughs as if in an embrace. And the neighbors set up near the spot three statues, his and hers and her nurse’s.Such is the story, says Bronevsky, which the Kirghiz tell with respect to some statues of unknown origin which stand (or used to stand) near the Ayaguza, a river falling into Lake Balkhash. A somewhat similar Armenian story is quoted by Haxthausen in his Transcaucasia (p. 350 of the English translation).In the Kalevala, when Lemmenkäinen has been torn to pieces, his mother collects his scattered remains, and by a dexterous synthetical operation restores him to physical unity. But the silence of death still possesses him. Then she entreats the Bee to bring vivifying honey. After two fruitless journeys, the Bee succeeds in bringing back honey “from the cellar of the Creator.” When this has been applied, the dead man returns to life, sits up, and says in the words of the Russian heroes—“How long I have slept!”[301]Here is another instance of a life-giving operation of a double nature. There is a well-known Indian story about four suitors for the hand of one girl. She dies, but is restored to life by one of her lovers, who happens one day to see a dead child resuscitated, and learns how to perform similar miracles. In two Sanskrit versions of the “Vetálapanchavinsati,”[302]as well as in the Hindi version,[303]the life-giving charm consists in a spell taken from a book of magic. But in the Tamil version, the process is described as being of a different and double nature. According to it, the mother of the murdered child “by the charm calledsisupàbamre-created the body, and, by the incantation calledsanjìvi, restored it to life.” The suitor, having learnt the charm and the incantation, “took the bones and the ashes (of the dead girl), and having created out of them the body, by virtue of the charmsisupàbamgave life to thatbody by thesanjìviincantation.” According to Mr. Babington, “Sanjìvi is defined by the Tamuls to be a medicine which restores to life by dissipating a mortal swoon.... In the text the word is used for the art of using this medicine.”[304]]

In a Kirghiz story, quoted by Bronevsky,[300]a golden-haired hero finds, after long search, the maiden to whom he had in very early life been betrothed. Her father has him murdered. She persuades the murderer to show her the body of her dead love, and weeps over it bitterly. A spirit appears and tells her to sprinkle it with water from a neighboring well. The well is very deep, but she induces the murderer to allow her to lower him into it by means of her remarkably long hair. He descends and hands up to her a cup of water. Having received it, she cuts off her hair, and lets the murderer drop and be drowned. Then she sprinkles her lover’s corpse with the water, and he revives. But he lives only three days. She refuses to survive him, and is buried by his side. From the graves of the lovers spring two willows, which mingle their boughs as if in an embrace. And the neighbors set up near the spot three statues, his and hers and her nurse’s.

Such is the story, says Bronevsky, which the Kirghiz tell with respect to some statues of unknown origin which stand (or used to stand) near the Ayaguza, a river falling into Lake Balkhash. A somewhat similar Armenian story is quoted by Haxthausen in his Transcaucasia (p. 350 of the English translation).

In the Kalevala, when Lemmenkäinen has been torn to pieces, his mother collects his scattered remains, and by a dexterous synthetical operation restores him to physical unity. But the silence of death still possesses him. Then she entreats the Bee to bring vivifying honey. After two fruitless journeys, the Bee succeeds in bringing back honey “from the cellar of the Creator.” When this has been applied, the dead man returns to life, sits up, and says in the words of the Russian heroes—“How long I have slept!”[301]

Here is another instance of a life-giving operation of a double nature. There is a well-known Indian story about four suitors for the hand of one girl. She dies, but is restored to life by one of her lovers, who happens one day to see a dead child resuscitated, and learns how to perform similar miracles. In two Sanskrit versions of the “Vetálapanchavinsati,”[302]as well as in the Hindi version,[303]the life-giving charm consists in a spell taken from a book of magic. But in the Tamil version, the process is described as being of a different and double nature. According to it, the mother of the murdered child “by the charm calledsisupàbamre-created the body, and, by the incantation calledsanjìvi, restored it to life.” The suitor, having learnt the charm and the incantation, “took the bones and the ashes (of the dead girl), and having created out of them the body, by virtue of the charmsisupàbamgave life to thatbody by thesanjìviincantation.” According to Mr. Babington, “Sanjìvi is defined by the Tamuls to be a medicine which restores to life by dissipating a mortal swoon.... In the text the word is used for the art of using this medicine.”[304]]

As a general rule, the two waters of which mention is made in the Skazkas possess the virtues, and are employed in the manner, mentioned above; but there are cases in which their powers are of a different nature. Sometimes we meet with two magic fluids, one of which heals all wounds, and restores sight to the blind and vigor to the cripple, while the other destroys all that it touches. Sometimes, also, recourse is had to magic draughts of two kinds, the one of which strengthens him who quaffs it, while the other produces the opposite effect. Such liquors as these are known as the “Waters of Strength and Weakness,” and are usually described as being stowed away in the cellar of some many-headed Snake. For the Snake is often mentioned as the possessor, or at least the guardian, of magic fluids. Thus one of the Skazkas[305]speaks of a wondrous garden, in which are two springs of healing and vivifying water, and around that garden is coiled like a ring a mighty serpent. Another tells how a flying Snake brought two heroes to a lake, into which they flung a green bough, and immediately the bough broke into flame and was consumed. Then it took them to another lake, into which they cast a mouldy log. And the log straightway began to put forth buds and blossoms.[306]

In some cases the magic waters are the property, not of a Snake, but of one of the mighty heroines who so often occur in these stories, and who bear so great a resemblancetoBrynhild, as well in other respects as in that of her enchanted sleep. Thus in one of the Skazkas[307]an aged king dreams that “beyond thrice nine lands, in the thirtieth country, there is a fair maiden from whose hands and feet water is flowing, of which water he who drinks will become thirty years younger.” His sons go forth in search of this youth-giving liquid, and, after many adventures, the youngest is directed to the golden castle in which lives the “fair maiden,” whom his father has seen in his vision. He has been told that when she is awake her custom is to divert herself in the green fields with her Amazon host—“for nine days she rambles about, and then for nine days she sleeps a heroic slumber.” The Prince hides himself among the bushes near the castle, and sees a fair maiden come out of it surrounded by an armed band, “and all the band consists of maidens, each one more beautiful than the other. And the most beautiful, the most never-enough-to-be-gazed-upon, is the Queen herself.” For nine days he watches the fair band of Amazons as they ramble about. On the tenth day all is still, and he enters the castle. In the midst of her slumbering guards sleeps the Queen on a couch of down, the healing water flowing from her hands and feet. With it he fills two flasks, and then he retires. When the Queen awakes, she becomes conscious of the theft and pursues the Prince. Coming up with him, she slays him with a single blow, but then takes compassion on him, and restores him to life.

In another version of the story, the precious fluid is contained in a flask which is hidden under the pillow of the slumbering “Tsar Maiden.” The Prince steals it and flees, but he bears on him the weight of sin, and so,when he tries to clear the fence which girds the enchanted castle, his horse strikes one of the cords attached to it, and the spell is broken which maintains the magic sleep in which the realm is locked. The Tsar Maiden pursues the thief, but does not succeed in catching him. He is killed, however, by his elder brothers, who “cut him into small pieces,” and then take the flask of magic water to their father. The murdered prince is resuscitated by the mythical bird known by the name of theZhar-Ptitsa, which collects his scattered fragments, puts them together, and sprinkles them first with “dead water” and then with “live-water,”—conveyed for that purpose in its beak—after which the prince gets up, thanks his reviver, and goes his way.[308]

In one of the numerous variants of the story in which a prince is exposed to various dangers by his sister—who is induced to plot against his life by her demon lover, the Snake—the hero is sent in search of “a healing and a vivifying water,” preserved between two lofty mountains which cleave closely together, except during “two or three minutes” of each day. He follows his instructions, rides to a certain spot, and there awaits the hour at which the mountains fly apart. “Suddenly a terrible hurricane arose, a mighty thunder smote, and the two mountains were torn asunder. Prince Ivan spurred his heroic steed, flew like a dart between the mountains, dipped two flasks in the waters, and instantly turned back.” He himself escapes safe and sound, but the hind legs of his horse are caught between the closing cliffs, and smashed to pieces. The magic waters, of course, soon remedy this temporary inconvenience.[309]

In a Slovak version of this story, a murderous mother sends her son to two mountains, each of which is cleft open once in every twenty-four hours—the one opening at midday and the other at midnight; the former disclosing the Water of Life, the latter the Water of Death.[310]In a similar story from the Ukraine, mention is made of two springs of healing and life-giving water, which are guarded by iron-beaked ravens, and the way to which lies between grinding hills. The Fox and the Hare are sent in quest of the magic fluid. The Fox goes and returns in safety, but the Hare, on her way back, is not in time quite to clear the meeting cliffs, and her tail is jammed in between them. Since that time, hares have had no tails.[311]

On the Waters of Strength and Weakness much stress is laid in many of the tales about the many-headed Snakes which carry off men’s wives and daughters to their metallic castles. In one of these, for instance, the golden-haired Queen Anastasia has been torn away by a whirlwind from her husband “Tsar Byel Byelyanin” [the White King]. As in the variant of the story already quoted,[312]her sons go in search of her, and the youngest of them, after finding three palaces—the first of copper, the second of silver, the third of gold, each containing a princess held captive byVikhor, the whirlwind—comes to a fourth palace gleaming with diamonds and other precious stones. In it he discovers his long-lost mother, who gladly greets him, and at once takes him into Vikhor’s cellar. Here is the account of what ensued.

Well, they entered the cellar; there stood two tubs of water, the one on the right hand, the other on the left. Says the Queen—“Take a draught of the water that stands on the right hand.” Prince Ivan drank of it.“Now then, how strong do you feel?” said she.“So strong that I could upset the whole palace with one hand,” he replied.“Come now, drink again.”The Prince drank once more.“How strong do you feel now?” she asked.“Why now, if I wanted, I could give the whole world a jolt.”“Oh that’s plenty then! Now make these tubs change places—that which stands on the right, set on the left: and that which is on the left, change to the right.”Prince Ivan took the tubs and made them change places. Says the Queen—“See now, my dear son; in one of these tubs is the ‘Water of Strength,’ in the other is the ‘Water of Weakness.’[313]He who drinks of the former becomes a mighty hero, but he who drinks of the second loses all his vigor. Vikhor always quaffs the Strong Water, and places it on the right-hand side; therefore you must deceive him, or you will never be able to hold out against him.”

Well, they entered the cellar; there stood two tubs of water, the one on the right hand, the other on the left. Says the Queen—

“Take a draught of the water that stands on the right hand.” Prince Ivan drank of it.

“Now then, how strong do you feel?” said she.

“So strong that I could upset the whole palace with one hand,” he replied.

“Come now, drink again.”

The Prince drank once more.

“How strong do you feel now?” she asked.

“Why now, if I wanted, I could give the whole world a jolt.”

“Oh that’s plenty then! Now make these tubs change places—that which stands on the right, set on the left: and that which is on the left, change to the right.”

Prince Ivan took the tubs and made them change places. Says the Queen—

“See now, my dear son; in one of these tubs is the ‘Water of Strength,’ in the other is the ‘Water of Weakness.’[313]He who drinks of the former becomes a mighty hero, but he who drinks of the second loses all his vigor. Vikhor always quaffs the Strong Water, and places it on the right-hand side; therefore you must deceive him, or you will never be able to hold out against him.”

The Queen proceeds to tell her son that, when Vikhor comes home, he must hide beneath her purple cloak, andwatch for an opportunity of seizing her gaoler’s magic mace.[314]Vikhor will fly about till he is tired, and will then have recourse to what he supposes is the “Strong Water;” this will render him so feeble that the Prince will be able to kill him. Having received these instructions, and having been warned not to strike Vikhor after he is dead, the Prince conceals himself. Suddenly the day becomes darkened, the palace quivers, and Vikhor arrives; stamping on the ground, he becomes a noble gallant, who enters the palace, “holding in his hands a battle mace.” This Prince Ivan seizes, and a long struggle takes place between him and Vikhor, who flies away with him over seas and into the clouds. At last, Vikhor becomes exhausted and seeks the place where he expects to find the invigorating draught on which he is accustomed to rely. The result is as follows:

Dropping right into his cellar, Vikhor ran to the tub which stood on the right, and began drinking the Water of Weakness. But Prince Ivan rushed to the left, quaffed a deep draught of the Water of Strength, and became the mightiest hero in the whole world. Then seeing that Vikhor was perfectly enfeebled, he snatched from him his keen faulchion, and with a single blow struck off his head. Behind him voices began to cry:“Strike again! strike again! or he will come to life!”“No,” replied the Prince, “a hero’s hand does not strike twice, but finishes its work with a single blow.” And straightway he lighted a fire, burnt the head and the trunk, and scattered the ashes to the winds.[315]

“Strike again! strike again! or he will come to life!”

“No,” replied the Prince, “a hero’s hand does not strike twice, but finishes its work with a single blow.” And straightway he lighted a fire, burnt the head and the trunk, and scattered the ashes to the winds.[315]

The part played by the Water of Strength in this story may be compared with “the important share which theexhilarating juice of the Soma-plant assumes in bracing Indra for his conflict with the hostile powers in the atmosphere,” and Vikhor’s sudden debility with that of Indra when the Asura Namuchi “drank up Indra’s strength along with a draught of wine and soma.”[316]

Sometimes, as has already been remarked, one of the two magic waters is even more injurious than the Water of Weakness.[317]The following may be taken as a specimen of the stories in which there is introduced a true Water of Death—one of those deadly springs which bear the same relation to the healing and vivifying founts that the enfeebling bears to the strengthening water. The Baba Yaga who figures in it is, as is so often the case, replaced by a Snake in the variant to which allusion has already been made.

In a certain kingdom there lived a king and queen; they had a son, Prince Ivan, and to look after that son was appointed a tutor named Katoma.[319]The king and queen lived to a great age, but then they fell ill, and despaired of ever recovering. So they sent for Prince Ivan and strictly enjoined him:“When we are dead, do you in everything respect and obey Katoma. If you obey him, you will prosper; but if you choose to be disobedient, you will perish like a fly.”The next day the king and queen died. Prince Ivan buried his parents, and took to living according to their instructions. Whatever he had to do, he always consulted his tutor about it.Some time passed by. The Prince attained to man’s estate, and began to think about getting married. So one day he went to his tutor and said:“Katoma, I’m tired of living alone, I want to marry.”“Well, Prince! what’s to prevent you? you’re of an age at which it’s time to think about a bride. Go into the great hall. There’s a collection there of the portraits of all the princesses in the world; look at them and choose for yourself; whichever pleases you, to her send a proposal of marriage.”Prince Ivan went into the great hall, and began examining the portraits. And the one that pleased him best was that of the Princess Anna the Fair—such a beauty! the like of her wasn’t to be found in the whole world! Underneath her portrait were written these words:“If any one asks her a riddle, and she does not guess it, him shall she marry; but he whose riddle she guesses shall have his head chopped off.”Prince Ivan read this inscription, became greatly afflicted, and went off to his tutor.“I’ve been in the great hall,” says he, “and I picked out for my bride Anna the Fair; only I don’t know whether it’s possible to win her.”“Yes, Prince; she’s hard to get. If you go alone, you won’t win her anyhow. But if you will take me with you, and if you will do what I tell you, perhaps the affair can be managed.”Prince Ivan begged Katoma to go with him, and gave his word of honor to obey him whether in joy or grief.Well, they got ready for the journey and set off to sue for the hand of the Princess Anna the Fair. They travelled for one year, two years, three years, and traversed many countries. Says Prince Ivan—“We’ve been travelling all this time, uncle, and now we’re approaching the country of Princess Anna the Fair; and yet we don’t know what riddle to propound.”“We shall manage to think of one in good time,” repliedKatoma. They went a little farther. Katoma was looking down on the road, and on it lay a purse full of money. He lifted it up directly, poured all the money out of it into his own purse, and said—“Here’s a riddle for you, Prince Ivan! When you come into the presence of the Princess, propound a riddle to her in these words: ‘As we were coming along, we saw Good lying on the road, and we took up the Good with Good, and placed it in our own Good!’ That riddle she won’t guess in a lifetime; but any other one she would find out directly. She would only have to look into her magic-book, and as soon as she had guessed it, she’d order your head to be cut off.”Well, at last Prince Ivan and his tutor arrived at the lofty palace in which lived the fair Princess. At that moment she happened to be out on the balcony, and when she saw the newcomers, she sent out to know whence they came and what they wanted. Prince Ivan replied—“I have come from such-and-such a kingdom, and I wish to sue for the hand of the Princess Anna the Fair.”When she was informed of this, the Princess gave orders that the Prince should enter the palace, and there in the presence of all the princes and boyars of her council should propound his riddle.“I’ve made this compact,” she said. “Anyone whose riddle I cannot guess, him I must marry. But anyone whose riddle I can guess, him I may put to death.”“Listen to my riddle, fair princess!” said Prince Ivan. “As we came along, we saw Good lying on the road, and we took up the Good with Good, and placed it in our own Good.”Princess Anna the Fair took her magic-book, and began turning over its leaves and examining the answers of riddles. She went right through the book, but she didn’t get at the meaning she wanted. Thereupon the princes and boyars of her council decided that the Princess must marry Prince Ivan. She wasn’t at all pleased, but there was no help for it, and so she began to get ready for the wedding. Meanwhile she consideredwithin herself how she could spin out the time and do away with the bridegroom, and she thought the best way would be to overwhelm him with tremendous tasks.So she called Prince Ivan and said to him—“My dear Prince Ivan, my destined husband! It is meet that we should prepare for the wedding; pray do me this small service. On such and such a spot of my kingdom there stands a lofty iron pillar. Carry it into the palace kitchen, and chop it into small chunks by way of fuel for the cook.”“Excuse me, Princess,” replied the prince. “Was it to chop fuel that I came here? Is that the proper sort of employment for me? I have a servant for that kind of thing, Katomadyadka, of the oakenshapka.”The Prince straightway called for his tutor, and ordered him to drag the iron pillar into the kitchen, and to chop it into small chunks by way of fuel for the cook. Katoma went to the spot indicated by the Princess, seized the pillar in his arms, brought it into the palace kitchen, and broke it into little pieces; but four of the iron chips he put into his pocket, saying—“They’ll prove useful by-and-by!”Next day the princess says to Prince Ivan—“My dear Prince, my destined husband! to-morrow we have to go to the wedding. I will drive in a carriage, but you should ride on a heroic steed, and it is necessary that you should break him in beforehand.”“I break a horse in myself! I keep a servant for that.”Prince Ivan called Katoma, and said—“Go into the stable and tell the grooms to bring forth the heroic steed; sit upon him and break him in; to-morrow I’ve got to ride him to the wedding.”Katoma fathomed the subtle device of the Princess, but, without stopping long to talk, he went into the stable and told the grooms to bring forth the heroic steed. Twelve grooms were mustered, they unlocked twelve locks, opened twelve doors, and brought forth a magic horse bound in twelve chains of iron. Katoma went up to him. No sooner had he managed to seathimself than the magic horse leaped up from the ground and soared higher than the forest—higher than the standing forest, lower than the flitting cloud. Firm sat Katoma, with one hand grasping the mane; with the other he took from his pocket an iron chunk, and began taming the horse with it between the ears. When he had used up one chunk, he betook himself to another; when two were used up, he took to a third; when three were used up, the fourth came into play. And so grievously did he punish the heroic steed that it could not hold out any longer, but cried aloud with a human voice—“Batyushka Katoma! don’t utterly deprive me of life in the white world! Whatever you wish, that do you order: all shall be done according to your will!”“Listen, O meat for dogs!” answered Katoma; “to-morrow Prince Ivan will ride you to the wedding. Now mind! when the grooms bring you out into the wide courtyard, and the Prince goes up to you and lays his hand on you, do you stand quietly, not moving so much as an ear. And when he is seated on your back, do you sink into the earth right up to your fetlocks, and then move under him with a heavy step, just as if an immeasurable weight had been laid upon your back.”The heroic steed listened to the order and sank to earth scarcely alive. Katoma seized him by the tail, and flung him close to the stable, crying—“Ho there! coachmen and grooms; carry off this dog’s-meat to its stall!”The next day arrived; the time drew near for going to the wedding. The carriage was brought round for the Princess, and the heroic steed for Prince Ivan. The people were gathered together from all sides—a countless number. The bride and bridegroom came out from the white stone halls. The Princess got into the carriage and waited to see what would become of Prince Ivan; whether the magic horse would fling his curls to the wind, and scatter his bones across the open plain. Prince Ivan approached the horse, laid his hand upon its back, placed his foot in the stirrup—the horse stood just as if petrified, didn’tso much as wag an ear! The Prince got on its back, the magic horse sank into the earth up to its fetlocks. The twelve chains were taken off the horse, it began to move with an even heavy pace, while the sweat poured off it just like hail.“What a hero! What immeasurable strength!” cried the people as they gazed upon the Prince.So the bride and bridegroom were married, and then they began to move out of the church, holding each other by the hand. The Princess took it into her head to make one more trial of Prince Ivan, so she squeezed his hand so hard that he could not bear the pain. His face became suffused with blood, his eyes disappeared beneath his brows.“A fine sort of hero you are!” thought the Princess. “Your tutor has tricked me splendidly; but you sha’n’t get off for nothing!”Princess Anna the Fair lived for some time with Prince Ivan as a wife ought to live with a god-given[320]husband, flattered him in every way in words, but in reality never thought of anything except by what means she might get rid of Katoma. With the Prince, without the tutor, there’d be no difficulty in settling matters! she said to herself. But whatever slanders she might invent, Prince Ivan never would allow himself to be influenced by what she said, but always felt sorry for his tutor. At the end of a year he said to his wife one day—“Beauteous Princess, my beloved spouse! I should like to go with you to my own kingdom.”“By all means,” replied she, “let us go. I myself have long been wishing to see your kingdom.”Well they got ready and went off; Katoma was allotted the post of coachman. They drove and drove, and as they drove along Prince Ivan went to sleep. Suddenly the Princess Anna the Fair awoke him, uttering loud complaints—“Listen, Prince, you’re always sleeping, you hear nothing!But your tutor doesn’t obey me a bit, drives the horses on purpose over hill and dale, just as if he wanted to put an end to us both. I tried speaking him fair, but he jeered at me. I won’t go on living any longer if you don’t punish him!”Prince Ivan, ’twixt sleeping and waking, waxed very wroth with his tutor, and handed him over entirely to the Princess, saying—“Deal with him as you please!”The Princess ordered his feet to be cut off. Katoma submitted patiently to the outrage.“Very good,” he thinks; “I shall suffer, it’s true; but the Prince also will know what to lead a wretched life is like!”When both of Katoma’s feet had been cut off, the Princess glanced around, and saw that a tall tree-stump stood on one side; so she called her servants and ordered them to set him on that stump. But as for Prince Ivan, she tied him to the carriage by a cord, turned the horses round, and drove back to her own kingdom. Katoma was left sitting on the stump, weeping bitter tears.“Farewell, Prince Ivan!” he cries; “you won’t forget me!”Meanwhile Prince Ivan was running and bounding behind the carriage. He knew well enough by this time what a blunder he had made, but there was no turning back for him. When the Princess Anna the Fair arrived in her kingdom, she set Prince Ivan to take care of the cows. Every day he went afield with the herd at early morn, and in the evening he drove them back to the royal yard. At that hour the Princess was always sitting on the balcony, and looking out to see that the number of the cows were all right.[321]Katoma remained sitting on the stump one day, two days, three days, without anything to eat or drink. To get down was utterly impossible, it seemed as if he must die of starvation. But not far away from that place there was a dense forest. In that forest was living a mighty hero who was quite blind. Theonly way by which he could get himself food was this: whenever he perceived by the sense of smell that any animal was running past him, whether a hare, or a fox, or a bear, he immediately started in chase of it, caught it—and dinner was ready for him. The hero was exceedingly swift-footed, and there was not a single wild beast which could run away from him. Well, one day it fell out thus. A fox slunk past; the hero heard it, and was after it directly. It ran up to the tall stump, and turned sharp off on one-side; but the blind hero hurried on, took a spring, and thumped his forehead against the stump so hard that he knocked the stump out by the roots. Katoma fell to the ground, and asked:“Who are you?”“I’m a blind hero. I’ve been living in the forest for thirty years. The only way I can get my food is this: to catch some game or other, and cook it at a wood fire. If it had not been for that, I should have been starved to death long ago!”“You haven’t been blind all your life?”“No, not all my life; but Princess Anna the Fair put my eyes out!”“There now, brother!” says Katoma; “and it’s thanks to her, too, that I’m left here without any feet. She cut them both off, the accursed one!”The two heroes had a talk, and agreed to live together, and join in getting their food. The blind man says to the lame:“Sit on my back and show me the way; I will serve you with my feet, and you me with your eyes.”So he took the cripple and carried him home, and Katoma sat on his back, kept a look out all round, and cried out from time to time: “Right! Left! Straight on!” and so forth.Well, they lived some time in the forest in that way, and caught hares, foxes, and bears for their dinner. One day the cripple says—“Surely we can never go on living all our lives without a soul [to speak to]. I have heard that in such and such a town lives a rich merchant who has a daughter; and that merchant’sdaughter is exceedingly kind to the poor and crippled. She gives alms to everyone. Suppose we carry her off, brother, and let her live here and keep house for us.”The blind man took a cart, seated the cripple in it, and rattled it into the town, straight into the rich merchant’s courtyard. The merchant’s daughter saw them out of window, and immediately ran out, and came to give them alms. Approaching the cripple, she said:“Take this, in Christ’s name, poor fellow!”He [seemed to be going] to take the gift, but he seized her by the hand, pulled her into the cart, and called to the blind man, who ran off with it at such a pace that no one could catch him, even on horseback. The merchant sent people in pursuit—but no, they could not come up with him.The heroes brought the merchant’s daughter into their forest hut, and said to her:“Be in the place of a sister to us, live here and keep house for us; otherwise we poor sufferers will have no one to cook our meals or wash our shirts. God won’t desert you if you do that!”The merchant’s daughter remained with them. The heroes respected her, loved her, acknowledged her as a sister. They used to be out hunting all day, but their adopted sister was always at home. She looked after all the housekeeping, prepared the meals, washed the linen.But after a time a Baba Yaga took to haunting their hut and sucking the breasts of the merchant’s daughter. No sooner have the heroes gone off to the chase, than the Baba Yaga is there in a moment. Before long the fair maiden’s face began to fall away, and she grew weak and thin. The blind man could see nothing, but Katoma remarked that things weren’t going well. He spoke about it to the blind man, and they went together to their adopted sister, and began questioning her. But the Baba Yaga had strictly forbidden her to tell the truth. For a long time she was afraid to acquaint them with her trouble, for along time she held out, but at last her brothers talked her over and she told them everything without reserve.“Every time you go away to the chase,” says she, “there immediately appears in the cottage a very old woman with a most evil face, and long grey hair. And she sets me to dress her head, and meanwhile she sucks my breasts.”“Ah!” says the blind man, “that’s a Baba Yaga. Wait a bit; we must treat her after her own fashion. To-morrow we won’t go to the chase, but we’ll try to entice her and lay hands upon her!”So next morning the heroes didn’t go out hunting.“Now then, Uncle Footless!” says the blind man, “you get under the bench, and lie there ever so still, and I’ll go into the yard and stand under the window. And as for you, sister, when the Baba Yaga comes, sit down just here, close by the window; and as you dress her hair, quietly separate the locks and throw them outside through the window. Just let me lay hold of her by those grey hairs of hers!”What was said was done. The blind man laid hold of the Baba Yaga by her grey hair, and cried—“Ho there, Uncle Katoma! Come out from under the bench, and lay hold of this viper of a woman, while I go into the hut!”The Baba Yaga hears the bad news and tries to jump up to get her head free. (Where are you off to? That’s no go, sureenough![322]) She tugs and tugs, but cannot do herself any good!Just then from under the bench crawled Uncle Katoma, fell upon her like a mountain of stone, took to strangling her until the heaven seemed to her to disappear.[323]Then into the cottage bounded the blind man, crying to the cripple—“Now we must heap up a great pile of wood, and consume this accursed one with fire, and fling her ashes to the wind!”The Baba Yaga began imploring them:“My fathers! my darlings! forgive me. I will do all that is right.”“Very good, old witch! Then show us the fountain of healing and life-giving water!” said the heroes.“Only don’t kill me, and I’ll show it you directly!”Well, Katoma sat on the blind man’s back. The blind man took the Baba Yaga by her back hair, and she led them into the depths of the forest, brought them to a well,[324]and said—“That is the water that cures and gives life.”“Look out, Uncle Katoma!” cried the blind man; “don’t make a blunder. If she tricks us now we shan’t get right all our lives!”Katoma cut a green branch off a tree, and flung it into the well. The bough hadn’t so much as reached the water before it all burst into a flame!“Ha! so you’re still up to your tricks,” said the heroes, and began to strangle the Baba Yaga, with the intention of flinging her, the accursed one, into the fiery fount. More than ever did the Baba Yaga implore for mercy, swearing a great oath that she would not deceive them this time.“On my troth I will bring you to good water,” says she.The heroes consented to give her one more trial, and she took them to another fount.Uncle Katoma cut a dry spray from a tree, and flung it into the fount. The spray had not yet reached the water when it already turned green, budded, and put forth blossoms.“Come now, that’s good water!” said Katoma.The blind man wetted his eyes with it, and saw directly. He lowered the,cripple into the water, and the lame man’s feet grew again. Then they both rejoiced greatly, and said to one another, “Now the time has come for us to get all right! We’ll get everything back again we used to have! Only first we must make an end of the Baba Yaga. If we were to pardon her now, we should always be unlucky; she’d be scheming mischief all her life.”Accordingly they went back to the fiery fount, and flung the Baba Yaga into it; didn’t it soon make an end of her!After this Katoma married the merchant’s daughter, and the three companions went to the kingdom of Anna the Fair in order to rescue Prince Ivan. When they drew near to the capital, what should they see but Prince Ivan driving a herd of cows!“Stop, herdsman!” says Katoma; “where are you driving these cows?”“I’m driving them to the Princess’s courtyard,” replied the Prince. “The Princess always sees for herself whether all the cows are there.”“Here, herdsman; take my clothes and put them on, and I will put on yours and drive the cows.”“No, brother! that cannot be done. If the Princess founditout, I should suffer harm!”“Never fear, nothing will happen! Katoma will guarantee you that.”Prince Ivan sighed, and said—“Ah, good man! If Katoma had been alive, I should not have been feeding these cows afield!”Then Katoma disclosed to him who he was. Prince Ivan warmly embraced him and burst into tears.“I never hoped even to see you again,” said he.So they exchanged clothes. The tutor drove the cows to the Princess’s courtyard. Anna the Fair went into the balcony, looked to see if all the cows were there, and ordered them to be driven into the sheds. All the cows went into the sheds except the last one, which remained at the gate. Katoma sprang at it, exclaiming—“What are you waiting for, dog’s-meat?”Then he seized it by the tail, and pulled it so hard that he pulled the cow’s hide right off! The Princess saw this, and cried with a loud voice:“What is that brute of a cowherd doing? Seize him and bring him to me!”Then the servants seized Katoma and dragged him to the palace. He went with them, making no excuses, relying onhimself. They brought him to the Princess. She looked at him and asked—“Who are you? Where do you come from?”“I am he whose feet you cut off and whom you set on a stump. My name is Katomadyadka, oakenshapka.”“Well,” thinks the Princess, “now that he’s got his feet back again, I must act straight-forwardly with him for the future.”And she began to beseech him and the Prince to pardon her. She confessed all her sins, and swore an oath always to love Prince Ivan, and to obey him in all things. Prince Ivan forgave her, and began to live with her in peace and concord. The hero who had been blind remained with them, but Katoma and his wife went to the house of [her father] the rich merchant, and took up their abode under his roof.

“When we are dead, do you in everything respect and obey Katoma. If you obey him, you will prosper; but if you choose to be disobedient, you will perish like a fly.”

The next day the king and queen died. Prince Ivan buried his parents, and took to living according to their instructions. Whatever he had to do, he always consulted his tutor about it.

Some time passed by. The Prince attained to man’s estate, and began to think about getting married. So one day he went to his tutor and said:

“Katoma, I’m tired of living alone, I want to marry.”

“Well, Prince! what’s to prevent you? you’re of an age at which it’s time to think about a bride. Go into the great hall. There’s a collection there of the portraits of all the princesses in the world; look at them and choose for yourself; whichever pleases you, to her send a proposal of marriage.”

Prince Ivan went into the great hall, and began examining the portraits. And the one that pleased him best was that of the Princess Anna the Fair—such a beauty! the like of her wasn’t to be found in the whole world! Underneath her portrait were written these words:

“If any one asks her a riddle, and she does not guess it, him shall she marry; but he whose riddle she guesses shall have his head chopped off.”

Prince Ivan read this inscription, became greatly afflicted, and went off to his tutor.

“I’ve been in the great hall,” says he, “and I picked out for my bride Anna the Fair; only I don’t know whether it’s possible to win her.”

“Yes, Prince; she’s hard to get. If you go alone, you won’t win her anyhow. But if you will take me with you, and if you will do what I tell you, perhaps the affair can be managed.”

Prince Ivan begged Katoma to go with him, and gave his word of honor to obey him whether in joy or grief.

Well, they got ready for the journey and set off to sue for the hand of the Princess Anna the Fair. They travelled for one year, two years, three years, and traversed many countries. Says Prince Ivan—

“We’ve been travelling all this time, uncle, and now we’re approaching the country of Princess Anna the Fair; and yet we don’t know what riddle to propound.”

“We shall manage to think of one in good time,” repliedKatoma. They went a little farther. Katoma was looking down on the road, and on it lay a purse full of money. He lifted it up directly, poured all the money out of it into his own purse, and said—

“Here’s a riddle for you, Prince Ivan! When you come into the presence of the Princess, propound a riddle to her in these words: ‘As we were coming along, we saw Good lying on the road, and we took up the Good with Good, and placed it in our own Good!’ That riddle she won’t guess in a lifetime; but any other one she would find out directly. She would only have to look into her magic-book, and as soon as she had guessed it, she’d order your head to be cut off.”

Well, at last Prince Ivan and his tutor arrived at the lofty palace in which lived the fair Princess. At that moment she happened to be out on the balcony, and when she saw the newcomers, she sent out to know whence they came and what they wanted. Prince Ivan replied—

“I have come from such-and-such a kingdom, and I wish to sue for the hand of the Princess Anna the Fair.”

When she was informed of this, the Princess gave orders that the Prince should enter the palace, and there in the presence of all the princes and boyars of her council should propound his riddle.

“I’ve made this compact,” she said. “Anyone whose riddle I cannot guess, him I must marry. But anyone whose riddle I can guess, him I may put to death.”

“Listen to my riddle, fair princess!” said Prince Ivan. “As we came along, we saw Good lying on the road, and we took up the Good with Good, and placed it in our own Good.”

Princess Anna the Fair took her magic-book, and began turning over its leaves and examining the answers of riddles. She went right through the book, but she didn’t get at the meaning she wanted. Thereupon the princes and boyars of her council decided that the Princess must marry Prince Ivan. She wasn’t at all pleased, but there was no help for it, and so she began to get ready for the wedding. Meanwhile she consideredwithin herself how she could spin out the time and do away with the bridegroom, and she thought the best way would be to overwhelm him with tremendous tasks.

So she called Prince Ivan and said to him—

“My dear Prince Ivan, my destined husband! It is meet that we should prepare for the wedding; pray do me this small service. On such and such a spot of my kingdom there stands a lofty iron pillar. Carry it into the palace kitchen, and chop it into small chunks by way of fuel for the cook.”

“Excuse me, Princess,” replied the prince. “Was it to chop fuel that I came here? Is that the proper sort of employment for me? I have a servant for that kind of thing, Katomadyadka, of the oakenshapka.”

The Prince straightway called for his tutor, and ordered him to drag the iron pillar into the kitchen, and to chop it into small chunks by way of fuel for the cook. Katoma went to the spot indicated by the Princess, seized the pillar in his arms, brought it into the palace kitchen, and broke it into little pieces; but four of the iron chips he put into his pocket, saying—

“They’ll prove useful by-and-by!”

Next day the princess says to Prince Ivan—

“My dear Prince, my destined husband! to-morrow we have to go to the wedding. I will drive in a carriage, but you should ride on a heroic steed, and it is necessary that you should break him in beforehand.”

“I break a horse in myself! I keep a servant for that.”

Prince Ivan called Katoma, and said—

“Go into the stable and tell the grooms to bring forth the heroic steed; sit upon him and break him in; to-morrow I’ve got to ride him to the wedding.”

Katoma fathomed the subtle device of the Princess, but, without stopping long to talk, he went into the stable and told the grooms to bring forth the heroic steed. Twelve grooms were mustered, they unlocked twelve locks, opened twelve doors, and brought forth a magic horse bound in twelve chains of iron. Katoma went up to him. No sooner had he managed to seathimself than the magic horse leaped up from the ground and soared higher than the forest—higher than the standing forest, lower than the flitting cloud. Firm sat Katoma, with one hand grasping the mane; with the other he took from his pocket an iron chunk, and began taming the horse with it between the ears. When he had used up one chunk, he betook himself to another; when two were used up, he took to a third; when three were used up, the fourth came into play. And so grievously did he punish the heroic steed that it could not hold out any longer, but cried aloud with a human voice—

“Batyushka Katoma! don’t utterly deprive me of life in the white world! Whatever you wish, that do you order: all shall be done according to your will!”

“Listen, O meat for dogs!” answered Katoma; “to-morrow Prince Ivan will ride you to the wedding. Now mind! when the grooms bring you out into the wide courtyard, and the Prince goes up to you and lays his hand on you, do you stand quietly, not moving so much as an ear. And when he is seated on your back, do you sink into the earth right up to your fetlocks, and then move under him with a heavy step, just as if an immeasurable weight had been laid upon your back.”

The heroic steed listened to the order and sank to earth scarcely alive. Katoma seized him by the tail, and flung him close to the stable, crying—

“Ho there! coachmen and grooms; carry off this dog’s-meat to its stall!”

The next day arrived; the time drew near for going to the wedding. The carriage was brought round for the Princess, and the heroic steed for Prince Ivan. The people were gathered together from all sides—a countless number. The bride and bridegroom came out from the white stone halls. The Princess got into the carriage and waited to see what would become of Prince Ivan; whether the magic horse would fling his curls to the wind, and scatter his bones across the open plain. Prince Ivan approached the horse, laid his hand upon its back, placed his foot in the stirrup—the horse stood just as if petrified, didn’tso much as wag an ear! The Prince got on its back, the magic horse sank into the earth up to its fetlocks. The twelve chains were taken off the horse, it began to move with an even heavy pace, while the sweat poured off it just like hail.

“What a hero! What immeasurable strength!” cried the people as they gazed upon the Prince.

So the bride and bridegroom were married, and then they began to move out of the church, holding each other by the hand. The Princess took it into her head to make one more trial of Prince Ivan, so she squeezed his hand so hard that he could not bear the pain. His face became suffused with blood, his eyes disappeared beneath his brows.

“A fine sort of hero you are!” thought the Princess. “Your tutor has tricked me splendidly; but you sha’n’t get off for nothing!”

Princess Anna the Fair lived for some time with Prince Ivan as a wife ought to live with a god-given[320]husband, flattered him in every way in words, but in reality never thought of anything except by what means she might get rid of Katoma. With the Prince, without the tutor, there’d be no difficulty in settling matters! she said to herself. But whatever slanders she might invent, Prince Ivan never would allow himself to be influenced by what she said, but always felt sorry for his tutor. At the end of a year he said to his wife one day—

“Beauteous Princess, my beloved spouse! I should like to go with you to my own kingdom.”

“By all means,” replied she, “let us go. I myself have long been wishing to see your kingdom.”

Well they got ready and went off; Katoma was allotted the post of coachman. They drove and drove, and as they drove along Prince Ivan went to sleep. Suddenly the Princess Anna the Fair awoke him, uttering loud complaints—

“Listen, Prince, you’re always sleeping, you hear nothing!But your tutor doesn’t obey me a bit, drives the horses on purpose over hill and dale, just as if he wanted to put an end to us both. I tried speaking him fair, but he jeered at me. I won’t go on living any longer if you don’t punish him!”

Prince Ivan, ’twixt sleeping and waking, waxed very wroth with his tutor, and handed him over entirely to the Princess, saying—

“Deal with him as you please!”

The Princess ordered his feet to be cut off. Katoma submitted patiently to the outrage.

“Very good,” he thinks; “I shall suffer, it’s true; but the Prince also will know what to lead a wretched life is like!”

When both of Katoma’s feet had been cut off, the Princess glanced around, and saw that a tall tree-stump stood on one side; so she called her servants and ordered them to set him on that stump. But as for Prince Ivan, she tied him to the carriage by a cord, turned the horses round, and drove back to her own kingdom. Katoma was left sitting on the stump, weeping bitter tears.

“Farewell, Prince Ivan!” he cries; “you won’t forget me!”

Meanwhile Prince Ivan was running and bounding behind the carriage. He knew well enough by this time what a blunder he had made, but there was no turning back for him. When the Princess Anna the Fair arrived in her kingdom, she set Prince Ivan to take care of the cows. Every day he went afield with the herd at early morn, and in the evening he drove them back to the royal yard. At that hour the Princess was always sitting on the balcony, and looking out to see that the number of the cows were all right.[321]

Katoma remained sitting on the stump one day, two days, three days, without anything to eat or drink. To get down was utterly impossible, it seemed as if he must die of starvation. But not far away from that place there was a dense forest. In that forest was living a mighty hero who was quite blind. Theonly way by which he could get himself food was this: whenever he perceived by the sense of smell that any animal was running past him, whether a hare, or a fox, or a bear, he immediately started in chase of it, caught it—and dinner was ready for him. The hero was exceedingly swift-footed, and there was not a single wild beast which could run away from him. Well, one day it fell out thus. A fox slunk past; the hero heard it, and was after it directly. It ran up to the tall stump, and turned sharp off on one-side; but the blind hero hurried on, took a spring, and thumped his forehead against the stump so hard that he knocked the stump out by the roots. Katoma fell to the ground, and asked:

“Who are you?”

“I’m a blind hero. I’ve been living in the forest for thirty years. The only way I can get my food is this: to catch some game or other, and cook it at a wood fire. If it had not been for that, I should have been starved to death long ago!”

“You haven’t been blind all your life?”

“No, not all my life; but Princess Anna the Fair put my eyes out!”

“There now, brother!” says Katoma; “and it’s thanks to her, too, that I’m left here without any feet. She cut them both off, the accursed one!”

The two heroes had a talk, and agreed to live together, and join in getting their food. The blind man says to the lame:

“Sit on my back and show me the way; I will serve you with my feet, and you me with your eyes.”

So he took the cripple and carried him home, and Katoma sat on his back, kept a look out all round, and cried out from time to time: “Right! Left! Straight on!” and so forth.

Well, they lived some time in the forest in that way, and caught hares, foxes, and bears for their dinner. One day the cripple says—

“Surely we can never go on living all our lives without a soul [to speak to]. I have heard that in such and such a town lives a rich merchant who has a daughter; and that merchant’sdaughter is exceedingly kind to the poor and crippled. She gives alms to everyone. Suppose we carry her off, brother, and let her live here and keep house for us.”

The blind man took a cart, seated the cripple in it, and rattled it into the town, straight into the rich merchant’s courtyard. The merchant’s daughter saw them out of window, and immediately ran out, and came to give them alms. Approaching the cripple, she said:

“Take this, in Christ’s name, poor fellow!”

He [seemed to be going] to take the gift, but he seized her by the hand, pulled her into the cart, and called to the blind man, who ran off with it at such a pace that no one could catch him, even on horseback. The merchant sent people in pursuit—but no, they could not come up with him.

The heroes brought the merchant’s daughter into their forest hut, and said to her:

“Be in the place of a sister to us, live here and keep house for us; otherwise we poor sufferers will have no one to cook our meals or wash our shirts. God won’t desert you if you do that!”

The merchant’s daughter remained with them. The heroes respected her, loved her, acknowledged her as a sister. They used to be out hunting all day, but their adopted sister was always at home. She looked after all the housekeeping, prepared the meals, washed the linen.

But after a time a Baba Yaga took to haunting their hut and sucking the breasts of the merchant’s daughter. No sooner have the heroes gone off to the chase, than the Baba Yaga is there in a moment. Before long the fair maiden’s face began to fall away, and she grew weak and thin. The blind man could see nothing, but Katoma remarked that things weren’t going well. He spoke about it to the blind man, and they went together to their adopted sister, and began questioning her. But the Baba Yaga had strictly forbidden her to tell the truth. For a long time she was afraid to acquaint them with her trouble, for along time she held out, but at last her brothers talked her over and she told them everything without reserve.

“Every time you go away to the chase,” says she, “there immediately appears in the cottage a very old woman with a most evil face, and long grey hair. And she sets me to dress her head, and meanwhile she sucks my breasts.”

“Ah!” says the blind man, “that’s a Baba Yaga. Wait a bit; we must treat her after her own fashion. To-morrow we won’t go to the chase, but we’ll try to entice her and lay hands upon her!”

So next morning the heroes didn’t go out hunting.

“Now then, Uncle Footless!” says the blind man, “you get under the bench, and lie there ever so still, and I’ll go into the yard and stand under the window. And as for you, sister, when the Baba Yaga comes, sit down just here, close by the window; and as you dress her hair, quietly separate the locks and throw them outside through the window. Just let me lay hold of her by those grey hairs of hers!”

What was said was done. The blind man laid hold of the Baba Yaga by her grey hair, and cried—

“Ho there, Uncle Katoma! Come out from under the bench, and lay hold of this viper of a woman, while I go into the hut!”

The Baba Yaga hears the bad news and tries to jump up to get her head free. (Where are you off to? That’s no go, sureenough![322]) She tugs and tugs, but cannot do herself any good!

Just then from under the bench crawled Uncle Katoma, fell upon her like a mountain of stone, took to strangling her until the heaven seemed to her to disappear.[323]Then into the cottage bounded the blind man, crying to the cripple—

“Now we must heap up a great pile of wood, and consume this accursed one with fire, and fling her ashes to the wind!”

The Baba Yaga began imploring them:

“My fathers! my darlings! forgive me. I will do all that is right.”

“Very good, old witch! Then show us the fountain of healing and life-giving water!” said the heroes.

“Only don’t kill me, and I’ll show it you directly!”

Well, Katoma sat on the blind man’s back. The blind man took the Baba Yaga by her back hair, and she led them into the depths of the forest, brought them to a well,[324]and said—

“That is the water that cures and gives life.”

“Look out, Uncle Katoma!” cried the blind man; “don’t make a blunder. If she tricks us now we shan’t get right all our lives!”

Katoma cut a green branch off a tree, and flung it into the well. The bough hadn’t so much as reached the water before it all burst into a flame!

“Ha! so you’re still up to your tricks,” said the heroes, and began to strangle the Baba Yaga, with the intention of flinging her, the accursed one, into the fiery fount. More than ever did the Baba Yaga implore for mercy, swearing a great oath that she would not deceive them this time.

“On my troth I will bring you to good water,” says she.

The heroes consented to give her one more trial, and she took them to another fount.

Uncle Katoma cut a dry spray from a tree, and flung it into the fount. The spray had not yet reached the water when it already turned green, budded, and put forth blossoms.

“Come now, that’s good water!” said Katoma.

The blind man wetted his eyes with it, and saw directly. He lowered the,cripple into the water, and the lame man’s feet grew again. Then they both rejoiced greatly, and said to one another, “Now the time has come for us to get all right! We’ll get everything back again we used to have! Only first we must make an end of the Baba Yaga. If we were to pardon her now, we should always be unlucky; she’d be scheming mischief all her life.”

Accordingly they went back to the fiery fount, and flung the Baba Yaga into it; didn’t it soon make an end of her!

After this Katoma married the merchant’s daughter, and the three companions went to the kingdom of Anna the Fair in order to rescue Prince Ivan. When they drew near to the capital, what should they see but Prince Ivan driving a herd of cows!

“Stop, herdsman!” says Katoma; “where are you driving these cows?”

“I’m driving them to the Princess’s courtyard,” replied the Prince. “The Princess always sees for herself whether all the cows are there.”

“Here, herdsman; take my clothes and put them on, and I will put on yours and drive the cows.”

“No, brother! that cannot be done. If the Princess founditout, I should suffer harm!”

“Never fear, nothing will happen! Katoma will guarantee you that.”

Prince Ivan sighed, and said—

“Ah, good man! If Katoma had been alive, I should not have been feeding these cows afield!”

Then Katoma disclosed to him who he was. Prince Ivan warmly embraced him and burst into tears.

“I never hoped even to see you again,” said he.

So they exchanged clothes. The tutor drove the cows to the Princess’s courtyard. Anna the Fair went into the balcony, looked to see if all the cows were there, and ordered them to be driven into the sheds. All the cows went into the sheds except the last one, which remained at the gate. Katoma sprang at it, exclaiming—

“What are you waiting for, dog’s-meat?”

Then he seized it by the tail, and pulled it so hard that he pulled the cow’s hide right off! The Princess saw this, and cried with a loud voice:

“What is that brute of a cowherd doing? Seize him and bring him to me!”

Then the servants seized Katoma and dragged him to the palace. He went with them, making no excuses, relying onhimself. They brought him to the Princess. She looked at him and asked—

“Who are you? Where do you come from?”

“I am he whose feet you cut off and whom you set on a stump. My name is Katomadyadka, oakenshapka.”

“Well,” thinks the Princess, “now that he’s got his feet back again, I must act straight-forwardly with him for the future.”

And she began to beseech him and the Prince to pardon her. She confessed all her sins, and swore an oath always to love Prince Ivan, and to obey him in all things. Prince Ivan forgave her, and began to live with her in peace and concord. The hero who had been blind remained with them, but Katoma and his wife went to the house of [her father] the rich merchant, and took up their abode under his roof.

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