A curious popular tradition of Solomon, in French verse, is given by M.
Emile Blémont in _La Tradition_ (an excellent journal of folklore, etc.,
published at Paris) for March 1889, p. 73: Solomon, we are informed, in
very ancient times ruled over all beings [on the earth], and, if we may
believe our ancestors, was the King of magicians. One day Man appeared
before him, praying to be delivered from the Serpent, who ever lay in
wait to devour him. "That I cannot do," said Solomon; "for he is my
preceptor, and I have given him the privilege to eat whatsoever he likes
best." Man responded: "Is that so? Well, let him gorge himself without
stint; but he has no right to devour me." "So you say," quoth Solomon;
"but are you sure of it?" Said Man: "I call the light to witness it; for
I have the high honour of being in this world superior to all other
creatures." At these words the whole of the assembly [of animals]
protested. "And I!" said the Eagle, with a loud voice, as he alighted on
a rock. "Corcorico!" chanted the Cock. The Monkey was scratching himself
and admiring his grinning phiz in the water, which served him for a
looking-glass. Then the Buzzard was beside himself [with rage]. And the
Cuckoo was wailing. The Ass rolled over and over, crying: "Heehaw! how
ugly Man is!" The Elephant stamped about with his heavy feet, his
trumpet raised towards the heavens. The Bear assumed dignified airs,
while the Peacock was showing off his wheel-like tail. And in the
distance the Lion was majestically exhaling his disdain in a long sigh.
Then said Solomon: "Silence! Man is right: is he not the only beast who
gets drunk at all seasons? But, to accede to his request, as an honest
prince, I ought to be able to give the Serpent something preferable, or
at least equal, to his favourite prey. Therefore hear my decision: Let
the Gnat--the smallest of animals--find out in what creature circulates
the most exquisite blood in the world; and that creature shall belong to
you, O Serpent. And I summon you all to appear here, without fail, on
this day twelvemonths hence, that the Gnat may tell us the result of his
experiments."
The year past, the Gnat--subtle taster--was slowly winging his way back
when he met the Swallow. "Good day, friend Swallow," says he. "Good day,
friend Gnat," replies the Swallow. "Have you accomplished your mission?"
"Yes, my dear," responded the Gnat. "Well, what is then the most
delicious blood under the heavens?" "My dear, it is that of Man."
"What!--of him? I haven't heard. Speak louder." The Gnat was beginning
to raise his voice, and opened his mouth to speak louder, when the
Swallow quickly fell upon him and nipped off his tongue in the middle of
a word. Spite of this, the Gnat continued his way, and arrived next day
at the general assembly, where Solomon was already seated. But when the
king questioned him, he had no means of proving his zeal. Said the king:
"Give us thy report." "Bizz! bizz! bizz!" said the poor fellow. "Speak
out, and let thy talk be clear," quoth the king. "Bizz! bizz! bizz!"
cried the other again. "What's the matter with the little stupid?"
exclaimed the king, in a rage. Here the Swallow intervened in a sweet
and shrill tone: "Sire, it is not his fault. Yesterday we were flying
side by side, when suddenly he became mute. But, by good luck, down
there about the sacred springs, before he met with this misfortune, he
told me the result of his investigations. May I depone in his name?"
"Certainly," replied Solomon. "What is the best blood, according to thy
companion?" "Sire, it is the blood of the Frog."
Everybody was astonished: the Gnat was mad with rage. "I hold," said
Solomon, "to all that I promised. Friend Serpent, renounce Man
henceforth--that food is bad. The Frog is the best meat; so eat as much
Frog as you please." So the Serpent had to submit to his deplorable lot,
and I leave you to think how the bile was stirred up within the rascally
reptile. As the Swallow was passing him--mocking and sneering--the
Serpent darted at her, but the bird swiftly passed beyond reach, and
with little effort cleft the vast blue sky and ascended more than a
league. The Serpent snapped only the end of the bird's tail, and that is
how the Swallow's tail is cloven to this day; but, so far from finding
it an inconvenience, she is thereby the more lively and beautiful. And
Man, knowing what he owes to her, is full of gratitude. She has her
abode under the eaves of our houses, and good luck comes wherever she
nestles. Her gay cries, sweet and shrill, rouse the springtide. Is she
not a bird-fairy--a good angel? On the other hand, the crafty Serpent
hardly knows how to get out of the mud, and drags himself along,
climbing and climbing; while the Swallow, free and light, flies in the
gold of the day. For she is faithful Friendship--the little sister of
Love.
M. Blémont does not say in what part of France this legend is current,
but it is doubtless of Asiatic extraction--whether Jewish or Muhammedan.
THE CAPON-CARVER, p. 231.
A variant of the same incident occurs in No. IV of M. Emile Legrand's
_Receuil de Contes Populaires Grecs_ (Paris, 1881), where a prince sets
out in quest of some maiden acquainted with "figurative language," whom
he would marry. He comes upon an old man and his daughter, and overhears
the latter address her father in metaphorical terms, which she has to
explain to the old man, at which the prince is highly pleased, and
following them to their hut desires and obtains shelter for the night.
"As there was not much to eat, the old man bade them kill a cock, and
when it was roasted it was placed on the table. Then the young girl got
up and carved the fowl. She gave the head to her father; the body to her
mother; the wings to the prince; and the flesh to the children. The old
man, seeing his daughter divide the fowl in this manner, turned and
looked at his wife, for he was ashamed to speak of it before the
stranger. But when they were going to bed he said to his daughter: 'Why,
my child, did you cut up the fowl so badly? The stranger has gone
starving to bed.' 'Ah, my father,' she replied, 'you have not understood
it; wait till I explain: I gave the head to you, because you are the
head of this house; to my mother I gave the body, because, like the body
of a ship, she has borne us in her sides; I gave the wings to the
stranger, because to-morrow he will take his flight and go away; and
lastly, to us the children I gave the bits of flesh, because we are the
true flesh of the house. Do you understand it now, my good
father?'"--The remainder of the story is so droll that, though but
remotely related to the Capon-carver, I think it worth while to give a
translation of it:
"As the room wherein the girl spoke with her father was adjacent to that
in which the stranger lay, the latter heard all that she said. Great was
his joy, and he said to himself that he would well like for wife one who
could thus speak figurative language. And when it was day he rose, took
his leave, and went away. On his return to the palace he called a
servant and gave him in a sack containing 31 loaves, a whole cheese, a
cock stuffed and roasted, and a skin of wine; and indicating to him the
position of the cabin where he had put up, told him to go there and
deliver these presents to a young girl of 18 years.
"The servant took the sack and set out to execute the orders of his
master.--But, pardon me, ladies [quoth the story-teller], if I have
forgotten to tell you this: Before setting out, the servant was ordered
by the prince to say these words to the young girl: 'Many, many
compliments from my master. Here is what he sends you: the month has 31
days; the moon is full; the chorister of the dawn is stuffed and
roasted; the he-goat's skin is stretched and full.'--The servant then
went towards the cabin, but on the way he met some friends. 'Good day,
Michael. Where are you going with this load, and what do you carry?'
'I'm going over the mountain to a cabin where my master sends me.' 'And
what have you got in there? The smell of it makes our mouths water.'
'Look, here are loaves, cheese, wine, and a roasted cock. It's a present
which my master has given me to take to a poor girl.' 'O indeed,
simpleton! Sit down, that we may eat a little. How should thy master
ever know of it?' Down they sat on the green mountain sward and fell-to.
The more they ate the keener their appetites grew, so that our fine
fellows cleared away 13 loaves, half the cheese, the whole cock, and
nearly half the wine. When they had eaten and drank their fill, the
servant took up the remainder and resumed his way to the cabin. Arrived,
he found the young girl, gave her the presents, and repeated the words
which his master had ordered him to say.
"The girl took what he brought and said to him: 'You shall say to your
master: "Many, many compliments. I thank him for all that he has sent
me; but the month has only 18 days, the moon is only half full, the
chorister of dawn was not there, and the he-goat's skin is lank and
loose. But, to please the partridge, let him not beat the sow."' (That
is to say, there were only 18 loaves, half a cheese, no roasted cock,
and the wine-skin was scarcely half full; but that, to please the young
girl, he was not to beat the servant, who had not brought the gift
entire.)
"The servant left and returned to the palace. He repeated to the prince
what the young girl had said to him, except the last clause, which he
forgot. Then the prince understood all, and caused another servant to
give the rogue a good beating. When the culprit had received such a
caning that his skin and bones were sore, he cried out: 'Enough, prince,
my master! Wait until I tell you another thing that the young girl said
to me, and I have forgotten to tell you.' 'Come, what have you to
say?--be quick.' 'Master, the young girl added, "But, to please the
partridge, let him not beat the sow."' 'Ah, blockhead!' said the prince
to him. 'Why did you not tell me this before? Then you would not have
tasted the cane. But so be it.' A few days later the prince married the
young girl, and fêtes and great rejoicings were held."
THE FOX AND THE BEAR, p. 240.
In no other version of this fable does the Fox take a stone with him
when he enters one of the buckets and then throw it away--nor indeed
does he go into the bucket at all; he simply induces the other animal to
descend into the well, in order to procure the "fine cheese." La
Fontaine gives a variant of the fable, in which a fox goes down into a
well with the same purpose, and gets out by asking a wolf to come down
and feast on the "cheese": as the wolf descends in one bucket he draws
up the fox in the other one, and so the wolf, like Lord Ullin, is "left
lamenting."[114] M. Bérenger-Féraud thinks this version somewhat
analogous to a fable in his French collection of popular Senegambian
Tales,[115] of the Clever Monkey and the Silly Wolf, of which, as it is
short, I may offer a free translation, as follows:
A proud lion was pacing about a few steps forward, then a side movement,
then a grand stride backward. A monkey on a tree above imitates the
movements, and his antics enrage the lion, who warns him to desist. The
monkey however goes on with the caricature, and at last falls off the
tree, and is caught by the lion, who puts him into a hole in the ground,
and having covered it with a large stone goes off to seek his mate, that
they should eat the monkey together. While he is absent a wolf comes to
the spot, and is pleased to hear the monkey cry, for he had a grudge
against him. The wolf asks why the monkey cries. "I am singing," says
the monkey, "to aid my digestion. This is a hare's retreat, and we two
ate so heartily this morning that I cannot move, and the hare is gone
out for some medicine. We have lots of more food." "Let me in," says the
wolf; "I am a friend." The monkey, of course, readily consents, and just
as the wolf enters he slips out, and, replacing the stone, imprisons the
wolf. By-and-by the lion and his mate come up. "We shall have monkey
to-day," says the lion, lifting the stone--"faith! we shall only have
wolf after all!" So the poor wolf is instantly torn into pieces, while
the clever monkey once more overhead re-enacts his lion-pantomime.[116]
[114] _Fables de La Fontaine_, Livre xi^e, fable v^e: "Le Loup
et le Renard."
[115] _Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Sénégambie_,
recueillis par L.-J.-B.-Bérenger-Féraud. Paris, 1885.
Page 51.
[116] I have to thank my friend Dr. David Ross, Principal,
E. C. Training College, Glasgow, for kindly drawing my
attention to this diverting tale.
Strange as it may appear, there is a variant of the fable of the Fox and
the Bear current among the negroes in the United States, according to
_Uncle Remus_, that most diverting collection. In No. XVI, "Brer Rabbit"
goes down in a bucket into a well, and "Brer Fox" asks him what he is
doing there. "O I'm des a fishing, Brer Fox," says he; and Brer Fox goes
into the bucket while Brer Rabbit escapes and chaffs his comrade.
THE DESOLATE ISLAND, p. 243.
There is a tale in the _Gesta Romanorum_ (ch. 74 of the text translated
by Swan) which seems to have been suggested by the Hebrew parable of the
Desolate Island, and which has passed into general currency throughout
Europe: A dying king bequeaths to his son a golden apple, which he is to
give to the greatest fool he can find. The young prince sets out on his
travels, and after meeting with many fools, none of whom, however, he
deemed worthy of the "prize," he comes to a country the king of which
reigns only one year, and finds him indulging in all kinds of pleasure.
He offers the king the apple, explaining the terms of his father's
bequest, and saying that he considers him the greatest of all fools, in
not having made a proper use of his year of sovereignty.--A common oral
form of this story is to the effect that a court jester came to the
bedside of his dying master, who told him that he was going on a very
long journey, and the jester inquiring whether he had made due
preparation was answered in the negative. "Then," said the fool,
"prithee take my bauble, for thou art truly the greatest of all fools."