[47]

The cuckoo is a sacred bird, but more often alluded to

in Finnish than in Esthonian literature.

[48]

This lake (Saad järv) lies a little north of Dorpat.

[49]

Nothing is said as to how the government was carried

on during the Kalevide's minority.

[50]

White horses constantly occur in Esthonian tales; and

the devil's mother or grandmother usually appears as a

white mare. One of the commentators remarks that as

the white horse was sacred in pre-Christian times, the

missionaries represented it as peculiarly diabolical.

It will be remembered with what severity the early

missionaries suppressed the horse feasts among the

Teutonic tribes.

[51]

This is a little like the formation of the world from

the body of the giant Ymir, as described in the Edda.

As W. Herbert paraphrases it,

"Of his bones the rocks high swelling,

Of his flesh the globe is made,

From his veins the tide is welling,

And his locks are verdant shade."

"Helga" is a somewhat poor production, containing but few

striking passages except the description of the appearance

of the Valkyrior before the fight between Hialmar and

Angantyr. But the shorter poems at the end, "The Song of

Vala" and "Brynhilda," ought to be alone sufficient to

remove the name of this forgotten poet from oblivion.

[52]

The Esthonian demons are often represented as

contemptible creatures, very easily outwitted. Later

in the present canto the personage in question is

distinctly called a water-demon.

[53]

A common proverb in Esthonian tales. We also find it

in Italian, in almost the same words.

[54]

The money is sometimes called roubles, and sometimes

thalers.

[55]

Visits to Hades or Hell (Põrgu) are common in the

_Kalevipoeg_ and in the popular tales, some of which

we shall afterwards notice.

[56]

The term "Lett," which the Kalevide himself afterwards

applies to the demon, seems to be used in contempt;

otherwise the passage in the text might have been

taken as equivalent to our old-fashioned expression,

"It's all Greek to me."

[57]

Usually the devil's mother (or grandmother) is

represented as a white mare. Compare Canto 14 of the

_Kalevipoeg_, and also the story of the Grateful

Prince.

[58]

This Air-Maiden, who seems to be only a mischievous

sprite, must not be confounded with Ilmatar, the

creatrix of the world in the first Runo of the

_Kalevala_.

[59]

Finn, the Irish hero, was once entrapped by a

sorceress on a similar pretext into plunging into an

enchanted lake, which changed him into an old man.

(See Joyce's _Old Celtic Romances_, "The Chase of

Slieve Cullin.") The story is also related in one of

Kenealy's ballads.

[60]

This is a well-known Mongol characteristic; and it is

rather oddly attributed by Arabic writers to the Jinn.

"Two of them appeared in the form and aspect of the

Jarm, each with one eye slit endlong, and jutting

horns and projecting tusks."—Story of Tohfat-el-Kulub

( _Thousand and One Nights_, Breslau edition).

[61]

This reminds us of the help given to Hiawatha by the

woodpecker during his fight with Megissogwun; but the

one incident can hardly be copied from the other.

_Hiawatha_ was published some years before the

_Kalevipoeg_.

[62]

This is the only passage in the _Kalevipoeg_ in which

one of the heroes of the _Kalevala_ is personally

introduced.

[63]

Emptiness; probably the Contemptible One; a name often

used for one of the principal demons.

[64]

The rock is still shown, bearing the imprints of the

hero's fingers, each cleft large enough to hold a man.

[65]

This was the fate of Kullervo himself in the

_Kalevala_.

Orphans, for whom much sympathy is expressed,

constantly appear in Esthonian tales. Compare p. 236 of

the present volume.

[66]

We have a similar series of transformations (mouse,

cat, dog, ass, buffalo) in the story of Noor Ed-Deen

and Shes Ed-Deen in the _Thousand and One Nights_.

[67]

We meet with this big ox elsewhere in the _Kalevipoeg_

( Canto 19 ), as well as in the _Kalevala_, Runo 20.

[68]

Old Hornie, the name of the ruler of Põrgu (Hell).

[69]

The word used for lion is " _lõwi_, " undoubtedly

derived from the German. The Finns generally call the

lion " _jalopeura_, " which also denotes the lynx.

[70]

Compare the story of the Gold Spinners.

[71]

We meet with a similar hat in other stories. Many

Esthonians and Lithuanians still hide their

nail-parings as carefully as possible, or else make a

cross over them lest the devil should find them and

use them to make a wishing-hat. Can this hat have any

connection with the white straw hat of the devil in a

Deptford rhyme?—Gomme's _Traditional Games_, I. p. 4.

In the Edda, we are told that Naglfar, the largest

ship in the world, which is to bring the giants to the

fight at Ragnarök, is similarly constructed, and as

both gods and men wish that it should be completed as

late as possible, every one should be very careful not

to die with unpared nails, lest he should supply

materials for its construction.

[72]

Golden is often used in Finnish and Esthonian, as in

many other languages, as a term of endearment.

[73]

The maidens were afterwards married to the relatives

of the Kalevide, giants like himself, and are

described as walking arm-in-arm with them, nothing

being then said of any difference in their stature.

[74]

This reminds us of a well-known feudal custom, more

honoured in the breach than in the observance, which

also prevailed among the old kings of Scotland for

several reigns. The second sister was ultimately

married, not to the cup-bearer, but to the son of

Olev.

[75]

A mythical blue bird, the daughter of Taara. Two songs

respecting her will be found in another part of the

book. Reinthal improperly translates the word

"griffin." "Phœnix" or "Seemurgh" would have been a

more appropriate rendering.

[76]

These bath-whisks, which are dried birch-twigs with

the leaves left on, are often alluded to in the

_Kalevala_.

[77]

Or Tühja. See _ante_,

p. 84.

[78]

Compare Canto 10 of the _Kalevipoeg_, and the story of

the Grateful Prince, as well as _ante_,

p. 58 note. Sarvik seems to have belonged to the same

family as the water-demon who was tricked by the

Alevide in Canto 10.

[79]

Compare the similar scene in the story of "Slyboots,"

later in this volume.

[80]

This incident resembles an adventure attributed to

Thor. In the legends of all countries, sorcerers or

fugitives are represented as raising magic floods,

either to sweep away their enemies or to baffle

pursuit. There are three instances in this very canto.

[81]

This is the usual Esthonian euphemism for setting a

house on fire. I understand that there is also some

connection between red cocks and fire in Scottish

folk-lore; and in Scandinavian mythology two of the

three cocks which are to crow before Ragnarök are red.

May they not have some connection with the fire of

Surtur?

[82]

Here we have the great oak-tree mentioned in Cantos 5

and 6 reappearing in another connection.

[83]

The Flyer.

[84]

In the present canto the Kalevide is never spoken of

as of gigantic size, unless we may consider feats like

this as implying it.

[85]

Baring Gould considers this country to be the North

Cape, but the geography of the voyage is confused.

[86]

The Maelström?

[87]

The commentators identify this island with Iceland,

but the voyagers were apparently on the wrong side of

Scandinavia to reach either the Maelström or Iceland.

Still we have both geysers and volcanoes in the text.

[88]

Here the Kalevide's sun begins to decline, for the

first of his faithful companions leaves his side, as

Hylas left Heracles.

[89]

This is Chamisso's Alsatian legend, "Das

Riesenspielzeug," "The Giant's Toy," usually called in

English translations "The Giant's Daughter and the

Peasant." The girl in the poem seems to have far

exceeded even the Kalevide in stature; and we may

remember Gulliver's remark respecting the

Brobdingnagians—"Who knows but that even this

prodigious race of mortals might be equally

overmatched in some distant part of the world whereof

we have yet no discovery?"

[90]

Throughout this passage the giant is usually called

simply the magician, and the other "the wise man."

[91]

Asking riddles of this kind was a common amusement in

Northern Europe. Compare Prior's _Danish Ballads_, i.

185, 334.

[92]

Baring-Gould ingeniously suggests that this country is

Greenland, and that the Dog-men are Esquimaux, clad in

furs, and riding in dog-sledges. The end of this canto

is inconsequential, for the hero should have reached

his goal during this voyage, not by a land-journey

afterwards.

[93]

Linda's bosom, now Revel.

[94]

The bells of the dwarfs are often of great importance

in Northern fairy mythology.

[95]

This incident is common in Esthonian tales.

[96]

This song will be included in a later section of the

book.

[97]

Some of the commentators regard this book as a

palladium on which the independence of Esthonia

depended; and the thoughtlessness of the Kalevide in

parting with the book which contained the wisdom of

his father as a sacrilegious action which precipitated

his ruin.

[98]

These are identified by the commentators with the

Teutonic Knights of the Sword, who conquered Esthonia

in the eleventh century.

[99]

Here we have a reminiscence of the Giallar horn of

Heimdall, and of the horn of Roland (or Orlando).

[100]

Compare the much longer story in the 9th Runo of the

_Kalevala_.

[101]

A similar adventure happened to the naturalist

Macgillivray in the Solomon Islands during the voyage

of the _Herald_.

He turned round and shot the savage dead.

[102]

There is a curious variant relating how the Kalevide

waded across Lake Peipus with a bridle in his hand to

look for a horse, and the water threatened to rise

above his boots, when he said, "Don't think to drown

this man." Then the devil brought him first his

daughter and then his son in the shape of horses; but

they both broke down under him. Then the devil brought

him his mother, in her usual shape of a white mare,

and she galloped away with the hero, and he could not

rein her in. Then a voice from heaven cried, "Godson,

godson, strike your hand into the oak!" The hero

seized a great oak-tree as they were passing, when it

came away in his hand, roots and all. Then the mare

rushed to Põrgu, and the voice again bade the hero

strike his hand into the doorpost. He did so, and his

hand was caught fast, and the mare galloped away to

hell from between his legs, and left him hanging

there.

[103]

The God of Death.

[104]

The guardian hero of every nation is looked for to

return in a similar manner; even William Tell.

[105]

Löwe suggests that Kungla is meant, which appears not

improbable.

[106]

This has been a common _motif_ in folk-tales from the

time of Jephthah downwards; but the manner in which

the different stories are worked out is very various.

[107]

The usual Esthonian euphemism for the Devil.

[108]

The moral tone of some of these Esthonian tales is

much higher than usual in folk-tales. In the story of

the "Northern Frog," we shall see that it is

considered a wrong action, involving Karmic

punishment, even to steal a talisman from a demon who

is trying to entrap your soul. In most folk-tales, the

basest cruelty and treachery is looked upon as quite

laudable when your own interests require it, even

against your best friend or most generous benefactor,

and much more so against a Jew or a demon. But there

are other Esthonian tales ( "Slyboots," for instance),

in which the morality is not much superior to that of

average folk-tales.

[109]

Here we find the Devil compared to a Tartar, just as

in the 10th canto of the _Kalevipoeg_ a water-demon is

compared to a Lett.

[110]

Boiled peas and salt are provided on such occasions,

as mentioned in other stories.

[111]

The Kalevide was directed to stamp with his right foot

to open the gates of Põrgu.

[112]

In Esthonian legends, the wolf is the great enemy of

the devil. See vol. ii. Beast-stories.

[113]

We meet with similar miraculously swift animals in

other Esthonian tales.

[114]

The outhouses in Sarvik's palace ( _Kalevipoeg_,

Canto 14 ) contained mere ordinary stores.

[115]

A not very unusual incident in folk-tales, though it

often takes the form of offering an iron bar instead

of your own hand to a giant who wishes to shake hands

with you.

[116]

A visit to any description of non-human intelligent

beings in Esthonian tales almost always extends to

years, though it may have apparently lasted for only a

day or two.

[117]

In most stories of this class, the hero forgets his

companion on reaching home, either by a charm or by

breaking a taboo.

[118]

Another instance of a child being asked for by an

ambiguous request is to be found in the story of the

Clever Countrywoman (Jannsen), which must not be

confounded with one in Kreutzwald's collection with a

nearly similar title, and of which we append an

abstract. The story ends, rather unusually, in a

subterfuge. A herd-boy returned one evening, and

reported to his mistress that a cow was missing. The

woman went herself, but everything round her was

changed by magic, and she could not find her way home.

However, as the mist rose from the moor, a little

white man appeared, whom she recognised as one of the

moor-dwellers. He took her home, and returned her cow,

on her promising him what she would carry night and

day under her heart. From thenceforth she took care

always to wear her apron. A year afterwards, she

became the mother of a fine boy, and when he was nine

weeks old, the window was opened one night, and the

intruder cried out, "Give me what you have carried

night and day under your heart, as you promised." The

woman flung him her apron, crying out, "In the name of

the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, receive

what I promised you;" and he instantly vanished with

the apron.

[119]

These great public periodical feasts are Eastern

rather than Western. Compare the story of Ali Shar and

Zumurrud ( _Thousand and One Nights_ ).

[120]

A similar feat is performed by Sarvik in the

_Kalevipoeg_,

Canto 17.

[121]

See page 13.

[122]

As in the _Kalevipoeg_,

Canto 13 ; and the story of the Gold-Spinners, &c.

[123]

Compare p. 121 (anteà). The bell is not mentioned

elsewhere in this story.

[124]

A beer-barrel with a tap, for general use, often

stands in the houses of the Esthonian peasantry.

[125]

"And as to the sword, if it be drawn against an army,

and its bearer shake it, he will rout the army; and if

he say to it at the time of his shaking it, 'Slay this

army,' there will proceed from that sword a lightning

which will slay the whole army."— _Story of Joodar_

( _Thousand and One Nights_ ).

[126]

Compare the scene between the Kalevide and Tühi, in

Canto 15 of the poem.

[127]

This old man may have been the consort of the

Meadow-Queen. _Cf._ pp. 188,

259.

[128]

We shall find mussel-shells used as boats in other

tales.

[129]

"These forests are very useful in delivering princes

from their courtiers, like a sieve that keeps back the

bran. Then the princes get away to follow their

fortunes."— _George MacDonald_, " _The Light

Princess_. "

[130]

Compare the scene with the four Grey Women in the

second part of _Faust_.

[131]

Nine is a mystical number as well as seven.

[132]

Ahti, the God of the Waters.

[133]

A sacred tree in Eastern Europe, as it is in the

British Isles.

[134]

See page 108.

[135]

_Tont_ is a common name for a house-spirit.

[136]

Talking trees are common in Esthonian tales; I do not

remember another instance of bleeding trees.

[137]

Else.

[138]

Pussy.

[139]

It must be remembered that the dominant race in

Esthonia is German, and that the gentry, even if not

fairies, would be expected to speak a language

unintelligible to the people. It is significant that

the very word for lady in Esthonian is _proua_, a

corruption of _Frau_.

Everything particularly fine is called "Saxon."

[140]

In some countries the beard is regarded as a symbol of

power, as well as of age and wisdom. Compare the

account of Schaibar in the story of Prince Ahmed (

_Thousand and One Nights_ ).

[141]

The Germans are generally represented in Esthonian

tales as rich, and sometimes as very haughty people.

[142]

Compare _Goody Two-Shoes_ ; but this is a modern tale,

believed to have been written by Goldsmith.

[143]

There is a story (French, I think) of a king who

overheard a poor man and his wife abusing Adam and Eve

for their poverty. The king took them home, and

entertained them. They had a grand feast of many

covers every day, but there was always one, the

largest of all, which they were forbidden to open. The

wife soon persuaded her husband to do so, when a mouse

ran out, and the king turned them out of doors.

[144]

This expression shows the late date of the present

story, for no people uninfluenced by the modern

Christian notion that all reasoning beings except men

must be necessarily angels or devils, and therefore

immortal, represent superhuman beings as immortal,

with the exception of the gods, and not always even

these.

[145]

See page 157.

[146]

The original title of this story is, "How an orphan

made his fortune unexpectedly." Some commentators

identify the keeper of the hounds with Othin. In the

Scandinavian mythology the breaking loose of the

monsters, the most terrible of whom is Garm, the

watch-dog of Helheim, precedes the cataclysms of

Ragnarök.

[147]

This is the usual condition attached to such gifts, as

in the Swiss story of a chamois-hunter who received an

inexhaustible cheese from a mountain-spirit. But in

the case of the magic saddlebags of the Moor in the

story of Joodar ( _Thousand and One Nights_ ), it was

a condition that all the dishes should be put back

empty. The Jews, too, were forbidden to leave anything

over from the Passover Feast.

[148]

Or frog: the word is the same.

[149]

Either the extinct urus or the nearly extinct aurochs

must be here intended.

[150]

Yolk-Carrie.

[151]

Compare pages 246 and 248.

[152]

The word translated "lout" means literally

"filthy-nose."

[153]

In the _Kalevala_, Runo 33, Kullervo revenges himself

in the same manner upon the wife of Ilmarinen, whom he

has been serving as herd-boy, and who has treated him

with great cruelty and harshness.

[154]

Titus.

[155]

Here, as well as in the stories relative to the

Thunder-God's musical instrument, Löwe calls it a

bagpipe; but I do not find this meaning for the word

in the dictionaries. Still, in the present story, it

appears to have been a rather expensive instrument.

[156]

Bartholomew.

[Pg 1]

PART II

ESTHONIAN FOLK-TALES

(_continued_)

SECTION III

_COSMOPOLITAN STORIES_

Under this heading we propose to notice a series of tales which are

almost the common property of all nations, and the origin of which is

lost in remote antiquity. These we have arranged under their most

familiar names in alphabetical order.

BLUEBEARD.

(Kreutzwald.)

The Esthonian version of "Bluebeard" (the Wife-Murderer) is very

similar to the usual story. A[Pg 2] rich lord, reported to have vast

treasure-vaults under his castle, lost his wives very fast, and

married, as his twelfth wife, the youngest of the three daughters of a

reduced gentleman in the neighbourhood. An orphan boy had been brought

up in the household, and had served first as gooseherd, and then as

page; but he was always known as "Goose-Tony." He was nearly of the

same age as the young lady, who had been his playmate, and he declared

that the rich suitor was a murderer; his heart told him so, and his

presentiments had never yet deceived him. The boy was scolded and

threatened, but his warnings made so much impression that he was

allowed to accompany the bride to her new home.

Three weeks afterwards, the husband set out on a journey, leaving his

keys with his wife, among which was the gold key of the forbidden

chamber. He warned her that if she even looked in, he would be forced

to behead her with his own hand. She begged him in vain to take charge

of it himself; but he refused, and left it with her.

Next morning one of the lady's sisters came to stay with her; but a day

or two afterwards the page gave her another warning, after which he[Pg

3] suddenly disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. The two

sisters looked over the house, and at last encouraged each other to

enter the secret chamber. In the middle stood an oaken block with a

broad axe upon it, and the floor was splashed with blood. In the

background against the wall stood a table, with the bloody heads of the

squire's former wives ranged upon it. The lady dropped the key in her

horror, and on picking it up found it covered with blood-stains, which

nothing could remove, while the door stood a handbreadth open, as if an

invisible wedge had fallen between the door and the door-post.

The squire was not expected to return for a week, but he came back next

morning, and rushed upstairs in a frenzied rage, dragged his wife to

the block by her hair, and was just lifting the axe, when he was struck

down by Goose-Tony with a heavy cudgel, and bound. He was brought to

justice, and sentenced to death, and his property was adjudged to his

widow, who shortly after married the page who had saved her life.[Pg 4]

CINDERELLA.

(Kreutzwald.)

The Esthonian story of Tuhka-Triinu (Ash-Katie[1]), as given by

Kreutzwald, is more on the lines of the German _Aschenputtel_ than on

those of the French _Cendrillon_.

Once upon a time there lived a rich man with his wife and an only

daughter. When the mother dies, she directs her daughter to plant a

tree on her grave, where the birds can find food and shelter.[2] The

father marries a widow with two daughters, who ill-treat the motherless

girl, declaring that she shall be their slave-girl. A magpie cries from

the summit of the tree, "Poor child, poor child! why do you not go and

complain to the rowan-tree? Ask for counsel, when your hard life will

be lightened."

She goes to the grave at night, and a voice asks[Pg 5] her to whom she

should appeal, and in whom she should trust, and she answers, "God."

Then the voice tells her to call the cock and hen to help her, when she

has work to do which she cannot perform by herself.

When the king's ball is announced, Cinderella has to dress her sisters,

after which the eldest throws lentils into the ashes, telling her to

pick them up; but this is done by the cock and hen. She is left at home

weeping, and a voice tells her to go and shake the rowan-tree. When she

had done so, a light appeared in the darkness, and she saw a woman

sitting on the summit of the tree. She was an ell high, and clothed in

golden raiment, and she held a small basket and a gold wand in her

hands. She took a hen's egg from her basket, which she turned into a

coach; six mice formed the horses, a black beetle[3] formed the

coachman, and two speckled butterflies the footmen.

The little witch-maiden then dressed Tuhka Triinu as magnificently as a

Saxon lady. She then sent her to the ball, warning her to leave before

the cock crows for the third time, as everything will then resume its

original shape. On the second[Pg 6] night Tuhka Triinu took to flight,

and lost one of her little gold shoes, which the prince found next

morning. When it came to be tried on, Tuhka Triinu's sisters, who

thought they had small feet, tugged and squeezed without success. But

the shoe fitted Tuhka Triinu. Her guardian again robed her

magnificently, and she married the prince.[4]

THE DRAGON-SLAYER.

We find this story in a familiar form in that of "The Lucky Rouble"

(Kreutzwald). The father of three sons, before his death, gives

Peter,[5] the youngest, a magic silver rouble, which always returns to

the pocket of its possessor. Peter afterwards meets a one-eyed old man,

who sells him three black dogs, named Run-for-Food, Tear-Down, and

Break-Iron. Afterwards, when passing through a forest, he meets a grand

coach, in which a princess, who has been chosen by lot to be delivered

over to a monster, is being conveyed to her doom. Peter abides the

issue, and encounters the[Pg 7] monster, which is described as like a

bear, but much bigger than a horse, covered with scales instead of

hair, with two crooked horns on the head, two long wings, long boars'

tusks, and long legs and claws.[6] With the assistance of the dog

Tear-Down, Peter kills the monster, cuts off his horns and tusks, and

leaves the princess with the coachman, promising to return in three

years. The coachman compels the princess by threats to say that he

killed the dragon; but the princess contrives to delay her marriage

with the coachman, and on the wedding-day Peter returns, is imprisoned

by order of the king, but released by Break-Iron. Then he sends

Run-for-Food to the princess, who recognises him, and reveals the

secret to her father. The coachman is condemned to death, and Peter

produces the horns and claws of the dragon, and marries the princess,

when the dogs, whose mission is accomplished, assume the forms of

swans, and fly away.

[Pg 8]

THE DWARF'S CHRISTENING.

(Jannsen.)

This story takes a very similar form in Esthonia to that familiar to us

nearer home. A young lady out walking with her maid encounters a snake,

which the maid wishes to destroy, but the lady remonstrates. A few days

afterwards, a little man enters her room and asks her to become

godmother to his child. She at last consents, and he promises to fetch

her at the right time, and informs her that he lives under the kitchen

steps in the subterranean kingdom.

Next Thursday evening, the dwarf leads her down a long flight of stairs

to a great house with many rooms, all lit up with tapers and full of

company. She was invited to take her seat at table, but on looking up,

she saw a sharp sword suspended over her head. She wanted to flee, but

the master ordered the sword to be removed, and the child's mother told

her that her own life lately hung on a hair, for she was the snake

whose life she had saved. When the young lady left, the[Pg 9] master

filled her apron with earth, but she shook it out, whereupon he raked

it up, and pressed it on her again, saying, "Don't despise the least

gift from a grateful heart." In the morning, of course, it had turned

to gold and silver.

After this, the dwarf often visited the young lady, and at length asked

her to pour a jug of milk under the kitchen-stairs every morning. But

one day the wicked maid ordered a dishful of boiling milk to be poured

down very early. Presently the dwarf came weeping to the young lady,

saying that his child had been scalded to death by the hot milk. But he

knew who was to blame; let her put what she most valued together, and

leave the house at once. She did so, and on looking back, she saw the

whole house in flames, and in a few hours nothing remained of it and

its inhabitants but a heap of ashes. But the lady took another house,

married happily, and lived to see her children's children.

THE ENVIOUS SISTERS.

The Esthonian version of this story (the last in Galland's original

translation of the _Thousand_[Pg 10] _and One Nights_, and also found

in Germany and elsewhere), is peculiarly fantastic as "The Prince who

rescued his Brothers" (Kreutzwald). A young king was very ill, and the

soothsayers and magicians could not cure him. One of the magicians,

however, at length finding that the king's hands and arms were

gold-coloured to the elbows, his legs silver-coloured to the knees, and

his belly of the colour of blue glass, told him that he would only be

cured by marrying a young bride similarly coloured. Such a bride was

discovered in the daughter of one of the king's generals, and she was

made queen. The queen was confined of six boys at once; but her elder

sister was jealous of her, and availed herself of the services of an

old witch, who carried the children away by night, and handed them over

to the Old Boy, replacing them with puppies. The queen was confined a

second and a third time, each time of three princes, who suffered the

same fate, but the nurse contrived to hide one of the last three

princes. Nevertheless, the king was now so enraged that he ordered the

mother and child to be thrown into the sea on an iron bed for a boat.

But it floated away with them; and when the prince was seven weeks old,

he had[Pg 11] grown to be a young man, and he began to talk to his

mother. Soon afterwards they reached an island, when the prince kicked

the bed to pieces, and they went ashore. The prince met an old man, who

gave him a hatchet which would build houses, and a wand which would

change ants into men; whereupon the prince built and populated a city.

The prince then changed himself into a flea, and went to his father's

palace. The king had married the wicked sister-in-law, and she was

trying to persuade him not to visit the island where the queen and

prince had settled, but to visit another country, where he would see

more wonderful things. He went; but his son had already removed the

wonders to his own island, and he returned disappointed. As the king

was still bent on visiting the island, the new queen advised him

instead to visit a country where he would see eleven men, coloured like

himself. When the prince told his mother what he had heard, she knew

that they were her sons. Then the queen prepared three cakes, one

poisoned, and the others mixed with milk from her breast. The prince

set out, gave the poisoned cake to the old devil who guarded his

brothers, and divided the other cakes with them. They then[Pg 12]

escaped to the prince's island in the form of doves, and presently the

king and queen arrived, and the king was informed of the whole plot.

Then the king ordered the wicked queen and the sorceress to be put to

death, and settled down in his son's island with his wife and children.

THE GIFTED BROTHERS.

(Kreutzwald.)

This familiar story appears in the form of Swiftfoot, Quickhand, and

Sharpeye. It begins with the lamentation of a rich but childless wife,

who is consoled by a pretty little girl,[7] who suddenly appeared, and

directed her to boil three eggs of a black hen for her husband's

supper, and then to send him to bed, but to walk in the open air

herself before retiring. In due course, three strong boys were born,

and the fairy came to see them in their cradles. She took a ball of red

thread from her pocket, and tied threads round the ankles of one boy,

the wrists of another, and the temples of the third. She directed the

mother not to disturb[Pg 13] the threads till the children were taken

to the christening, and then to burn the threads, collect the ashes in

a spoon, and moisten them with milk from her breast; and as soon as the

children were brought home from the christening, to give each two drops

of the mixture on his tongue. Of course one boy was gifted with great

swiftness, and another with great strength and skill in handiwork, and

another with great sharpness of sight.

When they grew up, the youths separated to seek their fortunes,

agreeing to meet at home in three years' time, and Swiftfoot went

eastwards, and entered into the service of a king as groom, and made

himself famous in that capacity.

Quickhand, who went southwards, could take up any trade without

learning it, and could turn out twenty coats or pairs of shoes in a

day, better made than the best tailor or shoemaker. He too made himself

famous by supplying a whole army with a full outfit at the shortest

notice, when all the workmen in the kingdom were unable to do so by the

time required.

The adventures of Sharpeye may be given more in detail.

Sharpeye, the third brother, set out westwards.[Pg 14] He wandered

about for a long time from one place to another without meeting with

any profitable employment. He could easily earn enough anywhere for his

daily expenses as a good shot, but what could he make in this way to

bring home? At length he reached a large city, where everybody was

talking about a misfortune which had befallen the king thrice already,

but which no one was able to comprehend or guard against. The king had

a valuable tree in his garden, which bore golden apples, many of which

were as large as a great ball of thread, and might have been worth many

thousand roubles. It may be imagined that such fruit was not left

uncounted, and that guards were stationed around night and day to

prevent any attempt at robbery. Nevertheless one of the largest apples,

valued at six thousand roubles, had been stolen every night for three

nights running. The guards had neither seen the thief nor been able to

discover any trace of him. It immediately occurred to Sharpeye that

there must be some very strange trick in the affair, which his piercing

sight might perhaps enable him to discover. He thought that if the

thief did not approach the tree incorporeally and invisibly, he would

never be able[Pg 15] to escape his sharp eyes. He therefore asked the

king to allow him to visit the garden to make his observations without

the knowledge of the guards. On receiving permission, he prepared

himself a place of concealment in the summit of a tree not far from the

golden apple-tree, where no one could see him, while his sharp eyes

could pierce everywhere, and see everything that happened. He took with

him a bag of bread and a bottle of milk, so that there would be no need

for him to leave his hiding-place. He now kept close watch on the

golden apple-tree, and on everything around it. The guards were posted

round the tree in three rows, so close that not a mouse could have

crept between them unobserved. The thief must have wings, for he could

not reach the tree by the ground. But Sharpeye could detect nothing all

day which looked like a thief. Towards sunset a little yellow moth

fluttered round the tree, and at last settled on a branch which bore a

very fine apple. Everybody could understand just as well as Sharpeye

that a little moth could not carry a golden apple away from the tree,

but as he could see nothing bigger, he kept his eyes fixed upon it. The

sun had set long ago, and the last traces[Pg 16] of twilight were

fading from the horizon, but the lanterns round the tree gave so much

light that he could see everything distinctly. The yellow moth still

sat motionless on the branch. It was about midnight when the eyes of

the watchman in the tree closed for a moment. How long he dozed, he

could not tell, but when his eyes fell next upon the apple-tree, he saw

that the yellow moth was no longer sitting on the branch, and was still

more startled to discover that the beautiful golden apple on that

branch had also disappeared. He could not doubt that a theft had been

committed, but if the concealed watchman had related the affair, people

would have thought him mad, for even a child might know that a moth

could not carry away a golden apple. In the morning there was again a

great uproar when it was discovered that another apple was missing

without any of the guards having seen a trace of the thief. But

Sharpeye went to the king again and said, "It is true that I have seen

as little of the thief as your guards; but if there is a skilful

magician in or near the town, let me know, and I hope with his aid to

catch the thief to-night." As soon as he learned where the magician

lived, he[Pg 17] went straight to him. The two men consulted what was

best to be done, and at length Sharpeye cried out, "I have hit upon a

plan. Can you make a woven net so strong by magic that the thread will

hold the most powerful creature fast, and then we can chain up the

thief so that he cannot escape again?" The magician said it was

possible, and took three large spiders, which he made so strong by

sorcery that no creature could escape from their meshes, and put them

in a little box, which he gave to Sharpeye, saying, "Place these

spiders wherever you like, and point with your finger where they shall

spin their net, and they will immediately spin a cage round the

prisoner, which only Mana's[8] power can loosen; and I will come to

your aid myself, if needful."

Sharpeye hid the box in his bosom, and crept back to his tree to wait

the upshot of the affair. He saw the yellow moth fluttering round the

apple-tree at the same time as the day before; but it waited much

longer before settling on a branch which bore a large golden apple.

Sharpeye immediately slid down from his tree, went up to the golden

apple-tree, set a ladder against it, and climbed[Pg 18] up carefully,

so as not to scare the moth, and set each of his small weavers on

separate branches. One spider was a few spans above the moth, a second

to the right, and a third to the left, and then Sharpeye drew lines

with his finger backwards and forwards round the moth, which sat

motionless with raised wings. At sunset the watcher was back in his

hiding-place in the tree, from whence he saw to his joy that his three

weavers had woven a net round the moth on all sides, from which it

could not hope to escape, if the magician possessed the power which he

pretended. The man in the tree did his best to keep awake, but

nevertheless his eyes closed all at once. How long he slept he knew

not, but he was roused up by a great noise. When he looked round, he

saw that the soldiers on guard were running about the apple-tree like

ants, and shouting, and in the tree sat an old grey-bearded man with a

golden apple in his hand in an iron net. Sharpeye jumped hastily from

his tree, but before he reached the apple-tree the king himself

arrived. He had sprung from his bed at the shouts of the guards, and

hurried to see what unusual event was happening in the garden. There

sat the thief in the tree, and could not get away.[Pg 19] "Most noble

king," said Sharpeye, "you can now go quietly to rest again, and sleep

till to-morrow morning, for the thief cannot now escape us. If he was

as strong again as he is, he could not break the magic meshes of his

cage." The king thanked him, and ordered the greater part of the

soldiers to retire to rest also, leaving only a few on guard under the

tree. Sharpeye, who had kept watch for two nights and two days, also

went away to sleep.

Next morning the magician went to the king's palace. He was glad when

he saw the thief in the cage, and would not let him out till the fellow

showed himself in his real form. At last he cut off half his beard

under his chin, called for a light and began to singe the hairs.[9] Oh,

how the bird in the iron cage suffered now! He shrieked pitifully and

beat himself with pain, but the magician went on singeing fresh hairs

to make the thief manageable. At last he said, "Confess who you are."

The fellow answered, "I am the servant of the sorcerer Piirisilla,[10]

who sent me here to steal." The magician[Pg 20] began again to singe

the hairs. "Ow! ow!" shouted the sorcerer; "give me time and I will

confess. I am not the servant, but the sorcerer's son." Again they

singed his hairs, when the prisoner yelled out, "I'm the sorcerer

Piirisilla himself." "Show yourself in your proper form or I'll singe

you again," said the mighty magician. Then the little man in the cage

began to expand, and grew in a few minutes to the size of an ordinary

man, who could have carried off a golden apple easily. He was taken

down from the tree in the cage, and asked where the stolen apples were

hidden. He offered to show the place himself, but Sharpeye begged the

king not to let the thief out of the cage, or he would become a moth

again, and escape. They were obliged to singe his hair many times

before he would give up all the stolen property; and at last, when all

the golden apples had been recovered, the thief was burned in the cage,

and his ashes scattered to the winds.

There was great rejoicing when the three brothers returned home at the

end of the term agreed upon. Shortly afterwards, hearing that the[Pg

21] daughter of a rich king in the North was destined as the bride of

any one who could perform three wonderful feats, they set out to the

court of her father.

The first feat was to watch a swift reindeer cow for a whole day, and

bring her back to the stable at night; the second to bolt the palace

door in the evening; and the third was to shoot an arrow straight

through the middle of an apple, which a man, standing on the top of a

high hill, held in his mouth by the stalk.

The three brothers were so much alike that as each could accomplish one

of the feats only, they decided to personate the same man, which was

not difficult, when they trimmed their beards to exactly the same

pattern.

Swiftfoot went first to the king, and the princess peeped at him

through the crack of the door, and fell in love with him, wishing she

could hobble the reindeer's feet that the handsome man might win her.

However, he found that he was easily a match for the reindeer, though

she could have run across the world in a single day. In the evening he

brought the cow back to her stable, and after supper returned to his

brothers.[Pg 22]

Next day, Quickhand dressed himself up like his brother, and went to

the court, where every one took him for Swiftfoot. The princess again

peeped at him, and wished she could drive away the witch from the

palace door. This witch was accustomed to change herself into the iron

door bar, and if any one climbed a ladder to close it, she would grasp

his hand, and set the folding doors swinging backwards and forwards

till morning, while the man swung helpless in her grasp. But Quickhand

ordered an iron hand to be made,[11] which he heated red hot, and

mounting the ladder, held it out to the witch, and shot the bolt at the

moment that she grasped it; and the door remained bolted till the king

rose in the morning. Quickhand spent that day with the king, and

returned to his brothers in the evening.

Next day, Sharpeye went to the palace, and it was arranged that the

shooting feat should come off on the following morning; and the

princess declared that she would part with all she possessed to ensure

his success. The man who held the apple on the mountain looked no

bigger than a crow, and fearing for his own safety, did not hold[Pg 23]

the apple by the stalk, but in his mouth, thinking that the marksman

would be more likely to shoot the arrow at a safe distance from him.

But Sharpeye struck the apple precisely in the middle, carrying away a

bit of flesh from each cheek of the holder with it.

Sharpeye declined the king's proposal to betroth him to his daughter

immediately, and he returned to his brothers, when they rejoiced in

their success like children, and then cast lots[12] for the

princess.[13] The lot fell to Sharpeye, who married the princess, while

his two brothers returned home, when they bought large estates and

lived like princes.

The brothers are once spoken of as "Swedes," for what reason does not

appear. Another story on similar lines is that of the Swift-footed

Princess (Kreutzwald); but here the various feats, including the race

against the princess, who will not marry[Pg 24] unless she is worsted

in a foot-race, are performed by the gifted servants in the train of

the prince who seeks her in marriage.

THE IDIOT'S LUCK.

We find this form of the story of the despised younger son in the

"Strange Tale of an Ox" (Kreutzwald). A dying father leaves an ox to

his third son, a simpleton, who goes to sell it, and when passing

through a wood he hears a noise in a tree, and thinks it is an offer to

buy the ox; so he ties it to the tree, and takes a log home with him as

security for the money. Not receiving it when he expected, he breaks

open the log, and finds a jar of money inside. He afterwards kills a

shepherd who tries to cheat him out of it; and it is given out that the

shepherd has been carried away by the devil.

THE MAGICIAN'S HEIRS.

(Kreutzwald.)

The story of the traveller who appropriates the magical properties over

which the sons of a dead[Pg 25] magician are quarrelling is widely

distributed, and frequently occurs as a mere incident in a story; as,

for example, in that of Hasan of El Basrah in the _Thousand and One

Nights_. In the Esthonian story of the "Dwarf's[14] Quarrel," the

articles form the leading _motif_, but mixed up with details curiously

resembling some Celtic fairy tales.

A man passing through a wood came upon a small clearing, where he found

three dwarfs beating, pushing, kicking, and biting each other, and

tearing each other's hair so that it was shocking to see them. They

proved to be fighting over an old hat, composed of the parings of

finger-nails[15], the wearer of which could see everything taking place

in the world, whether near or far; a pair of bast shoes, which would

carry the wearer anywhere at a step; and a stick which would demolish

everything before it. Each of the dwarfs wanted to take all these

articles, to go to a great wedding which was just taking place in

Courland. The referee put on the hat, saw the wedding, and told the

dwarfs to stand with their backs to him, when he demolished them[Pg 26]

with the stick, only three drops of water being left where they had

been standing. Then he went to the wedding in Courland, where he found

a great number of people assembled, both high and low, for the

entertainer was a very rich householder.

As the wearer of the magic hat could see everything hidden as well as

obvious, he saw when he lifted his eyes to the crossbeams[16] that

there were a vast crowd of little guests both there and on the

door-posts, who seemed to be far more numerous than the invited guests.

But no one else could see the little people. Presently some of them

began to whisper, "Look there; our old uncle's come to the feast too."

"No," answered others, "it seems that this stranger has our uncle's

hat, shoes, and stick, but uncle himself isn't here." Meantime, covered

dishes were brought in for the feast. Then the stranger saw what nobody

else could perceive, that the good food was abstracted from the dishes

with wonderful quickness, and worse put in its place. It went just the

same with the jugs and bottles. Then the stranger asked for the master

of the house, greeted him politely, and said, "Don't be offended that I

have come to the feast as an uninvited stran[Pg 27]ger." "You are

welcome," returned the host. "We have plenty to eat and drink, so that

we are not inconvenienced by a few uninvited guests." The stranger

rejoined, "I can well believe that one or two uninvited guests would

make no difference, but if the uninvited guests are far more numerous

than those who are invited, the richest host may run short." "I don't

understand you," said the host. The stranger gave him the hat, saying,

"Put my hat on, and raise your eyes to the crossbeams, and then you'll

see them." The host did so, and when he saw the tricks that the little

guests were playing with the feast, he turned as pale as death, and

cried out with a trembling voice, "Ah! my friend, my heart never

dreamed of such guests; and now I've taken off your hat, they've all

vanished. How can I ever get rid of them?" The owner of the hat

returned, "I will soon rid you of these little guests, if you will ask

the invited guests to step out for a short time, closing the doors and

windows carefully, and taking care that no chink or crack in the wall

remains unstopped." Although the founder of the feast did not quite

understand what he meant, he consented to the stranger's offer, and

asked him to get rid of the little nuisances.[Pg 28]

In a short time the room was cleared of all the invited guests, the

doors, windows, and other openings were carefully closed, and the

stranger was left alone with the little guests. Then he began to swing

his cudgel towards the crossbeams and corners of the room so vigorously

that it was a pleasure to behold. In a few moments the whole mob of

little guests was annihilated, and as many drops of water were left on

the floor as if it had been raining heavily. Only one auger-hole had

been accidentally left unstopped, through which one of the dwarfs

slipped out, although the cudgel might still have reached the fugitive.

He fled across the enclosure, bellowing, "Oh, oh, what a calamity! Many

a time have I been terrified at the arrows of old father Pikne,[17] but

they are nothing to this cudgel!"

When the host had convinced himself, by the aid of the magic hat, that

the room was cleared of the dwarfs, he invited the guests to re-enter.

During the feast the omniscient man read the secret thoughts of the

wedding-guests, and learned much which the others did not suspect. The

bridegroom thought more of the wealth of his father-in-law than[Pg 29]

of his young wife; and she, who was not altogether faultless, hoped

that her husband and her matron's cap would protect her from scandal.

It's a great pity that such a hat is no longer to be met with in our

times.

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

Stories of the Man in the Moon are generally common. In Esthonia it is

generally the Woman in the Moon, as may be seen in the two beautiful

legends of Videvik, and of the Maiden at the Vaskjalla Bridge. The

short legend which follows these resembles that in the Prose Edda

relative to two children carrying a bucket (Jack and Jill?) who were

taken to himself by the Moon. The story of the Moon-Painter might have

been inserted here; but it seemed to come in more appropriately in

another place.

We meet with sons and daughters of the Sun and Moon among the Finns and

Lapps, as well as among the Esthonians.

[Pg 30]

VIDEVIK, KOIT, AND ÄMARIK[18]

(_Twilight, Dawn, and Evening Twilight_).

The Creator had three diligent servants—two fair and lovely maidens,

Videvik and Ämarik, and the slender youth Koit. They fulfilled his

orders and looked after his affairs. One evening at sunset, Videvik,

the eldest, came back from ploughing with her oxen, and led them to the

river to drink. But maidens are always accustomed to think first of

their own bright faces, and so was it with the charming Videvik. She

thought no more of the oxen, but stepped to the water's edge and looked

down. And behold, her brown eyes and red cheeks looked back upon her

from the surface of the stream, and her heart beat with pleasure. But

the Moon, whom the Creator had ordered to take the place of the setting

sun to enlighten the world, forgot his duty, and hurried down to the

earth to the bed of the stream. Here he stayed with Videvik, mouth to

mouth and lip to lip.[Pg 31]

But while the Moon thus forgot his duty, his light became extinguished,

and thick darkness covered the land as he lay on Videvik's heart. And

now a great misfortune happened. The wolf, the wild beast of the

forest, who could work mischief when no eye could see him, attacked one

of Videvik's oxen and tore him to pieces. The nightingale sang loudly

through the dark thicket, "Idle maid, idle maid, long is the night.

Black stripes to the yoke, to the yoke! Bring the whip, bring the whip,

whip, whip, whip." But Videvik heard nothing. She had forgotten

everything but her love.

Early in the morning, when Koit rose from his couch, Videvik awakened

at last from her dream of love. When she saw the evil deed that the

wolf had wrought, she began to weep bitterly. But the tears of her

innocent affliction were not hidden from the Creator. He descended from

his heaven to punish the evil-doer and to bring the criminal to

justice. He dealt out severe punishment to the wolf, and yoked him high

in heaven with the ox, to draw water for ever, driven by the iron rod

of the pole-star.[19] But to Videvik he said, "As the Moon has touched

thee with the light of his beauty[Pg 32] and has wooed thee, I will

forgive thee, and if thou lovest him from thy heart, I will not hinder

you, and you shall be wedded. But from thee, Videvik, I look for

faithful watch and vigilance that the Moon begins his course at the

right time, and that deep darkness falls no more on earth at night,

when the evil powers can work mischief at their pleasure. Rule over the

night, and take care that a happy peace prevails in its course."

Thus the moon received Videvik as his wife. Her friendly countenance

still smiles down upon us, and is reflected in the mirror of the brook,

where she first enjoyed the love of her consort.

Then the Creator summoned Koit and Ämarik to his presence, and said, "I

will guard against any further negligence respecting the light of the

world, lest darkness should again get the upper hand, and I will

appoint two watchers under whose care all shall run its course. The

Moon and Videvik shall illumine the night with their radiance at the

appointed time. Koit and Ämarik, to your watch and ward I intrust the

light of day beneath the firmament. Fulfil your duty with diligence. To

thy care, my daughter Ämarik, I entrust the sinking sun. Receive him on

the horizon, and care[Pg 33]fully extinguish all the sparks every

evening, lest any harm should ensue, and lead him to his setting. Koit,

my active son, let it be thy care to receive the sun from the hands of

Ämarik when he is ready to begin his course, and to kindle new light,

that there may never be any deficiency."

The two servants of the sun did their duty with diligence, so that the

sun was never absent from the sky for a day. Then began the long summer

nights when Koit and Ämarik join their hands, when their hearts beat

and their lips meet in a kiss, while the birds in the woods sing sweet

songs each according to his note, when flowers blossom, the trees

flourish, and all the world rejoices. At this time the Creator

descended from his golden throne to earth to celebrate the festival of

Lijon.[20] He found all his works and affairs in good order, and

rejoiced in his creation, and said to Koit and Ämarik, "I am well

pleased with your management, and desire your lasting happiness. From

henceforth be husband and wife."

But the two exclaimed with one voice, "Father, let us enjoy our

happiness undisturbed. We are[Pg 34] content with our lot, and will

remain lover and beloved, for thus we enjoy a happiness which is ever

young and new."

Then the Creator granted them their desire, and returned to his golden

heaven.

The versions given by Boecler and Jannsen differ slightly.

THE MAIDEN AT THE VASKJALA BRIDGE.

(Kreutzwald.)

On a beautiful and quiet summer evening many years ago, a pious maiden

went to the Vaskjala[21] Bridge to bathe and refresh herself after the

heat of the day. The sky was clear, and the song of the nightingale

re-echoed from the neighbouring alder thicket. The Moon ascended to his

heavenly pavilion, and gazed down with friendly eyes on the wreath of

the maiden with the golden hair and rosy cheeks. The maiden's heart was

pure and innocent, and modest and clear as the waters of the spring[Pg

35] to its very depths. Suddenly she felt her heart beat faster, and a

strange longing seized her, and she could no longer turn her eyes away

from the face of the Moon. For because she was so good and pure and

innocent, she had won the love of the Moon, who desired to fulfil her

secret longings and the wish of her heart. But the pious maiden

cherished but one wish in her heart, which she could not venture to

express or to ask the Moon to fulfil, for she longed to depart from

this world and to dwell for ever beneath the sky with the Moon, but the

Moon knew the unexpressed thoughts of her heart.

It was again a lovely evening. The air was calm and peaceful, and again

the song of the nightingale resounded through the night. The Moon gazed

down once more into the depths at the bottom of the river near the

Vaskjala Bridge, but no longer alone as before. The fair face of the

maiden gazed down with him into the depths, and has ever since been

visible in the Moon. Above in the far sky she lives in joy and

contentment, and only desires that other maidens might share her

happiness. So on moonlight nights her friendly eyes gaze down on her

mortal sisters, and she seeks to invite them[Pg 36] as her guests. But

none among them is so pure and modest and innocent as herself, and

therefore none is worthy to ascend to her in the Moon. Sometimes this

troubles the maiden in the Moon, and she hides her face sorrowfully in

a black veil. Yet she does not abandon all hope, but trusts that on

some future day one of her earthly sisters may be found sufficiently

pious and pure and innocent for the Moon to call her to share this

blessed life. So from time to time the Moon-maiden gazes down on the

earth with increasing hope and laughing eyes, with her face unveiled,

as on the happy evening when she first looked down from heaven on the

Vaskjala Bridge. But the best and most intelligent of the daughters of

earth fall into error and wander into by-paths, and none among them is

pious and innocent enough to become the Moon's companion. This makes

the heart of the pious Moon-maiden sorrowful again, and she turns her

face from us once more, and hides it under her black veil.

[Pg 37]

THE WOMAN IN THE MOON.

(Jannsen.)

One Saturday evening a woman went very late to the river to fetch

water. The Moon shone brightly in the heavens, and she said to him,

"Why do you stand gaping up there? You'd better come and help me carry

water. I must work here, and you dawdle about above!"

Suddenly the Moon came down from above, but he seized the woman and

took her with him into the sky. There she still stands with her two

pails as a warning to everybody not to work too late in the evening on

holidays. But the Moon knows no rest, and can never dawdle about, for

he must wander from land to land, and everywhere illumine the darkness

of night with his light.[22]

[Pg 38]

POLYPHEMUS.

(Jannsen.)

In the Esthonian version the Devil visits a locksmith, who promises to

cast him new eyes. When the Devil calls for them, he binds him to a

bench on his back, telling him that his name is Myself. He then pours

molten tin into his eyes, and the Devil jumps up with the pain, and

rushes out with the bench on his back, telling his companions that

"Myself" has done it. He dies miserably, and the dog, fox, rat, and

wolf bury him under the dung of a white mare. "Since this," adds the

narrator, "there has been no devil more." There is a very similar story

from Swedish Lappmark, in which the man who outwits and blinds a giant

tells him that his own name is "Nobody."[23]

RED RIDING-HOOD.

One of the most fantastic stories of this series is "The Devil's Visit"

(Jannsen: Veckenstedt), which, notwithstanding its subject, has an

absurd[Pg 39] resemblance in some of its details to "Little Red

Riding-Hood."

Two men and their wives lived together in a cottage; one couple had

three children, the others were childless. One day, both husbands were

absent, and the Devil and his son knocked at the door in their

semblance, and sat down to supper. But the eldest child said secretly,

"Mother, mother, father's got long claws!" The second said, "Mother,

mother, he's got a tail too!" And the youngest added, "Mother, mother,

he's got iron teeth in his mouth." The woman comforted the children,

and while the childless woman went with one of the devils, the mother

put the children to bed on the stove, laid juniper twigs in front, and

made the sign of the cross over them.

She then gave the Devil the end of her girdle to hold, by which to draw

her to him, but she fastened the other end to a log of wood, and

climbed on the roof for safety, taking with her a three-pronged fork.

As soon as the devils began to devour the supposed women,[24] the elder

discovered that he had[Pg 40] been deceived; and his son advised him to

devour the children; but he could not get at them. Then his son advised

him to look for the mother; and he tried to climb on the roof, but the

woman struck him back with the fork, and he called to his son for help.

The son immediately rushed out of the cottage to get his share of the

prey, when a red cock crew, and the Devil cried out, "He's my

half-brother," and tried again to get on the roof. Then crowed a white

cock, and the Devil cried out, "He's my godfather," and scrambled on

the corner of the gable. Then crowed a black cock, when the Devil cried

out, "He's my murderer!" and both devils vanished, as if they had sunk

into the ground.

SNOWWHITE, THE GLASS MOUNTAIN, AND THE DESPISED YOUNGEST SON.

We have these tales combined in the story of the "Princess who slept

for seven years" (Kreutzwald).

A princess falls into a deep sleep, and is placed by a magician in a

glass coffin. A glass mountain is prepared, on which the coffin is

fixed. Up the[Pg 41] glass mountain the successful suitor must ride

when seven years and seven days have expired, when the princess will

awake and give him a ring.

Meanwhile an old peasant dies, leaving his house and property to his

two elder sons, and charging them to take care of the third, who is

considered rather lazy and stupid, but who has a good heart.[25] He

charges his three sons to watch, one each night, by his grave; but the

elder ones excuse themselves, leaving the duty to the youngest son. The

eldest brother proposes to turn the youngest out of the house, but is

dissuaded by the other, who thinks it would look too bad.

When the king promises his daughter to whoever can climb the glass

mountain,[26] the two elder brothers dress themselves in fine clothes,

and set off, leaving the youngest at home, lest he should disgrace them

by his shabby appearance. But he receives from his father a bronze

horse and bronze armour, and rides a third of the way up the mountain.

On the second day he receives a silver steed[Pg 42] and silver armour,

and rides more than half-way up; and on the third day he receives a

golden steed and golden armour, and rides to the summit. Then the lid

of the glass case flies open, the maiden raises herself and gives the

knight a ring, and he rides down with her to her father.

Next day it is proclaimed that whoever can produce the ring shall marry

the princess; and, to the astonishment of the two elder brothers, the

youngest claims the prize. The magician explains to the king that the

young man is in reality the son of a powerful monarch, but was stolen

away in infancy and brought up as a peasant, and the king accepts him

as his son-in-law. His indolence was not an inherent defect, but had

been imposed upon him by the witch who had stolen him. On Sunday he

appeared before the people in his golden armour and mounted on his

golden horse, but his reputed brothers died of rage and envy.

[Pg 43]

THE THREE SISTERS.[27]

(Jannsen.)

This is the familiar story of an ill-used younger sister. A countryman

was taking game to market, and his two elder daughters asked him to

bring them fine clothes, but the youngest asked him to bring her

anything he got gratis. A shopkeeper offered him a kitten, which he

brought to the youngest girl, who treated it kindly. On the two

following Sundays, the elder sisters went to church to show off their

fine clothes, leaving the younger one at home. She went into the

garden, and a pied magpie settled on the fence, which the cat pursued,

and on the first Sunday it dropped a gold brooch, and on the second two

gold rings.

As the third Sunday was wet, the two elder sisters stayed at home, but

sent the youngest to church; so she adorned herself with her finery and

set out, and at church she attracted general attention. When her

sisters heard of it, they insisted[Pg 44] on knowing her secret; and

they carried the kitten into the garden several times, to no purpose,

for as they had always ill-treated it before, it only bit and scratched

them. At last they killed it, and threw it among the rushes by the side

of the lake.

When the youngest sister missed the kitten, she went out weeping into

the wood. Her sisters followed her, murdered her, and buried her under

a heap of sand, covering the grave with reeds, and when they went home

they told their father that she had been carried away by gipsies. A

shepherd, passing that way made himself a flute, and it sang the

maiden's sorrowful end. When this reached the ears of the prince, he

ordered the body to be exhumed and carried to his castle, and by

direction of the flute, it was reanimated with water from the healing

well in the prince's courtyard. The maiden immediately begged the life

of her sisters, who were released. Her hand was then sought for in

marriage by a young nobleman, whom she accepted. After this, she begged

the prince to restore her kitten to life too with the healing water,

and the two sisters were sent to fetch it; but the reed-bed by the lake

gave way under their feet, and they both perished miserably; for

neither they nor the kitten were ever[Pg 45] seen again. But the

descendants of the youngest sister still bear a cat on their

escutcheon.

THE THREE WISHES.

This well-known story appears in one of its commonest forms in the tale

of "Loppi and Lappi" (Kreutzwald), a quarrelsome couple who are granted

three wishes by a fairy. At supper-time the wife wishes for a sausage,

which is wished on and off her nose, and the couple remain as poor as

before.

THE WITCH-BRIDE.

Versions of this story are common in Finland as well as in Esthonia.

One of the latter is "Rõugutaja's Daughter" (Kreutzwald). Old

Rõugutaja[28] lived with his wife and daughter in a wood. The daughter

had a beautiful face, but it was reported that her skin was of bark,

and she could find no suitors. At last the mother contrived to inveigle

a youth into marrying her daughter by means of a love-philtre, but on

the first night he ran away, and shortly afterwards married another

bride. On the birth[Pg 46] of a child, the witch-mother transforms the

young mother into a wolf, and substitutes her own daughter. The nurse

is ordered to take the crying child for a walk; she meets the wolf; the

deceit is discovered, and the husband inveigles the witch-mother and

daughter into the bathhouse, and burns it down.

There is little in this story except the bark-skin of the witch-bride

to distinguish it from the numerous variants among other peoples.

Another story belonging to the class of the witch-bride is

THE STEPMOTHER.

(Kreutzwald.)

Here the two girls are half-sisters, not step-sisters; and the younger

one is dressed up, and married, veiled, to the suitor of the other.

When the husband discovers the deception, he throws the false bride

under the ice of a river on the way, and takes his own bride instead.

Next year, the mother, on her way to visit her supposed daughter and

her child, gathers a water-lily, which tells her that[Pg 47] it is her

own daughter. Then the mother and daughter are transformed into a black

dog and a black cat, with the aid of a magician; but their attempts at

revenge are frustrated by a sorceress, who had previously befriended

the young mother.

[Pg 48]

SECTION IV

_FAMILIAR STORIES OF NORTHERN EUROPE_

Under this heading we include variants of well-known but not

cosmopolitan tales, some of which are of considerable interest. Among

them is a variant of "Melusina," close in some points, but presenting

many features of difference.

THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE.

Kreutzwald's story of "The Powerful Crayfish and the Insatiable Wife"

is almost identical with that of Grimm. At last the woman wishes to be

God, and the crayfish sends the foolish couple back to their poverty.

[Pg 49]

THE MERMAID.[29]

(Kreutzwald.)

In the happy days of old, better men lived on earth than now, and the

Heavenly Father revealed many wonders to them which are now quite

concealed, or but rarely manifested to a child of fortune. It is true

that the birds sing and the beasts converse as of old, but unhappily we

no longer comprehend their speech, and what they say brings us neither

profit nor wisdom.

In old days a fair mermaid dwelt on the shores of the province of

Lääne. She often appeared to the people, and my grandfather's father,

who was reared in the neighbourhood, sometimes saw her sitting on a

rock, but the little fellow did not venture to approach her. The maiden

appeared in various forms, sometimes as a foal or a calf, and sometimes

under the form of some other animal. In the evening she often came

among the children, and let them play with her, until some little boy

mounted her back,[Pg 50] when she would vanish as suddenly as if she

had sunk into the ground.

At that time old people said that in former days the maiden was to be

seen on the borders of the sea almost every fine evening in the summer,

sitting on a rock, and combing her long fair hair with a golden comb,

and she sang such beautiful songs that it melted the hearts of her

listeners. But she could not endure the gaze of men, and vanished from

their sight or fled into the sea, where she rocked on the waves like a

swan. We will now relate the cause of her flying from men, and no

longer meeting them with her former confidence.

In old times, long before the invasion of the Swedes, a rich farmer

lived on the coast of Lääne with his wife and four sons. They obtained

their food more from the sea than from the land, for fishing was a very

productive industry in their days. The youngest son was very different

from his brothers, even from a child. He avoided the companionship of

men, and wandered about on the sea-shore and in the forest. He talked

much to himself and to the birds, or to the winds and waves, but when

he was in the company of others he hardly opened his mouth, but stood

like one dreaming.[Pg 51] When the storms raged over the sea in autumn,

and the waves swelled up as high as a house and broke foaming on the

beach, the boy could not contain himself in the house, but ran like one

possessed, and often half-naked, to the shore. Neither wind nor weather

harmed his robust body. He sprang into his boat, seized the oars, and

drove like a wild goose over the crest of the raging billows far out to

sea, without incurring any harm by his rashness. In the morning, when

the storm had spent its fury, he was found sound asleep on the beach.

If he was sent anywhere on an errand, to herd cattle in summer, or to

do any other easy employment, he gave his parents only trouble. He lay

down under the shadow of a bush without minding the animals, and they

strayed away or trampled down the meadows and cornfields, and his

brothers had often to work for hours before they could find the lost

animals. The father often let the boy feel the rod severely enough, but

it had no more effect than water poured on the back of a goose. When

the boy grew up into a youth, he did not mend his ways. No work

prospered in his negligent hands; he hacked and broke the tools,

wearied out the draught cattle, and yet never did anything right.[Pg

52]

His father sent him to neighbouring farmers to work, hoping that a

stranger's whip might improve the sloven, but whoever had the fellow

for one week on trial sent him back again on the next. His parents

rated him for a sluggard, and his brothers dubbed him "Sleepy Tony."

This soon became his nickname with everybody, though he had been

christened Jüri.[30] Sleepy Tony brought no one any good, but was only

a nuisance to his parents and relatives, so that they would gladly have

given a sum of money if anybody would have rid them of the lazy fellow.

As nobody would put up with him any longer, his father engaged him as

servant to a foreign captain, because he could not run away at sea, and

because he had always been so fond of the water from a child. However,

after a few weeks, nobody knows how, he escaped from the ship, and

again set his lazy feet on his native soil. But he was ashamed to enter

his father's house, where he could not expect to meet with a friendly

reception, so he wandered about from one place to another, and sought

to get his living as he could, without working. He was a strong

handsome fellow, and could talk very agreeably if he liked, although

he[Pg 53] had never been accustomed to talk much in his father's house.

He was now obliged to use his handsome appearance and fine tongue to

ingratiate himself with the women and girls.

One fine summer evening after sunset it happened that he was wandering

alone on the beach when the clear song of the mermaid reached his ears.

Sleepy Tony thought to himself, "She is a woman, at any rate, and won't

do me any harm." He did not hesitate to approach nearer, to take a view

of the beautiful bird. He climbed the highest hill, and saw the mermaid

some distance off, sitting on a rock, combing her hair with a golden

comb, and singing a ravishing song. The youth would have wished for

more ears to listen to her song, which pierced his heart like a flame,

but when he drew nearer he saw that he would have needed just as many

eyes to take in the beauty of the maiden. The mermaid must have seen

him coming, but she did not fly from him, as she was always wont to do

when men approached. Sleepy Tony advanced to within ten paces of her,

and then stopped, undecided whether to go nearer. And oh, wonderful!

the mermaid rose from the stone and came to meet him with a friendly

air. She gave him her hand in[Pg 54] greeting, and said, "I have

expected you for many days, for a fateful dream warned me of your

arrival. You have neither house nor home among those of your own race.

Why should you be dependent upon strangers when your parents refuse to

receive you into their house? I have known you from a child, and better

than men have known you, for I have often watched over and protected

you when your rashness would otherwise have destroyed you. I have often

guarded the rocking boat with my hands, when it would otherwise have

sunk in the depths. Come with me, and you shall enjoy every happiness

which your heart can desire, and you shall want for nothing. I will

watch over and protect you as the apple of my eye, so that neither wind

nor rain nor frost shall touch you."

Sleepy Tony stood for a time uncertain what to answer, though every

word of the maiden was like a flaming arrow in his heart. At last he

stammered out an inquiry as to whether her home was very far away. "We

can reach it with the speed of the wind, if you have confidence in me,"

answered the mermaid. Then Sleepy Tony remembered many sayings which he

had heard about the mermaid, and his heart failed him, and he asked for

three days to[Pg 55] make up his mind. "I will agree to your wish,"

said the mermaid, "but lest you should again be doubtful, I will put my

gold ring on your finger before we part, that you may not forget to

return. When we are better acquainted, this pledge may serve as an

engagement ring." She then drew off the ring, placed it on the youth's

little finger, and vanished as if she had melted into air. Sleepy Tony

stood staring with wide-open eyes, and would have supposed it was all a

dream, if the sparkling ring on his finger had not been proof to the

contrary. But the ring seemed like a strange spirit, which left him no

peace or rest anywhere. He wandered aimlessly about the shore all

night, and always returned to the rock on which the maiden had been

sitting; but the stone was cold and vacant. In the morning he lay down

for a short time, but uneasy dreams disturbed his sleep. When he awoke,

he felt neither hunger nor thirst, and all his thoughts were directed

towards the evening, when he hoped to see the mermaid again. The day

waned at last, and evening approached, the wind sank, the birds in the

alder-bushes left off singing and tucked their tired heads under their

wings, but that evening he saw the mermaid nowhere.[Pg 56]

He wept bitter tears of sorrow and trouble, and reflected bitterly on

his folly in having hesitated to seize the good fortune offered to him

the evening before, when a cleverer fellow would have grasped at it

with both hands. But regret and complaint were useless now. The night

and the day which followed were equally painful to him, and his trouble

weighed upon him so much that he never felt hunger. Towards sunset he

sat down with an aching heart on the rock where the mermaid had sat two

evenings ago. He began to weep bitterly, and exclaimed, sobbing, "If

she does not come back to me, I will live no longer, but either die of

hunger on this rock, or cast myself headlong into the waves, and end my

miserable life in the depths of the sea."

I know not how long he sat thus on the rock in his distress, but at

last he felt a soft warm hand laid upon his forehead. When he looked

up, he saw the maiden before him, and she said tenderly, "I have seen

your bitter suffering and heard your longing sighs, and could not

withdraw myself longer, though the time does not expire till to-morrow

night."

"Forgive me, forgive me, dear maiden," stammered Sleepy Tony. "Forgive

me; I was a mad[Pg 57] fool not to accept the proffered happiness. The

devil only knows what folly came into my head two nights ago. Carry me

whither you please. I will oppose you no longer, and would joyfully

give up my very life for your sake."

The mermaid answered smiling, "I do not desire your death, but I will

take you living as my dear companion." She took the youth by the hand,

led him a few paces nearer to the sea, and bound a silk handkerchief

over his eyes. Immediately Sleepy Tony felt himself embraced by two

strong arms, which raised him up as if in flight, and then plunged

headlong into the sea. The moment the cold water touched his body, he

lost all consciousness, and knew nothing more of what was happening

around him; nor was he afterwards able to tell how long this

insensibility lasted.

When he awoke, he was to experience something stranger still.

He found himself lying on soft cushions in a silken bed, which stood in

a beautiful chamber, with walls of glass covered on the inside with

curtains of red satin, lest the glaring light should wake the sleeper.

Some time passed before he could make out whether he was still alive,

or whether he was in[Pg 58] some unknown region of the dead. He rocked

his limbs to and fro, took the end of his nose between his fingers, and

behold, he was quite unchanged. He was dressed in a white shirt, and

handsome clothes lay in a chair in front of his bed. After lying in bed

for some time, and feeling himself all over to make sure that he was

really alive, he got up and dressed himself.

Presently he coughed, when two maids entered, who greeted him as "his

lordship," and wished to know what he would like for breakfast. One

laid the table, and the other went to prepare the food. In a short time

the table was loaded with dishes of pork, sausage, black puddings, and

honey, with jugs of beer and mead, just the same as at a grand

wedding-feast. Sleepy Tony, who had eaten nothing for several days

before, now set to work in earnest, and ate his fill, after which he

laid down on the bed to digest it. When he got up again, the

waiting-maids came back, and invited his lordship to take a walk in the

garden while her ladyship was dressing. He heard himself called "your

lordship" so often, that he already began to feel himself such in

reality, and forgot his former station.[Pg 59]

In the garden he met with beauty and elegance at every step; gold and

silver apples glittered among the green leaves, and even the fir and

pine cones were of gold, while birds of golden plumage hopped among the

twigs and branches. Two maids came from behind a bush, who were

commissioned to show his lordship round the garden, and to point out

all its beauties. They went farther, and reached the edge of a pond

where silver-feathered geese and swans were swimming. A rosy flush as

of dawn filled all the sky, but the sun was not visible. The bushes

were covered with flowers which exhaled a delicious odour, and bees as

large as hornets flew among the flowers. All the flowers and shrubs

which our friend beheld here were far more beautiful than he had ever

seen before. Presently two elegantly dressed girls appeared, who

invited his lordship to meet her ladyship, who was expecting him. But

first they threw a blue silken shawl over his shoulders. Who would have

recognised the former Sleepy Tony in such a guise?

In a beautiful hall, as large as a church, and built of glass like the

bedroom, sat twelve fair maidens on silver chairs.[31] Against the wall

behind them was a[Pg 60] daïs on which two golden thrones were placed.

On one throne sat the august queen, and the other was unoccupied. When

Sleepy Tony crossed the threshold, all the maidens rose from their

seats and saluted him respectfully, and did not sit down again until

desired to do so. The lady herself remained seated, bent her head to

the youth in salutation, and signed with her finger, upon which Sleepy

Tony's attendants took him between them, and conducted him to their

mistress. The youth advanced with faltering steps, and did not venture

to lift his eyes, for he was dazzled with all the unaccustomed

splendour and magnificence. He was shown to his place on the golden

throne next to the lady, and she said, "This young man is my beloved

bridegroom, to whom I have plighted myself, and whom I have accepted as

my consort. You must show him every respect, and obey him as you obey

me. Whenever I leave the house, you must amuse him and look after him

and guard him as the apple of my eye. You will be severely punished if

you neglect to carry out my orders exactly."

Sleepy Tony looked round him like one dazed, for he did not know what

to make of the adventures of the night, which were more wonderful

than[Pg 61] wonder itself. He continually turned the question over in

his mind as to whether he was awake or dreaming. The lady noticed his

confusion, and rose from her throne, took him by the hand, and led him

from one room to another, all of which were untenanted. At last they

arrived at the twelfth chamber, which was rather smaller, but handsomer

than the others. Here the lady took her crown from her head, cast aside

the gold-embroidered mantle, and when Sleepy Tony ventured to raise his

eyes, he recognised that it was the mermaid at his side, and no strange

lady. Oh, how quickly his courage rose and his hopes revived! He cried

out joyfully, "O dear mermaid!"—but the maiden laid her hand on his

mouth, and spoke very earnestly, "If you have any regard for your own

happiness or for mine, never call me by that name, which has only been

given to me in mockery. I am one of the daughters of the Water-Mother.

There are many sisters of us, but we all live apart, each in her own

place, in the sea, or in lakes and rivers, and we only see each other

occasionally by some fortunate chance." She then explained to him that

she had hitherto remained unmarried, but now that she was an

established ruler, she must assume the dignity[Pg 62] of a royal

matron. Sleepy Tony was so bewildered with this unimagined good fortune

that he did not know how to express his happiness. His tongue seemed

paralysed, and he could not manage to say more than Yes or No. But

while he was enjoying a capital dinner and delicious beverages, his

tongue was loosened, and he was not only able to talk as well as

before, but to indulge in many pleasant jests.

This agreeable life was continued on the next and on the third day, and

Sleepy Tony thought he had been exalted to heaven in his living body.

But before retiring to rest the mermaid said to him, "To-morrow will be

Thursday, and every week I am bound by a vow to fast, and to remain

apart from every one. You cannot see me at all on Thursdays until the

cock has crowed thrice in the evening. My attendants will sing to you

to pass the time away, and will see that you want for nothing."

Next morning Sleepy Tony could not find his consort anywhere. He

remembered what she had told him the evening before, that he must pass

this and all future Thursdays without her. The waiting-maids exerted

themselves to amuse him in every[Pg 63] possible manner; they sang,

played, and performed elegant dances, and then set before him such food

and drink that no prince by birthright could have enjoyed better, and

the day passed quicker than he had expected. After supper he laid

himself to rest, and when the cock had crowed three times, the fair one

returned to him. The same thing happened on every following Thursday.

He often implored his beloved to allow him to fast with her on

Thursdays, but all to no purpose. He troubled his consort again on a

Wednesday with this request, and allowed her no rest; but the mermaid

said, with tears in her eyes, "Take my life, if you please; I would lay

it down cheerfully; but I cannot and dare not yield to your wish to

take you with me on my fast-days."

A year or more might have passed in this manner, when doubts arose in

the mind of Sleepy Tony, which became always more tormenting, and

allowed him no peace. His food became distasteful to him and his sleep

refreshed him not. He feared lest the mermaid might have some other

lover in secret besides himself, in whose arms she passed every

Thursday, while he was obliged to pass his time with the waiting-maids.

He had long ago discovered the room in which the mermaid hid herself[Pg

64] on Thursdays, but how did that help him? The door was always

locked, and the windows were so closely hung with double curtains on

the inside that there was not an opening left as large as a needle's

eye through which a sunbeam, much less a human eye, could penetrate.

But the more impossible it seemed to penetrate this secret, the more

eager grew his longing to get to the very bottom of it. Although he

never breathed a word of the weight upon his mind to the mermaid, she

could see from his altered manner that all was not as it should be.

Again and again she implored him with tears in her eyes not to torment

both himself and her with evil thoughts. "I am free from every fault

against you," she declared, "and I have no secret love nor any other

sin against you on my conscience. But your false suspicion makes us

both miserable, and will destroy the peace of our hearts. I would

gladly give up every moment of my life to you if you wished it, but I

cannot allow you to come near me on my fast-days. It cannot be, for it

would put an end to our love and happiness for ever. We are able to

live quietly and happily together for six days in the week, and how

should the separation of one day be so heavy that you cannot bear

it?"[Pg 65]

She talked in this sensible way for six days, but when the following

Thursday came, and the mermaid did not show herself, Sleepy Tony lost

his wits, and behaved as if he was half-mad. He knew no peace, and at

last one Thursday he refused to have any one with him. He ordered the

waiting-maids to bring him his food and drink, and then to leave him

directly, so that he remained alone like a spectre.

This great alteration in his conduct astonished everybody, and when the

mermaid heard of the matter, she almost wept her eyes out of her head,

though she only gave way to her grief when no one was present. Sleepy

Tony hoped that when he was alone he might have a better opportunity of

inspecting the secret fasting chamber, and perhaps he might find some

crack through which he could spy upon what was going on. The more he

tormented himself, the more depressed became the mermaid, and although

she still maintained a cheerful countenance, her friendliness no longer

came from the heart as before.

Some weeks passed by, and matters remained at a standstill, neither

worse nor better, when one Thursday Sleepy Tony found a small space

near the window where the curtains had slightly shifted, so[Pg 66] that

he could look into the chamber. The secret chamber had no floor, but

looked like a great square tank, filled with water many feet deep.

Herein swam his much-loved mermaid. From her head to her middle she was

a beautiful woman, but from the navel downwards she was wholly a fish,

covered with scales and provided with fins. Sometimes she threshed the

water with her broad fish's tail and it dashed high up.

The spy shrunk back confounded and made his way home very sorrowfully.

What would he not have given to have blotted the sight from his memory!

He thought of one thing and another, but could not decide on what to

do.

In the evening the cock crowed three times as usual, but the mermaid

did not come back to him. He lay awake all night, but the fair one

never came. She did not return till morning, when she was clad in black

mourning garments and her face was covered with a thin silk

handkerchief. Then she said, weeping, "O thou unhappy one! to have

brought our happy life to an end by thy folly! Thou seest me to-day for

the last time, and must return to thy former condition, and this thou

hast brought upon thyself. Farewell, for the last time."[Pg 67]

There was a sudden crash and a tremendous noise, as if the floor was

giving way beneath his feet, and Sleepy Tony was hurled down stunned,

and could not perceive what was happening to himself or about him.

No one knows how long afterwards it may have been when he recovered

from his swoon, and found himself on the sea-shore close to the rock on

which the fair mermaid had sat when she entered into the bond of

friendship with him. Instead of the magnificent robes which he had worn

every day in the dwelling of the mermaid, he found himself dressed in

his old clothes, which were now much older and more ragged than he

could possibly have supposed. Our friend's happy days were over, and no

remorse, however bitter, could bring them back.

He walked on till he reached the first houses of his village. They were

standing in the same places, but yet looked different. But what

appeared to him much more wonderful when he looked round, was that the

people were all strangers, and he did not meet a single face which he

knew.

The people all looked strangely at him, too, as though he was a

monster. Sleepy Tony went on to the farm of his parents, but here too

he[Pg 68] encountered only strangers, who knew him not, and whom he did

not know. He asked in amazement for his father and brothers, but no one

could tell him anything about them. At length an infirm old man came

up, leaning on a stick, and said, "Peasant, the farmer whom you ask

after has been sleeping in the ground for more than thirty years, and

his sons must be dead too. How comes it, my good old man, that you ask

after people who have been so long forgotten?" The words "old man" took

Sleepy Tony so much aback that he was unable to ask another question.

He felt his limbs trembling, turned his back on the strange people, and

went out at the gate. The expression "old man" left him no peace; it

fell upon him with a crushing weight, and his feet refused him their

office.

He hurried to the nearest spring and gazed in the water. The pale

sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the long grey beard and grey hair,

confirmed what he had heard. This worn-out, withered form no longer

bore the slightest resemblance to the youth whom the mermaid had chosen

as her consort. Now he fully realised his misery for the first time,

and knew that the few years that[Pg 69] he appeared to have been absent

had comprised the greater part of his life, for he had entered the

mermaid's house as a vigorous youth, and had returned as a spectre-like

old man. There he had felt nothing of the course of time or of the

wasting of his body, and he could not comprehend how the burden of old

age had fallen upon him so suddenly, like the passing of a bird's wing.

What could he do now, when he was a grey stranger among strangers?

He wandered about on the beach for a few days, from one farm to

another, and good people gave him a piece of bread out of charity. He

chanced to meet with a friendly young fellow, to whom he related all

the adventures of his life, but the same night he disappeared. A few

days afterwards the waves cast up his body on the shore. It is not

known whether he threw himself into the sea, or was drowned by

accident.

After this the behaviour of the mermaid towards mankind entirely

changed. She sometimes appears to children only, most often in another

form, but she does not permit grown-up people to approach her, but

shuns them like fire.

Other stories relative to the Water-Mother, mer[Pg 70]maids, and other

beings of the water will be found in a later section.

HOW THE SEA BECAME SALT.

(Jannsen.)

This is an interesting variant of a story known from Iceland to

Finland.

There were two brothers, one rich and one poor. One Christmas the rich

brother gave the other a ham, on condition that he should go to Põrgu.

On his way, he met an old man who told him that ham was a rarity there,

but he must not sell it for money, but only for what was behind the

door, which proved to be a wishing-mill. The rich brother bought it for

a high price, and set it to grind herrings and milk-soup; but he was

soon forced to give his brother another great sum to induce him to take

it back, and to save him and his wife, and indeed the whole village,

from being overwhelmed by the torrents of herrings and soup. Afterwards

it was sold to a sea-captain, who set it to grind salt, and it ground

on till the ship sank, and it now lies at the bottom of the sea,

grinding salt for ever.[32][Pg 71]

The next story, which belongs to the same class as Grimm's "Devil with

the Three Golden Hairs," introduces us to the personified Frost, who is

here a much less malevolent being than in the _Kalevala_, Runo xxx. It

also combines two familiar classes of tales: those in which a man

receives gifts which are stolen from him, and which he afterwards

recovers by means of another, often a magic cudgel; and those in which

a man visiting the house of a giant or devil in his absence is

concealed by the old mother in order to listen to the secrets revealed

by her son when he comes home.

THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE FROST.

(Jannsen.)

Once upon a time there were two brothers, one of whom was rich and the

other poor. The rich brother had much cornland and many cattle, but the

poor one had only a little corner of a field, in which[Pg 72] he sowed

rye. Then came the Frost and destroyed even this poor crop. Nothing was

left to the poor brother, so he set out in search of the Frost. When he

had gone some distance, he arrived at a small house and went in. He

found an old woman sitting there, who asked what he wanted. The man

answered, "I had tilled a small field, and the Frost came and took away

even the little that I had. So I set out in search of him, to ask why

he has done me this mischief." The old woman answered, "The Frosts are

my sons, and they destroy everything; but just now they are not at

home. If they came home and found you here, they would destroy you

likewise. Get up on the stove, and wait there." The man crept up, and

just then the Frost came in. "Son," said the old woman, "why did you

spoil the field of a poor man who was sufficiently pinched without

this?" "Oh," said the Frost, "I was only trying whether my cold would

bite." Then said the poor man on the stove, "Only give me so much back

that I can just scrape through, or I must soon die of hunger, for I

have nothing to break and bite." The Frost said, "We will give him

enough to last him all his life." Then he gave him a knapsack, saying,

"When you are hungry, you have only to[Pg 73] say, 'Open, sack,' and

you will have food and drink in abundance. But when you have had

enough, say, 'Sack, shut,' and all will immediately return into the

knapsack, and it will shut of itself."

The man thanked him heartily for his gift, and went his way. When he

had gone some distance, he said, "Open, sack," and immediately the

knapsack opened of itself, and supplied him with food in plenty. When

he had had enough, he said, "Sack, shut," and the food sprang into the

knapsack, which closed of itself. When he got home, he continued to use

it as the Frost directed.

When he and his wife had lived comfortably thus for some time, the rich

brother began to covet the knapsack, and wanted to buy it. He gave his

poor brother a hundred oxen and cows, and as many horses and sheep.

Thus the poor brother became rich, but he was not much better off, for

he had to feed the animals. They all gathered round him, and he was now

as poor as before. He did not know what to do, except to go back to the

Frost and ask for a new sack. The Frost said, "Why were you so

thoughtless as to give away such a knapsack? You are now just as poor

as before." But at length he gave him a new knapsack, much handsomer

than[Pg 74] the first. The poor brother thanked him heartily, and went

away joyful, for he thought he had got a knapsack like the first.

When he felt hungry, he said as before, "Open, sack." Immediately the

knapsack opened, and two fellows sprang out with thick cudgels in their

hands, who beat him as if it was a fine art. The man was so overwhelmed

that he could hardly utter the words, "Sack, shut!" Then the two

retired and the knapsack shut. The man thought to himself, "Have

patience! I'll exchange this with my brother." When he got home, his

brother noticed what a fine knapsack he had, and wanted to exchange.

The other had no objection, and the exchange was soon effected. Then

the rich brother invited all his relatives and the distinguished people

of the neighbourhood, for he thought to use the knapsack first to

provide a grand feast.

As soon as all these people were assembled, the host cried out, "Open,

sack!" Then the knapsack indeed opened, but the men with the cudgels

leaped out among the people, and belaboured them so lustily that they

all fled in different directions, and some barely escaped with their

lives. They all caught it hot, both the host and his guests. When[Pg

75] at length the host cried out in his distress, "Sack, shut!" the men

sprang back, and the sack closed. But now the bolder guests themselves

gave the host a good beating before they left. After this, things went

as badly with the rich brother as with the poor one before. He kept the

handsome knapsack, but the men with the cudgels were in it, and if he

only thought of opening it, they laid them on his back. But the poor

brother had enough for himself and his wife from the first knapsack as

long as he lived.

Versions of this story are current throughout Europe; but in general,

the magical properties (of which there are usually two or three) are

stolen or exchanged by a designing innkeeper, or other person, without

the knowledge of the owner.

The next story, that of the Devil being pounded in a sack, is current

in various forms throughout Northern Europe.

[Pg 76]

THE SOLDIER AND THE DEVIL.

(Jannsen.)

The Devil encountered a soldier outside the town, and said to him,

"Good friend, please help me to get through the town. I can't go alone,

though I should be very glad to do so, for the two-eyed dogs[33] would

surround me in every street. They attack me as soon as I enter the

town."

"I'd be glad to help you," said the soldier, "but one can't do any

business without money."

"What do you want then?" said the Devil.[Pg 77]

"Not a great deal," returned the soldier, "for you've plenty of money.

If you'll fill my gauntlet, I shall be quite satisfied."

"I've as much as that in my pocket," said the Devil, and filled the

glove to the brim.

The soldier reflected, and said, "I really don't know where to put you.

Stop! just creep into my knapsack; you'll be safer there than

anywhere."

"That'll do! But your knapsack has three straps. Don't buckle the

third, or it might be bad for me."[34]

"All right! Squeeze in."

So the Devil crept into the knapsack.

But the soldier was one of those people who don't keep their word as

they ought. As soon as the devil was in the knapsack, he buckled all

three straps tight, saying, "A soldier mustn't go through the town with

loose straps. Do you think that the corporal would excuse me on your

account if he saw me so untidy?"

But the soldier had a friend on the other side of the town who was a

smith. He marched straight[Pg 78] off to him with the Devil in his

knapsack, and said, "Old friend, please beat my knapsack soft on your

anvil. The corporal always scolds me because he says that my knapsack

is as hard and angular as a dry bast shoe."

"Pitch it on the anvil," said the smith.

And he hammered away at the knapsack till the wool flew from the hide.