FOOTNOTES:

[Thenext chapterwill contain a number of vampire stories which, in some respects,resemble these tales of homicidal corpses. But most of them belong, I think, to a separate group, due to a different myth or superstition from that which has given rise to such tales as those quoted above. The vampire is actuated by a thirst which can be quenched only by blood, and which impels it to go forth from the grave and destroy. But the enchanted corpses which rise at midnight, and attempt to rend their watchers, appear to owe their ferocity to demoniacal possession. After the death of a witch her body is liable, says popular tradition, to be tenanted by a devil (as may be seen fromNo. iii.), and to corpses thus possessed have been attributed by the storytellers the terrible deeds which Indian tales relate of Rákshasas and other evil spirits. Thus in the story of Nischayadatta, in the seventh book of the “Kathásaritságara,” the hero and the four pilgrims, his companions, have to pass a night in a deserted temple of Siva. It is haunted by aYakshini, a female demon, who turns men by spells into brutes, and then eats them; so they sit watching and praying beside a fire round which they have traced a circle of ashes. At midnight the demon-enchantress arrives, dancing and “blowing on a flute made of a dead man’s bone.” Fixing her eyes on one of the pilgrims, she mutters a spell, accompanied by a wild dance. Out of the head of the doomed man grows a horn; he loses all command over himself, leaps up, and dances into the flames. TheYakshiniseizes his half-burnt corpse and devours it. Then she treats the second and the third pilgrim in the same way. But just as she is turning to the fourth, she lays her flute on the ground. In an instant the hero seizes it, and begins to blow it and to dance wildly around theYakshini, fixing his eyes upon her and applying to her the words of her own spell. Deprived by it of all power, she submits, and from that time forward renders the hero good service.[368]]

In one of the skazkas a malignant witch is destroyed by a benignant female power. It had been predicted that a certain baby princess would begin flying about the world as soon as she was fifteen. So her parents shut her up in a building in which she never saw the light of day, nor the face of a man. For it was illuminated by artificial means, and none but women had access to it. But one day, when her nurses andMamzelihad gone to a feast at the palace, she found a door unlocked, and made her way into the sunlight. After this her attendants were obliged to allow her to go where she wished, when her parents were away. As she went roaming about the palace she came to a cage “in which aZhar-Ptitsa,[369]lay [as if] dead.” This bird, herguardians told her, slept soundly all day, but at night her papa flew about on it. Farther on she came to a veiled portrait. When the veil was lifted, she cried in astonishment “Can such beauty be?” and determined to fly on theZhar-Ptitsato the original of the picture. So at night she sought theZhar-Ptitsa, which was sitting up and flapping its wings, and asked whether she might fly abroad on its back. The bird consented and bore her far away. Three times it carried her to the room of the prince whose portrait she had so much admired. On the first and second occasion he remained asleep during her visit, having been plunged into a magic slumber by theZhar-Ptitsa. But during her third visit he awoke, “and he and she wept and wept, and exchanged betrothal rings.” So long did they remain talking that, before theZhar-Ptitsaand his rider could get back, “the day began to dawn—the bird sank lower and lower and fell to the ground.” Then the princess, thinking it was really dead, buried it in the earth—having first cut off its wings, and “attached them to herself so as to walk more lightly.”

After various adventures she comes to a land of mourning. “Why are you so mournful?” she asks. “Because our king’s son has gone out of his mind,” is the reply. “He eats a man every night.” Thereupon she goes to the king and obtains leave to watch the prince by night. As the clock strikes twelve the prince, who is laden with chains, makes a rush at her; but the wings of theZhar-Ptitsarustle around her, and he sits down again. This takes place three times, after which the light goes out. She leaves the room in search of the means of rekindling it, sees a glimmer in the distance, and sets off with a lantern in search of it. Presently she finds an old witch who issitting before a fire, above which seethes a cauldron. “What have you got there?” she asks. “When this cauldron seethes,” replies the witch, “within it does the heart of Prince Ivan rage madly.”

Pretending to be merely getting a light, the Princess contrives to splash the seething liquid over the witch, who immediately falls dead. Then she looks into the cauldron, and there, in truth, she sees the Prince’s heart. When she returns to his room he has recovered his senses. “Thank you for bringing a light,” he says. “Why am I in chains?” “Thus and thus,” says she. “You went out of your mind and ate people.” Whereat he wonders greatly.[370]

TheZhar-Ptitsa, or Fire-Bird, which plays so important a part in this story, is worthy of special notice. Its name is sufficient to show its close connection with flame or light,[371]and its appearance corresponds with its designation. Its feathers blaze with silvery or golden sheen, its eyes shine like crystal, it dwells in a golden cage. In the depth of the night it flies into a garden, and lights it up as brightly as could a thousand burning fires. A single feather from its tail illuminates a dark room. It feeds upon golden apples which have the power of bestowing youth and beauty, or according to a Croatian version, on magic-grasses. Its song, according to Bohemian legends, heals the sick and restores sight to the blind. We have already seen that, as the Phœnix, of which it seems to be a Slavonic counterpart, dies in the flame from which it springs again into life, so theZhar-Ptitsasinks into a death-like slumber when the day dawns, to awake to fresh life after the sunset.

One of the skazkas[372]about theZhar-Ptitsaclosely resembles the well-known German tale of the Golden Bird.[373]But it is a “Chap-book” story, and therefore of doubtful origin. King Vuislaf has an apple-tree which bears golden fruits. These are stolen by aZhar-Ptitsawhich flies every night into the garden, so he orders his sons to keep watch there by turns. The elder brothers cannot keep awake, and see nothing; but the youngest of the three, Prince Ivan, though he fails to capture the bird, secures one of its tail-feathers. After a time he leaves his home and goes forth in search of the bird. Aided by a wolf, he reaches the garden in which theZhar-Ptitsalives, and succeeds in taking it out of its golden cage. But trying, in spite of the wolf’s warning, to carry off the cage itself, an alarm is sounded, and he is taken prisoner. After various other adventures he is killed by his envious brothers, but of course all comes right in the end. In a version of the story which comes from the Bukovina, one of the incidents is detailed at greater length than in either the German or the Russian tale. When the hero has been killed by his brothers, and they have carried off theZhar-Ptitsa, and their victim’s golden steed, and his betrothed princess—as long as he lies dead, the princess remains mute and mournful, the horse refuses to eat, the bird is silent, and its cage is lustreless. But as soon as he comes back to life, the princess regains her spirits, and the horse its appetite. TheZhar-Ptitsarecommences its magic song, and its cage flashes anew like fire.

In another skazka[374]asportsmanfinds in a forest “a golden feather of theZhar-Ptitsa; like fire does the feather shine!” Against the advice of his “heroic steed,” hepicks up the feather and takes it to the king, who sends him in search of the bird itself. Then he has wheat scattered on the ground, and at dawn he hides behind a tree near it. “Presently the forest begins to roar, the sea rises in waves, and theZhar-Ptitsaflies up, lights upon the ground and begins to peck the wheat.” Then the “heroic steed” gallops up, sets its hoof upon the bird’s wing, and presses it to the ground, so that the shooter is able to bind it with cords, and take it to the king. In a variant of the story the bird is captured by means of a trap—a cage in which “pearls large and small” have been strewed.

I had intended to say something about the various golden haired or golden-horned animals which figure in the Skazkas, but it will be sufficient for the present to refer to the notices of them which occur in Prof. de Gubernatis’s “Zoological Mythology.” And now I will bring this chapter to a close with the following weird story of

There was once a Moujik, and he had three married sons. He lived a long while, and was looked upon by the village as aKoldun[or wizard]. When he was about to die, he gave orders that his sons’ wives should keep watch over him [after his death] for three nights, taking one night apiece; that his body should be placed in the outer chamber,[376]and that his sons’ wives should spin wool to make him a caftan. He ordered, moreover, that no cross should be placed upon him, and that none should be worn by his daughters-in-law.Well, that same night the eldest daughter-in-law took her seat beside him with some grey wool, and began spinning. Midnight arrives. Says the father-in-law from his coffin:“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”She was terribly frightened, but answered, “I am.” “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”He made a movement towards her. Then a second time he asked again—“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”“I am.” “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”She shrank into the corner. He moved again, came a couple of yards nearer her.A third time he made a movement. She offered up no prayer. He strangled her, and then lay down again in his coffin.His sons removed her body, and next evening, in obedience to his paternal behest, they sent another of his daughters-in-law to keep watch. To her just the same thing happened: he strangled her as he had done the first one.But the third was sharper than the other two. She declared she had taken off her cross, but in reality she kept it on. She took her seat and spun, but said prayers to herself all the while.Midnight arrives. Says her father-in-law from his coffin—“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”“I am,” she replies. “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”Just the same took place a second time. The third time, just as he was going to rush at her, she laid the cross upon him. He fell down and died. She looked into the coffin; there lay ever so much money. The father-in-law wanted to take it away with him, or, at all events, that only some one who could outdo him in cunning should get it.[377]

Well, that same night the eldest daughter-in-law took her seat beside him with some grey wool, and began spinning. Midnight arrives. Says the father-in-law from his coffin:

“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”

She was terribly frightened, but answered, “I am.” “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”

He made a movement towards her. Then a second time he asked again—

“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”

“I am.” “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”

She shrank into the corner. He moved again, came a couple of yards nearer her.

A third time he made a movement. She offered up no prayer. He strangled her, and then lay down again in his coffin.

His sons removed her body, and next evening, in obedience to his paternal behest, they sent another of his daughters-in-law to keep watch. To her just the same thing happened: he strangled her as he had done the first one.

But the third was sharper than the other two. She declared she had taken off her cross, but in reality she kept it on. She took her seat and spun, but said prayers to herself all the while.

Midnight arrives. Says her father-in-law from his coffin—

“Daughter-in-law, art thou there?”

“I am,” she replies. “Art thou sitting?” “I sit.” “Dost thou spin?” “I spin.” “Grey wool?” “Grey.” “For a caftan?” “For a caftan.”

Just the same took place a second time. The third time, just as he was going to rush at her, she laid the cross upon him. He fell down and died. She looked into the coffin; there lay ever so much money. The father-in-law wanted to take it away with him, or, at all events, that only some one who could outdo him in cunning should get it.[377]

In one of the least intelligible of the West Highland tales, there is a scene which somewhat resembles the “lykewake” in this skazka. It is called “The Girl and the Dead Man,” and relates, among other strange things, how a youngest sister took service in a house where a corpse lay. “She sat to watch the dead man, and she was sewing; in the middle of night he rose up, and screwed up a grin. ‘If thou dost not lie down properly, I will give thee the one leathering with a stick.’ He lay down. At the end of a while, he rose on one elbow, and screwed up a grin; and the third time he rose and screwed up a grin. When he rose the third time, she struck him a lounder of the stick; the stick stuck to the dead man, and the hand stuck to the stick, and out they were.” Eventually “she got a peck of gold and a peck of silver, and the vessel of cordial” and returned home.[378]

The obscurity of the Celtic tale forms a striking contrast to the lucidity of the Slavonic. The Russian peasant likes a clear statement of facts; the Highlander seems, like Coleridge’s Scotch admirer, to find a pleasure in seeing “an idea looming out of the mist.”

FOOTNOTES:[296]About which, see Professor Wilson’s note on Somadeva’s story of the “Origin of Pátaliputra,” “Essays,” i. p. 168-9, with Dr. Rost’s reference to L. Deslongchamps, “Essai sur les Fables Indiennes,” Paris, 1838, p. 35 and Grässe, “Sagenkreise des Mittelalters,” Leipsig, 1842, p. 191. See also the numerous references given by Grimm,KM.iii. pp. 168-9.[297]As well as in all the mythologies. For the magic draught of the fairy-story appears to be closely connected with the Greekambrosia, the Vedicsomaoramrita, the Zendhaoma.[298]A water, “Das Wasser des Lebens,” in two German stories (Grimm, Nos. 92 and 97, and iii. p. 178), and in many Greek tales (Hahn, Nos. 32, 37, &c.). An oil or ointment in the Norse tale (Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 35, Dasent, No. 3). A balsam in Gaelic tales, in which a “Vessel of Balsam” often occurs. According to Mr. Campbell (“West Highland Tales,” i. p. 218), “Ballan Iocshlaint, teat, of ichor, of health, seems to be the meaning of the words.” The juice squeezed from the leaves of a tree in a modern Indian tale (“Old Deccan Days,” p. 139).[299]The mythical bird Garuda, the Indian original of the Roc of the Arabian Nights, was similarly connected with the Amrita. See the story of Garuda and the Nágas in Brockhaus’s translation of the “Kathásaritságara,” ii. pp. 98-105. On the Vedic falcon which brings the Soma down to earth, see Kuhn’s “Herabkunft des Feuers,” pp. 138-142.[300]In the Russian periodical, “Otechestvennuiya Zapiski,” vol. 43 (for 1830) pp. 252-6.[301]Schiefners’s translation, 1852, pp. 80, 81.[302]In that attributed to Sivadása, tale 2 (Lassen’s “Anthologia Sanscritica,” pp. 16-19), and in the “Kathásaritságara,” chap. lxxvi. See Brockhaus’s summary in the “Berichte der phil. hist. Classe der Kön. Sächs. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften,” December 3, 1853, pp. 194-5.[303]The “Baitál-Pachísí,” translated by Ghulam Mohammad Munshi, Bombay 1868, pp. 23-24.[304]B. G. Babington’s translation of “The Vedàla Cadai,” p. 32. contained in the “Miscellaneous Translations” of the Oriental Translation Fund, 1831, vol. i. pt. iv pp. 32 and 67.[305]Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 551.[306]Afanasief, viii. p. 205.[307]Afanasief, vii. No. 5b.[308]Afanasief, vii. No. 5a. For theZhar-Ptitsa, see infra, p.285.[309]Afanasief, vi. p. 249. For a number of interesting legends, collected from the most distant parts of the world, about grinding mountains and crashing cliffs, &c., see Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” pp. 313-16. After quoting three mythic descriptions found among the Karens, the Algonquins, and the Aztecs, Mr. Tylor remarks, “On the suggestion of this group of solar conceptions and that of Maui’s death, we may perhaps explain as derived from a broken-down fancy of solar-myth, that famous episode of Greek legend, where the good ship Argo passed between the Symplêgades, those two huge cliffs that opened and closed again with swift and violent collision.”Several of the Modern Greek stories are very like the skazka mentioned above. In one of these (Hahn, ii. p. 234), a Lamia guards the water of life (ἀϐάνατο νερὸ) which flows within a rock; in another (ii. p. 280) a mountain opens at midday, and several springs are disclosed, each of which cries “Draw from me!” but the only one which is life-giving is that to which a bee flies.[310]Wenzig, p. 148.[311]Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 353.[312]See above, p.233.[313]Silnaya vodaor potent water, andbezsilnaya voda, or impotent water (sila= strength).[314]Palitsa= a cudgel, etc. In the variant of the story quoted in the preceding section the prince seized Vikhor by the right little finger,mizinets.Paletsmeant a finger. The similarity of the two words may have led to a confusion of ideas.[315]Afanasief, vii. pp. 97-103.[316]Muir’s “Sanskrit Texts,” v. p. 258 and p. 94. See, also Mannhardt’s “Germ. Mythen,” pp. 96-97.[317]Being as destructive as the poison which was created during the churning of the Amrita.[318]Afanasief, v. No. 35.[319]In the original he is generally designated asKatòma—dyàd’ka, dubovaya shàpka, “Katòma-governor, oaken-hat.” Not being able to preserve the assonance, I have dropped the greater part of his title.[320]Bogodanny(bog= God;dat’,davat’= to give). One of the Russian equivalents for our hideous “father-in-law” is “god-given father” (bogodanny otets), and for “mother-in-law,”bogodanny mat’or “God-given mother.” (Dahl.)[321]Four lines are omitted here. See A. de Gubernatis, “Zool. Mythology,”i.181, where a solar explanation of the whole story will be found.[322]These ejaculations belong to the story-teller.[323]Literally, “Seemed to her as small as a lamb.”[324]Kolòdez, a word connected withkolòdaa log, trough, &c.[325]Afanasief, viii. No. 23a.[326]To this episode a striking parallel is offered by that of Gunther’s wedding night in the “Nibelungenlied,” in which Brynhild flings her husband Gunther across the room, kneels on his chest, and finally binds him hand and foot, and suspends him from a nail till daybreak. The next night Siegfried takes his place, and wrestles with the mighty maiden. After a long struggle he flings her on the floor and forces her to submit. Then he leaves the room and Gunther returns. A summary of the story will be found in the “Tales of the Teutonic Lands,” by G. W.Coxand E. H. Jones, pp. 94-5.[327]Khudyakof, i. No. 19. pp. 73-7.[328]Erlenvein, No. 19, pp. 95-7. For a Little-Russian version seeKulish, ii. pp. 59-82.[329]Afanasief, vi. No. 26. From the Kursk Government.[330]Prashchurui.[331]The sentence in italics is a good specimen of thepriskazka, or preface.[332]Gramota=γράμματαwhence comesgràmotey, able to read and write =γραμματικός.[333]Vanya and Vanyusha are diminutives of Ivan (John), answering to our Johnny; Vanka is another, more like our Jack.[334]Literally “with a Solovei-like whistle.” The wordsoloveigenerally means a nightingale, but it was also the name of a mythical hero, a robber whose voice or whistle had the power of killing those who heard it.[335]Chmoknuel, smacked.[336]See Barsof’s rich collection of North-Russian funeral poetry, entitled “Prichitaniya Syevernago Kraya,” Moscow, 1872. Also the “Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 334-345.[337]Miss Frere’s “Old Deccan Days,” pp. 3, 4.[338]Grimm,KM.No. 21.[339]Afanasief, vi. No. 54.[340]Ona krava shto yoy ye bila mati, Vuk Karajich, p. 158. In the German translation (p. 188)Wie dies nun die Kuh sah, die einst seine Mutter gewesen war.[341]Afanasief, ii. p. 254.[342]Cherez dvyenadtsat’ stekol.Steklomeans a glass, or a pane of glass.[343]Afanasief, ii. p. 269.[344]Khudyakof, No. 50.[345]Afanasief, iii. p. 25.[346]Dasent’s “Norse Tales,” No. 40. Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 37. “Grimsborken.”[347]Dasent, No. 13. Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 51. “Jomfruen paa Glasberget.”[348]Campbell’s “West-Highland Tales,” iii. pp. 265, 266.[349]Miss Frere’s “Old Deccan Days,” pp. 31, 73, 95, 135.[350]“Völsunga Saga,” translated by E. Magnússon and W. Morris, pp. 95-6.[351]Afanasief, vi. No. 32. From the Novgorod Government. A “chap-book” version of this story will be found in Dietrich’s collection (pp. 152-68 of the English translation); also in Keightley’s “Tales and Popular Fictions.”[352]Nijnie, lower. Thus Nijny Novgorod is the lower (down the Volga) Novgorod. (Dahl.)[353]Kukova, a stick or cudgel, one end of which is bent and rounded like a ball.[354]Tak de ego ne vzat’.[355]There are numerous variants of this story among the Skazkas. In one of these (Afanasief, vii. No. 31) the man on whom the pike has bestowed supernatural power uses it to turn a Maiden princess into a mother. This renders the story wholly in accordance with (1) the Modern Greek tale of “The Half Man,” (Hahn, No. 8) in which the magic formula runs, “according to the first word of God and the second of the fish shall such and such a thing be done!” (2) The Neapolitan story of “Pervonto” (Basile’s “Pentamerone,” No. 3) who obtains his magic power from three youths whom he screens from the sun as they lie asleep one hot day, and who turn out to be sons of a fairy. Afanasief compares the story also with the German tale of “The Little Grey Mannikin,” in the “Zeitschrift für Deutsche Mythologie,” &c., i. pp. 38-40. The incident of wishes being fulfilled by a fish occurs in many stories, as in that of “The Fisherman,” in the “Arabian Nights,” “The Fisherman and his Wife,” in Grimm (KM., No. 19). A number of stories about the Pike are referred to by A. de Gubernatis (“Zoolog. Mythology,” ii. 337-9).[356]Quoted by Afanasief from Siemienski’s “Podania,” Posen, 1845, p. 42.[357]“Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 387-427.[358]Afanasief, vii. No. 36a. This story has no special title in the original.[359]The rural police.Sotnick= centurion, fromsto= 100.Desyatnikis a word of the same kind fromdesyat= 10.[360]A Ponomar is a kind of sacristan.[361]“Der Werwolf, Beitrag zur Sagengeschichte,” Stuttgart, 1862. For Russian ideas on the subject see “Songs of the Russian people,” pp. 403-9.[362]“Polnische Volkssagen” (translated by Lewestam), p. 61.[363]Brockhaus’s “Mährchensammlungdes Somadeva Bhatta,” ii. p. 24.[364]Afanasief, vii. No. 36b. This story, also, is without special title.[365]In Mr. Hain Friswell’s collection of “Ghost Stories,” 1858.[366]Afanasief, vii. No. 36c. Also without special title.[367]The Russianskovorodais a sort of stew-pan, of great size, without a handle.[368]From Professor Brockhaus’s summary in the “Berichte der phil. hist. Classe der Königl. Sächs.Gesellschaftder Wissenschaften,” 1861, pp. 215, 16.[369]For an account of this mythological bird, see the note onnext page. Ornithologically, theZhar-ptitsais the Cassowary.[370]Khudyakof, No. 110. From the Nijegorod Government.[371]Zhar= glowing heat, as of a furnace;zhar-ptitsa= the glow-bird. Its name among the Czekhs and Slovaks isPtak Ohnivák. The heathens Slavonians are said to have worshipped Ogon or Agon, Fire, the counterpart of the Vedic Agni.Agonis still the ordinary Russian word for fire, the equivalent of the Latinignis.[372]Afanasief, vii. No. 11. See also the notes in viii. p. 620, etc.[373]Grimm’sKM., No. 57. See the notes in Bd. iii. p. 98.[374]Afanasief, vii. No. 12.[375]Khudyakof, No. 104. From the Orel Government.[376]Thekholodnaya izba—the “cold izba,” as opposed to the “warm izba” or living room.[377]The etymology of the wordkoldunis still, I believe, a moot point. The discovery of the money in the warlock’s coffin seems an improbable incident. In the original version of the story the wizard may, perhaps, have turned into a heap of gold (see above, p.231, on “Gold-men”).[378]Campbell, No. 13, vol. i. p. 215.

[296]About which, see Professor Wilson’s note on Somadeva’s story of the “Origin of Pátaliputra,” “Essays,” i. p. 168-9, with Dr. Rost’s reference to L. Deslongchamps, “Essai sur les Fables Indiennes,” Paris, 1838, p. 35 and Grässe, “Sagenkreise des Mittelalters,” Leipsig, 1842, p. 191. See also the numerous references given by Grimm,KM.iii. pp. 168-9.

[297]As well as in all the mythologies. For the magic draught of the fairy-story appears to be closely connected with the Greekambrosia, the Vedicsomaoramrita, the Zendhaoma.

[298]A water, “Das Wasser des Lebens,” in two German stories (Grimm, Nos. 92 and 97, and iii. p. 178), and in many Greek tales (Hahn, Nos. 32, 37, &c.). An oil or ointment in the Norse tale (Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 35, Dasent, No. 3). A balsam in Gaelic tales, in which a “Vessel of Balsam” often occurs. According to Mr. Campbell (“West Highland Tales,” i. p. 218), “Ballan Iocshlaint, teat, of ichor, of health, seems to be the meaning of the words.” The juice squeezed from the leaves of a tree in a modern Indian tale (“Old Deccan Days,” p. 139).

[299]The mythical bird Garuda, the Indian original of the Roc of the Arabian Nights, was similarly connected with the Amrita. See the story of Garuda and the Nágas in Brockhaus’s translation of the “Kathásaritságara,” ii. pp. 98-105. On the Vedic falcon which brings the Soma down to earth, see Kuhn’s “Herabkunft des Feuers,” pp. 138-142.

[300]In the Russian periodical, “Otechestvennuiya Zapiski,” vol. 43 (for 1830) pp. 252-6.

[301]Schiefners’s translation, 1852, pp. 80, 81.

[302]In that attributed to Sivadása, tale 2 (Lassen’s “Anthologia Sanscritica,” pp. 16-19), and in the “Kathásaritságara,” chap. lxxvi. See Brockhaus’s summary in the “Berichte der phil. hist. Classe der Kön. Sächs. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften,” December 3, 1853, pp. 194-5.

[303]The “Baitál-Pachísí,” translated by Ghulam Mohammad Munshi, Bombay 1868, pp. 23-24.

[304]B. G. Babington’s translation of “The Vedàla Cadai,” p. 32. contained in the “Miscellaneous Translations” of the Oriental Translation Fund, 1831, vol. i. pt. iv pp. 32 and 67.

[305]Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 551.

[306]Afanasief, viii. p. 205.

[307]Afanasief, vii. No. 5b.

[308]Afanasief, vii. No. 5a. For theZhar-Ptitsa, see infra, p.285.

[309]Afanasief, vi. p. 249. For a number of interesting legends, collected from the most distant parts of the world, about grinding mountains and crashing cliffs, &c., see Tylor’s “Primitive Culture,” pp. 313-16. After quoting three mythic descriptions found among the Karens, the Algonquins, and the Aztecs, Mr. Tylor remarks, “On the suggestion of this group of solar conceptions and that of Maui’s death, we may perhaps explain as derived from a broken-down fancy of solar-myth, that famous episode of Greek legend, where the good ship Argo passed between the Symplêgades, those two huge cliffs that opened and closed again with swift and violent collision.”Several of the Modern Greek stories are very like the skazka mentioned above. In one of these (Hahn, ii. p. 234), a Lamia guards the water of life (ἀϐάνατο νερὸ) which flows within a rock; in another (ii. p. 280) a mountain opens at midday, and several springs are disclosed, each of which cries “Draw from me!” but the only one which is life-giving is that to which a bee flies.

Several of the Modern Greek stories are very like the skazka mentioned above. In one of these (Hahn, ii. p. 234), a Lamia guards the water of life (ἀϐάνατο νερὸ) which flows within a rock; in another (ii. p. 280) a mountain opens at midday, and several springs are disclosed, each of which cries “Draw from me!” but the only one which is life-giving is that to which a bee flies.

[310]Wenzig, p. 148.

[311]Afanasief,P.V.S.ii. 353.

[312]See above, p.233.

[313]Silnaya vodaor potent water, andbezsilnaya voda, or impotent water (sila= strength).

[314]Palitsa= a cudgel, etc. In the variant of the story quoted in the preceding section the prince seized Vikhor by the right little finger,mizinets.Paletsmeant a finger. The similarity of the two words may have led to a confusion of ideas.

[315]Afanasief, vii. pp. 97-103.

[316]Muir’s “Sanskrit Texts,” v. p. 258 and p. 94. See, also Mannhardt’s “Germ. Mythen,” pp. 96-97.

[317]Being as destructive as the poison which was created during the churning of the Amrita.

[318]Afanasief, v. No. 35.

[319]In the original he is generally designated asKatòma—dyàd’ka, dubovaya shàpka, “Katòma-governor, oaken-hat.” Not being able to preserve the assonance, I have dropped the greater part of his title.

[320]Bogodanny(bog= God;dat’,davat’= to give). One of the Russian equivalents for our hideous “father-in-law” is “god-given father” (bogodanny otets), and for “mother-in-law,”bogodanny mat’or “God-given mother.” (Dahl.)

[321]Four lines are omitted here. See A. de Gubernatis, “Zool. Mythology,”i.181, where a solar explanation of the whole story will be found.

[322]These ejaculations belong to the story-teller.

[323]Literally, “Seemed to her as small as a lamb.”

[324]Kolòdez, a word connected withkolòdaa log, trough, &c.

[325]Afanasief, viii. No. 23a.

[326]To this episode a striking parallel is offered by that of Gunther’s wedding night in the “Nibelungenlied,” in which Brynhild flings her husband Gunther across the room, kneels on his chest, and finally binds him hand and foot, and suspends him from a nail till daybreak. The next night Siegfried takes his place, and wrestles with the mighty maiden. After a long struggle he flings her on the floor and forces her to submit. Then he leaves the room and Gunther returns. A summary of the story will be found in the “Tales of the Teutonic Lands,” by G. W.Coxand E. H. Jones, pp. 94-5.

[327]Khudyakof, i. No. 19. pp. 73-7.

[328]Erlenvein, No. 19, pp. 95-7. For a Little-Russian version seeKulish, ii. pp. 59-82.

[329]Afanasief, vi. No. 26. From the Kursk Government.

[330]Prashchurui.

[331]The sentence in italics is a good specimen of thepriskazka, or preface.

[332]Gramota=γράμματαwhence comesgràmotey, able to read and write =γραμματικός.

[333]Vanya and Vanyusha are diminutives of Ivan (John), answering to our Johnny; Vanka is another, more like our Jack.

[334]Literally “with a Solovei-like whistle.” The wordsoloveigenerally means a nightingale, but it was also the name of a mythical hero, a robber whose voice or whistle had the power of killing those who heard it.

[335]Chmoknuel, smacked.

[336]See Barsof’s rich collection of North-Russian funeral poetry, entitled “Prichitaniya Syevernago Kraya,” Moscow, 1872. Also the “Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 334-345.

[337]Miss Frere’s “Old Deccan Days,” pp. 3, 4.

[338]Grimm,KM.No. 21.

[339]Afanasief, vi. No. 54.

[340]Ona krava shto yoy ye bila mati, Vuk Karajich, p. 158. In the German translation (p. 188)Wie dies nun die Kuh sah, die einst seine Mutter gewesen war.

[341]Afanasief, ii. p. 254.

[342]Cherez dvyenadtsat’ stekol.Steklomeans a glass, or a pane of glass.

[343]Afanasief, ii. p. 269.

[344]Khudyakof, No. 50.

[345]Afanasief, iii. p. 25.

[346]Dasent’s “Norse Tales,” No. 40. Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 37. “Grimsborken.”

[347]Dasent, No. 13. Asbjörnsen and Moe, No. 51. “Jomfruen paa Glasberget.”

[348]Campbell’s “West-Highland Tales,” iii. pp. 265, 266.

[349]Miss Frere’s “Old Deccan Days,” pp. 31, 73, 95, 135.

[350]“Völsunga Saga,” translated by E. Magnússon and W. Morris, pp. 95-6.

[351]Afanasief, vi. No. 32. From the Novgorod Government. A “chap-book” version of this story will be found in Dietrich’s collection (pp. 152-68 of the English translation); also in Keightley’s “Tales and Popular Fictions.”

[352]Nijnie, lower. Thus Nijny Novgorod is the lower (down the Volga) Novgorod. (Dahl.)

[353]Kukova, a stick or cudgel, one end of which is bent and rounded like a ball.

[354]Tak de ego ne vzat’.

[355]There are numerous variants of this story among the Skazkas. In one of these (Afanasief, vii. No. 31) the man on whom the pike has bestowed supernatural power uses it to turn a Maiden princess into a mother. This renders the story wholly in accordance with (1) the Modern Greek tale of “The Half Man,” (Hahn, No. 8) in which the magic formula runs, “according to the first word of God and the second of the fish shall such and such a thing be done!” (2) The Neapolitan story of “Pervonto” (Basile’s “Pentamerone,” No. 3) who obtains his magic power from three youths whom he screens from the sun as they lie asleep one hot day, and who turn out to be sons of a fairy. Afanasief compares the story also with the German tale of “The Little Grey Mannikin,” in the “Zeitschrift für Deutsche Mythologie,” &c., i. pp. 38-40. The incident of wishes being fulfilled by a fish occurs in many stories, as in that of “The Fisherman,” in the “Arabian Nights,” “The Fisherman and his Wife,” in Grimm (KM., No. 19). A number of stories about the Pike are referred to by A. de Gubernatis (“Zoolog. Mythology,” ii. 337-9).

[356]Quoted by Afanasief from Siemienski’s “Podania,” Posen, 1845, p. 42.

[357]“Songs of the Russian People,” pp. 387-427.

[358]Afanasief, vii. No. 36a. This story has no special title in the original.

[359]The rural police.Sotnick= centurion, fromsto= 100.Desyatnikis a word of the same kind fromdesyat= 10.

[360]A Ponomar is a kind of sacristan.

[361]“Der Werwolf, Beitrag zur Sagengeschichte,” Stuttgart, 1862. For Russian ideas on the subject see “Songs of the Russian people,” pp. 403-9.

[362]“Polnische Volkssagen” (translated by Lewestam), p. 61.

[363]Brockhaus’s “Mährchensammlungdes Somadeva Bhatta,” ii. p. 24.

[364]Afanasief, vii. No. 36b. This story, also, is without special title.

[365]In Mr. Hain Friswell’s collection of “Ghost Stories,” 1858.

[366]Afanasief, vii. No. 36c. Also without special title.

[367]The Russianskovorodais a sort of stew-pan, of great size, without a handle.

[368]From Professor Brockhaus’s summary in the “Berichte der phil. hist. Classe der Königl. Sächs.Gesellschaftder Wissenschaften,” 1861, pp. 215, 16.

[369]For an account of this mythological bird, see the note onnext page. Ornithologically, theZhar-ptitsais the Cassowary.

[370]Khudyakof, No. 110. From the Nijegorod Government.

[371]Zhar= glowing heat, as of a furnace;zhar-ptitsa= the glow-bird. Its name among the Czekhs and Slovaks isPtak Ohnivák. The heathens Slavonians are said to have worshipped Ogon or Agon, Fire, the counterpart of the Vedic Agni.Agonis still the ordinary Russian word for fire, the equivalent of the Latinignis.

[372]Afanasief, vii. No. 11. See also the notes in viii. p. 620, etc.

[373]Grimm’sKM., No. 57. See the notes in Bd. iii. p. 98.

[374]Afanasief, vii. No. 12.

[375]Khudyakof, No. 104. From the Orel Government.

[376]Thekholodnaya izba—the “cold izba,” as opposed to the “warm izba” or living room.

[377]The etymology of the wordkoldunis still, I believe, a moot point. The discovery of the money in the warlock’s coffin seems an improbable incident. In the original version of the story the wizard may, perhaps, have turned into a heap of gold (see above, p.231, on “Gold-men”).

[378]Campbell, No. 13, vol. i. p. 215.

The Russian peasants have very confused ideas about the local habitation of the disembodied spirit, after its former tenement has been laid in the grave. They seem, from the language of their funeral songs, sometimes to regard the departed spirit as residing in the coffin which holds the body from which it has been severed, sometimes to imagine that it hovers around the building which used to be its home, or flies abroad on the wings of the winds. In the food and money and other necessaries of existence still placed in the coffin with the corpse, may be seen traces of an old belief in a journey which the soul was forced to undertake after the death of the body; in thepomnikior feasts in memory of the dead, celebrated at certain short intervals after a death, and also on its anniversary, may be clearly recognized the remains of a faith in the continued residence of the dead in the spot where they had been buried, and in their subjection to some physical sufferings, their capacity for certain animal enjoyments. The two beliefs run side by side with each other, sometimes clashing and producing strange results—all the more strange when they show signs of an attempt having been made to reconcile them with Christian ideas.[379]

Of a heavenly or upper-world home of departed spirits, neither the songs nor the stories of the people, so far as I am aware, make mention. But that there is a country beyond the sky, inhabited by supernatural beings of magic power and unbounded wealth, is stated in a number of tales of the well-known “Jack and the Beanstalk” type. Of these the following may be taken as a specimen.

There once was an old couple. The old man planted a cabbage-head in the cellar under the floor of his cottage; the old woman planted one in the ash-hole. The old woman’s cabbage, in the ash-hole, withered away entirely; but the old man’s grew and grew, grew up to the floor. The old man took his hatchet and cut a hole in the floor above the cabbage. The cabbage went on growing again; grew, grew right up to the ceiling. Again the old man took his hatchet and cut a hole in the ceiling above the cabbage. The cabbage grew and grew, grew right up to the sky. How was the old man to get a look at the head of the cabbage? He began climbing up the cabbage-stalk, climbed and climbed, climbed and climbed, climbed right up to the sky, cut a hole in the sky, and crept through. There he sees a mill[381]standing. The mill gives a turn—out come a pie and a cake with a pot of stewed grain on top.The old man ate his fill, drank his fill, and then lay down to sleep. When he had slept enough he slid down to earth again, and cried:“Old woman! why, old woman! how one does live up in heaven! There’s a mill there—every time it turns, out come a pie and a cake, with a pot ofkashaon top!”“How can I get there, old man?”“Slip into this sack, old woman. I’ll carry you up.”The old woman thought a bit, and then got into the sack. The old man took the sack in his teeth, and began climbing upto heaven. He climbed and climbed, long did he climb. The old woman got tired of waiting and asked:“Is it much farther, old man?”“We’ve half the way to go still.”Again he climbed and climbed, climbed and climbed. A second time the old woman asked:“Is it much farther, old man?”The old man was just beginning to say: “Not much farther—” when the sack slipped from between his teeth, and the old woman fell to the ground and was smashed all to pieces. The old man slid down the cabbage-stalk and picked up the sack. But it had nothing in it but bones, and those broken very small. The old man went out of his house and wept bitterly.Presently a fox met him.“What are you crying about, old man?”“How can I help crying? My old woman is smashed to pieces.”“Hold your noise! I’ll cure her.”The old man fell at the fox’s feet.“Only cure her! I’ll pay whatever is wanted.”“Well, then, heat the bath-room, carry the old woman there along with a bag of oatmeal and a pot of butter, and then stand outside the door; but don’t look inside.”The old man heated the bath-room, carried in what was wanted, and stood outside at the door. But the fox went into the bath-room, shut the door, and began washing the old woman’s remains; washed and washed, and kept looking about her all the time.“How’s my old woman getting on?” asked the old man.“Beginning to stir!” replied the fox, who then ate up the old woman, collected her bones and piled them up in a corner, and set to work to knead a hasty pudding.The old man waited and waited. Presently he asked;“How’s my old woman getting on?”“Resting a bit!” cried the fox, as she gobbled up the hasty pudding.When she had finished it she cried:“Old man! open the door wide.”He opened it, and the fox sprang out of the bath-room and ran off home. The old man went into the bath-room and looked about him. Nothing was to be seen but the old woman’s bones under the bench—and those picked so clean! As for the oatmeal and the butter, they had all been eaten up. So the old man was left alone and in poverty.

The old man ate his fill, drank his fill, and then lay down to sleep. When he had slept enough he slid down to earth again, and cried:

“Old woman! why, old woman! how one does live up in heaven! There’s a mill there—every time it turns, out come a pie and a cake, with a pot ofkashaon top!”

“How can I get there, old man?”

“Slip into this sack, old woman. I’ll carry you up.”

The old woman thought a bit, and then got into the sack. The old man took the sack in his teeth, and began climbing upto heaven. He climbed and climbed, long did he climb. The old woman got tired of waiting and asked:

“Is it much farther, old man?”

“We’ve half the way to go still.”

Again he climbed and climbed, climbed and climbed. A second time the old woman asked:

“Is it much farther, old man?”

The old man was just beginning to say: “Not much farther—” when the sack slipped from between his teeth, and the old woman fell to the ground and was smashed all to pieces. The old man slid down the cabbage-stalk and picked up the sack. But it had nothing in it but bones, and those broken very small. The old man went out of his house and wept bitterly.

Presently a fox met him.

“What are you crying about, old man?”

“How can I help crying? My old woman is smashed to pieces.”

“Hold your noise! I’ll cure her.”

The old man fell at the fox’s feet.

“Only cure her! I’ll pay whatever is wanted.”

“Well, then, heat the bath-room, carry the old woman there along with a bag of oatmeal and a pot of butter, and then stand outside the door; but don’t look inside.”

The old man heated the bath-room, carried in what was wanted, and stood outside at the door. But the fox went into the bath-room, shut the door, and began washing the old woman’s remains; washed and washed, and kept looking about her all the time.

“How’s my old woman getting on?” asked the old man.

“Beginning to stir!” replied the fox, who then ate up the old woman, collected her bones and piled them up in a corner, and set to work to knead a hasty pudding.

The old man waited and waited. Presently he asked;

“How’s my old woman getting on?”

“Resting a bit!” cried the fox, as she gobbled up the hasty pudding.

When she had finished it she cried:

“Old man! open the door wide.”

He opened it, and the fox sprang out of the bath-room and ran off home. The old man went into the bath-room and looked about him. Nothing was to be seen but the old woman’s bones under the bench—and those picked so clean! As for the oatmeal and the butter, they had all been eaten up. So the old man was left alone and in poverty.

This story is evidently a combination of two widely differing tales. The catastrophe we may for the present pass over, but about the opening some few words may be said. The Beanstalk myth is one which is found among so many peoples in such widely distant regions, and it deals with ideas of such importance, that no contribution to its history can be considered valueless. Most remarkable among its numerous forms are those American and Malayo-Polynesian versions of the “heaven-tree” story which Mr. Tylor has brought together in his “Early History of mankind.”[382]In Europe it is usually found in a very crude and fragmentary form, having been preserved, for the most part, as the introduction to some other story which has proved more attractive to the popular fancy. The Russian versions are all, as far as I am aware, of this nature. I have already[383]mentioned one of them, in which, also, the Fox plays a prominent part. Its opening words are, “There once lived an old man and an old woman, and they had a little daughter. One day she was eating beans, and she let one fall on the ground. The bean grew and grew, and grew right up to heaven. The old man climbed up to heaven, slipped in there, walked and walked, admiredand admired, and said to himself, ‘I’ll go and fetch the old woman; won’t she just be delighted!’” So he tries to carry his wife up the bean stalk, but grows faint and lets her fall; she is killed, and he calls in the Fox as Wailer.[384]

In a variant of the “Fox Physician” from the Vologda Government, it is a pea which gives birth to the wondrous tree. “There lived an old man and an old woman; the old man was rolling a pea about, and it fell on the ground. They searched and searched a whole week, but they couldn’t find it. The week passed by, and the old people saw that the pea had begun to sprout. They watered it regularly, and the pea set to work and grew higher than the izba. When the peas ripened, the old man climbed up to where they were, plucked a great bundle of them, and began sliding down the stalk again. But the bundle fell out of the old man’s hands and killed the old woman.”[385]

According to another variant, “There once lived a grandfather and a grandmother, and they had a hut. The grandfather sowed a bean under the table, and the grandmother a pea. A hen gobbled up the pea, but the bean grew up as high as the table. They moved the table, and the bean grew still higher. They cut away the ceiling and the roof; it went on growing until it grew right up to the heavens (nebo). The grandfather climbed up to heaven, climbed and climbed—there stood a hut (khatka), its walls of pancakes, its benches of white bread, the stove of buttered curds. He began to eat, ate his fill, and lay down above the stove to sleep. In came twelve sister-goats. The first had one eye, the second two eyes, the third three, and so on with the rest, the last having twelve eyes. They saw that some one had been meddling with their hut, sothey put it to rights, and when they went out they left the one-eyed to keep watch. Next day the grandfather again climbed up there, saw One-Eye and began to mutter[386]‘Sleep, eye, sleep!’ The goat went to sleep. The man ate his fill and went away. Next day the two-eyed kept watch, and after it the three-eyed and so on. The grandfather always muttered his charm ‘Sleep, eye! Sleep, second eye! Sleep, third eye!’ and so on. But with the twelfth goat he failed, for he charmed only eleven of her eyes. The goat saw him with the twelfth and caught him,”—and there the story ends.[387]

In another instance the myth has been turned into one of those tales of the Munchausen class, the title of which is the “saw”Ne lyubo, ne slushai,i.e., “If you don’t like, don’t listen”—the final words being understood; “but let me tell you a story.” A cock finds a pea in the part of a cottage under the floor, and begins calling to the hens; the cottager hears the call, drives away the cock, and pours water over the pea. It grows up to the floor, up to the ceiling, up to the roof; each time way is made for it, and finally it grows right up to heaven (do nebushka). Says the moujik to his wife:

“Wife! wife, I say! shall I climb up into heaven and see what’s going on there? May be there’s sugar there, and mead—lots of everything!”

“Climb away, if you’ve a mind to,” replies his wife.

So he climbs up, and there he finds a large wooden house. He enters in and sees a stove, garnished with sucking pigs and geese and pies “and everything which the soul could desire.” But the stove is guarded by a seven-eyedgoat; the moujik charms six of the eyes to sleep, but overlooks the seventh. With it the goat sees him eat and drink and then go to sleep. The house-master comes in, is informed by the goat of all that has occurred, flies into a passion, calls his servants, and has the intruder turned out of the house. When the moujik comes to the place where the pea-stalk had been, “he looks around—no pea-stalk is there.” He collects the cobwebs “which float on the summer air,” and of them he makes a cord; this he fastens “to the edge of heaven” and begins to descend. Long before he reaches the earth he comes to the end of his cord, so he crosses himself, and lets go. Falling into a swamp, he remains there some time. At last a duck builds her nest on his head, and lays an egg in it. He catches hold of the duck’s tail, and the bird pulls him out of the swamp; whereupon he goes home rejoicing, taking with him the duck and her egg, and tells his wife all that has happened.[388]

In another variant it is an acorn which is sown under the floor. From it springs an oak which grows to the skies. The old man of the story climbs up it in search of acorns, and reaches heaven. There he finds a hand-mill and a cock with a golden comb, both of which he carries off. The mill grinds pies and pancakes, and the old man and his wife live in plenty. But after a time a Barin or Seigneur steals the mill. The old people are in despair, but the golden-combed cock flies after the mill, perches on the Barin’s gates, and cries—

“Kukureku! Boyarin, Boyarin! Give us back our golden, sky-blue mill!”

The cock is flung into the well, but it drinks all thewater, flies up to the Barin’s house, and there reiterates its demand. Then it is thrown into the fire, but it extinguishes the flames, flies right into the Barin’s guest-chamber, and crows as before. The guests disperse, the Barin runs after them, and the golden-combed cock seizes the mill and flies away with it.[389]

In a variant from the Smolensk Government, it is the wife who climbs up the pea-stalk, while the husband remains down below. When she reaches the top, she finds anizbushkaor cottage there, its walls made of pies, its tables of cheese, its stove of pancakes, and so forth. After she has feasted and gone to sleep in a corner, in come three goats, of which the first has two eyes and two ears, the second has three of each of these organs, and the third has four. The old woman sends to sleep the ears and the eyes of the first and the second goat; but when the third watches it retains the use of its fourth eye and fourth ear, in spite of the incantations uttered by the intruder, and so finds her out. On being questioned, she explains that she has come “from the earthly realm into the heavenly,” and promises not to repeat her visit if she is dismissed in peace. So the goats let her go, and give her a bag of nuts, apples, and other good things to take with her. She slides down the pea-stalk and tells her husband all that has happened. He persuades her to undertake a second ascent together with him, so off they set in company, their young granddaughter climbing after them. Suddenly the pea-stalk breaks, they fall headlong and are never heard of again. “Since that time,” says the story, “no one has ever set foot in that heavenly izbushka—so no one knows anything more about it.”[390]

Clearer and fuller than these vague and fragmentary sketches of a “heavenly realm,” are the pictures contained in the Russian folk-tales of the underground world. But it is very doubtful how far the stories in which they figure represent ancient Slavonic ideas. In the name, if not in the nature, of theAd, or subterranean abode of evil spirits and sinful souls, we recognize the influence of the Byzantine Hades; but most of the tales in which it occurs are supposed to draw their original inspiration from Indian sources, while they owe to Christian, Brahmanic, Buddhistic, and Mohammedan influences the form in which they now appear. To these “legends,” as the folk-tales are styled in which the saints or their ghostly enemies occur, belongs the following narrative of—

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