THE WOOD OF TONTLA.
( Kreutzwald .)
In ancient times there was a beautifully wooded region in
Alutaga (north of Lake Peipus), which was called the Wood of
Tontla. But no one dared to enter it, and those who had chanced
to approach it related that they had seen an old tumbledown
house through the thick trees, surrounded by creatures of human
appearance, with which the grass swarmed like an anthill. These
forms were ragged and dusky, and looked like gipsies, and there
were many old women and half-naked children among them. A
peasant who had wandered rather deeper into the wood than
usual, as he was returning home one dark night after a carouse,
beheld a strange sight. A number of women and children were
gathered round a bright fire, and some were sitting on the
ground while others danced. An old woman held a broad iron
shovel in her hand, and every now and then scattered the red
hot cinders over the grass, when the children flew up into the
air, fluttering about like owls in the rising smoke, and then
sinking
[Pg 238]
down again. Then a little old man with a long beard came out
of the wood, carrying a sack longer than himself. The women
and children shouted out, and ran to meet him, dancing round
him, and trying to pull the sack off his back; but the old man
shook himself free. After this, a black cat as large as a
foal, which had been sitting on the doorstep glaring with
fiery eyes, leaped upon the old man's sack, and then
disappeared in the cottage. But as the spectator's head ached
and everything swam before his eyes, his report was not clear,
and people could not quite distinguish between the false and
the true. It was remarkable that such stories were repeated
about the Wood of Tontla from generation to generation,
without anybody being able to give a more definite account of
it. The King of Sweden more than once ordered the wood to be
felled, but the people did not venture to execute his command.
One day a rash man struck his axe into a tree, when blood
flowed, and a cry was heard as of a man in pain.
[136] The terrified woodcutter fled, shaking all over with
fear; and after this, no command was so stringent
[Pg 239]
and no reward great enough, to induce a woodcutter to touch
the wood of Tontla. It was also very strange that no paths led
either into or out of the wood, and that throughout the year
no smoke was seen to rise which might indicate the presence of
human dwellings. The wood was not large, and it was surrounded
by open fields, so that it lay exposed to the view of all. If
living creatures had actually dwelt there from olden times,
they could only get in and out of the wood by secret
subterranean passages; or else they must fly through the air
by night, like witches, when all around were asleep. According
to tradition, the latter alternative seemed the most probable.
Perhaps we shall learn more about these strange birds if we
drive on the carriage of the story a little farther, and rest
at the next village.
There was a large village a few versts from the Wood of Tontla, where a
peasant who had lately been left a widower had married a young wife,
and, as often happens, he brought a regular shrew into the house, so
that there was no end to the trouble and quarrelling.
The first wife had left a clever and intelligent
[Pg 240]
girl named Elsie,
[137]
who was now seven years old. The wicked stepmother made the
poor child's life more intolerable than hell; she banged and
cuffed her from morning to night, and gave her worse food than
the dogs. As the woman was mistress in the house, the father
could not protect his daughter, and even the smoke of the house
was forced to dance to the woman's tune. Elsie had now endured
this miserable life for more than two years, and had shed many
tears, when she went out one Sunday with the other village
children to pluck berries. They strolled about as children do,
till they came accidentally to the borders of the Wood of
Tontla, where the grass was quite red with the finest
strawberries. The children ate the sweet berries, and gathered
as many as they could into their baskets, when all at once one
of the older boys recognised the dreaded spot and cried out,
"Fly, fly, for we are in the Wood of Tontla!" The wood was more
dreaded than thunder and lightning, and the children rushed off
as if all the monsters of the wood were close upon their heels.
But Elsie, who had gone rather farther than the others, and had
found some very
[Pg 241]
fine strawberries under the trees, went on plucking them,
although she heard the boy shout. She only thought, "The
dwellers in the Tontla Wood cannot be worse than my stepmother
at home."
Presently a little black dog with a silver bell hung round its neck ran
up to her barking. This brought a little girl dressed in fine silken
garments to the spot, who quieted the dog, and said to Elsie, "It is a
good thing that you did not run away like the other children. Stay with
me for company, and we will play very nice games together, and go to
pluck berries every day. My mother will not refuse her consent, if I
ask her. Come, and we will go to her at once." Then the beautiful
strange child seized Elsie by the hand, and led her deeper into the
wood. The little black dog barked for pleasure now, and jumped upon
Elsie and licked her hand as if she were an old acquaintance.
O what wonders and magnificence made Elsie open her eyes! She
thought herself in heaven. A beautiful garden lay before her,
filled with trees and bushes laden with fruit; birds were
sitting on the branches, more brightly coloured than the most
brilliant butterflies, and decked with feathers of
[Pg 242]
gold and silver. And the birds were not shy, but allowed the
children to take them in their hands at pleasure. In the midst
of the garden stood the dwelling-house, built of glass and
precious stones, so that the roof and walls shone like the
sun. A lady clad in beautiful robes sat on a bench before the
door, and asked her daughter, "Who is this guest you have
brought with you?" Her daughter answered, "I found her alone
in the wood, and brought her with me for company. Won't you
allow her to stay here?" The mother smiled, but did not speak,
and scanned Elsie sharply from head to foot. Then she told
Elsie to come nearer, patted her cheek, and asked in a
friendly way where she lived, whether her parents were still
alive, and if she would like to stay here. Elsie kissed the
lady's hand and fell down and embraced her knees, and then
answered, weeping, "My mother has long been at rest under the
turf—
"My mother was borne to the grave,
And none left to comfort or save.
"It is true that my father still lives, but this is small
comfort to me when my stepmother hates me, and beats me
unmercifully every day. I cannot
[Pg 243]
do anything to please her. O my dearest lady, let me stay
here! Let me mind the flocks, or set me to any other work and
I will do anything, and will be always obedient to you, but
don't send me back to my stepmother. She would beat me almost
to death, because I did not go back with the other village
children." The lady smiled, and answered, "We will see what we
can do for you." Then she rose from the bench and went into
the house. Meantime the daughter said to Elsie, "Take comfort,
for my mother is friendly to you. I can see in her face that
she will consent to our wishes as soon as she has had time to
think over the matter." She then followed her mother into the
house, leaving Elsie waiting outside. Elsie's heart palpitated
with hope and fear, and she waited anxiously for the decision
which was to be announced to her.
After a time the daughter came out again with a box of toys in
her hand, and said, "My mother says we are to play together
while she considers what is to be done about you. I hope you
will stay here, for I don't want to let you leave me again.
Have you been for a row on the lake?" Elsie stared, and asked,
"On the lake! What is
[Pg 244]
that? I never heard anything about it." "You'll see
presently," said the young lady, taking off the lid of the
box. It contained a leaf of lady's-smock, a mussel-shell, and
two fish-bones. There were a few drops of water glittering on
the leaf, which the girl threw on the grass. Immediately the
grass, the garden, and everything else vanished, as if they
had sunk in the ground, and water spread around to the horizon
in every direction. Only a small patch remained dry under the
feet of the children. Then the young lady set the shell in the
water, and took the fish-bones in her hand. The shell began to
expand, until it became a pretty boat, in which a dozen
children or more could easily have found room. The two seated
themselves in it, Elsie not without hesitation, but her
companion only laughed, and the fish-bones turned to oars in
her hands. The children were rocked by the waves as if they
were in a cradle, and presently other boats came in sight, and
the people in them were laughing and singing. "We should sing
back to them," said the young lady; but Elsie did not know how
to sing; so she herself began to sing very sweetly. Elsie
could not understand much of what the others sang, but
[Pg 245]
she heard the word Kiisike
[138] repeated several times, and asked what it meant, and her
companion answered, "That is my name." They floated thus
together for a long time, till they heard a voice crying, "Come
home, children, for it is nearly evening." Kiisike took the box
out of her pocket, and dipped the leaf in the water, so that a
few drops lay upon it. Instantly they found themselves in the
garden near the beautiful house: everything looked as firm and
solid as before, and no water was to be seen anywhere. The
shell and fish-bones were put back into the box with the leaf,
and the children went home.
Here they saw four-and-twenty ladies sitting round a dinner-table, all
splendidly dressed as if for a wedding. The lady of the house sat at
the head of the table in a golden chair.
Elsie's eyes did not know how to admire sufficiently all the
splendour which surrounded her. Thirteen gold and silver dishes
stood upon the table, but one of these was taken up and carried
away without the cover having been removed. Elsie ate of the
dainty dishes, which were nicer than cakes, and again she
thought she must be in
[Pg 246]
heaven, for she could not imagine anything like this on earth.
During dinner, conversation was carried on in low tones, but in
a foreign language of which Elsie did not understand a word.
[139] At length the lady spoke to a maid who stood behind her
chair. The latter went out, and soon returned accompanied by a
little old man, whose beard was longer than himself.
[140] The old man made a bow, and stood waiting at the door.
The lady pointed to Elsie, and said, "Look at this little
peasant girl; I am going to adopt her as my foster-child. Make
me an image of her, which we can send to the village to-morrow
in her stead." The old man looked at Elsie sharply, as if to
take her measure, bowed to the lady again, and left the room.
After dinner the lady said kindly to Elsie, "Kiisike has asked
me to keep you here as a companion for her, and you said
yourself that you would like to stay with us.
[Pg 247]
Is this really so?" Elsie fell on her knees, and kissed the
hands and feet of the lady in gratitude for her deliverance
from her cruel stepmother. But the lady raised her from the
ground, stroked her head and her tearful cheeks, and said, "If
you are always a good and diligent child, it shall fare well
with you. I will take care of you, and you shall be carefully
instructed in everything useful till you are grown up, and are
able to shift for yourself. My governess, who teaches Kiisike,
shall teach you all kinds of fine work, and other things
besides."
After a time the old man came back with a long trough on his
shoulder filled with clay, and a covered basket in his left
hand. He set them down on the ground, and took a piece of clay,
which he moulded into a doll. The body was hollow, and he put
three salt herrings and a bit of bread into it. Then he made a
hole in the breast of the doll, took a black snake a yard long
from the basket, and made it creep through. The snake hissed
and lashed its tail as if it resisted, but he forced it through
the hole. After the lady had carefully inspected the doll on
all sides, the old man said, "We want nothing more
[Pg 248]
now but a drop of the peasant girl's blood." Elsie turned pale
with terror when she heard this, for she thought that her soul
was sold to the Evil One. But the lady comforted her and said,
"Fear nothing. We don't want your blood for any evil purpose,
but for a good end, and for your future happiness." Then she
took a small gold needle, and pricked Elsie's arm, after which
she gave the needle to the old man, who thrust it into the
heart of the doll. Then he put the doll into the basket to
grow, and promised to show the lady the result of his work
next morning. Then they retired to rest, and a chambermaid
showed Elsie to a room where she found a soft bed ready for
her. When she opened her eyes next morning in the silken bed
with soft pillows, she found herself wearing a shift of fine
linen, and she saw rich garments lying on a chair near the
bed. Then a girl came into the room, and told Elsie to wash
herself and comb her hair, after which she dressed her from
head to foot in the fine new clothes, like the proudest Saxon
child.
[141] Nothing delighted Elsie so much as the
[Pg 249]
shoes,
[142] for until now she had always gone barefoot. Elsie thought
that no king's daughter could possess the like. She was so
delighted with the shoes that she had no time to admire the
rest of her outfit, although everything was beautiful. The poor
clothes which she had worn had been removed during the night,
for a purpose which she was afterwards to discover. They were
put on the doll, which was to be sent to the village in her
place. The doll had grown in its case during the night, and had
now become a perfect image of Elsie, and ran about like a
creature which God had made. Elsie was startled when she saw
the doll, which looked exactly like what she herself had been
yesterday. When the lady saw Elsie's alarm, she said, "Don't be
afraid, child. This clay image cannot do you any harm, and we
will send it to your stepmother, for her to beat. She may beat
it as much as she likes, for the image is as hard as stone, and
cannot feel pain. But if the wicked woman does not alter her
conduct, your image will some day punish her as she deserves."
[Pg 250]
After this, Elsie lived as happily as any spoiled Saxon child
which is rocked in a golden cradle. She had neither sorrow nor
weariness to suffer; her lessons became easier and easier every
day, and her hard life in the village seemed now no more than a
bad dream. But the more happiness she found in this new life,
the more wonderful everything appeared to her. It could not be
natural, and some mysterious power must rule over everything
here. A rock of granite stood in the enclosure about twenty
paces from the house. When meal-time approached, the old man
with the long beard went to the rock, drew a silver wand from
his bosom, and struck the rock three times, when it gave out a
clear sound. Then a large golden cock sprang out, and perched
upon the rock; and as often as he clapped his wings and crowed,
something came out of the rock. First came a long table with
covers ready laid for all the company, and the table moved into
the house of itself, as if on the wings of the wind. When the
cock crowed a second time, chairs went after the table,
followed by one dish after another. Everything leaped out of
the rock, and flew like the wind to the table. It was the same
with
[Pg 251]
bottles of mead and apples and pears; everything seemed alive,
so that no one needed to fetch and carry anything. When
everybody had eaten enough, the old man knocked on the rock a
second time with his silver wand, and then the golden cock
crowed, and the bottles, dishes, plates, chairs, and table went
back into the rock. But when the thirteenth dish came, from
which nothing was eaten, a great black cat ran after it, and
sat on the rock with the cock, till the old man carried them
away. He took the dish in his hand, the cat on his arm, and the
golden cock on his shoulder, and disappeared with them under
the rock. Not only food and drink, but everything else required
for the household, and even clothes, came out of the rock upon
the crowing of the cock. Although but little conversation was
carried on at table, and even that in a foreign language, the
lady and the governess talked and sang a great deal in the
house and garden. In time Elsie also learned to understand
almost everything, but years elapsed before she could attempt
to speak the strange language herself. One day Elsie asked
Kiisike why the thirteenth dish came to table every day,
although nobody ate anything from it; but Kiisike could not
tell her. However,
[Pg 252]
she must have asked her mother, who sent for Elsie a few days
afterwards, and talked to her very seriously. "Do not vex your
soul with useless curiosity. You would like to know why we
never eat from the thirteenth dish? Mark well, dear child;
this is the dish of hidden blessing. We dare not touch it, or
our happy life would come to an end. It would be much better,
too, for men in this world if they did not grasp avariciously
after all things without returning anything in gratitude to
the Heavenly Dispenser. Avarice is the worst fault of
mankind."
[143]
The years flew by with arrow-like swiftness, and Elsie had now
become a blooming maiden, and had learned many things which
would never have become known to her during her whole life, if
she had lived in the village. But Kiisike remained the same
little child as on the day when she first met Elsie in the
wood. The governess who lived
[Pg 253]
in the house with the lady instructed Kiisike and Elsie for
some hours daily in reading and writing, and in all kinds of
fine work. Elsie learned everything easily, but Kiisike had
more taste for childish games than for her lessons. When the
whim took her, she threw her work away, caught up her little
box, and ran out of doors to play on the lake, and nobody
scolded her. Sometimes she said to Elsie, "It's a pity you've
grown so big: you can't play with me any longer."
Nine years passed in this way, and one evening the lady sent
for Elsie to come to her room. This surprised Elsie, for the
lady had never sent for her before; and her heart beat almost
to bursting. When Elsie entered, she saw that the lady's cheeks
were red, and her eyes were filled with tears, which she
hastily wiped away as if to hide them. "My dear child," said
the lady, "the time has come when we must part." "Part!"
exclaimed Elsie, throwing herself at the lady's feet. "No, dear
lady, we must never part till death shall separate us. I have
always behaved well; don't drive me from you." But the lady
said soothingly, "Calm yourself, child. You do not yet know how
much it will increase your happiness. You are now grown up, and
I
[Pg 254]
must not keep you here any longer in confinement. You must go
back among mankind, where happiness awaits you." Elsie still
besought her, "Dear lady, don't send me away; I wish for no
other happiness than to live and die with you. Let me be your
chambermaid, or give me any other work to do that you like,
only don't send me out into the wide world again. It would
have been better for you to have left me with my stepmother in
the village than for me to have spent so many years in heaven
only to be thrust out again into hell." "Be still, dear
child," said the lady. "You cannot understand what it is my
duty to do for your good, hard as it is for me also. But
everything must be done as I direct. You are a child of mortal
man,
[144]
and your years must come at length to an end, and therefore you
cannot remain here any longer. I myself and those around me
possess human forms, but we are not human beings like you, but
beings of a higher order, whom you cannot comprehend. You will
find a beloved husband
[Pg 255]
far away from here, who is destined for you, and you will live
happily with him, until your days draw to a close. It is not
easy for me to part with you, but so it must be, and therefore
you must also submit quietly." Then she passed her golden comb
through Elsie's hair and told her to go to bed. But how should
poor Elsie sleep this unhappy night? Her life seemed like a
dark starless night-sky.
We will leave Elsie in her trouble, and go to the village to
see what is taking place at her father's house, to which the
clay image was sent for the stepmother to beat in Elsie's
stead. It is well known that a wicked woman does not improve
with age. It sometimes happens that a wild youth becomes a
quiet lamb in his old age; but if a girl whose heart is bad
assumes the matron's cap, she becomes like a raging wolf in her
old days. The stepmother tortured the clay image like a
firebrand from hell both day and night, but she could not hurt
the impassive creature, whose body was impervious to pain. If
the husband endeavoured to protect his child, she beat him too,
as a reward for his attempts at peace-making. One day the
stepmother had again
[Pg 256]
beaten her clay daughter terribly, and threatened to kill her.
In her fury she seized the clay image by the throat with both
hands, and was going to strangle it, when a black snake glided
hissing from the child's mouth and bit the stepmother in the
tongue, so that she fell dead without uttering a sound. When
the husband returned home in the evening, he found the dead
and swollen body of his wife lying on the floor, but his
daughter was nowhere to be found. He cried out, and some of
the villagers assembled. They had heard a great noise in the
house about noon, but as this was an almost daily occurrence,
no one had gone in. In the afternoon all was quiet, but no one
had seen the daughter. The body of the dead woman was washed
and shrouded, and peas were boiled in salt for those who
should watch the dead during the night.
[145] The weary man went to his room to rest, and sincerely
thanked his stars that he was rid of this firebrand from hell.
He found three salt herrings and a piece of bread on the table,
which he ate, and then went to bed. Next morning he was found
dead in bed, with his body swollen up like that of the woman. A
few days
[Pg 257]
afterwards they were carried to the grave, where they could do
each other no more harm. The peasants troubled themselves no
further concerning the vanished daughter.
Elsie did not close her eyes all night. She wept and lamented
the necessity of parting with her happiness so soon and so
unexpectedly. In the morning the lady placed a gold seal-ring
on Elsie's finger, and hung a small golden casket round her
neck. Then she called the old man, pointed to Elsie with her
hand, and took leave of her in the same gesture. Elsie was just
going to thank her for her kindness, when the old man touched
her head gently three times with his silver wand. Elsie felt
immediately that she was changed into a bird. Her arms became
wings, and her legs became eagle's legs with long claws, and
her nose became a curved beak, while feathers covered her whole
body. Then she rose up suddenly into the air, and soared away
below the clouds like an eagle hatched from the egg. She flew
southwards thus for several days, and would gladly have rested
sometimes when her wings grew weary, but she felt no hunger. It
came to pass one day that she was flying above a low wood where
dogs were
[Pg 258]
barking, which could not harm the bird, for they had no wings.
All at once she felt her feathers pierced through with a sharp
arrow, and she fell to the ground and fainted with terror.
When Elsie awoke from her swoon and opened her eyes wide, she
found herself lying under a bush in her human shape. How she
came there, and all the other strange events which had happened
to her, lay behind her like a dream. Presently a handsome young
prince rode up, sprang from his horse, and gave his hand kindly
to Elsie, saying, "By good fortune I rode here this morning. I
have dreamed, dear lady, every night for the last half-year
that I should find you here in the wood. Although I have ridden
this way to no purpose more than a hundred times, my longing
and my hopes were not extinguished. I shot a great eagle
to-day, which must have fallen here, and I went to seek the
game, and instead of the eagle I found—you!" Then he helped
Elsie to mount the horse, and rode with her to the town, where
the old king gave her a friendly reception. A few days
afterwards they prepared a splendid wedding; and on the wedding
morning fifty loads of treasure arrived, which had been sent by
Elsie's dear foster-mother.
[Pg 259]
After the old king's death, Elsie became queen, and in her old
age she herself related the adventures of her youth. But since
that time no one has ever seen or heard any more of the Wood
of Tontla.
The King of the Misty Hill (Kreutzwald) is a somewhat similar,
but very inferior story. A girl who is out in a wood all night
sees a fire on a hill, and finds an old man standing by it. He
had a long grey beard, and only one eye, and wore an iron
helmet. He threw it on the ground, when two girls appeared, and
the village child stayed with them till morning, when a young
woman gave her a brooch which would enable her to return to the
Misty Hill whenever she pleased. On reaching home, she found
she had been absent seven years. On the first opportunity she
returned to the hill by night, and her friend who had given her
the brooch told her that the old man was the King of the Misty
Hill, and the consort of the Meadow Queen, and she was their
daughter. The girl continued her nightly visits to the Misty
Hill; but after her mar
[Pg 260]
riage, her husband discovered her disappearance, and taking her
for a were-wolf, tried to burn her; but the King of the Misty
Hill carried her away to his dwelling uninjured.
In the story of "The Orphan's Handmill" (Kreutzwald), a compassionate
magician from Finland in the guise of a beggar enables an ill-used and
overworked orphan girl to obtain a wonderful handmill in a chest, which
he forbids her to open, but which grinds all the corn poured into it,
without any labour on her part. Her mistress sends her to church,
intending to discover the secret of the chest, and then to drive her
away and keep the chest; but when she raises the lid, a bright flame
bursts from the chest which burns her to ashes. Shortly afterwards, the
girl's master marries the orphan, when the chest, having done its work,
vanishes, leaving no trace, it having been carried away to the
underground kingdom from which the girl had brought it in a vision,
with the aid of the white horse (or mare), which always figures as an
inhabitant of Põrgu.
[Pg 261]
THE ORPHAN BOY AND THE HELL-HOUNDS.
[146]
( Kreutzwald .)
Once upon a time there lived a poor labourer and his wife, who
dragged on a wretched existence from day to day. They had three
children, but only the youngest survived. He was a boy of nine
years old when he buried first his father and then his mother,
and he had no other resource than to beg his bread from door to
door. A year afterwards he happened to come to the house of a
rich farmer just when they wanted a herdboy. The farmer himself
was not such a bad man to deal with, but his wife had control
of everything, and she was a regular brute. It may easily be
imagined how much the poor orphan boy suffered. The blows that
he received daily were three times more than sufficient, but he
never got enough bread to eat. But as the orphan had nothing
[Pg 262]
better to look forward to, he was forced to endure his misery.
One day the poor boy had the misfortune to lose a cow from the
herd. He ran about the forest till sundown from one place to
another, but could not find the lost cow; and although he well
knew what awaited him when he reached home, he was at last
obliged to gather the herd together without the missing cow.
The sun had not set long when he already heard the voice of his
mistress shouting, "You lazy dog, where are you dawdling with
the herd?" He could not wait longer, but was forced to hurry
home to the stick. It was already growing dusk when the herd
arrived at the gate, but the sharp eyes of the mistress had
already discovered that one cow was missing. Without saying a
word, she snatched the first stake from the fence, and began to
belabour the boy, as if she would beat him to a jelly. She was
in such a rage that she would certainly have beaten him to
death, or made him a cripple for life, if the farmer, hearing
his cries and sobs, had not compassionately come to his aid.
But as he knew the temper of the furious woman, he would not
venture to interfere directly, but sought to
[Pg 263]
soften her, and said beseechingly, "Don't beat the boy quite
to pieces, or he won't be able to look for the lost cow. We
shall get more profit out of him if you don't quite kill him."
"True enough," said the woman, "his carrion won't be worth as
much as the good beef." Then she gave him a few more good
whacks, and packed him off to look for the cow, saying, "If
you come back without the cow, I'll beat you to death." The
boy ran from the door sobbing and crying, and went back to the
forest where he had been with the herd in the daytime, and
searched all night, but could not find a trace of the cow
anywhere. But when the sun rose next morning, he made up his
mind what to do. "Whatever may happen to me," he said, "I
won't go back again." Then he made a start, and ran straight
forward at one stretch, till he had left the house far behind
him. He himself could not tell how far he ran before his
strength failed, and he sank down half dead when it was
already almost noon. When at length he awoke from a long heavy
sleep, he felt something cool in his mouth, and on opening his
eyes, he saw a little old man with a long grey beard putting
[Pg 264]
the ladle back into a milk-can. "Please give me a little more
to drink," said the boy. "You have had enough for to-day,"
answered the old man. "If I had not been passing this way by
accident, you would have slept your last sleep, for you were
already half dead when I found you." Then the old man asked
the boy whence he came and whither he was going. The boy
related everything that had happened to him, as far back as he
could remember, down to last night's beating. The old man
listened attentively to the story, but without interrupting,
and after a while he remarked, "My dear child, you have fared
neither better nor worse than many others whose dear friends
and protectors lie beneath the sod. As you have run away, you
must seek your fortune elsewhere in the world. But as I have
neither house nor farm, nor wife nor child, I cannot do
anything to help you but give you good advice gratis. Sleep
here quietly through the night, and to-morrow morning note
carefully the exact spot where the sun rises. You must proceed
in that direction, so that the sun shines in your face every
morning, and on your back every evening. Every day you will
feel stronger, and after seven years you will see a
[Pg 265]
great mountain before you, so high that its summit reaches to
the clouds. There you will find your future fortune. Take my
wallet and my flask, and you will find as much food and drink
in them as you require each day. But take care always to leave
a crumb of bread and a drop of liquid untouched, or else your
store of food will fail you.
[147] You may give freely to a hungry bird or to a thirsty
animal, for God is pleased when one of His creatures is kind to
another. You will find a folded plantain-leaf at the bottom of
the wallet, which you must take the greatest care of. When you
come to a river or lake on your journey, spread the leaf on the
water, and it will immediately change into a boat which will
carry you over to the other side. Then fold the leaf together
again, and put it into your wallet." After thus speaking, he
gave the wallet and the flask to the boy, and said, "God bless
[Pg 266]
you!" The next moment he had vanished from the boy's eyes.
The boy would have supposed it to be all a dream, if he had not
held the wallet and flask in his hand to convince him that it
was a reality. He then looked into the wallet, where he found
half a loaf, a small case of salt herrings, another of butter,
and a nice piece of bacon. When the boy had eaten enough, he
lay down to sleep, with the wallet and flask under his head, so
that no thief should be able to take them from him. Next
morning at sunrise he awoke, refreshed himself with food and
drink, and then set out on his journey. It was strange that he
felt no weariness, and only hunger made him aware that it was
nearly noon. He ate the good fare with relish, took a nap, and
travelled on. He found that he had taken the right course when
the sun set behind his back. He travelled for many days in the
same direction, when he arrived on the bank of a small lake.
Now he had an opportunity of testing the properties of the
leaf. All befell as the old man had foretold, for a small boat
with oars lay before him on the water. He stepped in, and a few
good strokes of the oars
[Pg 267]
landed him on the other side. Then the boat changed back into
a leaf, and he put it into his wallet.
Thus the boy travelled for several years, without the
provisions in his flask and wallet failing. Seven years may
well have passed, for he had now become a strong youth, when
one day he beheld afar off a lofty mountain which seemed to
reach the clouds. But a whole week more passed before he could
reach its foot. Then he sat down to rest, and to see whether
the predictions of the old man would be accomplished. He had
not sat there very long when a strange hissing fell upon his
ear, and immediately afterwards an enormous serpent appeared,
at least twelve fathoms long, which came quite close to the
young man. Horror seized him, and he was unable to move, but
the serpent passed by him in a moment. Then all was still
awhile, but afterwards it seemed to him as if something heavy
was moving along in sudden leaps. This proved to be a great
toad,
[148] as large as a foal of two years old. This ugly creature
also passed by without taking any notice of the youth. Then he
heard a rushing
[Pg 268]
noise above him, as if a great storm had arisen, and when he
looked up, he saw a great eagle flying over his head in the
direction which the serpent and the toad had taken. "These are
queer things to bring me good fortune," thought the youth.
Suddenly he beheld a man on a black horse riding towards him.
The horse seemed to have wings to his feet, for he flew like
the wind. When the man saw the youth sitting at the foot of
the mountain, he reined in his horse and asked, "Who has
passed by here?" The youth answered, "First of all a great
serpent, perhaps twelve fathoms long, then a toad as large as
a two-year-old foal, and lastly a great eagle high above my
head. I could not guess at his size, but the sound of his
wings was like that of a tempest." "You have seen well,"
answered the stranger. "These are my worst enemies, and I am
now in pursuit of them. I might take you into my service, if
you have nothing better in view. Climb over the mountain, and
you will come straight to my house. I shall be there as soon
as you, if not sooner." The young man promised to come, and
the stranger rode away like the wind.
[Pg 269]
The youth did not find it easy to climb the mountain. It was
three days before he could reach the summit, and three days
more before he reached the foot of the mountain on the opposite
side. His new acquaintance was standing in front of his house,
and he informed him that he had succeeded in killing the
serpent and the toad, but that he had not been able to reach
the eagle. Then he asked the young man if he was willing to
engage himself as his servant. "You can have as much good food
as you want every day, and I will give you liberal wages too,
if you will do your duty faithfully." The bargain was struck,
and the master took his new servant into the house, and showed
him what he had to do. A cellar was hewn in the rock, and
closed with threefold doors of iron. "My savage dogs are
chained in this cellar," said the master, "and you must take
care that they do not dig their way out under the door with
their paws. For know that if one of these savage dogs got
loose, it would no longer be possible to restrain the others,
for each would follow the other and destroy everything which
lives upon the earth. If the last dog should break out, the end
of the world would come, and the
[Pg 270]
sun would have shone for the last time." Then he led his
servant to a hill which was not created by God, but heaped
together by human hands from immense blocks of stone.
"These stones," said the master, "have been heaped together so that a
fresh stone can always be rolled up as often as the dogs dig out a
hole. I will show you the oxen which drag the stones, in the stall, and
instruct you about everything else which you have to attend to."
In the stall were a hundred black oxen, each of which had seven
horns, and they were fully as large as the largest oxen of the
Ukraine.
[149]
"Six yoke of oxen harnessed before the waggon will drag a stone
easily away. I will give you a crowbar, and when you touch the
stone with it, it will roll into the waggon of itself. You see
that your work is not very laborious, but your vigilance must
be great in proportion. You must look to the door three times
during the day, and once at night, lest any misfortune should
happen, for the mischief might be much greater than you would
be able to answer for to me."
[Pg 271]
Our friend soon comprehended his duties, and his new occupation was
just to his taste. Each day he had the best of everything to eat and
drink that a man could wish for. After two or three months the dogs had
scratched a hole under the door large enough to put their tails out;
but a stone was immediately rolled against the breach, and the dogs
were forced to begin their work afresh.
Many years passed by, and the young man had accumulated a good store of
money. Then the desire awoke in him to mingle with other men again, for
it was so long since he had seen any human face except his master's.
Although his master was kind, the young man found the time terribly
long, especially when his master took the fancy to have a long sleep.
At such times he slept for seven weeks at a stretch, without
interruption, and without showing himself.
It chanced that the master had fallen into one of his deep
slumbers, when one day a great eagle descended on the hill of
stones and began to speak. "Are you not a great fool to
sacrifice your pleasant life to good living? The money which
you have saved is quite useless to you, for
[Pg 272]
there are no men here who require it. Take your master's swift
horse from the stable, bind your bag of money to his neck, leap
on his back, and ride away in the direction in which the sun
sets, and after some weeks you will again find yourself among
men. But you must bind the horse fast with an iron chain, so
that he cannot run away, or he would return to his usual
haunts, and your master would come to fight with you; but if he
is without the horse, he cannot leave the place." "But who will
watch the dogs here, if I go away while my master sleeps?"
asked the young man. "A fool you are, and a fool you will
remain," replied the eagle. "Are you not yet aware that God has
created him for the express purpose of guarding the
hell-hounds? It is from sheer laziness that he sleeps for seven
weeks at a stretch. When he has no stranger as a servant, he
will be obliged to rouse himself and do his own work himself."
This advice delighted the young man. He followed the counsel of
the eagle, took the horse, bound the bag of gold on his neck,
leaped on his back, and rode away. He had not ridden very far
from the mountain when he heard his master
[Pg 273]
calling after him, "Stop, stop! Take your money and begone in
God's name, but leave me my horse!" The youth paid no heed,
but rode away, and after some weeks he found himself once more
among mortal men. Then he built himself a nice house, married
a young wife, and lived happily as a rich man. If he is not
dead, he must be still living, but the wind-swift horse died
long ago.
Of the next story we give only an abstract. It will be remembered that
Linda was hatched from an egg, while the later adventures of the
princess in the following tale resemble those of Cinderella.
THE EGG-BORN PRINCESS.
( Kreutzwald .)
Like many others, this story begins with a childless queen
whose husband is absent at the wars. She is visited by an old
woman on crutches, who gives her a little box of birch-bark
containing a bird's egg, and tells her to foster it in her
bosom for three months, till a live doll like a human infant is
hatched from it. This was to be kept in
[Pg 274]
a woollen basket till it had grown to the size of a new-born
child. It would not require food or drink, but the basket must
be kept in a warm place. Nine months after the doll's birth,
the queen herself would give birth to a son, and the king was
to proclaim that God had sent the royal parents a son and
daughter. The queen was to suckle the prince herself, but to
procure a nurse for the princess; and when the children were
christened, the old woman wished to be their godmother, and
gave the queen a bird's feather with which to summon her. The
matter was to be kept secret. Then the old woman departed, but
as she went, she grew suddenly young, and seemed to fly rather
than to walk.
A fortnight afterwards the king returned victorious, and the queen was
encouraged to hope for the best. In three months' time, a doll, half a
finger long, was hatched from the egg, and all came to pass as the old
woman had foretold. On the christening day, the queen opened one of the
windows and cast out the feather.
When all the guests were assembled, a grand carriage drove up,
drawn by six yolk-coloured horses, and a young lady stepped out
in rose-
[Pg 275]
coloured gold-embroidered silken robes, which shone with
sunlike radiance, though the face of the lady was concealed by
a fine veil. She removed it on entering, when all agreed that
she was the fairest maiden they had ever seen in their lives.
She took the princess in her arms, and named her Rebuliina,
[150] which puzzled everybody. A noble lord stood sponsor for
the prince, who was named Villem. The godmother then gave the
queen many instructions concerning the rearing of the children,
and told her to keep the box with the eggshells always beside
them in the cradle, to ward off evil from them. Then she took
her leave, and the queen gave out that she was a great princess
from a foreign country.
The children throve, and the nurse observed that a strange lady
sometimes came to gaze on the princess by night. Two years
afterwards the queen fell sick, and gave over the princess to
the charge of the nurse, directing her, under oath of secrecy,
to fasten the talisman round the neck of the child when she was
ten years old. She then sent for the king, and begged him to
let the nurse
[Pg 276]
remain with the princess as long as the princess herself
wished it, and after this she expired.
The king then brought home the inevitable cruel stepmother, who
could not endure the sight of the children. When the princess
was ten years old, her nurse put the talisman round her neck,
but the thoughtless girl stowed it away with some other relics
of her mother, and forgot it till a year or two afterwards,
when the king was absent, and her stepmother cruelly beat her.
She ran crying into the house, and looked in the box, but
rinding only a handful of wool and two empty eggshells in the
box, threw them out of the window, along with a small feather
which was under the wool. Immediately her godmother stood
before her, and soothed and comforted her. She charged her to
submit to her stepmother's tyranny, but always to carry the
talisman in her bosom, for then no one could injure her, and
when she was grown up, her stepmother would have no further
power over her. The feather, too, would summon her godmother
whenever she needed her. The lady then took the girl into the
garden, pronounced a spell over the little box, and fetched out
supper from it, teaching
[Pg 277]
the princess the spell by which she could obtain what she
needed from it. But after this time her stepmother grew much
more friendly to her.
The princess grew up a peerless maiden; but at length war broke
out, and the royal city, and even the palace, were in such
straits that Rebuliina summoned her godmother to her aid; but
she told her that though she could rescue her, the rest must
abide their fate. She then led her invisibly out of the city
through the besieging army, and next day the city was taken.
The prince escaped, but the king and his household were made
prisoners, and the queen was slain by a hostile spear. The
princess was changed by her godmother into a peasant maiden,
and instructed to wait for better times, when she could resume
her former appearance with the aid of the casket. After
wandering alone for some days, the princess reached a district
unravaged by war, and engaged herself as maid at a farm-house.
She did her work admirably with the aid of the casket, and
after a time attracted the notice of a noble lady who was
passing through the village, who asked her to enter her
service. Six months afterwards came news that the prince had
driven out the enemy with the aid of an army from abroad,
[Pg 278]
and had been proclaimed king, the old king having died in
prison in the meantime.
The prince was greatly grieved at his father's death, but after
a year of mourning he resolved to take a bride, and all the
maidens were bidden to a feast. The three daughters of
Rebuliina's mistress were invited, and the godmother directed
her in a dream to attire them first, and then to set out after
them. She grew very restless, and when her mistress and the
young ladies were gone, she sat down and wept bitter tears; but
a voice told her to make use of the casket, and immediately
magnificent gold-embroidered robes appeared on the bed; and as
soon as she had washed her face, she resumed her former
appearance, and was amazed at her own beauty when she looked in
the glass. When she went down-stairs, she found a magnificent
coach with four yolk-coloured horses at the door. Just as she
reached the palace, she found to her horror that she had
forgotten the casket, and was about to turn back, when a
swallow brought it to her. Everything in the palace was joy and
splendour; but as the princess entered, the other ladies paled
like stars before the sun, and the king never left her side. At
midnight the hall was suddenly
[Pg 279]
darkened, and then grew light again, when the godmother of the
princess appeared, and presented her to the king as the
adopted child of his father's first queen. Then there was a
loud noise, and she disappeared. The king married the
princess, and they lived happily together, but the casket was
seen no more, and it was supposed that the god-mother had
taken it with her.
THE ROYAL HERD-BOY.
( Kreutzwald .)
Once upon a time there lived a king who was so mild and good to his
subjects that there was no one who did not bless him, and pray to the
Heavenly Father to grant him a long life.
The king had lived happily with his wife for many years, but as
yet no child had blessed his marriage. Great was the rejoicing
of the king and all his subjects when at length the queen
brought a fair child into the world. But their happiness was
short-lived, for three days after the birth of the prince, the
mother closed her eyes for ever, leaving her child an orphan
and
[Pg 280]
her husband a widower. The king mourned grievously for the
loss of his dear consort, and his subjects mourned with him,
and there was not a cheerful face to be seen anywhere. Three
years afterwards the king married again, in deference to the
wishes of his subjects, but he was unfortunate in his second
choice. He had buried a dove and married a hawk in her place,
and unfortunately it goes thus with many widowers. The new
consort was a wicked, hard-hearted woman, who never showed any
good-will towards the king and his subjects. She could not
bear the sight of the former queen's son, as she feared that
the succession would fall to him, for the people loved him
greatly for his mother's sake. The crafty queen conceived the
wicked design of sending the boy to some place where the king
would be unable to discover him, for she had not courage to
murder him. She paid a wicked old woman a large sum to help
her to carry out her infamous design. The child was handed
over to the old woman at night, and she carried it far away
along unfrequented paths, and delivered it to some poor people
to adopt as their child. On the way, the old woman stripped
off the child's good
[Pg 281]
clothes, and wrapped it in rags, so that no one should discover
the deceit. The queen had bound her by a solemn oath never to
reveal to any one the place to which she had carried the
prince. The child-stealer did not venture to travel by day,
because she feared pursuit, so that it was a long time before
she found a sufficiently retired spot. At last she reached a
lonely house in a wood, where the feet of strangers rarely
penetrated, and she thought this a suitable abode for the
prince, and paid the peasant a hundred roubles for the expense
of bringing up the child. It was lucky for the prince that he
had fallen among good people, who cared for him as if he had
been their own dear child. The lively boy often made them
laugh, especially when he called himself a prince. They saw
from the liberal payment that they had received that the boy
could be from no common stock, and that he must be of noble
birth on either the father's or the mother's side, but their
ideas never soared high enough to fancy the boy's sallies to be
actual truth.
It can easily be imagined how great was the consternation at
the palace when it was discovered in the morning that the
prince had been stolen during
[Pg 282]
the night, and in so strange a manner that no one had heard
anything, and that not the slightest trace of the thief was
left behind. The king wept bitterly for days for his son, whom
he loved so tenderly in remembrance of his mother, and all the
more because he was so unhappy with his new consort. Every
place was searched thoroughly for a long time for some trace
of the vanished child, and a great reward was offered to any
one who could give any information; but every effort was vain,
and it seemed as if the boy had been blown away. None of the
searchers found his way to the lonely cottage in the wood
where the prince lived, and no one brought the news to the
inhabitants. No one could discover the secret, and many people
thought that the prince had been carried away by an evil
spirit or by witchcraft. But while the prince was wept for at
home as if he was dead, he grew up in the lonely forest, and
prospered wonderfully, till he grew to such an age that he was
fit for work. Meantime he developed such wonderful
intelligence, that his foster-parents were often obliged to
admit that the egg was much cleverer than the hen.
The prince had lived thus for more than ten years, when he
became anxious to associate with
[Pg 283]
other people. He begged his foster-parents to allow him to
earn his bread with his own hands, and said, "I have strength
and understanding enough to keep myself without your help. I
find the time very long during this lonely life here." His
foster-parents opposed the plan at first, but were at length
obliged to consent and to gratify the young fellow's wish. The
peasant himself accompanied him in search of suitable
employment. He found a rich farmer in a village who wanted a
herd-boy, and as his foster-son wanted just such a post, they
soon came to an agreement. The arrangement was made for a
year, but it was settled that the boy might leave his
employment at any time and return to his foster-parents. It
was also settled that if the farmer was dissatisfied with the
boy, he might send him away during the course of the year, but
not without informing his foster-parents.
The village where the prince had thus taken service was not far
from a great highway, along which many people passed daily,
both high and low. The royal herd-boy often sat close to the
road, and talked to the passers-by, from whom he learned many
things which would otherwise
[Pg 284]
have remained unknown to him. So it happened one day that an
old man with grey hair and a long white beard passed that way
when the prince was sitting on a stone and playing the flute
while the animals were grazing, and if one of them strayed too
far from the others, the boy's dog drove it back. The old man
gazed awhile at the boy and his flock, and then he went a few
paces nearer and said, "You don't seem to have been born a
herd-boy." The boy answered, "It may be so; I only know that I
was born to be a ruler, and first learned the business of a
ruler. If it goes well with the quadrupeds, I will perhaps try
my fortune later on with the bipeds." The old man shook his
head in wonder and went his way. Another time a handsome coach
passed by, in which sat a lady and two children. There was a
coachman on the box and a footman behind. The prince happened
to have a basket of freshly-plucked strawberries in his hand,
which attracted the notice of the proud Saxon lady.
[151] She ordered the coachman to stop, and called out from the
coach-window, "Come here, you lout, and bring me the
strawberries. I will give you a few copecks for
[Pg 285]
them, to buy wheaten bread." The royal herd-boy did as if he
had heard nothing, and did not imagine that the order was
addressed to him, while the lady called out a second and a
third time; but it was as if she had spoken to the wind. Then
she called to the footman behind, "Go and give that vagabond a
box on the ear, to teach him to listen." The footman jumped
down to execute the order. But before he reached him, the
herd-boy jumped up, seized a thick stick, and called out to
the footman, "If you don't want a broken head, don't come a
step nearer, or I'll smash your face." The footman went back
and reported the occurrence. Then the lady cried out angrily,
"What, you rascal, are you afraid of this lout of a boy? Go
and take away his basket by force. I'll show him who I am, and
I'll punish his parents too, for not bringing him up better."
"Oho!" cried the herd-boy, who heard the order. "As long as
there is any life in my limbs, nobody shall deprive me of my
rightful property by force. I'll stamp anybody to broth who
tries to rob me of my strawberries." As he spoke, he spat on
his hands, and whirled his cudgel round his head till it
whistled. When the footman
[Pg 286]
saw it, he had not the least desire to attempt it, but the
lady drove away with violent threats, declaring that she would
not permit this insult to remain unpunished. Other herd-boys
who had seen and heard the affair from a distance related it
to their companions in the evening. The people were all
frightened, for they thought it would fare ill with them also
if the great lady complained to the authorities about the
boy's stupid obstinacy and an inquiry was ordered. The
prince's master scolded him, and said, "I can't say anything
in your favour, and what you've cooked you must eat yourself."
The boy replied, "I shall come off scatheless; that's my
affair. God has put a mouth in my head and a tongue in my
mouth, and I can speak for myself if necessary, and I won't
ask you to be my advocate. If the lady had asked for the
strawberries in a proper way, I would have given them to her;
but how dared she call me a lout? My nose
[152] is just as clean as hers."
Meantime the lady drove to the royal city, where she had
nothing more pressing to do than to complain to the authorities
of the insolent behaviour
[Pg 287]
of the herd-boy. An investigation was ordered at once, and the
youth and his master were ordered to appear before the
authorities. When the messenger entered the village to enforce
the order, the prince said, "My master has nothing to do with
this affair, and I myself must answer for what I did
yesterday." They wanted to bind his hands behind his back, and
to lead him before the court as a prisoner, but he drew a
sharp knife from his pocket, stepped some paces back, turned
the point against his breast, and cried out, "No one shall
bind me while I live! Rather than let you bind me, I will
thrust the knife into my heart. You may then bind my corpse,
or do whatever you please with it, but no man shall lay a cord
or fetter on me while I live. I am quite ready to appear
before the court and give evidence, but I will never go there
as a prisoner." His boldness frightened the messengers, and
they were afraid to approach him, for they feared that the
blame would fall on them if the boy carried out his threat;
and as he was ready to go with them of his own accord, they
were obliged to be content. On the way, the messengers
wondered more and more at the understanding and
[Pg 288]
cleverness of their prisoner, for he knew everything better
than they did themselves. But much greater was the
astonishment of the judges when they heard the account of the
affair from the boy's own mouth. He spoke so clearly and
reasonably that they gave judgment in his favour, and
acquitted him of all blame. The great lady then applied to the
king, who promised to investigate the whole affair himself;
but he also was forced to agree with the judges and to
pronounce the youth innocent. The lady was now ready to burst
with rage at the thought that a peasant boy should have gained
a verdict in her despite. She complained to the queen, knowing
that she was very much harsher than the king. "My consort,"
said the queen, "is an old idiot, and his judges are all
fools. It is a pity that you brought the matter before the
court, instead of coming to me, for I would have managed the
affair differently, and would have done you justice. Now that
the matter has passed through the court, and the judgment is
confirmed by the king, I am no longer in a position to put a
better face on it openly, but we must see how we can arrange
to punish the youth without attracting attention." It occurred
[Pg 289]
to the lady that there lived a very ill-tempered peasant woman
on her estate, with whom no servant would stay, while her
husband said that his life with her was more uncomfortable
than if he was in hell. If the impudent boy could be induced
to go to her as herd-boy, she thought the woman would give him
a severer punishment than any judge could inflict upon him.
"I'll arrange the matter just as you wish," said the queen. So
she summoned a trustworthy messenger, and instructed him what
to do. If she had had the least idea that the herd-boy was the
exiled prince, she would have had him put to death at once,
without troubling herself about the king or the judges'
decision.
As soon as the prince's master heard the queen's desire, he at
once released the herd-boy from his service. He thanked his
stars that he had got out of the scrape so easily. The queen's
messenger now took the lad to the farm to which she had
consigned him without his consent. The wicked old woman shouted
for joy when she heard that the queen had found her a herd-boy,
and sent word that she might treat him as she pleased, because
the youth was very perverse, and nothing good was to
[Pg 290]
be got out of him. She did not know how hard the new millstone
was, and hoped to treat him in her usual fashion; but she was
soon to discover that this fence was too high to jump over,
and that the youth would not sacrifice a hair's-breadth of his
rights. If she gave him a single bad word without cause, he
gave her a dozen back; and if she lifted her hand against him,
he caught up a stone or a log of wood, or anything else which
happened to come to hand, and cried out, "Don't dare to come a
step nearer, or I'll split your skull and mash you to soup."
The woman had never heard such language from anybody, least of
all from her servants; but her husband rejoiced in secret when
he heard her quarrelling, and he did not stand by his wife,
for the boy did not neglect his duty. The woman tried to break
the boy's spirit with hunger, and refused him food, but the
boy helped himself by force to whatever he could find, and
helped himself to milk from the cow besides, so that he was
never hungry. The more difficult she found it to manage the
boy, the more she vented her rage on her husband and others
about her. When the prince had led this vexatious life for
some weeks, and found that each day was like the other, he
determined to pay the
[Pg 291]
old woman out for her wickedness in such a fashion that the
world should be quite rid of such a monster. In order to carry
out his design, he caught a dozen wolves and shut them up in a
cave, and he threw them a beast from his flock every day, so
that they should not starve. Who can describe the woman's rage
when she saw her property gradually dwindling, for every day
the boy brought home an animal less than he had taken to
pasture in the morning, and his only answer when questioned
was, "The wolves have devoured it." She screamed like a
maniac, and threatened to throw the boy to the wild beasts to
devour, but he answered, laughing, "Wouldn't your own savage
meat be better for them?" Then he left the wolves for three
days without food in the cave, and at night, when every one
was asleep, he drove the herd from their stall, and put the
twelve wolves in instead, fastening the door securely, so that
the wild beasts should not escape. When he had thus arranged
everything, he turned his back on the farm, for he had long
been tired of playing herd-boy, and now felt strong enough for
greater undertakings.
[153]
[Pg 292]
But what horrors happened next morning, when the woman went into the
stall to let out the animals and to milk the cows! The wolves, maddened
with hunger, rushed upon her, pulled her down, and devoured the whole
of her, clothes and skin, and hair and all, so that nothing remained
but her tongue and heart, which were too poisonous for even the wild
beasts to touch. Neither her husband nor her servants lamented the
misfortune, for every one was delighted to be rid of such an infernal
woman.
The prince wandered about the world for some years, trying his
hand first at one trade and then at another, but he never
stayed long in one place, for the recollections of his
childhood, which hovered about him like vivid dreams, always
warned him that he was born to a higher condition. From time to
time he encountered the old man again, who had read this in his
eyes while he was still a herd-boy. When the prince was
eighteen years old, he engaged himself to a gardener to learn
gardening. Just at this time an event happened which changed
the course of his life. The wicked old woman who had
[Pg 293]
taken him away by the queen's orders, and had given him into
the charge of the people at the forest-farm, confessed her
crime to the priest on her death-bed, for her soul was
burdened with the weight of her sins, and could not find rest
till she had revealed it. She indicated the farmhouse to which
she had brought the child, but could not tell whether the
prince was now living or dead. The priest hastened to the king
with the joyful tidings that a trace of his lost son was found
at last. The king informed no one of what he had heard, but
immediately ordered his horse to be saddled, and set out on
his way with three faithful attendants. In a few days they
reached the farm in the wood. Both the farmer and his wife
confirmed the fact that at such and such a time a male child
had been given into their charge to rear, and that they had
received one hundred roubles at the same time for their
expenses. They had concluded from this circumstance that the
child was probably of high birth, but they had never supposed
that he was of royal descent, and had thought that the boy was
only jesting when he had called himself a prince. Then the
farmer himself attended the king to the village where he had
taken the youth as herd-boy, not, indeed, by his own wish, but
at the request
[Pg 294]
of the boy, who could not live longer in that lonely place.
But how shocked was the farmer, and still more the king, when
they did not find the boy, who must now be grown to a young
man, in the village, and could learn no further tidings of
him! All that the people could tell them was that the boy was
summoned before the court at the suit of a noble lady, and
that he had been acquitted and set at liberty; but after this
one of the queen's servants had taken the boy away and put him
to service at another farm. The king hastened thither, and
found that his son had indeed been there for a few weeks, but
he had fled, and nothing more had been heard of him. Where
should they now seek for advice, and who was able to direct
their search aright?
While the king was thus greatly troubled at losing all traces
of his son, the old man who had several times encountered the
prince presented himself and said that he knew such a young man
as they sought for, who had first served as a herdsman and had
afterwards worked at several other occupations, and that he
hoped to be able to discover him. The king promised the old man
a rich reward if he could help him to find his son, and he
ordered one of his attendants to dismount from his
[Pg 295]
horse, and pressed the old man to mount, so that they could
travel quicker; but he said, smiling, "No matter how fast a
horse can run, my legs can run as fast, for they have
traversed larger districts of the world than any horse." In
fact, in a week's time they came upon the traces of the
prince, and found him in the grounds of a magnificent mansion,
where he was engaged as gardener. The king's joy was unbounded
when he recovered his son, whom he had mourned for so many
years as dead. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as he
strained his son to his breast and kissed him. But he heard
tidings from his son's mouth which damped the joy of their
meeting, and caused him fresh trouble. The gardener had a
young and beautiful daughter, fairer than all the flowers in
this splendid garden, and as pure and good as an angel. The
prince had lost his heart to this maiden, and he told his
father plainly that he would never marry a lady of higher
rank, but would take the gardener's daughter as his consort,
even if he should be forced to abandon his kingdom for her.
"Come home first," said the king, "and afterwards we will talk
the matter over." Then the prince asked his father for a
costly gold ring, and
[Pg 296]
put it on the maiden's finger before the eyes of all, saying,
"With this ring I betroth thee, and I will return, whether the
time be long or short, to claim thee as my bride." But the
king answered, "No, not so; the affair shall be arranged
otherwise." He took the ring from the maiden's finger and
clove it in twain with his sword. One half he gave to his son,
and the other to the gardener's daughter, and said, "If God
has created you for one another, the two halves of the ring
will grow together of themselves at the proper time, so that
the point at which the ring was divided cannot be detected.
Let each keep their half till the time shall be fulfilled."
The queen was ready to burst with rage when she saw her
stepson, whom she thought had disappeared for ever, suddenly
return as the undisputed heir to the throne, for the king had
only two daughters by his second marriage. A few years
afterwards the king closed his eyes in death, and his son
became king. Notwithstanding the great wrongs which he had
received from his stepmother, he would not return evil for
evil, but left her to the justice of God. Although she no
longer hoped to set one of her daughters on the throne in his
place,
[Pg 297]
she hoped at least to wed him to a noble lady of her own
family; but he answered, "I will not consent, for I have
chosen my bride long since." When the queen-dowager learned
that the young king was resolved to marry a maiden of low
birth, she incited the highest councillors of the kingdom to
attempt unanimously to prevent it. But the king remained firm,
and would not yield. After the matter had been discussed for a
long time, the king announced his final decision. "We will
give a great feast, and invite all the princesses and all the
other unmarried ladies of high birth; and if I find one among
them who surpasses my chosen bride in grace and beauty, I will
marry her. But if this is not the case, my betrothed shall
become my consort."
Thereupon a magnificent feast was prepared in the royal palace,
which was to last a fortnight, that the king might have full
opportunity of considering whether any of the ladies surpassed
the gardener's daughter. All the great ladies in the
neighbourhood were invited to bring their daughters to the
feast, and as the object of the gathering was generally known,
every maiden hoped that the great prize would fall to her. The
feast drew to a close, and yet the king had not met with one
who pleased his
[Pg 298]
fancy. On the last day of the feast the highest councillors of
the kingdom again presented themselves before the king, and
said, as the queen had instructed them, that if the king did
not make his choice before evening, an insurrection might
break out, for all his subjects wished the king to marry. The
king replied, "I will accede to the wish of my subjects, and
will announce my choice this evening." Then, unknown to the
others, he sent a trustworthy messenger to bring the
gardener's daughter away secretly, and to keep her in
concealment till evening. In the evening the royal palace was
ablaze with light, and all the great ladies were robed in
their most elegant attire, expecting the moment which should
bring them good fortune or the reverse. But the king advanced
to a young lady in the hall who was so muffled up that you
could hardly see the tip of her nose. All were struck with the
simple dress of the stranger. She was clothed in fine white
linen, and wore neither silk, satin, nor gold, while all the
other ladies were robed from head to foot in silks and satins.
Some curled their lips, and others turned up their noses, but
the king took no notice, but loosed the maiden's head-gear,
and led her to the
[Pg 299]
queen-dowager, saying, "Here is my chosen bride, whom I will
take as my consort, and I invite all who are here assembled to
my wedding." The queen-dowager cried out angrily, "What better
could be expected of a man who was reared as a herd-boy? If
you want to go back to your business, take the maid with you,
who may perhaps understand tending swine, but is quite unfit
for a king's consort. Such a peasant girl can only disgrace
the throne of a king." These words moved the king to anger,
and he answered sternly, "I am king, and can do what I will,
but woe to you who have brought my former condition to my
remembrance; and you have also reminded me who reduced me to
this. However, as no sensible man buys a cat in a sack, I will
show you all before we separate that I could nowhere have
found a more suitable bride than this very maiden, who is as
pure and good as an angel from heaven." As he spoke, he left
the room, but soon returned with the old man whom he had known
ever since he was a herd-boy, and who had afterwards put the
king on the track of his son. The old man was a famous
sorcerer from Finland, who knew many secret arts. The king
said, "Mighty sorcerer, show us by your
[Pg 300]
art the inmost character of the maidens here present, that we
may know which of them is most worthy to become my bride." The
sorcerer took a bottle filled with a liquid that looked like
wine, muttered a spell over it, and directed the maidens to
gather in the midst of the hall. He then sprinkled a few drops
on the head of each, and they all fell asleep as they stood.
But what a wonderful thing now happened! In a short time they
were all so transformed that none retained her human shape,
but some were changed into snakes, wolves, bears, toads,
swine, or cats, and others became hawks or other birds of
prey. But among all these bestial forms was a beautiful
rose-bush, covered with flowers, and with two doves nestling
on its branches. And this was the gardener's daughter whom the
king had chosen as his consort. Then said the king, "We have
now seen the inmost kernel of each, and I am not going to let
myself be dazzled by the outer shell." The queen-dowager could
not contain herself for rage, but the matter was so clear that
she was unable to help herself. Then the sorcerer fumigated
all the maidens with magic herbs, which roused them from their
sleep and restored them to their human shapes. The
[Pg 301]
king received his beloved from the rose-bush, and asked for
her half-ring, and when the maiden drew it from her bosom, he
took his own half-ring, and laid them together on the palm of
his hand, when the two halves immediately united, and no eye
could perceive a crack or any indication of the spot where the
sword-stroke had cleft the ring. "Now my honoured father's
wish has come to pass," said the young king, and celebrated
his union with the gardener's daughter on the same evening. He
invited all those present to a wedding-feast, but the noble
ladies had learned what wonders had taken place during their
sleep, and they returned home full of shame. But so much the
greater was the joy of the king's subjects that their queen
was a perfect woman both in form and character.
When the wedding festivities were ended, the king assembled all
the leading judges of the kingdom and asked them what
punishment was fitting for a criminal who had secretly stolen
away the king's son, and had him brought up in a peasant's cot
as a herd-boy, and had afterwards treated the youth with
insolent contempt after he had recovered his former position.
All the judges answered with one accord, "Such a criminal is
worthy to die on the
[Pg 302]
gallows." Then said the king, "Good! let the queen-dowager be
brought to trial." The queen-dowager was summoned, and the
sentence was announced to her. When she heard it, she turned
as white as the wall, and fell on her knees before the young
king pleading for mercy. The king said, "I give you your life,
and I should never have brought you before the court if it had
not happened that you lately insulted me respecting the
misfortunes which I endured through your crime; but you cannot
remain in my kingdom any longer. You must pack up your goods
this very day, and quit my city before sundown. An escort will
accompany you to the frontier. But beware lest you ever set
foot again in my territories, for any man, even the meanest,
has leave to kill you like a mad dog. Your daughters, who are
also the daughters of my honoured father, may remain here, for
they are innocent of the crimes which rest upon your soul."
Now that the queen-dowager was banished, the young king built
two pretty houses near his city, one of which he assigned to
the parents of his bride, and the other to his own
foster-father, who had so carefully brought up the helpless
prince.
[Pg 303]
The prince who had grown up as a herd-boy and his low-born
bride lived happily to the end, and ruled their subjects with
as much affection as parents their children.
The story of Tiidu
[154] the Flute-player introduces us to a mysterious old man,
and is therefore given a place after the narrative of the
stolen prince. It contains many points of interest, including
the cosmopolitan incident of the Nose-tree (which, however,
some critics suggest is probably a recent addition); but it is
long and tedious in the original, and therefore only an
abstract is given here.
TIIDU THE FLUTE-PLAYER.
A poor man with a large family had among them a lazy useless
son who would do nothing but play tunes on a willow-pipe. One
day a strange old man passed by, and asked what trade he would
prefer. He replied that he would like to be rich and
independent. The old man advised him to make use of the gift he
had, and to earn money
[Pg 304]
enough by playing on his willow-flute to buy a flute.
[155] So Tiidu left his home without telling his parents of his
intention, but they were glad enough to be rid of him. He
wandered from village to village till he had earned enough
money to buy a good flute, and in a few years he became a
famous and prosperous flute-player. But his avarice left him no
peace, and he heard so much of the wealth of the land of
Kungla, that he longed to go there to make his fortune.
One day he arrived at the town of Narva, where he found a ship
just sailing for Kungla; but as he could not afford to pay his
passage, he contrived to smuggle himself on board with the aid
of one of the sailors. On the following night, Tiidu's friend
threw him into the sea with a rope round his body, when Tiidu
began to cry for help, and his friend roused the other sailors.
The captain crossed himself thrice, and on being assured by the
sailors that it was not a spirit but a mortal man, ordered a
rope to be thrown to the aid of the swimmer. As soon as
[Pg 305]
Tiidu seized the rope, he cut away that which was fastened
round him, and on being hauled on board, pretended to have swum
from the shore. On this the captain offered him a free passage,
and he amused the crew with his flute during the voyage.
When Tiidu reached Kungla, he set out for the capital, which he found
to be a city of great wealth and splendour. He was afraid to try his
luck with his flute, and after many days he succeeded in obtaining a
post as kitchen-boy. All the utensils were of gold and silver, the food
was cooked in silver pots, the cakes were baked in silver pans, and
dinner was served up in golden cups and dishes, and even the pigs fed
from silver pails. Tiidu's month's wages were larger than he would have
earned in a year at home, but still he was very discontented.
One day Tiidu's master gave a christening, and distributed fine
clothes to his servants; and next Sunday Tiidu put them on and
went to a pleasure-garden, where he met his old friend who had
advised him to play the flute, and who now reproached him for
having neglected to use it in Kungla. He made him fetch it and
begin to play, when a crowd gathered round, who made a good
collection for
[Pg 306]
Tiidu. The old man gave Tiidu full instructions how to follow
the vocation of a flute-player profitably, and Tiidu followed
his advice and grew very rich.
At last he decided to return home, and chartered a ship to convey
himself and his treasures to his native land; but a great storm arose,
the ship was wrecked, and only Tiidu contrived to struggle ashore. He
lay dazed for a time, and dreamed that the old man visited him, and
gave him a pull from his flask. Next morning, much refreshed, he
wandered into the country, which he found to be an uninhabited island.
He now repented of his undutiful conduct in leaving his parents, and
felt his sad plight to be a fitting punishment for his fault.
All at once he saw a tree with beautiful red apples, feasted on
them, lay down to sleep for the night, breakfasted on the
apples, and walked on; but on stooping down to drink at a
spring, he saw to his horror that his nose hung down to his
middle, and looked like the wattles of an enraged turkey-cock;
and the more he lamented his misfortune, the bigger and bluer
became his nose. At last he discovered a nut-tree, and found
that eating a few nuts restored his nose to its natural state.
So he laid in a stock
[Pg 307]
of nuts, wove himself a basket, which he filled with apples,
and then slept under the tree, when the old man appeared to
him in a dream, advised him to return to the shore, and gave
him a new flute.
When he reached the shore, he was picked up by a passing vessel, and
returned to Kungla, where he disguised himself, sold the apples at the
palace, and next day presented himself in another guise as a learned
foreign physician to cure the king and the royal family of the
turkey-disease. In return, Tiidu asked only as much reward as would
enable him to purchase an estate on which he could live comfortably for
the rest of his life, but the king cheerfully gave him three times as
much as he asked, and Tiidu then went to the harbour and sailed home.
First, however, he paid his passage-money to the captain who had
rescued him from the desert island.
On reaching home, Tiidu found his father and several brothers
and sisters still living, but his mother and some of his
brothers were dead. He bought an estate, invited the whole
family to a great feast, and revealed himself to them, and he
insisted that they should all settle on his estate,
[Pg 308]
and that his father should stay with him in his own house as
long as he lived.
A little later he married a good and pretty but dowerless girl, and on
entering the bridal chamber they found that it contained all the
treasures which Tiidu had lost at sea, with a paper attached: "Even the
depths of the sea restore the treasures which they have stolen to a
good son who cares for parents and relatives." But Tiidu never
discovered anything about the aged enchanter who had been his friend
and protector.
THE LUCKY EGG.
( Kreutzwald .)
Once upon a time a poor man lived in a great forest with his
wife. God had given them eight children, and the elder ones
were already earning their living with strangers. So the
parents were not much rejoiced when a ninth little son was born
to them in their old age. But as God had given it to them, they
were obliged to accept it, and to have it christened according
to Christian usage. But they could find no one willing to stand
sponsor for
[Pg 309]
the child, for everybody thought that if the parents died, the
child would be left a burden on their hands. Then said the
father, "I will take the child and carry it to church next
Sunday, and say that although I can find no sponsors for the
child, the parson may please himself. Then, whether he
christens the child or not, no sin can rest on my soul."
When he set out on Sunday, he found a beggar sitting by the
wayside near his house, who asked for alms. The father said, "I
have nothing to give you, dear brother, for I must pay out the
few copecks which I have in my pocket for the christening. But
if you will do me a kindness, come and stand godfather to my
child, and afterwards go home with me, and share the
christening feast which my good wife has prepared." The beggar,
who had never before been invited to stand godfather to
anybody's child, joyfully accepted the man's proposal, and went
with him to the church. Just as they arrived, a magnificent
carriage and four drove up, and a young Saxon lady alighted
from it. The poor man thought, "Now I'll try my luck for the
last time." He bowed respectfully to the unknown lady, and
said, "Noble lady, whoever
[Pg 310]
you may be! will you not have the kindness to stand godmother
to my child?" The lady consented.
When the child was brought up to be baptized after the sermon,
the parson and the congregation were much surprised to see a
poor beggar-man and a proud handsome lady standing together as
sponsors for the child. The child was baptized by the name of
Pärtel.
[156] The rich lady paid the christening fees, and also made a
christening present of three roubles, which much rejoiced the
child's father. The beggar went home to the christening feast.
Before leaving in the evening, he took from his pocket a small
box wrapped in a piece of rag, and gave it to the child's
mother, saying, "My christening gift is poor enough, but do not
despise it, for it may possibly bring your son good fortune
some day. I had a very clever aunt, who understood all sorts of
magic arts, and before she died she gave me the bird's egg in
this little box, saying, 'When something quite unexpected
happens to you, which you could never have imagined, then part
with this egg. If it comes into the possession of him for whom
it is destined, it may bring him great good
[Pg 311]
fortune. But guard the egg like the apple of your eye, that it
does not break, for the shell of fortune is tender.' But
although I am nearly sixty years old, nothing unexpected has
happened to me till to-day, when I was invited to stand as
godfather, and my first thought was, You must give the egg to
the child as a christening gift."
The little Pärtel grew and prospered, and became the delight of
his parents, and at the age of ten he was sent to another
village to become herd-boy to a rich farmer. All the people of
the household were well satisfied with the herd-boy, as he was
a good quiet fellow, who never gave any annoyance to his
companions. When he left home, his mother put his christening
gift in his pocket, and charged him to keep it as safe as the
apple of his eye, and Pärtel did so. There was an old lime-tree
in the pasturage, and a large granite rock lay under it. The
boy was very fond of this place, and every day in summer he
used to go and sit on the stone under the lime-tree. Here he
used to eat the lunch which was given him every morning, and he
quenched his thirst at a little brook hard by. Pärtel had no
friendship with the other herd-boys, who were up to all sorts
of pranks. It was remarkable that there was no such fine grass
[Pg 312]
anywhere as between the stone and the spring, and although the
flocks grazed here every day, next morning the grass looked
more like that of an enclosed meadow than of a pasturage.
When Pärtel slept a little while on the stone on a hot day, he
had wonderfully pleasant dreams, and when he awoke, the sounds
of music and song were still in his ears, so that he dreamed on
after his eyes were open. The stone was like a dear friend to
him, and he parted from it every day with a heavy heart, and
returned to it next day full of longing. Thus Pärtel lived till
he was fifteen years old, and was no longer to be herd-boy. His
master now employed him as a farm-labourer, but did not give
him any heavier work than he was able to accomplish. On Sundays
and summer evenings, the other young men used to go to visit
their sweethearts, but Pärtel did not join their company. He
stole away, in deep meditation, to his favourite lime-tree in
the pasturage, and often sat under it for half the night. One
Sunday evening he was sitting on the stone playing the flute,
when a milk-white snake crept out from under the stone. It
raised its head as if to listen, and looked at Pärtel with its
bright eyes, which shone like fire. This
[Pg 313]
happened often, and whenever Pärtel had any time to spare, he
used to hasten to the stone to see the beautiful white snake,
which at last became so familiar with him that it often coiled
round his leg.
Pärtel was now growing up to be a young man; his father and
mother were dead, and his brothers and sisters lived widely
scattered, and seldom heard any tidings of each other, and
still more rarely met. But the white snake had grown dearer to
him than his brothers and sisters, and his thoughts were with
her by day, and he dreamed of her almost every night. This made
the wintertime seem very long to him, when the earth was frozen
and the snow lay deep on the ground. When the sun-rays melted
the snow in spring and the ground was thawed, Pärtel's first
walk was to the stone under the lime-trees, though there was
not a leaf to be seen upon the tree as yet. O what joy! As soon
as he breathed forth his longing in the notes of the flute, the
white snake crept out from under the stone, and played about
his feet. But it seemed to Pärtel to-day that the snake shed
tears, and this made his heart sad. He now let no evening pass
without visiting the stone, and the snake grew continually
tamer, and she would let [Pg 314] him stroke her; but if he
tried to hold her fast, she slipped through his fingers, and
crept back under the stone.
On Midsummer Eve all the villagers, old and young, went
together to St. John's fire. Pärtel was not allowed to stay
behind, though his heart drew him in another direction. But in
the midst of the fun, when all the others were singing,
dancing, and amusing themselves, he slipped away to the
lime-tree, the only place where his heart was at ease. When he
drew near, he saw a clear bright fire shining from the stone,
which surprised him very much, for, as far as he knew, nobody
but himself ever visited the spot. But when he reached the
stone, the fire had disappeared, without leaving either ashes
or sparks behind it. He sat down on the stone, and began to
play on his flute as usual. All at once the fire blazed up
again, and it was nothing else than the sparkling eyes of the
white snake. She played about his feet again, allowed him to
stroke her, and gazed at him as wistfully as if she was going
to speak. It must have been almost midnight when the snake
crept back to her nest under the stone, and did not reappear
while Pärtel was playing. As he took the
[Pg 315]
instrument from his mouth and put it in his pocket and prepared
to go home, the leaves of the lime-tree rustled in the breeze
so strangely that it sounded like a human voice, and he thought
he heard the following words repeated several times:
"Thin-shelled is the egg of Fortune,
And the heart is full of sorrow;
Venture not to spoil your fortune."
Thereupon he experienced such a painful longing that his heart was like
to break, and yet he did not know himself what he pined for. He began
to weep bitterly, and lamented, "What does the lucky egg avail me, when
no happiness is permitted me in this world? I have felt from childhood
that I was unfit to mix with men, for they do not understand me, and I
do not understand them. What causes pleasure to them is painful to me,
while I myself know not what could make me happy, and how then should
others know it? Riches and poverty stood together as my sponsors, and
therefore nothing will go right with me."
Suddenly it became as bright around him as if the mid-day sun
was shining on the lime-tree and the rock, and he could not
open his eyes for a time,
[Pg 316]
until he had got used to the light. Then he beheld a lovely
female figure sitting beside him on the stone, clad in
snow-white raiment, as if an angel had flown down from heaven.
The maiden's voice sounded sweeter to him than the song of the
nightingale as she addressed him. "Dear youth, fear nothing,
but give heed to the prayer of an unhappy girl. I am
imprisoned in a miserable dungeon, and if you do not pity me,
I can never hope to escape. O dear youth, take pity on me, and
do not cast me off! I am the daughter of a king of the East,
possessed of fabulous riches in gold and silver, but all this
avails me nothing, for an enchanter has compelled me to live
under this stone in the form of a white snake. I have lived
thus for many centuries, without ever growing older. Although
I never injured any human being, all fled before my shape, as
soon as they beheld me. You are the only living being who did
not fly at my approach; you have even allowed me to play about
your feet, and have often kindly stroked me with your hand.
Your kindness has led me to hope that you might be able to
effect my deliverance. Your heart is as pure as that of a
child, as yet ignorant of falsehood and deception. You have
[Pg 317]
all the signs which point to my rescue; a noble lady and a
beggar stood together as your sponsors, and your christening
gift was the egg of Good Fortune. I am only permitted to
resume my human form once in twenty-five years on Midsummer
Eve, and to wander about the earth for an hour, and if I
should meet with a youth pure in heart, and with your
peculiarities, who would listen to my request, I might be
released from my long imprisonment. Save me, O save me from
this endless imprisonment! I beseech you in the name of all
the angels."
Having thus spoken, she fell at Pärtel's feet, embraced his knees, and
wept bitterly.
Pärtel's heart was melted by her tears and supplications, and he begged
the maiden to stand up, and to tell him what he could do to rescue her.
"If it was possible for me to save you," said he, "I would go through
fire and water. I am filled with an unknown longing which allows me no
peace; but what I long for, I cannot tell."
The maiden answered, "Come here again to-morrow evening about
sunset, and if I meet you in my snake-form, and wind myself
round your body like a girdle, and kiss you three times, do not
start or shrink back, or I shall again be overwhelmed by
[Pg 318]
the waters of enchantment, and who knows for how many
centuries?"
As she spoke, the maiden vanished from the youth's sight, and he again
heard the sighing in the leaves of the lime-tree:
"Thin-shelled is the egg of Fortune,
And the heart is full of sorrow;
Venture not to spoil your fortune."
Pärtel went home and lay down to sleep before dawn, but his
rest was disturbed by wonderfully varied dreams, some
beautiful, some hideous. He sprang up with a shriek, for a
dream showed him the white snake coiling round his breast and
suffocating him. But he thought no more of this horrible
picture, and firmly resolved to release the princess from the
bonds of enchantment, even if he himself should perish.
Nevertheless his heart failed him more and more as the sun sank
nearer the horizon. At the appointed time he stood by the stone
under the lime-tree, and gazed, sighing, towards heaven,
praying for strength and courage, that he might not tremble
with weakness when the snake should coil round his body and
kiss him. Suddenly he remembered the lucky egg: he took the
little box from his pocket, opened it, and took
[Pg 319]
the little egg, which was not larger than that of a sparrow,
between his fingers.
At this moment the snow-white snake glided from under the stone, wound
round his body, and had just raised her head to kiss him, when—he
himself knew not how it happened—he pushed the lucky egg into her
mouth. His heart froze within him, but he stood firm, without
shrinking, till the snake had kissed him three times. A tremendous
flash and crash followed, as if the stone had been struck by lightning,
and amid the loud pealing of the thunder, Pärtel fell on the ground
like one dead, and knew nothing more of what happened to him.
But at this terrible moment the bondage of the enchantment was
loosened, and the royal maiden was released from her long
captivity. When Pärtel awakened from his heavy swoon, he found
himself lying on cushions of white silk in a magnificent glass
room of a sky-blue colour. The fair maiden knelt by his
bedside, patted his cheek, and cried out, when he opened his
eyes, "Thanks to the Heavenly Father who has heard my prayer,
and a thousand thousand thanks to you, dear youth, who released
me from my long enchantment! Take my kingdom as your reward,
along with this beautiful palace, and
[Pg 320]
all my treasures, and if you will, accept me also as your
bride into the bargain! You shall always live here in
happiness, as befits the lord of the lucky egg. Hitherto your
lot has been as that of your godfather, but now you succeed to
a better lot, such as fell to your godmother."
No one could now come between Pärtel and his happiness and good
fortune, and all the unknown longings of his heart, which constantly
drew him back under the lime-tree, were finally laid to rest. He lived
apart from the world with his dear bride in the enjoyment of the
greatest happiness until his death.
But great sorrow was caused by his disappearance, both in the village,
and in the farm-house where he had worked, and where he was much loved
for his steady quiet ways. All the people went out to look for him, and
their first visit was to the lime-tree which Pärtel was accustomed to
visit so often, and towards which they had seen him going on the
previous evening. Great was the amazement of the people when they found
no trace of either Pärtel, the lime-tree, or the stone. The little
spring near was dried up, and no trace of anything that had thus
vanished was ever again beheld by human eyes.
[Pg 321]
Kreutzwald relates several other stories of young adventurers who go
forth into the world to seek their fortunes with the aid of powerful
protectors.
In one of these, "The Magician in the Pocket," a young man releases a
magician who had been imprisoned by his enemy under a great stone,
after which the magician accompanies him in his wanderings in the form
of a flea, and helps him to deliver four princesses from enchantment,
one of whom he marries. In another, "The God-Daughter of the
Rock-Maidens," a young girl named Maasika (Strawberry) is taken down
into an underground region by her godmothers, the rock-spirits, one of
whom her mother had once aided when in distress. When she is grown up,
she goes out into the world, kills the king of the serpents, and
disenchants a king, queen, and prince, who prove to be the parents and
brother of her godmothers, and she marries the prince. In a third
story, "The Foundling," the hero likewise goes out in a similar manner,
and meets with various adventures before marrying a princess.
FOOTNOTES:
[1]
This is specially noticeable in the manner in which
the story of the Great Oak Tree is scattered in
disjointed fragments through three cantos; and in the
unsuccessful result of the Kalevide's voyage, when he
reaches his goal after his return by a land journey.
[2]
Kirby in "Papers and Transactions of International
Folk-lore Congress of 1891," p. 429.
[3]
Further information on most of the subjects discussed
in the Introduction will be found in the Notes and
Index.
[4]
The names of the others are not mentioned, but later
in the poem we meet with three heroes, the sons of
Alev, Olev, and Sulev respectively, associated with
the son of Kalev, and spoken of as his cousins. Alev
and Sulev may have been the brothers of Kalev.
[5]
The Prince of Hades, literally Hornie.
[6]
Hades or Hell.
[7]
Linda's Bosom, the Kalevide's capital, named in honour
of his mother; now Revel.
[8]
Ukko, the principal god of the Finns and Esthonians,
is frequently called Taara in the _Kalevipoeg_. This
name is not used in Finnish; but Tora is the name of
God among the Chuvash of Kasan.
[9]
In the Finnish _Kalevala_, Väinämöinen is represented
as a culture-hero, and as the father of his people; in
Esthonia Vanemuine is usually a demi-god. He is always
the inventor and patron of music and the harp. He
plays no part in the _Kalevipoeg_, where his name is
only mentioned once or twice.
[10]
If this is a Scriptural allusion, it is almost the
only one in the book. The _Kalevipoeg_ is essentially
a pre-Christian poem, and nowhere exhibits the curious
mixture of pre-Christian and Christian ideas that we
meet with in many parts of the Kalevala, and notably
in Runo 50.
[11]
In the _Kalevala_ (= the country of Kaleva), the hero
himself does not appear in person, though we
constantly read of his sons and daughters. Some
critics, however, identify him with the dead giant,
Antero Vipunen, in Runo 17 of the _Kalevala_.
[12]
The eagle of the North plays a conspicuous part in
Finnish and Esthonian literature. It is this bird for
whose resting-place Väinämöinen spares the birch-tree,
and which afterwards rescues him from the waves and
carries him to Pohjola. In several cosmogonic ballads,
too, it is the eggs of this bird and not of the blue
duck which contribute to the formation of the world:
for the Mundane Egg plays a part here as well as in
other cosmogonies. The passage in the _Kalevipoeg_, to
which this note refers, corresponds almost exactly to
one in the _Kalevala_ (xxx. 1-10), which ushers in the
adventures of Kullervo.
[13]
A province in Western Esthonia, called Wiek by the
Germans.
[14]
Esthonia proper; specially applied to the
north-eastern province.
[15]
God: this word is applied to the Christian God in
Esthonia, Finland, and Lapland, as well as to the
local divinities.
[16]
There are many tales and ballads about the miraculous
birth and wooing of Salme and Linda. (Compare Neus,
_Ehstnische Volkslieder_, p. 9; Latham's
_Nationalities of Europe_, i. p. 142.) In the story of
the "Milky Way," which commences Part II. of this
volume, Linda is represented as the daughter of Uko,
and the queen of the birds. We also read of a blue
bird, Siuru, the daughter of Taara, in the ballads.
The name Linda or Lindu is evidently derived from the
word _Lind_, a bird.
[17]
The Sun and Moon are both male deities in Finnish and
Esthonian. In the _Kalevala_ (Runo 11) the sun, moon,
and a star seek the hand of Kyllikki, the fair maid of
Saari, for their sons, but she rejects them all as
unceremoniously as Salme. In the _Kanteletar_ (iii.
6), a maiden called Suometar (= Finland's daughter)
plays a similar part. Suometar is born from a duck's
egg, found by a young girl named Katrina.
[18]
_Muru eit_, the meadow-queen (literally grass-mother),
is regarded as one of the tutelary divinities of the
house. Esthonian houses generally stand in a _grass
field_, entered by a gate. Within the enclosure are the
storehouses, cattle-pens, and other outbuildings.
[19]
This is somewhat inconsistent with the rather
undignified appearance of the Sun and Moon in person a
little while before.
[20]
The cross-dance is still danced in out-of-the-way
parts of the country; it is a kind of quadrille. Four
couples station themselves in such a manner as to form
a cross. The opposite pairs advance and retire several
times, and then they dance round, when the second
pairs dance in the same manner, and another dance
round follows, till they have danced enough. The dance
is accompanied with a song, in which the dancers, and
sometimes the bystanders, join.
[21]
Arju or Harju (German, Harrien) one of the provinces
of Esthonia.
[22]
Kungla is described as a country of untold wealth and
the land of adventures—a kind of fairyland. It
appears, however, to have been a real country,
separated from Esthonia by sea, of which fabulous
tales were told. Some writers identify it with the
Government of Perm; but this is improbable, as it is
generally described as an island. Others think that
the island of Gottland is meant.
[23]
According to various traditions, Kalev and Linda are
said to have had seven or twelve sons.
[24]
This is what Jacobs calls "junior right;" the
patriarchal custom of the elder children going forth
into the world to seek their fortunes, and the
youngest remaining at home to look after his parents
and inherit their possessions. Hence the rivalry
between Esau and Jacob.
[25]
Has this anything to do with boys spinning cockchafers
on a thread? The beetle alluded to in the text is said
to be the ladybird, but the ladybird has no particular
connection with the alder. When a brooch is thus spun
on a thread, a question is asked, and if the motion
stops, the answer is unfavourable, but favourable if
it continues. The flight of the beetle is fortunate
towards the south, but unfortunate towards the north.
[26]
It is curious that the Esthonians always regarded the
Finns, and the Finns the Lapps, as great sorcerers;
each nation attributing special skill in magic to
those living north of themselves.—But there is a
Finnish ballad ( _Kanteletar_, iii. 2) in which we
read of the sun and moon being stolen by German and
Esthonian sorcerers.
[27]
This reminds us of Ariel's well-known song—
"Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made," &c.
[28]
The origin of stone blocks is usually ascribed to
non-human beings in many countries, but most
frequently to the devil, especially in Northern
Europe. Compare also the church-stories, &c., in a
later part of this work.
[29]
The usual place employed on such occasions in Finland
and Esthonia.
[30]
Ukko or Taara commonly appears as the principal god of
the Finns and Esthonians; Rõugutaja usually as an
accoucheur, but occasionally also as a malicious
demon. Rõugutaja is also called the God of the Wind.
Other authorities consider him a water-god.
(Kreutzwald und Neus, _Mythische und Magische Lieder_,
p. 108.)
[31]
Kullervo in the _Kalevala_ (Runo 30) bursts his
swaddling-clothes and smashes his cradle in the same
way.
[32]
The Esthonian Thunder-God goes by a variety of names,
but is usually called Pikker or Pikne, evidently the
Perkunas of the Lithuanians. He resembles Thor in
driving about in a chariot, waging war with the evil
demons; but one of his attributes, not appertaining to
Thor, is his flute (or bagpipe, as some critics regard
it). It will be seen in many places that the
Esthonians, like all other peoples among whom the
belief in fairies, demons, &c., survives, do not share
the absurd modern notion that such beings must
necessarily be immortal.
[33]
Peter, in the story of the Lucky Rouble, is also
attended by three black dogs. The dogs of the sons of
Kalev were named Irmi, Armi, and Mustukene; the last
name means Blackie, not Throttler, as Reinthal
translates it.
[34]
In the _Maha-Bharata_ Bhima is represented as carrying
enormous loads, and in one passage Yudhishthira is
searching for his brother in the Himalayas, when he
comes to a place where slaughtered lions and tigers
are lying about by thousands, which convinces him that
he is on the right track.
[35]
This passage would seem to indicate that the daughter
of the king of Kungla was sometimes looked upon rather
as a fairy than as a human princess.
[36]
Visits to a father's grave for counsel are very common
in the literature of Northern Europe.
[37]
The story in the _Kalevipoeg_ is very confused, but
this maiden evidently corresponds to the lost sister
of Kullervo ( _Kalevala_,
Runo 35), whom he meets casually, and seduces. When
they discover the truth, the girl throws herself into a
torrent. In the _Kalevipoeg_,
Canto 7, the Kalevide and the maiden are actually
spoken of as brother and sister. There are many
versions of this story; in one of them (Neus,
_Ehstnische Volkslieder_, pp. 5-8; Latham's
_Nationalities of Europe_,
i. p. 138), the maiden is represented as slaying her
brother, who is called indifferently the son of Kalev
or of Sulev, to the great satisfaction of her father
and mother.
[38]
In the _Kalevala_, Runo 15, Lemminkainen's mother
collects together the fragments of his body from the
River of Death with a long rake.
[39]
This song and story (except for the incident of the
man of copper) resembles that of the drowning of Aino
in the _Kalevala_, Runo 4.
[40]
It was a copper man who rose from the water to fell
the great oak-tree ( _Kalevala_, Runo 2). Compare also
the variant in Canto 6
of the _Kalevipoeg_. We may also remember the copper
men connected with the mountain of loadstone (
_Thousand and One Nights_, Third Calendar's Story).
[41]
Literally a "house-hen;" one of those idiomatic terms
of endearment which cannot be reproduced in another
language.
[42]
We find this great oak-tree over and over again in
Finnish and Esthonian tales. Compare _Kalevala_, Runo
2, and Cantos 4,
5,
6, and 16 of the _Kalevipoeg_. Neus, _Ehstnische
Volkslieder_, p. 47; Kreutzwald and Neus, _Mythische
und Magische Lieder_, p. 8, &c. Could this oak have any
connection, direct or indirect, with the ash
Yggthrasil? or could the story have originated in some
report or tradition of the banyan?
[43]
The tremendous exploits of the Kalevide and his
weariness afterwards give him much of the character of
a Berserk.
[44]
In the 26th Runo of the _Kalevala_ Lemminkainen
creates a flock of birds from a handful of feathers,
to appease the fiery eagle who obstructed his way to
Pohjola. We may also remember Jason and the dragon's
teeth.
[45]
In the _Kalevala_ (Runo 34) an old woman directs
Kullervo to the house of his parents.
[46]
The smith is sometimes called the uncle of Kalev; but
the term may only mean that he was an old friend.