"Won't that do?" asked he after a while.

"No," said the soldier, "harder still."

And again the blows hailed on the knapsack.

"That's enough," said the soldier at last. "I'll come to you again, if

it's necessary."

Then he took the knapsack on his shoulder, and went back to the town,

where he pitched the Devil out of the knapsack in the middle of the

street.

The Devil was crushed as flat as a mushroom. He could hardly stand on

his legs. It had never gone so ill with him before; but the soldier had

money enough and to spare, and there was some left over for his heirs.

When he died and arrived in the other world, he went to hell and

knocked at the door.

The Devil peeped through the door to see who it was, and yelled out,

"No, no, you scamp, you're[Pg 79] not wanted here; you may go wherever

you like, but you won't get in here."

So the soldier went to the Old God, and told him how it had fared with

him. He replied, "Stay here now; there's plenty of room for soldiers."

Since that time the Devil has admitted no more soldiers into hell.

[Pg 80]

SECTION V

_STORIES OF THE GODS, AND SPIRITS OF THE ELEMENTS_

Vanemuine appears in the _Kalevala_, under his Finnish name of

Väinämöinen, as a culture-hero, though in the first recension of the

poem, as well as in most of the creation-myths of the Finns, the

creation is ascribed to him, and not to his mother, Ilmatar. He is,

however, always a great musician, and in Esthonian tales usually

appears rather in the character of a god than of a patriarch.

We read much of Väinämöinen's playing and singing in the _Kalevala_,

especially in Runo 46, where he charms all nature by his playing and

singing, like Orpheus. In Runo 50 he is described as leaving Finland on

account of his authority departing at the coming of Christ; though it

is said by an old writer that the favourite deities[Pg 81] of the Finns

in his time were Väinämöinen and the Virgin Mary.

THE SONG-GOD'S DEPARTURE.

(Jannsen.)

All living beings gathered round Vanemuine on the Hill of Taara, and

each received his language, according to what he could comprehend and

retain of the song of the god. The sacred stream Ema had chosen for her

language the rustling of his garments, but the trees of the forest

chose the rushing of his robes as he descended to the earth. Therefore

do we feel the presence of Vanemuine most nearly in the woods and on

the banks of the murmuring brooks, and then are we filled with the

spirit of his lays. The loudest tones are heard in the wind. Some

creatures preferred the deep tones of the god's harp, and others the

melody of the strings. The singing birds, especially the nightingale

and the lark, deemed the holy songs and melodies of the god to be the

most beautiful. But it fared very badly with the fishes. They stretched

their heads out of the water to[Pg 82] the eyes, but kept their ears

under. So they saw well how Vanemuine moved his lips, and they imitated

him, but they remained dumb. Only man could learn all notes and

understand everything; therefore his song moves the soul most deeply,

and lifts it towards the throne of God. Vanemuine sang of the grandeur

of heaven and the beauty of earth, of the banks of the Ema and her

beauty, and of the joy and sorrow of the children of men. And his song

was so moving that he himself began to weep bitterly, and the tears

sank through his sixfold robe and his sevenfold vest. Then he rose

again on the wings of the wind, and went to the abode of God to sing

and play.

Long did his divine song linger in the mouths of the sons and daughters

of Esthonia. When they wandered in the leafy shades of the holy forest,

they comprehended the gentle rustling of the trees, and the rippling of

the brooks filled them with joyous thoughts. The song of the

nightingale melted their hearts, and the whistling of the larks lifted

their minds to the abodes of God. Then it seemed to them as if

Vanemuine himself wandered through the creation with his harp. And thus

he did; and when the bards of the whole country assembled[Pg 83]

together to sing, Vanemuine was always among them, though they did not

know him, and he ever kindled afresh in their bosoms the true fire of

song.

It came to pass, at one of these festivals, that a strange old maid

took her place among the singers. Her face was full of wrinkles, her

chin trembled, and one foot was supported by crutches. The old woman

began her song in a grating voice. She sang of her beautiful youth, the

happy days in the house of her parents, and the pitiful ways of the

present, when all joy had vanished. Then she sang of her lovers, who

came in hosts to woo her, and how she had repulsed them all. She

concluded her song with the words—

"Sulev's son came here from Southland,

Further Kalev's son had wandered;

Sulev's son would fain have kissed me,

Kalev's son my hand had taken;

But I smote the son of Sulev,

And in scorn the son of Kalev,

I the fairest of the maidens."

Scarcely had the old woman finished her song, when there arose a loud

shout of laughter among the people, which sounded far over the plain

and was echoed back from the forest. The people sang the[Pg 84] old

woman's last words in derision, and their laughter was unceasing till

the eldest of the company stopped it with stern interference. All was

still around. Then an old man on a decorated seat began a magnificent

song, which filled all around with holy joy. But suddenly they heard a

voice behind him, which took up the witch's song afresh. Laughter again

arose among the ranks of people. Again the elder sternly commanded

silence, and those who were gathered round the old man and had heard

his song likewise commanded silence. Then the people were quiet once

more.

The old man on the throne of song now raised his voice, and the people

listened to him with delight. It was a genuine song, for it met with a

response in all hearts, and moved their nobler being to heavenly

thoughts. But again a loud voice rose in the throng, which took up the

ugly chant of the old woman, and again loud laughter echoed through the

assembly. Then the old man on the throne grew angry, gazed wrathfully

down on the foolish throng, and immediately vanished from their eyes.

Only a mighty rushing and clanging was heard, so that all trembled, and

their blood froze in their veins. Who was the hoary singer?[Pg 85] Was

it not Vanemuine himself? Where had he vanished to? They talked and

asked each other. But the singer remained invisible, and no one saw him

again.

This was Vanemuine's last farewell to the Esthonian people. Only a few

minstrels now enjoy the happiness of listening to his singing and

playing in the far distance, and such minstrels only are able to move

their brothers with the divine voice of song.

In the _Kalevala_, Väinämöinen has neither wife nor child, but the

Esthonians ascribe to him a foster-daughter, of whom the following

story is related.

JUTTA.

(Jannsen.)[35]

Once upon a time the God of Song wandered musing by the banks of Lake

Endla, and his harp[Pg 86] clanged in unison with the thoughts which

moved his heart. There he saw a little child lying near him in the

grass, which stretched out its hands to him. He looked round everywhere

for the child's mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. So he lifted up

the beautiful little girl, and went to Taara, and begged him to give

him the child as his own. Ukko consented, and as he gazed graciously at

his daughter, her eyes shone like stars, and her hair glittered like

bright gold.

Under the divine protection the child grew up from the tender infant to

the maiden Jutta. The God of Song taught her the sweet art of speech,

and Ilmarine wrought the girl a veil, wondrously woven of silver

threads. He who gazed through her veil saw everything of which the

maiden spoke as if it were passing before his eyes. She is said to have

dwelt by the Lake of Endla, where she was often seen, planning the

flights of the birds of passage, and showing them the way; and also

when she[Pg 87] wandered by the shores of the lake, and wept for the

death of Endla,[36] her beloved. But she took the wonderful veil, and

gazed upon the happy past, and then was she happy, for she thought she

possessed what her eyes saw. She has also lent her veil to mortal men,

and then it is that the songs and legends of the past become living to

us.

We will now proceed to stories relative to the nature-spirits,

commencing with those of the water, who are both numerous and powerful

among the Finns and Esthonians. Other stories concerning them will be

found in different parts of the book.

THE TWELVE DAUGHTERS.

(Kreutzwald.)

Once upon a time there lived a poor labourer who had twelve daughters,

among whom were two pairs of twins. They were all charming girls,

healthy, ruddy, and well made. The parents were very poor, and the

neighbours could not understand how[Pg 88] they managed to feed and

clothe so many children. Every day the children were washed and their

hair combed, and they always wore clean clothes, like Saxon children.

Some thought that the labourer had a treasure-bringer, who brought him

whatever he wanted;[37] others said that he was a sorcerer, and others

thought he was a wizard who knew how to discover hidden treasures in

the whirlwind. But the real explanation was very different. The

labourer's wife had a secret benefactress who fed and washed and combed

the children.

When the mother was a girl, she lived in service at a farmhouse, where

she dreamed for three nights running that a noble lady came towards

her, and desired her to go to the village spring on St. John's Eve.

Perhaps she would have forgotten all about the dream; but on St. John's

Eve she heard a small voice like the buzzing of a gnat always singing

in her ear, "Go to the spring, go to the spring, whence trickle the

watery streams of your good fortune!" Although she could not listen to

this secret summons without a shudder, yet she fortified her heart at

length, and leaving the other maidens,[Pg 89] who were amusing

themselves with the swing and round the fire, she went to the spring.

The nearer she came, the more her heart failed her, and she would have

turned back if the gnat-like voice had allowed her any rest; but it

drove her unwillingly onwards. When she reached the spot, she saw a

lady in white robes sitting on a stone by the spring. When the lady

perceived the girl's alarm, she advanced a few steps to meet her, and

offered her her hand, saying, "Fear nothing, dear child; I will do you

no harm. Give good heed to what I tell you, and remember it. In the

autumn you will be sought in marriage. Your bridegroom will be as poor

as yourself; but do not concern yourself about this, and accept his

offered brandy.[38] As you are both good people, I will bring you

happiness, and help you to get on; but do not neglect thrift and

labour, without which no happiness is lasting. Take this bag, and put

it in your pocket; there is nothing in it but a few milk-can

pebbles.[39] When you have given birth to your first child, throw a

pebble into the well, and I will come[Pg 90] to see you. When the child

is baptized, I will be the sponsor. Let no one know of our nocturnal

meeting. For the present I say farewell." At these words the wonderful

stranger vanished from the girl's eyes as suddenly as if she had sunk

into the ground. Very likely the girl might have thought that this

adventure was a dream too, if the bag in her hand had not testified to

its reality: it contained twelve stones.

The prediction was fulfilled, and the girl was married in the autumn to

a poor labourer. Next year the young wife gave birth to her first

child, and remembering what had happened to her on St. John's Eve, she

rose secretly from her bed, and threw a pebble into the well. It

splashed into the water, and immediately the friendly white-robed lady

stood before her, and said, "I thank you for not forgetting me. Take

the child to be baptized on Sunday fortnight, and I will come to church

too, and stand sponsor."

When the child was brought into church on the appointed day, an unknown

lady entered, who took it on her lap and had it baptized. When this was

done, she tied a silver rouble in the child's swaddling clothes, and

gave it back to the mother. The same thing happened at the birth of

each successive child, until there were twelve. On the birth of the

last[Pg 91] child, the lady said to the mother, "Henceforward you will

see me no more, though I shall invisibly watch over you and your

children daily. The water of the well will benefit the children more

than the best food. When the time comes for your daughters to marry,

you must give each the rouble which I brought as their godmother's

gift. Until then, do not let them dress finely, but let them wear clean

dresses and clean linen both on week-days and Sundays."

The children grew and throve so well that it was a delight to see them.

There was plenty of bread in the house, though sometimes little else,

but both parents and children seemed to be chiefly strengthened by the

water of the well. In due time the eldest daughter was married to the

son of a prosperous innkeeper. Although she brought him nothing beyond

her most needful clothing, yet a bridal chest was made, and her clothes

and her godmother's rouble put into it. But when the men lifted the

chest into the cart, they found it so heavy that they thought it must

be full of stones, for the poor labourer could not have given his

daughter anything of value. But great was the young bride's amazement

when she opened the chest in her husband's house and found it filled

with pieces of linen,[Pg 92] and at the bottom a leathern purse

containing a hundred silver roubles. The same thing happened after

every fresh marriage, and the daughters were soon all betrothed when it

became known that each received such a bridal portion.

One of the sons-in-law was a very avaricious man, and was not satisfied

with his wife's bridal portion. He thought that the parents themselves

must be possessed of great riches, if they could bestow so much on each

daughter. So he went one day to his father-in-law, and began to pester

him about his supposed treasure. The labourer told him the exact truth.

"I have nothing but my body and soul, and could not give my daughters

anything but the chests. I have nothing to do with what each found in

her chest. It is the gift of the godmother, who gave each of the

children a rouble at her christening, and this has multiplied itself in

the chests." The avaricious son-in-law would not believe him, and

threatened to denounce the old man as a wizard and wind-sorcerer, who

had amassed a large treasure in this manner. But as the labourer had a

clear conscience, he did not fear his son-in-law's threats. The latter,

however, actually made his complaint to the authorities, and the court

sent for the other sons-in-law of[Pg 93] the labourer, and inquired

whether each of their brides had received the same portion. The men

declared that each had received a chest of linen and a hundred silver

roubles. This caused great surprise, for the whole neighbourhood knew

that the labourer was a poor man, and had no other treasure but his

twelve pretty daughters. The people knew that the daughters had always

worn clean white linen from their earliest years, but nobody had seen

them wear any other ornaments, neither brooches nor coloured

neckerchiefs. The judge now determined to investigate this wonderful

affair more closely, and to find out whether the old man was really a

sorcerer.

One day the judge left the town, attended by his police. They wished to

surround the labourer's house with guards, so that no one could get out

and carry away the treasure. The avaricious son-in-law accompanied them

as guide. When they reached the wood in which the labourer's house

stood, guards were posted on all sides, with strict orders not to allow

any one to pass till the matter had been fully investigated. The rest

left their horses behind, and followed the footpath to the cottage. The

son-in-law warned them to advance slowly and silently, for fear the

sorcerer might see them coming[Pg 94] and escape on the wings of the

wind. They had already nearly reached the cottage, when they were

suddenly dazzled by the wonderful splendour which shone through the

trees. As they advanced, a large and splendid palace became visible. It

was entirely built of glass, and illuminated by hundreds of tapers,

although the sun shone, and the day was perfectly light. Two sentries

stood at the door, wholly cased in brazen armour, and holding long

drawn swords in their hands. The officials did not know what to make of

it, and everything looked more like a dream than reality. Then the door

opened, and a young man gaily attired in silken garments, came forth

and said, "Our queen has commanded that the chief-justice shall appear

before her." Although the judge felt some alarm, he decided to follow

the young man into the house.

Who can describe the splendour which he beheld! In a magnificent hall

as large as a church sat a lady enthroned, robed in silk, satin, and

gold. Some feet lower sat twelve beautiful princesses on smaller golden

seats. They were dressed as magnificently as the queen, except that

they wore no golden crowns. On both sides stood numerous attendants,

all in bright silken attire and with golden necklaces. When the chief

judge came forward bowing, the[Pg 95] queen demanded, "Why have you

come out to-day with a host of police, as if you were about to arrest

criminals?" The judge was about to answer, but terror stopped his

utterance and he could not speak a word. "I know the base lying

charges," continued the queen, "for nothing is concealed from my eyes.

Let the false accuser enter, but chain him hand and foot, and I will

pronounce just sentence. Let the other judges and attendants enter too,

that the matter may be done publicly, and that they may bear witness

that no one suffers injustice here." One of the servants hastened out

to fulfil the order, and after some time the accuser was led in,

chained hand and foot, and guarded by six soldiers in armour. The

remaining judges and attendants followed. Then the queen addressed the

assembly.

"Before I pronounce the well-deserved sentence on the offender, I must

briefly explain the real state of the case. I am the most powerful Lady

of the Waters, and all the springs of water which rise from the earth

are subject to my authority.[40] The eldest son of the King of the

Winds was my lover, but as[Pg 96] his father would not allow him to

take a wife, we were obliged to keep our marriage secret as long as his

father lived.[41] As I could not venture to bring up my children at

home, I exchanged them with the children of the labourer's wife, as

often as she was confined. The labourer's children were reared as

foster-children by my aunt, and whenever one of the labourer's

daughters was about to marry, another change was effected.

"Each time, on the night before the wedding, I had my daughter carried

away, and that of the labourer substituted. The old King of the Winds

had been lying ill for a long time, and knew nothing of our

proceedings. On the christening-day I gave each child a silver rouble

to form the marriage portion in her bridal chest. All the sons-in-law

were satisfied with their young wives and with what they brought them,

except this avaricious scoundrel whom you see before you in chains, who

dared to bring false accusations against his father-in-law, in hopes of

enriching himself thereby. The old King of the[Pg 97] Winds died a

fortnight ago, and my consort succeeded to the throne. It is no longer

necessary for us to conceal our marriage and our children. Here sit my

twelve daughters, and their foster-parents, the labourer and his wife,

shall dwell with me as my pensioners till their death. But you,

worthless scamp, whom I have put in chains, shall also receive your

just reward. You shall sit chained in a mountain of gold, so that your

greedy eyes shall ever behold the gold without your being able to touch

a particle. For seven hundred years you shall endure this torment

before death shall have power to bring you rest. This is my decree."

When the queen had finished speaking, a noise was heard like a violent

clap of thunder; the earth quaked, and the magistrates and their

servants fell down stunned. When they recovered their senses, they

found themselves in the wood to which their guide had led them, but on

the spot where the palace of glass had stood in all its splendour,

clear cold water now gushed forth from a small spring. Nothing more was

ever heard of the labourer, his wife, or his avaricious son-in-law. The

widow of the latter married another husband in the autumn, and lived

happily with him for the rest of her life.

[Pg 98]

THE FOUR GIFTS OF THE WATER-SPRITE.

(Jannsen.)

Four boys were playing one Sunday on the banks of Lake Peipus, when the

water-spirit appeared to them in the form of an old man with long grey

hair and beard, and gave each of them a present—a boat, a hammer, a

ploughshare, and a little book. As they grew up, one became a smith,

another a fisherman, another a farmer, and the last a great king, who

conquered the Danes and Swedes.

After this story, of which we have only given a brief abstract, we

place another, descriptive of the dwellings of the lake-spirits.

THE LAKE-DWELLERS.[42]

(Jannsen.)

Many years ago a man was driving over a lake with his little son before

the ice was properly[Pg 99] formed. It broke, and they all sank in the

water, when an old man with silver-grey hair came up, and upbraided

them for breaking through the winter roof of his palace. He told the

man that he must stay with him, but he would give him a grey horse and

a sledge with golden runners, that he might drive about under the ice

in autumn, and make a noise to warn others that it was unsafe until

Father Taara had strengthened it sufficiently. But he would help the

boy and the horse above the ice, for they were not to blame. When the

water-god had brought them from under the ice, he told the boy to go

home, and not to mourn for his father, who would be very happy under

the water, and to be careful not to drop anything out of the sledge. On

reaching home, he found two lumps of ice in the sledge, and threw them

out, but when they struck against a stone and did not break, he

discovered that they were lumps of pure silver. He had now plenty to

live upon comfortably; but every autumn when the lake was covered with

young ice, he went to it, hoping to see or hear something of his

father. The ice often cracked and heaved just before his footsteps, as

if his father was trying to speak to him, but there was no other

sign.[Pg 100]

Many years passed by, and the son grew old and grey. One day he went to

the lake as usual, and sat down sorrowfully on a stone, just where the

river falls into it, and great tears rolled down his cheeks. Suddenly

he saw, on raising his eyes, a great door of silver with golden

lattice-work close to the mouth of the river. He rose up and went to

it, and he had scarcely touched it when it sprang open. He hesitated a

moment and then entered, and found himself in a gloomy gallery of

bronze. He went some distance, and presently reached a second door like

the former, but much higher. Before it stood a dwarf with a broad stone

hat on his head and bronze armour. He wore a copper girdle round his

waist, and held in his hand a copper halbert about six feet long. "I

suppose you have come to see your father?" he said in a friendly

manner. "Yes, indeed, my good man," answered the other. "Can you not

help me to see him or meet him? I am already an old man myself, and my

life grows ever more lonely." "I must not make any promises," said the

dwarf, "and it is about time for your father to fulfil his office.

Hark, he is just driving off in his golden sledge with the grey horse,

to warn mortals against treading incautiously on our delicate[Pg 101]

silver roof. But as you have once before been our guest, and have

ventured to come again, I will show you the house and grounds of the

water-world. None of our people are at home to-day, neither the gentry

nor the household, so that we can go through the rooms without

interference." As he spoke he touched the door, and the old man and his

guide entered a vast and splendid palace of crystal. There they saw a

great crowd of men, women, and children walking about, or sitting

talking, or amusing themselves; but none of them noticed or addressed

the newcomers. Presently the dwarf led the old man farther into the

hall. All the fittings were of bright gold and silver, and the floor

was of copper, and the farther they advanced the brighter everything

shone, without any apparent end. At last the old man asked to turn

back, and the dwarf said, "It is well that you mentioned it, for a

little farther on the gold shines so brilliantly that the eyes of

mortal men cannot endure it. And there dwells our good and mighty king,

with his noble consort, surrounded by the bold heroes and lovely dames

of our realm." "You told me the gentry and dependants were not at

home," said the old man, "but who were all the people who were talking

and laughing[Pg 102] near the door, and the children who were playing

with all manner of costly toys of gold and silver? Don't they belong to

your people?" "Half-way indeed, but not quite," said the dwarf. "They

are, if I may be permitted to tell you, people from your world, who all

sank into our kingdom, sooner or later. But they live a very pleasant

life here, and have no wish to return to your world, even if they were

permitted. For whoever comes to our kingdom must stay with us." "Must I

stay here too?" asked the old man startled, not knowing what

preparations he had to make for the life below. "Do you find our home

so bad?" asked the dwarf. "But fear nothing, and don't alarm yourself.

This day you can go or stay, as you please. I led you in freely, and

will lead you out freely. But this is the first time that a mortal man

has been permitted to leave our abode." Then the old man asked, "Shall

I never see my father again?" and tears stood in his eyes once more.

The dwarf answered, "You would not see him again till after three

weeks, when the ice has become strong and firm. Your father will then

have finished his work for the year, and can pass his time pleasantly

with us till another year has passed, and he must again perform his[Pg

103] office for a month." "Must he then do this work for ever, and

remember his misfortune every year?" asked the old man sadly. The dwarf

answered, "He must perform this duty till another mortal accidentally

damages our roof and sinks down himself. Then is the first man released

from his journeying under the young ice, and the other must henceforth

take the work upon himself."

As they were thus conversing, the old man and his guide reached the

gate. Then they looked in each other's faces, and the dwarf gave the

old man two rods of copper with a friendly smile, and said, "If you

ever come to this gate, and don't find me on guard, but some one whom

you don't know, strike these rods together, and I will do what you

wish, as far as I can." Then he led his guest through the lofty gate,

and accompanied him through the bronze passage to the outer gate, and

opened it. Then the old man found himself standing again on the banks

of the lake near the mouth of the river, as if he had fallen from the

clouds. The door had vanished, but the rods in his hand showed him that

what he had seen was a reality. He put them in his pocket, and wandered

home sunk in deep thought, and dazed like a drunken man. But here he

found[Pg 104] no rest or pleasure in anything. He went to the mouth of

the river on the lake daily for three weeks, and sat on the rock as if

in a dream; and at last he disappeared, and never came home again.

Kreutzwald relates that every autumn a little grey man, who lives in

the Ülemiste järv, rises from it to see if the new buildings are

sufficiently decorated. When he has finished his inspection, he returns

to the lake; but if he was so dissatisfied as to turn his head in the

opposite direction, evil would come on Tallin (Revel), for the

low-lying country would be inundated, and the town would be destroyed.

The following tales relate to beings inhabiting the sea.

THE FAITHLESS FISHERMAN.

(Jannsen.)

A fisherman was sleeping on the sand, by the Baltic, when a stranger

roused him, telling him that the sea was full of fish. They fished

together all day, when the boat was filled, and the stranger sent the

fisherman to sell the fish, insisting that he[Pg 105] should bring him

half the profits, and give the other half to his own wife. Next day

they would go fishing again. This went on day after day, and the

stranger regularly received half the proceeds of the work, giving back

a trifle to the fisherman in return for the use of the boat and tackle.

When everything was arranged, he used to disappear behind a large

stone.

Thus the fisherman became rich. He built himself a cottage, and bought

a new boat, and sometimes he indulged in a glass to quench his thirst.

One day it occurred to him to give his partner less than his due; but

next day the results of their fishing were much smaller, and the

stranger looked at him sorrowfully. In the evening the fisherman went

to sell the fish, but gave his partner still less than the day before.

Next day, when they cast the nets, they did not take a single fish, and

the stranger said, "You have cheated me two days running, and now you

must die." He then threw the fisherman overboard, and two days

afterwards his body was found on the beach and buried. As his wife

stood weeping by his grave, a tall, strong man approached, who told her

to dry her tears; for if he had not drowned her husband, he would

have[Pg 106] died on the gallows. He then gave her a bag of money,

telling her that her husband had gained it honestly, and that he was

the water-sprite. Then he disappeared, leaving the money, and the widow

went home and lived happily with her children.

Another curious story relative to water-sprites is that of the mermaid

and the lord of Pahlen (Kreutzwald). The latter found the maiden

sitting on a stone by the sea-shore, and lamenting because her father,

the king of the sea, compelled her to raise storms, in which many

people perished, in order to please the Mother of the Winds. The

nobleman freed her from her trouble by breaking the ring with which she

raised the storms with his teeth, and she rewarded him with two large

barrels of gold.

The following short stories relate to different classes of spirits of

the air.

[Pg 107]

THE SPIRITS OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS.

(Jannsen.)[43]

A certain nobleman was in the habit of driving away from his mansion

every Thursday during hard winters, and not returning till towards

morning. But he had strictly forbidden all his people to accompany him,

or to receive him on his return. He himself harnessed the horse to the

sledge, and unharnessed him when he returned. But no one was permitted

to see the horse and carriage, and he threatened every one with death

who should venture into his secret stable in the evening. During the

day he carried the stable key in his bosom, and at night he hid it

under his pillow.

But the nobleman's coachman heeded not the strict prohibition of his

master, for he was much too anxious to know where his master went every

Thursday, and what the horse and carriage were like. So he contrived

one Thursday to get into the stable, and he hid himself in a dark

corner near the door.[Pg 108]

He had not long to wait before his master came and opened the door. All

at once it became as light as if many candles had been kindled in the

great stable. The coachman crouched together in his corner like a

hedgehog, for if his master had seen him, he would certainly have

suffered the threatened punishment.

Then the master pushed the sledge forward, and it shone like a red-hot

anvil.

But while the master went to fetch the horse, the coachman crept under

the sledge.

The nobleman harnessed the horse, and threw cloths over the horse and

the sledge, that the people about the yard should not see the wonderful

radiance.

Then the coachman crept quietly from under the sledge, and hid himself

behind on the runners, where by good luck his master did not notice

him.

When all was ready, the nobleman sprang into the sledge, and they went

off so rapidly that the runners of the sledge resounded, always due

north. After some hours, the coachman saw that the cloths were gone

from the horse and sledge, which shone again like fire.

Now, too, he perceived that ladies and gentlemen[Pg 109] were driving

up from all directions with similar sledges and horses. That was a rush

and rattle! The drivers rushed past each other as though it was for a

very heavy wager, or as if they were on their wedding journey. At last

the coachman perceived that their course lay above the clouds, which

stretched below them like smooth lakes.

After a time, the racers fell more and more behind, and the coachman's

master said to his nearest companion, "Brother, the other spirits of

the Northern Lights are departing. Let us go too!"

Then the master and coachman drove fast home. Next day people said they

had never seen the Northern Lights so bright as the night before.

The coachman held his tongue, and trusted no one with the story of his

nocturnal journey. But when he was old and grey he told the story to

his grandson, and so it became known to the people. And it was said

that such spirits still exist, and that when the Northern Lights flame

in the heavens in winter they hold a wedding in the sky.

[Pg 110]

THE SPIRIT OF THE WHIRLWIND.

(Jannsen.)

Two men were walking together when they saw a haystack carried away by

the wind. The elder man said it was the Spirit of the Whirlwind; but

the other would not believe him till they saw a cloud of dust, when

they turned their backs to it, and the young man repeated a spell after

the old one. When they turned round, they saw an old grey man with a

long white beard, a broad flapping coat, and streaming hair,

devastating the woods. He took no notice of them, but the elder one

cautioned the other not to forget to repeat the spell whenever he saw

him. However, he forgot it, and the whirlwind in a fury carried him

many miles from home, and ever afterwards persecuted him till he went

to his friend and learned the spell again. Next time he saw the

whirlwind he was fishing; and on his repeating the spell, the spirit

passed him angrily, and a great wave surged up from the river, and

wetted the man to the skin. But after that the spirit never reappeared

to him, and left him in peace.

[Pg 111]

THE WILL O' THE WISPS.

(Jannsen.)

A farmer was driving home one winter evening from Fellin across the

Parika heath, when he suddenly saw a little blue flame on one side, and

his horse stopped short and would not move. It was as if he had been

stopped by a ditch. He dismounted, and found not a ditch, but an open

pit; and he could not drive round it, because there was deep water on

all sides. Presently he saw a light flare up like a torch, and then

another, till many of them were flitting about everywhere. In

consternation, the farmer cried out, "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

what's going on here tonight?" The horse sprang forward, as if somebody

had stuck a pin into him, and the farmer had only just time to tumble

on the sledge, when they went off at full gallop; and the farmer could

say that the name of God had occurred to him just at the right time.

[Pg 112]

THE FOUNDLING.

(Jannsen.)[44]

One evening a little boy was sleeping restlessly in a village on the

island of Dagö. His father saw a small hole which had been bored in the

wall, and thinking that the draught disturbed the child, he stopped it

up. He then saw a beautiful little girl playing with the boy, and

preventing him from sleeping quietly. As she could not get away again,

she remained in the house; and when the children grew up, they married,

and had two children. One Sunday they went to church, and the wife

laughed; but when her husband asked why, she replied that she would

tell him if he told her how she came into his house. Thinking no harm,

he promised to tell her, as he had heard the story from his father.

Then she told him that she saw a great horse-skin spread on the wall of

the church, on which the devil wrote the names of all the people who

slept or talked in church instead of attending to the word of God. When

it was full, he tried to stretch it with his[Pg 113] teeth, but in

doing so, he knocked his head against the wall and made a wry face, and

she laughed. When they got home, he took the wooden plug from the hole,

and showed it to his wife, but she instantly disappeared through it and

never returned. The man wept himself blind, but the children grew up

and prospered all their lives. People said their mother visited them

secretly and brought treasures to the house.

The next story introduces us to the Gnomes, who appear to come more

frequently into contact with human beings than any of the other

nature-spirits, perhaps because their nature may be more akin to that

of man. They are seen with more or less similar characteristics in all

the mining countries of Northern Europe, whether Celtic, as Ireland and

the Isle of Man; Teutonic, as England, Germany, and Scandinavia; or

Finnish-Ugrian. They were well known to the old Norsemen as the

Dvergar.

[Pg 114]

THE CAVE-DWELLERS.

(Kreutzwald.)

Once upon a time a man lost his way on a stormy night between Christmas

and New Year. He wore out his strength plunging through the deep

snowdrifts, until, by good luck, he found some protection from the wind

under a thick juniper bush. Here he resolved to pass the night, hoping

to find his way easier by the clear light of the morning. He rolled

himself together like a hedgehog in his warm fur-cloak and fell asleep.

I don't know how long he lay there before he was roused by somebody

shaking him, and a stranger's voice said in his ear, "Get up, farmer,

or the snow will bury you, and you will never get out again." The

sleeper pushed his head out of his fur, and opened his sleepy eyes

wide. He saw a tall thin man before him, who carried a young fir-tree,

twice as high as himself, as his staff.

"Come with me," said the man; "we have made a fire under the trees,

where you can rest better than in this open field." The traveller could

not refuse such a friendly invitation, so he got up[Pg 115] directly,

and walked on quickly with the stranger. The snowstorm raged so

furiously that they could not see a step before them, but when the

stranger lifted his fir staff and cried with a loud voice, "Ho there,

mother of the snowstorm, make way!" a broad pathway appeared before

them, on which no snowflakes fell. A dreadful snowstorm raged on either

side of the wanderers and behind them, but it did not touch them. It

appeared as if an invisible wall held back the storm on either hand.

The men soon reached the wood, and they had already seen the light of

the fire from afar off. "What is your name?" asked the man with the fir

staff, and the peasant answered, "Hans, the son of tall Hans."

Three men sat at the fire, clothed in white linen garments, as if it

had been midsummer. For thirty paces or more around them, everything

looked like summer; the moss was dry, the herbage was green, and the

grass swarmed with ants and small beetles; but afar off Hans heard the

blasts of wind and the raging of the storm. Still stranger seemed the

burning fire, which spread a bright light around, but threw up no

smoke. "What think you, tall Hans' son? isn't this a better

resting-place for the night than under the juniper bush in the open

field?"[Pg 116] Hans assented, and thanked the stranger for bringing

him there. Then he took off his fur-cloak, rolled it up as a pillow for

his head, and lay down in the glow of the fire. The man with the fir

staff took his flask from under a bush and offered Hans a drink, which

tasted most excellent, and warmed his heart. He then lay down too, and

began conversing with his companions in a foreign language, of which

Hans could not understand a word; and Hans presently fell asleep.

When he awoke, he found himself lying in a strange place, where was

neither wood nor fire. He rubbed his eyes, and tried to recollect what

had happened to him the night before, and thought he must have been

dreaming, but he could not understand how he came to be lying in quite

a strange place. A great noise resounded from a distance, and he felt

the ground under his feet tremble. Hans listened for some time to find

out where the noise came from, and then determined to follow it, hoping

to find some people. Presently he reached the entrance to a cavern,

from which the noise proceeded, and where a fire was shining. When he

entered, he found a huge smithy filled with bellows and anvils, and

seven workmen stood round each[Pg 117] anvil. But stranger smiths were

not to be found in the world. They were not higher than the knee of an

ordinary man, and their heads were larger than their own bodies, and

they wielded hammers more than twice as large as themselves. But they

smote on the anvil so lustily with these huge iron hammers that the

strongest man could not have struck harder. The little smiths were clad

in leathern aprons which reached from the neck to the feet; but at the

back their bodies were as naked as God had made them. In the background

a high bench stood against the wall, on which sat Hans' friend with the

fir staff, and looked sharply after the work of the little journeymen.

A large can stood at his feet, from which the workmen took a drink now

and then. The master of the smithy was no longer dressed in white, as

on the previous day, but wore a black sooty coat, and round his waist a

leathern belt with a great buckle. Now and then he made a sign to the

workmen with his fir staff, for the noise was so great that no human

voice could have been heard. Hans was uncertain whether any one had

noticed him, for both master and men continued their work without

paying any attention[Pg 118] to the stranger. After some hours, the

little smiths were allowed to rest; the bellows were stopped, and the

heavy hammers thrown on the ground. When the workmen had left, the

master rose from the bench, and called to Hans to approach.

Oh, what riches and treasure Hans beheld there! All sorts of gold and

silver lay about everywhere, and glittered and gleamed before his eyes.

Hans amused himself by counting the bars of gold in a single heap, and

had just counted up to five hundred and seventy, when the master turned

round and said, smiling, "You'd better leave off, for it will take up

too much time. You would do better to take some bars from the heap, for

I will give you them as a remembrance."

Of course Hans needed no second invitation. He grasped one of the bars

of gold with both hands, but could not even move it, much less lift it

from its place. The master laughed, and said, "Poor delicate flea! you

cannot carry off even the least of my treasures, so you must feast your

eyes on them instead." He then led Hans into another room, and through

a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth of these treasure-caverns, till they

reached the seventh, which was as big as a large church, and, like the

others,[Pg 119] was crammed with heaps of gold and silver from floor to

ceiling. Hans marvelled at these immeasurable riches, which could

easily have bought up all the kingdoms in the world, but which were now

lying useless underground. So he asked the master, "Why do you store up

these vast treasures here, where no human being can derive any benefit

from the gold and silver? If these treasures came into the hands of

men, they would all be rich, and nobody would have to work or suffer

distress."

"It is for this very reason," answered the master, "that I cannot hand

over these treasures to mankind. The whole world would perish from

sloth, if no one needed longer to work for his daily bread. Man is

created to sustain himself by toil and thrift."

But Hans did not like this view of the matter, and disputed

energetically with the master. At last he asked him to explain how it

was that all this gold and silver was the property of one man and was

left to rust, and why the master of the treasure incessantly laboured

to increase it when he had already such an amazing superfluity of

riches. The master answered, "I am not a man, although I have the form

and appearance of one. I belong to a nobler race, which was formed by

the decree of the[Pg 120] Creator to rule the world.[45] By his decree,

I must work constantly with my little companions to prepare gold and

silver under the earth, and every year a small portion is assigned to

the use of men, but not more than just sufficient for their

necessities. No one is allowed to receive the gift without trouble. So

we are obliged to pound up the gold first, and mix the grains with

earth, clay, and sand, and they are afterwards found by chance in this

mass, and must be diligently sought for. But, my friend, we must break

off our conversation, for it is almost noon. If you would like to look

at my treasures longer, stay here, and rejoice your heart with the

glitter of gold till I come to call you to dinner." Thereupon he left

Hans alone.

Hans wandered about again from one treasure-chamber to another, and now

and then he attempted to lift one of the smaller pieces of gold, but

found it quite impossible. In former times, he had often heard clever

people say how heavy gold was, but he would never believe it. Now,

however, he learned it from his own experience. After a time the master

returned, but he was so much altered that Hans did not recognise him at

first sight. He wore red flame-[Pg 121]coloured silken robes, richly

decorated with golden lace and golden fringes. He wore a broad gold

belt round his waist, and a gold crown adorned his head, sparkling with

jewels like stars on a clear winter's night. Instead of the fir staff,

he now held a small gold sceptre in his hand, which branched in such a

way that it looked like a shoot of the great fir staff.

After the royal master of the treasure had locked the doors of the

treasure-chambers and put the key in his pocket, he took Hans by the

hand and led him from the smithy to another room where dinner was set

out. The seats and tables were of silver, and in the midst of the room

stood a beautiful dinner-table, with a silver chair on each side. All

the utensils, such as cups, dishes, plates, jugs, and mugs, were of

gold. When the master and his guest had seated themselves at the table,

twelve dishes were presented in succession. The waiters were just like

the little men in the smithy, only that they were not naked, but wore

clean white clothes. Their quickness and dexterity was very remarkable,

for although they did not appear to be provided with wings, they moved

about as lightly as birds. They were not tall enough to reach the

table, and[Pg 122] were obliged to skip up to it like fleas. Meantime

they held the great dishes and tureens in their hands, and were so

skilful that they did not spill a drop of the contents. During dinner

the little waiters poured mead and delicate wines into the mugs, and

handed them to the company. The master carried on a friendly

conversation, and explained many mysteries to Hans. Thus, when they

came to talk over his nocturnal meeting with Hans, he said, "Between

Christmas and New Year I am accustomed to amuse myself by wandering

about the world, to watch the doings of men, and to make myself

acquainted with some of them. I cannot say anything very remarkable

about those whom I have seen and talked to. Most men live only to

injure and plague each other. Everybody complains more or less of

others. Nobody regards his own faults and failings, but lays the blame

on others for what he has done himself."

Hans tried his best to dispute the truth of these words, but his

friendly host made the waiters fill his glass so heedfully that his

tongue became too heavy at last to utter another word, and he was

equally unable to understand what his host said. Presently he fell

asleep in his chair, and knew nothing more of what happened.[Pg 123]

While he slept, he had wonderfully vivid dreams, in which the gold bars

constantly floated before him. As he felt much stronger in his dreams,

he took a few gold bars on his back, and easily carried them away. But

at last his strength failed under the heavy burden, and he was obliged

to sit down and take breath. Then he heard loud voices, which he took

to be the singing of the little smiths, and the bright fire from their

forges shone in his eyes. When he looked up, blinking, he saw the green

wood around him. He was lying on the flowery herbage, and it was not

the forge fires, but the sun-rays which shone cheerfully on his face.

He shook off his drowsiness, but it was some time before he could fully

recall what had happened to him.

At last, when he had fully recovered his recollection, everything

seemed so strange and wonderful to him that he could not reconcile it

with the ordinary course of events. Hans reflected how he had wandered

from the path during a stormy winter night between Christmas and New

Year, and what had happened to him afterwards came back to his

recollection. He had slept by a fire with a stranger, and next day the

stranger, who carried a fir staff,[Pg 124] had received him as his

guest. He had dined with him and had drunk a good deal; in short, he

had spent a few days in jollity and carousal. But now it was the height

of summer all around him; there must be magic in it all. When he stood

up, he found that he was close by the ashes of an extinguished fire,

which shone wonderfully in the sun. But when he examined the place more

carefully, he saw that the supposed heap of ashes was fine silver dust,

and the remaining sticks were bright gold. Oh, what luck! where could

he find a bag in which to carry the treasure home? Necessity is the

mother of invention. Hans pulled off his winter fur coat, swept the

silver ashes together, so that not a particle was left, put the gold

faggots and silver ashes into the fur, and tied it together with his

belt like a bag, so that nothing could fall out. Although it was not a

large bundle, he found it awfully heavy, so that he had to drag it

manfully before he could find a suitable place to hide his treasure.

Thus Hans became suddenly enriched by an unexpected stroke of good

fortune, and might have bought himself an estate. But after taking

counsel with himself, he decided that it was better for him[Pg 125] to

leave his old dwelling-place, and to look for a fresh one at some

distance, where the people did not know him. There he bought himself a

nice piece of land, and he had still a good stock of money left over.

Then he took to himself a wife, and lived happily like a rich man to

the end of his days. Before his death he told his children his secret,

and how he had visited the master of the underground treasures, who had

made him rich. The story was spread about by his children and

grandchildren.

Leaving the gnomes, we will now proceed to the wood-spirits, who may

properly be classed among the nature-spirits, though they are not

exactly spirits of the elements.

THE COMPASSIONATE WOODCUTTER.

(Jannsen.)

This is a story of a man who went into the forest to fell wood, but

each tree begged for mercy in a human voice, and he desisted.

Afterwards an old man emerged from the thicket. He had a long grey

beard, a shirt of birch-bark, and a coat of pine-bark, and[Pg 126] he

thanked the woodcutter for sparing his children, and gave him a golden

rod, which would fulfil all wishes that were not so extravagant as to

be impossible.

If he wanted a building erected, he was to bend the rod down three

times towards an ant-hill, but not to strike it, for fear of hurting

the ants. If he wanted food, he must ask the kettle to prepare what he

wanted; and if he wanted honey, he must show the rod to the bees, who

would bring him more than he needed, and the trees should yield sap,

milk, and salve. If he needed fabrics, the loom would prepare all he

needed. Then the old man declared himself to be the wood-god and

disappeared.

But the man found a quarrelsome wife at home, who abused him for

bringing no wood, and wished that all the birch twigs in the forest

would turn to rods for the lazy hide. "Let it be so," said the man to

the rod, and his wife got a sound birching.

Then he ordered the ants to build him a new storehouse in the

enclosure, and next morning it was finished. He now lived a happy life,

and left the rod to his children; but in the third generation it fell

to a foolish man, who began to demand all sorts of absurd and

impossible things. At length he[Pg 127] ordered the rod to fetch the

sun and stars from heaven to warm his back. But although the sun did

not move, God sent down such hot rays from it, that the offender and

all his house and goods were burned up, so that no trace of them was

left. What became of the rod is unknown, but it is thought that the

trees in the wood were so terrified by the fire that they have never

spoken a word since.

There is a short Christian variant of this story (Jannsen:

Veckenstedt), in which the woodcutter meets not Tapio, but Jesus, who

deprives the trees of speech. But a gentle sighing and rustling of

leaves is still to be heard in the woods when the trees whisper

together. When the first fir-tree was felled, she shed bitter tears,

which hardened into resin. But her children, the fir cones, vowed to

avenge her wrongs on men, so they transformed themselves into bugs,

which crept into men's houses, and still plague and torment them.

Our next story is a very odd one about a hat.

[Pg 128]

THE GOOD DEED REWARDED.

(Kreutzwald.)

Once upon a time a young countryman was busy raking up his hay in the

meadow, when a threatening thundercloud which arose on the horizon

caused him to hasten with his work. He was lucky enough to complete it

before the rain began, and he then turned his steps homewards. On his

way he perceived a stranger asleep under a tree. "He'll get his hide

pretty well soaked if I leave him asleep here," thought the countryman,

so he went to the stranger, and shook him till he roused him from a

sound sleep. The stranger stood up, and turned pale when he saw the

advancing thundercloud. He felt in his pocket, intending to give

something to the man who had roused him, but unfortunately he found it

empty. So he said hurriedly, "For the present I must remain your

debtor, but a day will come when I shall be able to show you my

gratitude for your kindness. Do not forget what I tell you. You will

become a soldier. After you have been parted from your friends for

years, a day will come when you will be seized with home-[Pg

129]sickness in a foreign country. When you look up, you will see a

crooked birch-tree a few steps before you. Go to this tree, knock on

the trunk three times, and say, 'Is the Humpback at home?' Then the

rest will follow." As soon as he had finished speaking, the stranger

hurried away and disappeared in an instant. The countryman went home

too, and soon forgot his meeting with the sleeper on the road.

Some time afterwards the first part of the prophecy was fulfilled, for

the countryman became a soldier, without his remembering anything of

his adventure in the wood. He had already worn the uniform of a cavalry

regiment for four years, when he was stationed with his regiment in

North Finland. It fell to the turn of our friend to bring home the

horses on a Whitsunday, while his jolly comrades off duty went singing

to enjoy themselves at the inns. Suddenly the solitary groom was seized

with such a fit of home-sickness as he had never known before. Tears

filled his eyes, and charming pictures of home floated before his

vision. Now, too, he remembered his sleeping friend in the wood, and

his speech. Everything came before him as plainly and distinctly as if

it had happened only yesterday.[Pg 130] He looked up, and saw before

him, oddly enough, an old crooked birch-tree. More in jest than

expecting any result, he went up to the tree, and did what he had been

instructed. But the question, "Is the Humpback at home?" had scarcely

passed his lips, when the stranger stood before him, and said, "My

friend, it is good that you have come, for I was afraid that you had

quite forgotten me. Isn't it true that you would be glad to be at

home?" The cavalry soldier sobbed out, "Yes." Then the Humpback called

into the tree, "Boys, which of you can run fastest?" A voice answered

from the birch, "Father, I can run as fast as a grouse can fly."—"Very

well, I want a quicker messenger to-day." A second voice answered, "I

can run like the wind."—"I want a quicker messenger still," replied the

father. Then a third voice answered, "I can run as fast as the thoughts

of men."—"You are just to my mind. I want you now. Fill a

four-hundredweight sack with money, and carry it home with my friend

and benefactor." Then he seized hold of the soldier's hat and cried

out, "Let the hat become a man, and let the man and the sack go home!"

The soldier felt his hat fly off his head. He turned round to look for

it, and found himself in his own father's room,[Pg 131] dressed like a

countryman as before, and the great sack of money by his side.[46]

At first he thought it was a dream, till he found that his good luck

was real. As nobody made any inquiries after the deserter, he began to

think at last that his lost hat had remained behind to do soldier's

service in his stead. He related the wonderful story to his children

before his death, and as the money had brought him happiness and

prosperity, he could not suppose that it had been the gift of an evil

spirit.

[Pg 132]

SECTION VI

_HEATH LEGENDS._

(Jannsen.)

Jannsen gives the following account of heath-spirits, &c. Abstracts of

stories not included under other headings we have appended to his

general observations.

In former days, when trees and bushes talked, animals and birds

understood a wonderful language, and the Old Boy wandered about openly

and unabashed, and wonderful things often happened on the heaths. He

who wished to cross a heath must keep his eyes open day and night. In

the daytime, indeed, no spectre dared to appear; but it often happened

at night that people were teased and frightened on the heath. If any

one was on the heath on a summer or autumn evening, he often heard a

rustling and tapping in the bushes, and perhaps water suddenly spurted

out under his feet. On winter evenings, or at midnight, he saw[Pg 133]

little flames dancing on the moor, and if he went towards them, they

disappeared suddenly, and danced up again in the distance. But if a man

was on the moor at night-time, he could not escape from it till

cockcrow. If a man had to fetch anything from the heath during

hay-harvest, he heard strange voices, or heard a bird singing with a

human voice; and whoever drove across the moor in winter with a light

sledge must have heard an invisible hand striking against the

tree-trunks or the ice. Then you whip up your horse, and hasten across

the moor, if you can.

Jannsen also relates a story of a herd-boy who was scolding at some

girls who were gathering berries on the heath, and defying the devil;

when he was suddenly seized by the feet and dragged down into the

ground, crying for help.

THE WONDERFUL HAYCOCK.

(Jannsen.)

One autumn evening a girl was going home across a frozen heath, but

though she walked fast, she shivered. Presently she was pestered by a

moving[Pg 134] haycock without a band, which pressed upon her so

closely that the hay pricked her face. This continued till midnight;

but when a cock crew in the village, the haycock vanished, and the girl

made her way home exhausted, and died within a week. Since then, the

people say that cries for help have been heard from the heath by night.

But they are very particular that every haycock shall be tied with a

band. If thus secured, no evil spirit can interfere with it.

THE MAGIC EGG.

(Jannsen.)

In former days, people used to find bits of leather, and fragments of

old gloves, shoes, and hats on the moor; but if anybody took them home,

some misfortune befell him. One day a man found what he thought was a

duck's egg, and boiled and ate it; but the more he ate, the more there

seemed to be, and he could not finish it. Next morning the portion left

proved to be not an egg, but half his neighbour's cat.

[Pg 135]

SECTION VII

_LAKE LEGENDS._

Although Esthonia is not so distinctly a lake-country as Finland,[47]

which is often called "The Land of Ten Thousand Lakes," yet it is a low

swampy country, with many small lakes besides the great Lake Peipus, on

the south-east, and lake stories of various kinds are numerous in

Esthonian tales.

Jannsen relates that Lake Korküll or Oiso, in the district of Fellin in

Livonia, stands on the site of a castle, the lord of which insisted on

marrying his sister. He bribed a priest to perform the ceremony, but

the castle sank into the ground with all present, and a lake arose in

its stead.

We add a selection of Esthonian lake-stories.

[Pg 136]

LAKE PEIPUS.

(Jannsen.)

In former ages, a great and famous king named Karkus ruled over

Esthonia. In his days, fierce bears and bison lurked in the thick

forests, and elk and wild horses careered swiftly through the bushes.

No merchants had yet arrived in ships from foreign parts, nor invading

hosts with sharp swords, to set up the cross of the Christian God, and

the people still lived in perfect freedom.

The palace of King Karkus was built of costly sparkling stones, and

shone far off in the sun like gold. The palace lay near the holy

forest, where dwelt three good white gods and three black evil ones.

There dwelt the king and his court. His enemies feared him greatly, but

his people loved him as a father.

Although the king had gold and honour in abundance, yet one thing was

wanting to complete his happiness, for his wife had brought him no

child. He promised immense gifts to the white gods if[Pg 137] they

would only listen to his prayer and grant his wish. And behold, after

seven years his prayer was answered, for the queen gave birth to twins.

One was a boy, as bold and impetuous as his father, and one was a girl,

with golden hair and eyes like blue harebells, which already smiled

from the cradle on her mother. The king was full of joy, and made great

offerings to the white gods, as he had vowed. But the black gods, who

deemed themselves worthy of equal honour, were greatly offended at

being despised by the king. So they went to the God of Death, and urged

him to gaze on the king's son with his evil countenance and to destroy

him.

Meantime the boy grew rapidly, and became the delight of his parents.

But when he came to lisp the first word, he was struck by the evil

glance of Death. From this hour he pined away, and at length died. But

his sister, who was named Rannapuura, lived and flourished like a rose,

as the only joy of her parents.

But the hatred of the evil powers was not appeased by the partial

revenge which they had taken. So they contrived that when the king's

daughter was seven years old, she fell into the power of the wicked

witch Peipa. The witch carried Rannapuura[Pg 138] away to her horrible

abode, which was in a rock beneath a lofty mountain ridge in

Ingermanland. Here the poor child was compelled to pass ten years of

her life. But notwithstanding her hard servitude to the witch, she grew

up to maidenhood, and no maiden in the whole world was so fair as she.

As the dawn shines ruddy on the borders of the horizon at daybreak and

promises fine weather, so shone her gentle face in quiet restfulness,

and her eyes proclaimed the angel heart in her bosom.

The king knew where his daughter was imprisoned, for a good spirit had

informed him, but, mighty as he was, he could accomplish nothing

against the craft and malice of the witch. So he abandoned all hope of

rescuing his daughter from this place of suffering. At length the white

gods took pity on the king's daughter and her parents; for the king

sought their aid continually, and made them rich offerings. But even

the gods did not venture to contend openly with the mighty Peipa; so

they sought to effect their purpose by stratagem. They secretly sent a

dove to Rannapuura with a silver comb, a carder, a golden apple, and a

snow-white linen robe, and sent her this message: "Take the gifts of

the white gods, and flee from your[Pg 139] prison as soon as you can.

If Peipa pursues you, call on the white gods, and first cast the comb

behind you; but if this is of no effect, drop the carder; but if this

does not detain her, and she still follows on your heels, then throw

the apple, and lastly the robe behind you. But be very careful not to

make a mistake, and throw down the gifts in the right order."

Rannapuura promised the dove to obey her instructions exactly, thanked

the white gods for their favours, and sent the dove home.

On the first Tuesday after the new moon, Peipa jumped upon an old broom

at midnight, as the witches are accustomed to do, both here and in

Ingermanland, every year, on the third, sixth, ninth, and twelfth new

moon, and thus flew away from the house. The maiden stole softly from

her room long before dawn, and took the four gifts of the gods with her

on her way. She ran straight towards her father's castle, as swiftly as

she could. At mid-day, when she had already gone a good part of the

way, she chanced to look round, and saw to her horror that the witch

Peipa was pursuing her. In her right hand she swung a formidable bar of

iron, and she was[Pg 140] mounted on a huge cock, who was close behind

the princess. Then she cried aloud on the white gods, and cast the

silver comb behind her. Instantly the comb became a rushing river, deep

and broad and many miles long. Peipa gazed furiously after the

fugitive, who was running swiftly on the opposite bank of the stream,

and soon left her far behind. But after a time, the witch found a ford

through the water, hurried across, and was soon close behind the maiden

again. Now Rannapuura dropped the carder, and behold, a forest sprang

up from it so thick and lofty that the witch and her hellish steed

could not penetrate it, and she was forced to ride round it for a whole

day.

The unfortunate princess had now been wandering for two nights and a

day, without tasting a morsel of bread or daring to sleep an instant.

Then her strength failed her, and on the second day the witch was again

close on her heels, when she threw down the apple in her need; and this

became a lofty mountain of granite. A narrow path, as if traced by a

snake, wound up to the summit, and showed the witch her way. Before she

could overcome this obstacle, another day had passed; but the princess

had only gone a short distance farther, for sleep had[Pg 141] closed

her weary eyes, and when she awoke, and could see her father's castle

in the distance at last, the witch was so close upon her that she never

hoped to escape. In great terror she flung the linen robe on the ground

behind her. It fell broadside, and soon rushed forth into a vast lake,

whose foaming waves raged wildly round the witch. A howling storm flung

water and spray into the witch's face; her wickedness could not save

her, nor could her steed, the hellish cock, escape. He raised his neck

above the water, thrust up his beak, and beat the water with his wings,

but it was all to no purpose, and he was miserably drowned. Peipa

called on all the spirits of hell to aid her, with curses, but none of

them appeared, and she sank into the depths howling. There she lies to

this day in pain and torment. The pikes and other horrible creatures of

the depths gnaw upon her and torture her incessantly. She strikes about

her with her hands and feet, and twists and stretches her limbs in her

great distress. Thence comes it that the lake, which is named Peipus

after her, always rises in billows and stormy waves.

Rannapuura reached her father's castle in safety, and soon became the

bride of a prince. But the king's name is still perpetuated in that of

the church[Pg 142] at Karkus, and the estate of Rannapungern, which

lies north of Peipus, on the boundary between Livonia and Esthonia, is

named after Rannapuura. The river which rose from the silver comb is

the river Pliha, with its shining waters. He who knows it now may

understand its origin. It cannot run straight, but twists right and

left like the teeth of a double comb, unites with the Narova, and falls

with that river into the sea. The forest, too, remained until two

hundred years ago, when the Swedes and Poles brought war into the land.

The Poles concealed themselves in the forest, but the Swedes set fire

to it and burned it down. The mountain formed by the apple of the

princess is likewise standing, but its granite has become changed to

sandstone.

THE LAKE AT EUSEKÜLL.

(Jannsen.)

In former times there was no lake at Euseküll, for it was carried there

from the district of Oiso in Esthonia. One day a great black cloud[Pg

143] like a sack rolled up from the north, and drew up all the water

from the lake of Oiso. Before the cloud ran a black bull bellowing

angrily, and above in the cloud flew an old man crying incessantly,

"Lake, go to Euseküll!" When the bull came to Euseküll, where the

tavern now stands, he dug his horns into the ground, and formed two

deep trenches, which any one may still see to the right of the path

which leads to the tavern at Kersel.

Then the cloud rolled on farther, till it reached the district of

Euseküll. All the people were making hay in the meadow, and when they

saw the black cloud, they hastened with their work, to bring the hay

under cover. Presently the cloud stood above them. First a great knife

with a wooden handle fell down, and next all kinds of fish, and then it

began to rain heavily.

The people hurried from the field to take shelter. But one girl who had

left her string of beads on a haycock, and wanted to save it, neglected

to escape. Suddenly the waves of the lake fell from above, and buried

her beneath them. Since that time the lake at Euseküll has been

inhabited by a water-nymph, who requires the offering of a human life

every year.

[Pg 144]

There are several other Esthonian tales of lakes moving from one spot

to another.

EMMU LAKE AND VIRTS LAKE.

(Kreutzwald.)

Soon after the Creation, Vanaisa[48] formed a beautiful lake, called

the Emmu Lake, which was intended to furnish men with refreshing water

at all times, but owing to the wickedness of men, he caused all the

water to be absorbed by a waterspout. Now men had nothing but

rain-water, and although rain-water and melted snow sometimes filled

the old Emmu Lake, it was dirty and unrefreshing, and people called it

the Virts Lake. But at length Vanaisa, took pity on the people, who had

somewhat improved, and formed narrow channels in the earth, through

which the waters of the old Emmu lake flow as springs. But to prevent

their being too warm in summer and too cold in winter, a cold stone is

put into the springs in spring, and replaced by a warm one in autumn.

[Pg 145]

THE BLUE SPRING.

(Jannsen.)

At the foot of the Villina hill, near the church of Lais,[49] is a

swamp where rises a spring of water, called from its colour the Blue

Spring. It is said that the spring can produce rain or drought, and

thus cause dearth or plenty. In time of drought three widows of the

same name must go to the spring on a Sunday during service-time, to

clean it out and to enlarge the opening. Each must take a spade, hoe,

rake, a cake of bread, and a hymn-book with her. But if too much rain

falls, the spring must be closed up to a mere crevice, and this is at

once efficacious.

One day three widows named Anna opened the spring too wide, when a

dreadful rain spread over the country. Sometimes it has happened that

women who were about to clean the spring have failed to finish the work

during church-time, and it has been fruitless. Another time the people

wished[Pg 146] to find out how deep was the spring. They let down a

stone with a long cord, but drew the cord up without the stone. They

then let down a kettle filled with stones, but, to their horror, they

drew up a bleeding human head instead. They were about to make another

trial, when a voice cried from the depths, "If you attempt this again,

you will all sink!" So the depth of the Blue Spring is still unknown.

THE BLACK POOL.

(Jannsen.)

In time of war, a rich lord tried to escape from the country with his

family and goods in a coach drawn by six horses. In their haste, the

horses swerved from the path, and all were lost in a deep lake of black

water. Since that time it has been haunted, and sometimes a black dog

tries to entice boys in, or cats and birds are seen about it. One day a

man was walking by the pool when his leg was seized, and he was dragged

down, but he contrived to seize a bush of juniper, and saved him[Pg

147]self.[50] Then he saw some maidens sporting in the water like white

swans; but presently they vanished. One day a fisherman caught a black

tail-less pike, when the voice of the old nobleman was heard asking,

"Are all the swine safe?" And another voice answered, "The old

tail-less boar is missing." Many people, too, have seen a great hoop

from a coach-wheel, as sharp as the edge of an axe, rise from the

water.

[Pg 148]

SECTION VIII

_STORIES OF THE DEVIL AND OF BLACK MAGIC._

Stories relating to the Devil are very frequent in Esthonian

literature, and notwithstanding the universal notion that you sell

yourself to him by giving him three drops of your blood, or by signing

a compact with your blood, yet many stories of this class are evidently

pre-Christian. He is generally represented as a buffoon, and easily

outwitted. Further particulars respecting him will be found in the

Introduction. The stories incidentally referred to in this section of

our work are mostly related by Jannsen.

As regards sorcery, the Esthonians appear to have regarded the Finns,

and the Finns the Lapps, as proficient in magic, each people

attributing most skill to those living north of themselves. However, it

should be mentioned that there is a ballad in the Finnish _Kanteletar_

in which the sun and moon are[Pg 149] represented as stolen by German

and Esthonian sorcerers. In the _Kalevala_ they are stolen by Louhi,

the witch-queen of Lapland.

The first story of this series, "The Son of the Thunder-God,"

represents this demigod as actually selling his soul to the Devil, and

tricking the Devil out of it. The Thunder-God is here called Paristaja,

and also Vana Kõu; but in other tales he is usually called Pikne, and

is no doubt identical with the Perkunas of the Lithuanians. In this

story the Devil is called Kurat, the Evil One; and also Vanapois (the

Old Boy), as in other tales.

The primitive manner in which the undutiful son tickles the nose of his

august father is amusing. Vana (old) seems to be a term of respect

applied to gods and devils alike.

THE SON OF THE THUNDER-GOD.[51]

(Kreutzwald.)

Once upon a time the son of the Thunder-God made a compact with the

Devil. It was agreed that the[Pg 150] Devil was to serve him faithfully

for seven years, and to do everything which his master required of him,

after which he was to receive his master's soul as a reward. The Devil

fulfilled his part of the bargain faithfully. He never shirked the

hardest labour nor grumbled at poor living, for he knew the reward he

had to expect. Six years had already passed by, and the seventh had

begun; but the Thunderer's son had no particular inclination to part

with his soul so easily, and looked about for some trick by which he

could escape the necessity of fulfilling his share of the bargain. He

had already tricked the Devil when the compact was signed, for instead

of signing it with his own blood, he had signed it with cock's blood,

and his short-sighted adversary had not noticed the difference. Thus

the bond which the Devil thought perfectly secure was really a very

doubtful one. The end of the time was approaching, and the Thunderer's

son had not yet attempted to regain his freedom, when it happened one

day that a black cloud arose in the sky, which[Pg 151] foreboded a

violent thunderstorm. The Devil immediately crept down underground,

having made himself a hiding-place under a stone for that purpose.

"Come, brother," said he to his master, "and keep me company till the

tempest is over." "What will you promise me if I fulfil your request?"

said the Thunderer's son. The Devil thought they might settle this down

below, for he did not like to talk over matters of business just then,

when the storm was threatening to break over them at any moment. The

Thunderer's son thought, "The Old Boy seems quite dazed with terror

to-day, and who knows whether I may not be able to get rid of him after

all?" So he followed him into the cave. The tempest lasted a long time,

and one crash of thunder followed another, till the earth quaked and

the rocks trembled. At every peal the Old Boy pushed his fists into his

ears and screwed up his eyes tight; a cold sweat covered his shaking

limbs, and he was unable to utter a word. In the evening, when the

storm was over, he said to the Thunderer's son, "If your old dad did

not make such a noise and clatter now and then, I could get along with

him very well, for his arrows could not hurt me underground. But this

horrible clamour upsets me so[Pg 152] much that I am ready to lose my

senses, and hardly know what I am about. I should be willing to offer a

great reward to any one who would release me from this annoyance." The

Thunderer's son answered, "The best plan would be to steal the

thunder-weapon from my old dad."[52] "I'd do it if it were possible,"

answered the Devil, "but old Kõu is always on the alert. He keeps watch

on the thunder-weapon day and night; and how is it possible to steal

it?" But the Thunderer's son still maintained that the feat was

possible. "Ay, if you would help me," cried the Devil, "we might

perhaps succeed, but I can't manage it by myself." The Thunderer's son

promised to help him, but demanded no less a reward than that the Devil

should abandon his claim to his soul. "You may keep the soul with all

my heart," cried the Devil delighted, "if you will only release me from

this shocking worry and anxiety." Then the Thunderer's son began to

explain how he thought the business might be managed, if they both

worked well together. "But," he added, "we must wait till my old dad

again tires himself out so much as to fall into a[Pg 153] sound sleep,

for he generally sleeps with open eyes, like the hares."

Some time after this conversation, another violent thunderstorm broke

out, which lasted a great while. The Devil and the Thunderer's son

again retreated to their hiding-place under the stone. Terror had so

stupefied the Old Boy, that he could not hear a word of what his

companion said. In the evening they both climbed a high mountain, when

the Old Boy took the Thunderer's son on his shoulders, and began to

stretch himself out by his magic power higher and higher, singing—

"Higher, brother, higher,

To the Cloudland nigher,"

till he had grown up to the edge of the clouds. When the Thunderer's

son peeped over the edge of the clouds, he saw his father Kõu sleeping

quietly, with his head resting on a pillow of clouds, but with his

right hand resting across the thunder-instrument. He could not seize

the weapon, for he would have roused the sleeper by touching his hand.

The Thunderer's son now crept from the Devil's shoulder along the

clouds as stealthily as a cat, and taking a louse from behind his own

ear, he set it on his father's nose. The old man raised his hand to[Pg

154] scratch his nose, when his son grasped the thunder-weapon, and

jumped from the clouds on to the back of the Devil, who ran down the

mountain as if fire was burning behind him, and he did not stop till he

reached Põrgu. Here he hid the stolen property in an iron chamber

secured by seven locks,[53] thanked the Thunderer's son for his

friendly aid, and relinquished all claims upon his soul.

But now a misfortune fell upon the world and men which the Thunderer's

son had not foreseen, for the clouds no longer shed a drop of moisture,

and everything withered away with drought.[54] "If I have thoughtlessly

brought this unexpected misery on the people," thought he, "I must try

to repair the mischief as best I can." So he travelled north to the

frontiers of Finland, where a noted sorcerer lived, and told him the

whole story, and where the thunder-weapon was now hidden. Then said the

sorcerer, "First of all, you must tell your old father Kõu where the

thunder-weapon is hidden, and he will be able to find means for

recovering his property himself." And he sent the Eagle of[Pg 155] the

North to carry the tidings to the old Father of the Clouds. Next

morning Kõu himself called upon the sorcerer to thank him for having

put him on the track of the stolen property. Then the Thunderer changed

himself into a boy, and offered himself to a fisherman as a summer

workman. He knew that the Devil often came to the lake to catch fish,

and he hoped to encounter him there. Although the boy Pikker watched

the net day and night, it was some time before he caught sight of his

enemy. It often happened to the fisherman that when he left his nets in

the lake at night, they had been emptied before the morning, but he

could not discover the cause. The boy knew very well who stole the

fish, but he would not say anything about it till he could show his

master the thief.

One moonlight night, when the fisherman and the boy came to the lake to

examine the nets, they found the thief at work. When they looked into

the water over the side of their boat, they saw the Old Boy taking the

fishes from the meshes of the net and putting them into a bag over his

shoulder. Next day the fisherman went to a celebrated sorcerer and

asked him to use his magic to cause the thief to fall into the net, and

to enchant him so that he could[Pg 156] not escape without the owner's

consent. This was arranged just as the fisherman wished. Next day, when

the net was drawn up, they drew up the Devil to the surface and brought

him ashore. And what a drubbing he received from the fisherman and his

boy; for he could not escape from the net without the consent of the

sorcerer. The fisherman gave him a ton's weight of blows on the body,

without caring where they fell. The Devil soon presented a piteous

sight, but the fisherman and his boy felt no pity for him, but only

rested awhile, and then began their work afresh. Entreaties were

useless, and at last the Devil promised the fisherman the half of all

his goods if he would only release him from the spell. But the enraged

fisherman would listen to nothing till his own strength failed so

completely that he could no longer move his stick. At length, after a

long discussion, it was arranged that the Old Boy should be released

from the net with the sorcerer's aid, and that the fisherman and his

boy should accompany the Devil to receive his ransom. No doubt he hoped

to get the better of them by some stratagem.

A grand feast was prepared for the guests in the hall of Põrgu, which

lasted for a whole week, and[Pg 157] there was plenty of everything.

The aged host exhibited his treasures and precious hoards to his

visitors, and made his players perform before the fisherman in their

very best style. One morning the boy Pikker said to the fisherman, "If

you are again feasted and fêted to-day, ask for the instrument which is

in the iron chamber behind seven locks." The fisherman took the hint,

and in the middle of the feast, when everybody was half-seas over, he

asked to see the instrument in the secret chamber. The Devil was quite

willing, and he fetched the instrument, and tried to play upon it

himself. But although he blew into it with all his strength, and

shifted his fingers up and down the pipe, he was not able to bring a

better tone from it than the cry of a cat when she is seized by the

tail, or the squeaking of a decoy-pig at a wolf-hunt. The fisherman

laughed, and said, "Don't give yourself so much trouble for nothing. I

see well enough that you'll never make a piper. My boy can manage it

much better." "Oho," said the Devil, "you seem to think that playing

this instrument is like playing the flageolet, and that it is mere

child's play. Come, friend, try it; but if either you or your boy can

bring anything like a tune out of the[Pg 158] instrument, I won't be

prince of hell any longer. Only just try it," said he, handing the

instrument to the boy. The boy Pikker took the instrument, but when he

put it to his mouth and blew into it, the walls of hell shook, and the

Devil and his company fell senseless to the ground and lay as if dead.

In place of the boy the old Thunder-god himself stood by the fisherman,

and thanked him for his aid, saying, "In future, whenever my instrument

is heard in the clouds, your nets will be well filled with fish." Then

he hastened home again.

On the way his son met him, and fell on his knees, confessing his

fault, and humbly asking pardon. Then said Father Kõu, "The frivolity

of man often wars against the wisdom of heaven, but you may thank your

stars, my son, that I have recovered the power to annihilate the traces

of the suffering which your folly has brought on the people." As he

spoke, he sat down on a stone, and blew into the thunder-instrument

till the rain-gates were opened, and the thirsty earth could drink her

fill. Old Kõu took his son into his service, and they live together

still.

In our next story we shall see the Devil and his[Pg 159] companions

overreaching themselves in a manner worthy of the _Ingoldsby Legends_,

while in the Polyphemus story already referred to under Cosmopolitan

Tales we find the Devil blinded and perishing miserably.

THE MOON-PAINTER.

(Jannsen.)

When the Lord God had created the whole world, the work did not turn

out so complete as it ought to have done, for there was an

insufficiency of light. In the daytime the sun pursued his course

through the firmament, but when he sank at evening, when the evening

glow faded into twilight, and all grew dark, thick darkness covered

heaven and earth, until the morning redness took the dawn from the hand

of the evening glow and heralded a new day. There was neither moonlight

nor starlight, but darkness from sunset to sunrise.

The Creator soon perceived the deficiency, and sought to remedy it. So

he ordered Ilmarine[55] to[Pg 160] see that it should be light on earth

by night as well as by day. Ilmarine listened to the command, and went

to his forge, where he had already forged the firmament. He threw in

silver, and cast it into a large round ball. He covered it with thick

gold, lighted a bright fire inside, and ordered it to proceed on its

course across the sky. Then he forged innumerable stars, covered them

thinly with gold, and fixed each in its place in the firmament.

Now began a new life for the earth. The sun had hardly set, and was

borne away by the evening glow, when the golden moon arose from the

borders of the sky, set out on his blue path, and illuminated the

darkness of night just as the sun illumines the day. Around him

twinkled the innumerable host of stars, and accompanied him like a

king, until at length he reached the other side of the heavens. Then

the stars retired to rest, the moon quitted the firmament, and the sun

was conducted by the[Pg 161] morning redness to his place, in order

that he should give light to the world.

After this, ample light shone upon the earth from above both by day and

by night; for the face of the moon was just as clear and bright as that

of the sun, and his rays diffused equal warmth. But the sun often shone

so fiercely by day that no one was able to work. Thus they preferred to

work under the light of the nocturnal keeper of the heavens, and all

men rejoiced in the gift of the moon.

But the Devil was very much annoyed at the moon, because he could not

carry on his evil practices in his bright light. Whenever he went out

in search of prey, he was recognised a long way off, and was driven

back home in disgrace. Thus it came about that during all this time he

only succeeded in bagging two souls.

So he sat still day and night pondering on what he could do to better

his prospects. At last he summoned two of his companions, but they

could not give him any good advice. So the three of them consulted

together in care and trouble, but nothing feasible occurred to them. On

the seventh day they had nothing left to eat, and they sat there[Pg

162] sighing, rubbing their empty stomachs, and racking their brains

with thought. At last a lucky idea occurred to the Devil himself.

"Comrades," he exclaimed, "I know what we can do. We must get rid of

the moon, if we want to save ourselves. If there's no moon in the sky,

we shall be just as valiant heroes as before. We can carry out our

great undertakings by the dim starlight."

"Shall we pull down the moon from heaven?" asked his servants.

"No," said the Devil, "he is fixed too tight, and we can't get him

down. We must do something more likely to succeed. The best we can do

is to take tar and smear him with it till he's black. He may then run

about the sky as he pleases, but he can't give us any more trouble. The

victory then rests with us, and rich booty awaits us."

The fiendish company approved of the plan of their chief, and were all

anxious to get to work. But it was too late at the time, for the moon

was just about to set, and the sun was rising. But they worked

zealously at their preparations all day till late in the evening. The

Devil went out and stole a barrel of tar, which he carried to his

accomplices[Pg 163] in the wood. Meantime, they had been engaged in

making a long ladder in seven pieces, each piece of which measured

seven fathoms. Then they procured a great bucket, and made a mop of

lime-tree bast, which they fastened to a long handle.

Then they waited for night, and as soon as the moon rose, the Devil

took the ladder and the barrel on his shoulder and ordered his two

servants to follow him with the bucket and the mop. When they reached a

suitable spot, they filled the bucket with tar, threw a quantity of

ashes into it, and dipped in the mop. Just at this moment the moon rose

from behind the wood. They hastily raised the ladder, and the Devil put

the bucket into the hand of one of his servants, and told him to make

haste and climb up, while he stationed the other under the ladder.

Now the Devil and his servant were standing under the ladder to hold

it, but the servant could not bear the weight, and it began to shake.

The other servant who had climbed up missed his footing on a rung of

the ladder, and fell with the bucket on the Devil's neck. The Devil

began to pant and shake himself like a bear, and swore frightfully. He

paid no more attention to the ladder, and[Pg 164] let it go, so it fell

on the ground with a thundering crash, and broke into a thousand

pieces.

When the Devil found that his work had prospered so ill, and that he

had tarred himself all over instead of the moon, he grew mad with rage

and fury. He washed and scoured and scraped himself, but the tar and

soot stuck to him so tight that he keeps his black colour to the

present day.

But although the first experiment had failed, the Devil would not give

up his plan. Next day he stole seven more ladders, bound them firmly

together, and carried them to the edge of the wood where the moon

stands lowest. In the evening, when the moon rose, the Devil planted

the ladder firmly on the ground, steadied it with both hands, and sent

the other servant up to the moon, cautioning him to hold very tight and

beware of slipping. The servant climbed up as quickly as possible with

the bucket, and arrived safely at the last rung of the ladder. Just

then the moon rose from behind the wood in regal splendour. Then the

Devil lifted up the whole ladder, and carried it hastily to the moon.

What a great piece of luck! It was really just so long that its end

reached the moon.

Then the Devil's servant set to work in earnest.[Pg 165] But it's not

an easy task to stand on the top of such a ladder and to tar the moon's

face over with a mop. Besides, the moon didn't stand still at one

place, but went on his appointed course steadily. So the servant tied

himself to the moon with a rope, and being thus secure from falling, he

took the mop from the bucket, and began to blacken the moon first on

the back. But the thick gilding of the pure moon would not suffer any

stain. The servant painted and smeared, till the sweat ran from his

forehead, until he succeeded at last, with much toil, in covering the

back of the moon with tar. The Devil below gazed up at the work with

his mouth open, and when he saw the work half finished he danced with

joy, first on one foot, and then on the other.

When the servant had blackened the back of the moon, he worked himself

round to the front with difficulty, so as to destroy the lustre of the

guardian of the heavens on that side also. He stood there at last,

panted a little, and thought, when he began, that he would find the

front easier to manage than the other side. But no better plan occurred

to him, and he had to work in the same way as before.

Just as he was beginning his work again, the[Pg 166] Creator woke up

from a little nap. He was astonished to see that the world had become

half black, though there was not a cloud in the sky. But, when he

looked more sharply into the cause of the darkness, he saw the Devil's

servant perched on the moon, and just dipping his mop into the bucket

in order to make the front of the moon as black as the back. Meantime

the Devil was capering for joy below the ladder, just like a he-goat.

"Those are the sort of tricks you are up to behind my back!" cried the

Creator angrily. "Let the evil-doers receive the fitting reward of

their offences. You are on the moon, and there you shall stay with your

bucket for ever, as a warning to all who would rob the earth of its

light. My light must prevail over the darkness, and the darkness must

flee before it. And though you should strive against it with all your

strength, you would not be able to conquer the light. This shall be

made manifest to all who gaze on the moon at night, when they see the

black spoiler of the moon with his utensils."

The Creator's words were fulfilled. The Devil's servant still stands in

the moon to this day with his bucket of tar, and for this reason the

moon[Pg 167] does not shine so brightly as formerly. He often descends

into the sea to bathe, and would like to cleanse himself from his

stains, but they remain with him eternally. However bright and clear he

shines, his light cannot dispel the shadows which he bears, nor pierce

through the black covering on his back. When he sometimes turns his

back to us, we see him only as a dull opaque creature, devoid of light

and lustre. But he cannot bear to show us his dark side long. He soon

turns his shining face to the earth again, and sheds down his bright

silvery light from above; but the more he waxes, the more distinct

becomes the form of his spoiler, and reminds us that light must always

triumph over darkness.

In the following narrative we have a horrible story of black magic,

which, however, is extremely interesting as showing the prevalence of

fetishism, which probably preceded the worship of the powers of nature

among the Finns and Esthonians. The Kratt seems originally to have been

nothing worse than Tont, the house-spirit, who robbed the neighbours

for the benefit of his patrons, and it is probably only after the

introduction of Christianity that he assumed the[Pg 168] diabolical

character attributed to him in the present story.

THE TREASURE-BRINGER.

(Jannsen.)

Once upon a time there lived a young farmer whose crops had totally

failed. His harvest had been spoiled, his hay parched up, and all his

cattle died, so that he was unable to perform his lawful obligations to

his feudal superior. One Sunday he was sitting at his door in great

trouble, just as the people were going to church. Presently Michel, an

old fellow who used to wander about the country, came up. He had a bad

reputation; people said that he was a wizard, and that he used to suck

the milk from the cows, to bring storms and hail upon the crops, and

diseases upon the people. So he was never allowed to depart without

alms when he visited a farm.

"Good day, farmer," said Michel, advancing.

"God bless you," answered the other.

"What ails you?" said the old man. "You are looking very miserable."[Pg

169]

"Alas! everything is going with me badly enough. But it is a good thing

that you have come. People say that you have power to do much evil, but

that you are a clever fellow. Perhaps you can help me."

"People talk evil of others because they themselves are evil," answered

the old man. "But what is to be done?"

The farmer told him all his misfortunes, and Michel said, "Would you

like to escape from all your troubles, and to become a rich man all at

once?"

"With all my heart!" cried the other.

Old Michel answered, with a smile, "If I were as young and strong as

you, and if I had sufficient courage to face the darkness of night, and

knew how to hold my tongue, I know what I'd do."

"Only tell me what you know. I will do anything if I can only become

rich, for I am weary of my life at present."

Then the old man looked cautiously round on all sides, and then said in

a whisper, "Do you know what a Kratt is?"

The farmer was startled, and answered, "I don't know exactly, but I

have heard dreadful tales about it."[Pg 170]

"I'll tell you," said the old man. "Mark you, it is a creature that

anybody can make for himself, but it must be done so secretly that no

human eye sees it. Its body is a broomstick, its head a broken jug, its

nose a piece of glass, and its arms two reels which have been used by

an old crone of a hundred years. All these things are easy to procure.

You must set up this creature on three Thursday evenings at a

cross-road, and animate it with the words which I will teach you. On

the third Thursday the creature will come to life."

"God preserve us from the evil one!" cried the farmer.

"What! you are frightened? Have I told you too much already?"

"No, I'm not frightened at all. Go on."

The old man continued, "This creature is then your servant, for you

have brought him to life at a cross-road. Nobody can see him but his

master. He will bring him all kinds of money, corn, and hay, as often

as he likes, but not more at once than a man's burden."

"But, old man, if you knew all this, why haven't you yourself made such

a useful treasure-carrier, instead of which you have remained poor all

your life?"[Pg 171]

"I have been about to do it a hundred times, and have made a beginning

a hundred times, but my courage always failed me. I had a friend who

possessed such a treasure-carrier, and often told me about it, but I

could not screw up courage to follow his example. My friend died, and

the creature, left without a master, lived in the village for a long

time, and wrought all manner of tricks among the people. He once tore

all a woman's yarn to pieces; but when it was discovered, and they were

going to remove it, they found a heap of money underneath. After this

no more was seen of the creature. At that time I should have been glad

enough to have a treasure-bringer, but I am now old and grey, and think

no more of it."

"I've plenty of courage," said the farmer; "but wouldn't it be better

for me to consult the parson about it?"

"No; you mustn't mention it to anybody, but least of all to the parson;

for if you call the creature to life, you sell your soul to the devil."

The farmer started back in horror.

"Don't be frightened," said the old man. "You are sure of a long life

in exchange, and of all your heart desires. And if you feel that your

last hour[Pg 172] is approaching, you can always escape from the

clutches of the evil one, if you are clever enough to get rid of your

familiar."[56]

"But how can this be done?"

"If you give him a task which he is unable to perform, you are rid of

him for the future. But you must set about it very circumspectly, for

he is not easy to outwit. The peasant of whom I told you wanted to get

rid of his familiar, and ordered him to fill a barrel of water with a

sieve. But the creature fetched and spilled water, and did not rest

till the barrel was filled with the drops which hung on the sieve."

"So he died, without getting rid of the creature?"

"Yes; why didn't he manage the affair better? But I have something more

to tell you. The creature must be well fed, if he is to be kept in

good-humour. A peasant once put a dish of broth under the roof for his

familiar, as he was in the habit of doing. But a labourer saw it, so he

ate the broth, and filled the dish with sand. The familiar came that

night, and beat the farmer unmercifully, and continued to do so every

night till he discovered the reason, and[Pg 173] put a fresh dish of

broth under the roof. After this he let him alone. And now you know

all," said the old man.

The farmer sat silent, and at last replied, "There is much about it

that is unpleasant, Michel."

"You asked for my advice," answered the old man, "and I have given it

you. You must make your own choice. Want and misery have come upon you.

This is the only way in which you can save yourself and become a rich

man; and if you are only a little prudent, you will cheat the devil out

of your soul into the bargain."

After some reflection, the farmer answered, "Tell me the words which I

am to repeat on the Thursdays."

"What will you give me, then?" said the old man.

"When I have the treasure-bringer, you shall live the life of a

gentleman."

"Come, then," said the old man, and they entered the house together.

After this Sunday the young farmer was seen no more in the village. He

neglected his work in the fields, and left what little was left there

to waste, and his household management went all astray.[Pg 174] His man

loafed about the public-houses, and his maid-servant slept at home, for

her master himself never looked after anything.

In the meantime the farmer sat in his smoky room. He kept the door

locked, and the windows closely curtained. Here he worked hard day and

night at the creature in a dark corner by the light of a pine-splinter.

He had procured everything necessary, even the reels on which a crone

of a hundred years old had spun. He put all the parts together

carefully, fixed the old pot on the broomstick, made the nose of a bit

of glass, and painted in the eyes and mouth red. He wrapped the body in

coloured rags, according to his instructions, and all the time he

thought with a shudder that it was now in his power to bring this

uncanny creature to life, and that he must remain with him till his

end. But when he thought of the riches and treasures, all his horror

vanished. At length the creature was finished, and on the following

Thursday the farmer carried it after nightfall to the cross-roads in

the wood. There he put down the creature, seated himself on a stone,

and waited. But every time he looked at the creature he nearly fell to

the ground with terror. If only a breeze sprung up,[Pg 175] it went

through the marrow of his bones, and if only the screech-owl cried afar

off, he thought he heard the croaking of the creature, and the blood

froze in his veins. Morning came at last, and he seized the creature,

and slunk away cautiously home.

On the second Thursday it was just the same. At length the night of the

third Thursday came, and now he was to complete the charm. There was a

howling wind, and the moon was covered with thick dark clouds, when the

farmer brought the creature to the cross-roads at dead of night. Then

he set it up as before, but he thought, "If I was now to smash it into

a thousand pieces, and then go home and set hard at work, I need not

then do anything wicked."

Presently, however, he reflected: "But I am so miserably poor, and this

will make me rich. Let it go as it may, I can't be worse off than I am

now."

He looked fearfully round him, turned towards the creature trembling,

let three drops of blood fall on it from his finger, and repeated the

magic words which the old man had taught him.

Suddenly the moon emerged from the clouds and shone upon the place

where the farmer was standing before the figure. But the farmer stood

petrified[Pg 176] with terror when he saw the creature come to life.

The spectre rolled his eyes horribly, turned slowly round, and when he

saw his master again, he asked in a grating voice, "What do you want of

me?"

But the farmer was almost beside himself with fear, and could not

answer. He rushed away in deadly terror, not caring whither. But the

creature ran after him, clattering and puffing, crying out all the

time, "Why did you bring me to life if you desert me now?"

But the farmer ran on, without daring to look round.

Then the creature grasped his shoulder from behind with his wooden

hand, and screamed out, "You have broken your compact by running away.

You have sold your soul to the devil without gaining the least

advantage for yourself. You have set me free. I am no longer your

servant, but will be your tormenting demon, and will persecute you to

your dying hour."

The farmer rushed madly to his house, but the creature followed him,

invisible to every one else.

From this hour everything went wrong with the farmer which he

undertook. His land produced nothing but weeds, his cattle all died,

his sheds fell[Pg 177] in, and if he took anything up, it broke in his

hand. Neither man nor maid would work in his house, and at last all the

people held aloof from him, as from an evil spirit who brought

misfortune wherever he appeared.

Autumn came, and the farmer looked like a shadow, when one day he met

old Michel, who saluted him, and looked scoffingly in his face.

"Oh, it's you," cried the farmer angrily. "It is good that I have met

you, you hell-hound. Where are all your fine promises of wealth and

good luck? I have sold myself to the devil, and I find a hell on earth

already. But all this is your doing!"

"Quiet, quiet!" said the old man. "Who told you to meddle with evil

things if you had not courage? I gave you fair warning. But you showed

yourself a coward at the last moment, and released the creature from

your service. If you had not done this, you might have become a rich

and prosperous man, as I promised you."

"But you never saw the horrible face of the creature when he came to

life," said the farmer in anguish. "Oh, what a fool I was to allow

myself to be tempted by you!"

"I did not tempt you; I only told you what I knew."[Pg 178]

"Help me now."

"Help yourself, for I can't. Haven't I more reason to complain of you

than you of me? I have not deceived you; but where is my reward, and

the fine life you promised me? You are the deceiver."

"All right! all right! Only tell me how I can save myself, and advise

me what to do. I will perform everything."

"No," said the old man, "I have no further advice to give you. I am

still a beggar, and it is all your fault;" and he turned round and left

him.

"Curse upon you!" cried the farmer, whose last hope had vanished.

"But can't I save myself in any way?" said he to himself. "This

creature who sits with the Devil on my neck is after all nothing but my

own work, a thing of wood and potsherds. I must needs be able to

destroy him, if I set about it right."

He ran to his house, where he now lived quite alone. There stood the

creature in a corner, grinning, and asking, "Where's my dinner?"

"What shall I give you to get rid of you?"

"Where's my dinner? Get my dinner, quick. I'm hungry."[Pg 179]

"Wait a little; you shall have it presently."

Then the farmer took up a pine-faggot which was burning in the stove,

as if pondering and then ran out, and locked all the doors on the

outside.

It was a cold autumn night. The wind whistled through the neighbouring

pine forest with a strange sighing sound.

"Now you may burn and roast, you spirit of hell!" cried the farmer, and

cast the fire on the thatch. Presently the whole house was wrapped in

bright flames.

Then the farmer laughed madly, and kept on calling out, "Burn and

roast!"

The light of the fire roused the people of the village, and they

crowded round the ill-starred spot. They wished to put out the fire and

save the house, but the farmer pushed them back, saying, "Let it be.

What does the house matter, if he only perishes? He has tormented me

long enough, and I will plague him now, and all may yet be well with

me."

The people stared at him in amazement as he spoke. But now the house

fell in crashing, and the farmer shouted, "Now he's burnt!"[Pg 180]

At this moment the creature, visible only to the farmer, rose unhurt

from the smoking ruins with a threatening gesture. As soon as the

farmer saw him, he fell on the ground with a loud shriek.

"What do you see?" asked old Michel, who had just arrived on the scene,

and stood by smiling.

But the farmer returned no answer. He had died of terror.

THE WOODEN MAN AND THE BIRCH-BARK MAID.

(Kreutzwald.)

This is another story which relates how a stingy farmer starved all his

servants, till no one would live with him. He applied to a sorcerer,

who directed him to take a black hare in a bag to a cross-road for

three Thursdays running, just before midnight, and whistle for the

Devil. The farmer took a black cat instead, and on the third Thursday

agreed with the Devil to receive a man-servant and a maid, who should

work for him for twice seven years, and who would require no food,

nothing but a little water. To ratify the bargain, the farmer gave the

Devil[Pg 181] three drops of blood from his index-finger. At the end of

the time the servants disappeared, and the farmer could only find a

rotten stump and a heap of birch-bark, as their names signified

(Puuläne and Tohtläne). Then the Devil seized the farmer by the throat

and strangled him, and his wife could find no trace of him but three

drops of blood, while all the corn-bins were empty, and the money-chest

contained only withered birch-leaves.

A farmer who had unthinkingly devoted his lazy horse to the Devil, was

much annoyed by three, who appeared successively, and demanded it. At

last he was obliged to invite them to his Christmas-dinner, and to

promise to feed them on blood, flesh, and corn. But a Finnish sorcerer

taught him a charm by which he transformed them respectively into a

bug, a wolf, and a rat.

Another story, in which the Devil gets the worst of it, is

[Pg 182]

THE COMPASSIONATE SHOEMAKER.

(Jannsen.)

Once upon a time, when God himself was still on earth, it happened that

he went to a farm-house disguised as a beggar,[57] while a christening

was going forward, and asked for a lodging. But the people did not

receive him, and declared that he might easily be trodden under the

feet of the guests in the confusion. The poor man offered to creep

under the stove, and lie still there; but they would not heed his

prayer, and showed him the door, telling him he might go to the mud

hovel, or where-ever he liked.

In the hovel lived a shoemaker, who was always very compassionate

towards the poor and needy, and would rather suffer hunger himself than

allow[Pg 183] a poor man to leave his threshold unrelieved. God went to

him, and begged for a night's lodging. The shoemaker gave him a

friendly reception and something to eat, and offered him his own bed,

while he himself lay on straw.

Next morning, when God took his departure, he thanked his host, and

said, "I am he who has power to fulfil whatsoever the heart can desire.

You have given me a friendly and most hospitable reception and I am

grateful to you from my heart, and will reward you. Speak a wish, and

it shall be fulfilled."

The shoemaker answered, "Then I will wish that whenever a poor man

comes to ask my aid, I may be able to give him what he most requires,

and that I myself may never want for daily bread as long as I live."

"Let it be so!" answered God, who took leave of him and departed.

Meantime the people in the farmhouse were feasting and drinking, not

remembering the proverbs, "A large piece strains the mouth," and "The

mouth is the measure of the stomach." They set the house on fire by

their recklessness, and only escaped with bare life. All their goods

and chattels were reduced[Pg 184] to ashes, and they were left without

a roof to shelter them. The guests hastened home, but the farmer and

his people were forced to take refuge in the shoemaker's hut. He

received them in the most friendly way, and gave them clothes and

shoes, and food and drink, and saw to it that they wanted for nothing

till they could again provide themselves with shelter.

Besides this, needy people came every day to the shoemaker, and each

received an abundant allowance.

As he thus doled out everything, and refused no one relief, low people

jeered at him, saying, "What is your object in giving everything away?

You cannot make the world warm." He answered, "We should love our

neighbours as ourselves."

At length the shoemaker felt that his last hour had come. So he dressed

himself neatly, took with him a staff of juniper, and set off on the

way to hell. The warden trembled when he saw him, and cried out, "Throw

down the staff! No one may bring such a weapon to hell." The shoemaker

took no heed of this speech, but pressed on his way. At length the

Prince of Hell himself met him, and cried out, "Throw down your staff

and let us wrestle. If you overcome me, I will be your[Pg 185] slave;

but if I should overcome you, then you must serve me."

This did not please the shoemaker, who answered, "I will not wrestle

with you, for you have such very clumsy hands, but come against me with

a spear."

As the Devil continued talking, and again advised him to throw away the

staff, the shoemaker struck him a heavy blow with it behind the ear.

Upon this, all hell shook, and the Devil and his companions vanished

suddenly, as lead sinks in water.

Then the shoemaker proceeded farther, and cautiously explored the

interior of the underworld. In one hall lay a great book, in which the

souls of all children who died unbaptized were recorded. Near the book

lay many keys, which opened the rooms in which the children's souls

were imprisoned. So he took the keys, released the innocent captive

souls, and went with them to heaven, where he was received with honour,

and a thanksgiving feast was instituted in remembrance of his good

deed.

Among other stories of devils is one of a forester who gave the Devil

three drops of blood for a magic powder which would heal all wounds.

But when[Pg 186] he died, his corpse rushed out at the door, and was

never seen again. Another time, a dull schoolboy, who was always beaten

by his master, met the Devil, who drew blood from three punctures, and

wrote a compact with it; but the boy was rescued by a clever student,

who afterwards died from the bursting of the "blood-vessel of wisdom,"

as was ascertained by autopsy.

The Devil is sometimes represented as driving about in a coach drawn by

twelve black stallions, and annoying the neighbourhood.

Another time, a charitable orphan-girl stayed late one Saturday evening

in the bath-house,[58] after washing the poor and helpless, when the

Devil and his mother and three sons drove up in a coach drawn by four

black stallions, with harness adorned with gold and silver, and asked

her hand for one of his sons. But the maiden fled back into the

bath-house, after making the sign of the cross on the threshold, and

replied that she was not ready, as she had no shoes nor dress. The

Devil desired her to ask for whatever she wanted; but a mouse called to

her to ask for each article separately.[Pg 187] One of the sons fetched

each article as it was asked for; and the maiden was at last fully

attired, when the cock crew, and everything vanished. Next day the

girl's mistress and her daughter were envious of her fine clothes and

ornaments; and next Saturday evening the daughter went to the

bath-house. But she despised the warning of the mouse, and asked for

everything at once, when she was taken into the coach and carried away.

Tales of minor dealings with the Devil are common. A farmer taking flax

to market, invoked the Devil to enable him to sell it well. The Devil

did so, and rode home with him from market, made him drunk, and tempted

him to commit a burglary at the house of a rich man in the

neighbourhood. He put his hat on the farmer's head, which made him

invisible, and broke open the iron bars of the door with his teeth. On

the way home, the farmer cried out, while crossing the ford where he

had first met the Devil, "Good God! how much money I've got!" The Devil

vanished, and all the treasure fell into the stream, and was lost. On

another occasion, a labourer devoted his horse to the Devil, at a time

when an old Devil and his son overheard him. The son wanted to lay

claim to it, but his father warned[Pg 188] him that it was no use, for

such people did not mean what they said, and did not keep their word.

Nevertheless, the imp went to unharness it, and the peasant in terror

invoked the Trinity, when the imp ran away, and his father laughed at

him.

The stories which follow, like several of the preceding, are mostly

told by Jannsen, and deal with various forms of black magic. The first

is an instance of something very like Vampyrism.

MARTIN AND HIS DEAD MASTER.

Martin was a young fellow who was very fond of amusing himself with the

girls, and often sat up talking and joking with them till very late in

the evening. One Sunday, when he had slept very little the night

before, he went to church, and there he fell asleep and did not awake

till dark night. He rubbed his eyes, and could not imagine where he

was, for the church was full of people, and they were all fine

gentlemen. Martin looked about, and recognised among them his former

master, who had been buried three months before. He also knew[Pg 189]

him, and asked, "Well, Martin, when did you die?" "Three months after

you were buried," answered Martin. "Oh, indeed," said the gentleman;

"but what do you think? Shouldn't we go home now for a short visit?

Won't you accompany me?" "I'm ready," said Martin, and he rose and

followed his master. On the way he found a frozen glove, which he put

in his pocket. They came to the mansion, and the master went first to

the stable, for he intended to torment the horses, and thought Martin

would help him. When the gentleman entered, the horses made no sound,

but when Martin came in, they neighed. The master turned round and

said, "Listen, Martin! you can't be really dead. Give me your hand to

feel." Martin thrust his hand into the frozen glove which he had found

on the road, and extended it to his master, who said, "Yes, you are

really dead; your hand is shockingly cold." Then he tormented the

horses till they were covered with white foam. Martin was sorry, but

could do nothing but stand and look on. At last the master ceased his

spiteful work, and said, "Let us go into the house. Go you into the

kitchen and frighten the maids, and I will torment the lady. When it is

time to depart, I will come for you."[Pg 190] The lady screamed and

sobbed with terror as if she was mad, and the maids screamed too, but

with fun and frolic.

After a long time, the master came to the kitchen, and said, "Come,

Martin, let us make haste, for the cocks will soon crow." He would have

liked to have run away, but he was too much afraid, so he went with his

master. On the way his master talked a great deal to him about how his

wife had searched everywhere for the treasure which he had hidden

before his death, and what she had done to banish the nightly

hauntings, but everything was useless. "Yes," said Martin, "it must be

a great sorcerer who can lay spectres and discover treasures in the

ground. Perhaps she will never meet with one."

"Ha! ha!" laughed the gentleman, "no great cleverness is needed. If a

living person was to stamp three times on my grave with his left heel,

and say each time, 'Here shall you lie,' I couldn't get out again. But

the money which I hid in my lifetime is under the floor of my bedroom,

near the stove."

Martin was delighted to hear this, and would have shouted for joy, but

he thought it too dangerous.[Pg 191] They now came to the churchyard,

and the gentleman asked Martin to show him his grave. But Martin said,

"We shall have another opportunity, I'm afraid the cocks are just about

to crow." The gentleman slipped quickly into his grave, when Martin

stamped three times with his left heel on the mound, and said three

times, "Here shall you lie."

"Oh, you liar and scoundrel!" cried the dead man from the grave; "if I

had known that you were still alive, I should have crushed and mangled

you. Now I can do nothing more to you."

Then Martin returned home full of joy, and told the lady all that he

had seen and heard and done. The lady did not know how to thank him

enough. She took him as her husband, and they lived together happily

and honourably; and if they could have got on as well with Death as

with the nocturnal spectre, they might be living still.

Free-shooters, so well known in Germany, are not unknown in Esthonia.

In the story of the "Hunter's Lost Luck" (Kreutzwald), we find a hunter

whose usual skill had deserted him selling himself to the Devil with

three drops of blood for a magic[Pg 192] bullet which should kill the

author of his bad luck. His good luck depended on his not shooting at

the leader of a flock or herd; but one evening, having drunk too much,

he fired at the leader of a troop of foxes, and fell down dead. The

villagers took his body home; but when he was put into the coffin, a

great black cat, which was supposed to be the Old Boy himself, carried

him away.

The story of "The Coiners of Leal" relates to the ruins of an old

castle, which was said to be haunted by a hell-hound.[59] One night a

young nobleman set out to explore it, and was warned off by a tall man

in black clothes, but, on advancing, sank into the vaults, where he

found a number of men coining gold and silver. They bound him by an

oath of secrecy as to their proceedings, warning him that if he broke

it, their master, the dog, would fetch him, and make him coin gold and

silver for ever with them; and he received a sackful of treasure to

remind him of his oath. Some years after, he drank too much at a feast,

told his story, and immediately disappeared, and was never seen again.

[Pg 193]

THE BEWITCHED HORSE.

A farmer's old horse had died, so he skinned it, and threw it behind

the threshing-floor, intending to bury it next day. He saw a great toad

creep under it as he went away. At night he went into the barn to

sleep, and hearing a noise outside, kept watch for thieves; but, to his

horror, he saw the door slowly open, and his dead horse enter. The

horse came in snuffling and snorting, and broke down several of the

posts that supported the loft where his master had been sleeping; but

the farmer contrived to scramble into the rafters. At last the cock

crew, when the horse fell down like a lump of meat, and the farmer too

lost his hold and fell upon him. Next morning the farmer buried the

horse, and stamped three times with his left heel on the grave; so the

horse remained quiet.

But it was a sorcerer who had a grudge against the farmer who had sent

the toad into the carcass of the horse.

[Pg 194]

SECTION IX

_HIDDEN TREASURES_

In Esthonia, as elsewhere, we meet with many stories of hidden

treasures, frequently in connection with devils, and hence we place

this section next to the Devil-stories. The stories of "The Courageous

Barn-keeper" and of the "Gallows Dwarfs" are curious and interesting;

those which follow are given here only in abstract. In all countries

which have been devastated by war, traditions of hidden treasure are

common. I remember once reading a story in a newspaper (but I do not

know if the report was true) of a quantity of coins of Edward the

Confessor and Harold being dug up in a field respecting which there was

a tradition in the neighbourhood that a great treasure was concealed in

it. In Esthonian as well as in Oriental tales, hidden treasures are

usually under the care of non-human guardians, even when it is not said

that they were specially placed under their protection. This notion[Pg

195] probably persists in many countries to the present day. It is said

that when Kidd, the famous pirate, buried a hoard of treasure, he used

to slaughter a negro at the place, that the ghost might guard it.

Stories of his hidden treasure (more or less probable) are still rife

in America.

THE COURAGEOUS BARN-KEEPER.

(Kreutzwald.)

Once upon a time there lived a barn-keeper who had few to equal him in

courage. The Old Boy himself admitted that a bolder man had never yet

appeared on earth. In the evening, when the threshers were no longer at

work in the barn, he often paid a visit to the barn-keeper, and never

tired of talking with him. He was under the impression that the

barn-keeper did not recognise him, and supposed him to be only an

ordinary peasant; but his host knew him well enough, though he

pretended not, and had made up his mind to box Old Hornie's ears if he

could. One evening the Old Boy began to complain of the hard life of a

bachelor, and how he had nobody to knit him a[Pg 196] pair of stockings

or to hem a handkerchief. The barn-keeper answered, "Why don't you go

a-wooing, my brother?" The Old Boy returned, "I've tried my luck often

enough, but the girls won't have me. The younger and prettier they are,

the more they laugh at me."