WELSH-GYPSY STORIES
NO. 54.—JACK AND HIS GOLDEN SNUFF-BOX
Once upon a time there was an old man and an old woman, and they had
one son, and they lived in a great forest. And their son never saw any
other people in his life, but he knew that there was some more in the
world besides his own father and mother, because he had lots of books,
and he used to read every day about them. And when he read about some
pretty young women, he used to go mad to see some of them. Till one
day, when his father was out cutting wood, he told his mother that he
wished to go away to look for his living in some other country, and to
see some other people besides them two. And he said, ‘I see nothing at
all here but great trees around me; and if I stay here, maybe I shall
go mad before I see anything.’
The young man’s father was out all this time, when the conversation was
going on between him and his poor old mother.
The old woman begins by saying to her son before leaving, ‘Well, well,
my poor boy, if you want to go, it’s better for you to go, and God be
with you.’ (The old woman thought for the best when she said that.)
‘But stop a bit before you go. Which would you like best for me to make
you—a little cake and to bless you, or a big cake and to curse you?’
‘Dear! dear!’ said he, ‘make me a big cake. Maybe I shall be hungry on
the road.’
The old woman made the big cake, and she went on top of the house, and
she cursed him as far as she could see him.
He presently meets with his father, and the old man says to him, ‘Where
are you going, my poor boy?’ When the son told the father the same tale
as he told his mother, ‘Well,’ says his father, ‘I’m sorry to see you
going away, but if you’ve made your mind to go, it’s better for you to
go.’
The poor lad had not gone far, till his father called him back; when
the old man drawed out of his pocket a golden snuff-box, and said to
him, ‘Here, take this little box, and put it in your pocket, and be
sure not to open it till you are near your death.’
And away went poor Jack upon his road, and walked till he was tired and
hungry, for he had eaten all his cake upon the road; and by this time
night was upon him, as he could hardly see his way before him. He could
see some light a long way before him, and he made up to it, and found
the back door and knocked at it, till one of the maidservants came and
asked him what he wanted. He said that night was on him, and he wanted
to get some place to sleep. The maidservant called him in to the fire,
and gave him plenty to eat, good meat and bread and beer; and as he was
eating his refreshments by the fire, there came the young lady to look
at him. And she loved him well, and he loved her. And the young lady
ran to tell her father, and said there was a pretty young man in the
back kitchen. And immediately the gentleman came to him, and questioned
him, and asked what work he could do. He said, the silly fellow, that
he could do anything. (Jack meant that he could do any foolish bit of
work, what would be wanted about the house.)
‘Well,’ says the gentleman to him, ‘at eight o’clock in the morning I
must have a great lake and some of the largest man-of-war vessels
sailing before my mansion, and one of the largest vessels must fire a
royal salute, and the last round break the leg of the bed where my
young daughter is sleeping on. And if you don’t do that, you will have
to forfeit your life.’
‘All right,’ said Jack. And away he went to his bed, and said his
prayers quietly, and slept till it was near eight o’clock, and he had
hardly any time to think what he was to do, till all of a sudden he
remembered about the little golden box that his father gave him. And he
said to himself, ‘Well, well, I never was so near my death as I am
now’; and then he felt in his pocket, and drew the little box out.
And when he opened it, there hopped out three little red men and asked
Jack, ‘What is your will with us?’
‘Well,’ said Jack, ‘I want a great lake and some of the largest
man-of-war vessels in the world before this mansion, and one of the
largest vessels to fire a royal salute, and the last round to break one
of the legs of the bed where this young lady is sleeping on.’
‘All right,’ said the little men; ‘go to sleep.’
Jack had hardly time to bring the words out of his mouth, to tell the
little men what to do, but what it struck eight o’clock, when bang,
bang went one of the largest man-of-war vessels; and it made Jack jump
out of bed to look through the window. And I can assure you it was a
wonderful sight for him to see, after being so long with his father and
mother living in a wood.
By this time Jack dressed himself, and said his prayers, and came down
laughing, because he was proud, he was, because the thing was done so
well. The gentleman comes to him, and says to him, ‘Well, my young man,
I must say that you are very clever indeed. Come and have some
breakfast.’ And the gentleman tells him, ‘Now there are two more things
you have to do, and then you shall have my daughter in marriage.’ Jack
gets his breakfast, and has a good squint at the young lady, and also
she at him.
(However, I must get on again with my dear little story.)
The other thing that the gentleman told him to do was to fell all the
great trees for miles around by eight o’clock in the morning; and, to
make my long story short, it was done, and it pleased the gentleman
well. The gentleman said to him, ‘The other thing you have to do’ (and
it was the last thing), ‘you must get me a great castle standing on
twelve golden pillars; and there must come regiments of soldiers, and
go through their drill. At eight o’clock the commanding officer must
say, “Shoulder up.”’ [121] ‘All right,’ said Jack; when the third and
last morning came and the three great feats were finished, when he had
the young daughter in marriage.
But, oh dear! there is worse to come yet.
The gentleman now makes a large hunting party, and invites all the
gentlemen around the country to it, and to see the castle as well. And
by this time Jack has a beautiful horse and a scarlet dress to go with
them. On that morning his valet, when putting Jack’s clothes by, after
changing them to go a-hunting, put his hand in one of Jack’s waistcoat
pockets and pulled out the little golden snuff-box, as poor Jack left
behind in a mistake. And that man opened the little box, and there
hopped the three little red men out, and asked him what he wanted with
them. ‘Well,’ said the valet to them, ‘I want this castle to be moved
from this place far and far across the sea.’ ‘All right,’ said the
little red men to him, ‘do you wish to go with it?’ ‘Yes,’ said he.
‘Well, get up,’ said they to him; and away they went, far and far over
the great sea.
Now the grand hunting party comes back, and the castle upon the twelve
golden pillars disappeared, to the great disappointment of those
gentleman as did not see it before. That poor silly Jack is threatened
by taking his beautiful young wife from him, for taking them in the way
he did. But the gentleman is going to make a ’greement with him, and he
is to have a twelvemonths and a day to look for it; and off he goes
with a good horse and money in his pocket.
Now poor Jack goes in search of his missing castle, over hills, dales,
valleys, and mountains, through woolly woods and sheepwalks, further
than I can tell you to-night or ever intend to tell you. [122] Until at
last he comes up to the place where lives the King of all the little
mice in the world. There was one of the little mice on sentry at the
front gate going up to the palace, and did try to stop Jack from going
in. He asked the little mouse, ‘Where does the King live? I should like
to see him.’ This one sent another with him to show him the place; and
when the King saw him, he called him in. And the King questioned him,
and asked him where he was going that way. Well, Jack told him all the
truth, that he had lost the great castle, and was going to look for it,
and he had a whole twelvemonths and a day to find it out. And Jack
asked him whether he knew anything about it; and the King said, ‘No,
but I am the King of all the little mice in the world, and I will call
them all up in the morning, and maybe they have seen something of it.’
Then Jack got a good meal and bed, and in the morning he and the King
went on to the fields; and the King called all the mice together, and
asked them whether they had seen the great beautiful castle standing on
golden pillars. And all the little mice said, No, there was none of
them had seen it. The old King said to him that he had two other
brothers: ‘One is the King of all the frogs; and my other brother, who
is the oldest, he is the King of all the birds in the world. And if you
go there, maybe they know something about it’ (the missing castle). The
King said to him, ‘Leave your horse here with me till you come back,
and take one of my best horses under you, and give this cake to my
brother; he will know then who you got it from. Mind and tell him I am
well, and should like dearly to see him.’
And then the King and Jack shook hands together. And when Jack was
going through the gates, the little mouse asked him should he go with
him; and Jack said to him, ‘No, I shall get myself into trouble with
the King.’
And the little thing told him, ‘It will be better for you to have me go
with you; maybe I shall do some good to you sometime without you
knowing it.’
‘Jump up, then.’
And the little mouse ran up the horse’s leg, and made it dance; and
Jack put the mouse in his pocket. Now Jack, after wishing good-morning
to the King, and pocketing the little mouse which was on sentry,
trudged on his way. And such a long way he had to go, and this was his
first day. At last he found the place; and there was one of the frogs
on sentry, and gun upon his shoulder, and did try to hinder Jack not to
go in. And when Jack said to him that he wanted to see the King, he
allowed him to pass; and Jack made up to the door. The King came out,
and asked him his business; and Jack told him all from beginning to
ending.
‘Well, well, come in.’
He gets good entertainment that night; and in the morning the King made
a curious sound, and collected all the frogs in the world. And he asked
them, did they know or see anything of a castle that stood upon twelve
golden pillars. And they all made a curious sound, Kro-kro, kro-kro,
and said ‘No.’
Jack had to take another horse, and a cake to his brother which is the
King of all the fowls of the air. And as Jack was going through the
gates, the little frog which was on sentry asked John should he go with
him. Jack refused him for a bit; but at last he told him to jump up,
and Jack put him in his other waistcoat pocket. And away he went again
on his great long journey; it was three times as long this time as it
was the first day; however, he found the place, and there was a fine
bird on sentry. And Jack passed him, and he never said a word to him.
And he talked with the King, and told him everything, all about the
castle.
‘Well,’ said the King to him, ‘you shall know in the morning from my
birds whether they know anything or not.’
Jack put up his horse in the stable, and then went to bed, after having
something to eat. And when he got up in the morning, the King and he
went on to some fields, and there the King made some funny noise, and
there came all the fowls that were in all the world. [123] And the King
asked them, Did they see the fine castle? and all the birds answered,
‘No.’
‘Well,’ said the king, ‘where is the great bird?’
They had to wait, then, for a long time for eagle to make his
appearance, when at last he came all in a perspiration, after sending
two little birds high up in the sky to whistle on him to make all the
haste he possibly could. The King asked the great bird, Did he see the
great castle?
And the bird said, ‘Yes, I came from there where it now is.’
‘Well,’ says the King, ‘this young gentleman has lost it, and you must
go with him back to it. But stop till you get a bit of something to eat
first.’
They killed a thief, and sent the best part of it to feed the eagle on
his journey over the seas, and had to carry Jack on his back. Now, when
they came in sight of the castle, they did not know what to do to get
the little golden box. Well, the little mouse said to them, ‘Leave me
down, and I will get the little box for you.’ So the mouse stole
himself in the castle, and had a hold of the box; and when he was
coming down the stairs, fell it down, and very near being caught. He
came running out with it, laughing his best.
‘Have you got it?’ Jack said to him.
He said, ‘Yes’; and off they went back again, and left the castle
behind. As they were all of them (Jack, mouse, frog, and eagle) passing
over the great sea, they fell to quarrelling about which it was that
got the little box, till down it slipped into the water. (It was by
them looking at it, and handing it from one hand to the other, that
they dropped the little box in the bottom of the sea.)
‘Well, well,’ said the frog, ‘I knew as I would have to do something,
so you had better let me go down in the water.’
And they let him go, and he was down for three days and three nights;
and up he comes, and shows his nose and little mouth out of the water.
And all of them asked him, ‘Did he get it?’ and he told them, ‘No.’
‘Well, what are you doing there, then?’
‘Nothing at all,’ he said; ‘only I want my full breath’; and the poor
little frog went down the second time, and he was down for a day and a
night, and up he brings it.
And away they did go, after being there four days and nights; and,
after a long tug over seas and mountains, arrive at the old King’s
palace, who is the master of all the birds in the world. And the King
is very proud to see them, and has a hearty welcome and a long
conversation. Jack opens the little box, and told the little men to go
back and to bring the castle here to them. ‘And all of you make as much
haste back again as you possibly can.’
The three little men went off; and when they came near the castle, they
were afraid to go to it, till the gentleman and lady and all the
servants were gone out to some dance. And there was no one left behind
there, only the cook and another maid with her. And it happened to be
that a poor Gypsy woman, knowing that the family was going from home,
made her way to the castle to try to tell the cook’s fortune for a bit
of victuals, was there at the time. And the little red men asked her,
‘Which would she rather—go or stop behind?’
And she said, ‘I will go with you.’
And they told her to run upstairs quick. She was no sooner up and in
one of the drawing-rooms than there comes just in sight the gentleman
and lady and all the servants. But it was too late. Off they went at
full speed, and the Gypsy woman laughing at them through the window,
making motion for them to stop, but all to no purpose. They were nine
days on their journey, in which they did try to keep the Sunday holy,
by one of the little men turned to be priest, the other the clerk, and
third presided at the organ, and the three women were the singers
(cook, housemaid, and Gypsy woman), as they had a grand chapel in the
castle already. Very remarkable, there was a discord made in the music,
and one of the little men ran up one of the organ-pipes to see where
the bad sound came from, when he found out that it only happened to be
that the three women were laughing at the little red man stretching his
little legs full length on the bass pipes, also his two arms the same
time, with his little red nightcap, what he never forgot to wear, and
what they never witnessed before, could not help calling forth some
good merriment while on the face of the deep. And, poor things! through
them not going on with what they begun with, they very near came to
danger, as the castle was once very near sinking in the middle of the
sea.
At length, after merry journey, they come again to Jack and the King.
The King was quite struck with the sight of the castle; and going up
the golden stairs, wishing to see the inside, when the first one that
attracted his attention was the poor Gypsy woman. And he said to her,
‘How are you, sister?’
She said to him, ‘I am very well. How are you?’
‘Quite well,’ said he to her; ‘come into my place, to have a talk with
you, and see who you are, and who your people are.’
The old Gypsy woman told him that some of her people were some of them
from the Lovells, Stanleys, Lees, and I don’t know all their names. The
King and Jack was very much pleased with the Gypsy woman’s
conversation, but poor Jack’s time was drawing to a close of a
twelvemonths and a day. And he, wishing to go home to his young wife,
gave orders to the three little men to get ready by the next morning at
eight o’clock to be off to the next brother, and to stop there for one
night; also to proceed from there to the last or the youngest brother,
the master of all the mice in the world, in such place where the castle
shall be left under his care until it’s sent for. Jack takes a farewell
of the King, and thanks him very much for his hospitality, and tells
him not to be surprised when he shall meet again in some other country.
Away went Jack and his castle again, and stopped one night in that
place; and away they went again to the third place, and there left the
castle under his care. As Jack had to leave the castle behind, he had
to take to his own horse, which he left there when he first started.
The king liked the Gypsy woman well, and told her that he would like if
she would stay there with him; and the Gypsy woman did stay with him
until she was sent for by Jack.
Now poor Jack leaves his castle behind and faces towards home; and
after having so much merriment with the three brothers every night,
Jack became sleepy on horseback, and would have lost the road if it was
not for the little men a-guiding him. At last he arrives, weary and
tired, and they did not seem to receive him with any kindness whatever,
because he did not find the stolen castle. And to make it worse, he was
disappointed in not seeing his young and beautiful wife to come and
meet him, through being hindered by her parents. But that did not stop
long. Jack put full power on. Jack despatched the little men off to
bring the castle from there, and they soon got there; and the first one
they seen outside gather sticks to put on the fire was the poor Gypsy
woman. And they did whistle [124] to her, when she turned around
smartly and said to them, ‘Dordi! dordi! [125] how are you, comrades?
where do you come from, and where are you going?’
‘Well, to tell the truth, we are sent to take this castle from here. Do
you wish to stop here or to come with us?’
‘I would like better to go with you than to stay here.’
‘Well, come on, my poor sister.’
Jack shook hands with the King, and returned many thanks for his kingly
kindness. When, all of a sudden, the King, seeing the Gypsy woman,
which he fell in so much fancy with, and whom he so much liked, was
going to detain the castle until such time he could get her out. But
Jack, perceiving his intentions, and wanting the Gypsy woman himself
for a nurse, instructed the little men to spur up and put speed on. And
off they went, and were not long before they reached their journey’s
end, when out comes the young wife to meet him with a fine lump of a
young Son.
Now, to make my long story short, Jack, after completing what he did,
and to make a finish for the poor broken-hearted Gypsy woman, he has
the loan of one of his father-in-law’s largest man-of-wars, which is
laying by anchor, and sends the three little men in search of her
kinsfolk, so as they may be found, and to bring them to her. After long
searching they are found and brought back, to the great joy of the
woman and delight of his wife’s people-in-law, for after a bit they
became very fond of each other. When they came on land, Jack’s people
allowed them to camp on their ground near a beautiful river; and the
gentlemen and ladies used to go and see for them every day. Jack and
his wife had many children, and had some of the Gypsy girls for nurses;
and the little children were almost half Gypsies, for the girls
continually learning them our language. And the gentleman and the lady
were delighted with them. And the last time I was there, I played my
harp for them, and got to go again.
This story, like the next, was first printed in my In Gypsy Tents
(1880), pp. 201–214 and 299–317. Thence both have been reprinted,
with additions and deletions of his own, by Mr. Joseph Jacobs in
his English Fairy Tales (1890), pp. 81–92, 236, and More English
Fairy Tales (1894), pp. 132–145, 232–233. They are not English
fairy-tales at all; neither were they ‘taken down from the mouths
of the peasantry.’ Both were written out for me by the Welsh-Gypsy
harper, John Roberts, for whom see the Introduction. I still have
his neatly-written MSS., from one of which the second story of ‘An
Old King and his Three Sons in England’ was printed verbatim et
literatim at Messrs. T. and A. Constable’s for the Gypsy Lore
Journal (vol. iii. October 1891, pp. 110–120). I insist upon this
the more as it is all but unique to find the teller of a folk-tale
who can himself transcribe it. The story belongs to the Aladdin
group; and according to Mr. Jacobs, the closest parallel to it,
including the mice, is afforded by Carnoy and Nicolaides’
Traditions Populaires de l’Asie Mineure (1889), in a tale from
Lesbos, ‘L’Anneau de Bronze,’ No. 3, pp. 57–74. A much closer
parallel, however, is afforded by Wratislaw’s Sixty Slavonic
Folk-tales (1889), in the Croatian story of ‘The Wonder-working
Lock,’ No. 54, pp. 284–289, with which compare a poorish Bohemian
variant, ‘La Montre Enchantée,’ in Louis Léger’s Contes Slaves
(1882, No. 15, pp. 129–137); Hahn’s ‘Von den drei dankbaren
Thieren’ (No. 9, i. 109, and ii. 202); and two stories, Nos. 9 and
10, both called ‘Le Serpent Reconnaissant,’ in Dozon’s Contes
Albanais (1881, pp. 63–76, and 219–222), in the former of which the
talisman is a snakestone, in the latter a tobacco-box (of course, a
mere coincidence). All these four stories offer analogies to our
Roumanian-Gypsy ‘Snake who became the King’s Son-in-law’ (No. 7, p.
21). Grimm’s No. 97, ‘The Water of Life’ (ii. 50, 399), should also
be compared; and ‘Sir Bumble,’ in F. A. Steel’s Wide-awake Stories,
pp. 5–16. The little cake and blessing, or big cake and curse,
recurring in ‘The Ten Rabbits,’ No. 64, comes also in ‘The Red
Etin’ (Chambers’s Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 90), in Campbell’s
West Highland Tales, Nos. 13, 16, and 17, and in Patrick Kennedy’s
Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts, pp. 5, 54. In the
Bukowina-Gypsy story, ‘Made over to the Devil’ (No. 34), the mother
makes a cake for her departing son, but there is no word of curse
or blessing. For many more variants (Arabic, Mongolian, Tamil,
Greek, etc.) of ‘Aladdin,’ see Clouston’s Variants of Burton’s
Supplemental Arabian Nights, pp. 564–575. ‘The elements,’ he
observes, ‘of the tale are identical in all versions, Eastern and
Western: a talisman by means of which its possessor can command
unlimited wealth, etc.; its loss and the consequent disappearance
of the magnificent palace erected by supernatural agents who are
subservient to the owner of the talisman; and, finally, its
recovery, together with the restoration of the palace to its
original situation.’ The words apply strikingly to ‘Jack and his
Golden Snuff-box,’ of whose existence Mr. Clouston was ignorant
when he wrote them. Lastly—this is a find since I began this note—a
marvellously close parallel to ‘The Wonder-working Lock’ and ‘La
Montre Enchantée’ is offered by ‘The Wonderful Ring,’ in F. A.
Steel’s Wide-awake Stories from the Panjab and Kashmir, pp.
196–208. Here the hero with his last four rupees buys a cat, dog,
parrot, and snake; receives from snake’s grateful father a
talismanic ring; builds by means of it a golden palace in the sea,
and marries a princess; has the ring stolen by a witch, who sleeps
with it in her mouth; but recovers it, thanks to the grateful
animals, who tickle the witch’s nose with a rat’s tail. Another
Oriental version is ‘The Charmed Ring,’ in Knowles’s Folk-tales of
Kashmir, pp. 20–28. Of this story and its Croatian, Albanian, and
other variants we get a fragment in Dr. Barbu Constantinescu’s
Roumanian-Gypsy story of ‘The Stolen Ox.’ Here a peasant and his
twelve sons are starving. He goes begging, but no one will give him
anything, so he steals an ox from a farmer. The farmer next morning
goes to look after his cattle, misses the ox, and, going in search
of it, comes on the boys in the road. ‘What are you doing there,
boys?’ ‘Just playing.’ ‘But last night you were roaring for
hunger.’ ‘Yes; but my daddy went to a farm and stole an ox, and my
daddy killed it. He killed the ox, he did, and we ate half the ox,
and half remained, and my daddy buried it in the earth, wrapped up
in the hide.’ The farmer goes and demands payment of the peasant,
who gives him one of his sons to serve him for seven years. The lad
serves the farmer faithfully, and at the end of his term sets off
home. On his way he ‘lights on a dragon, and in the snake’s mouth
was a stag. Nine years had that snake had the stag in his mouth,
and been trying to swallow it, but could not because of the horns.
Now that snake was a prince. And seeing the lad, whom God had sent
his way, “Lad,” said the snake, “relieve me of this stag’s horns,
for I’ve been going about nine years with it in my mouth.” So the
lad broke off the horns, and the snake swallowed the stag. “My lad,
tie me round your neck, and carry me to my father, for he doesn’t
know where I am.” So he carried him to his father, and his father
rewarded him. And I came away, and told the tale.’
NO. 55.—AN OLD KING AND HIS THREE SONS IN ENGLAND
Once upon a time there was an old King, who had three sons. And the old
King fell very sick one time, and there was nothing at all could make
him well but some golden apples from a far country. So the three
brothers went on horseback to look for some of those apples to recover
their father. The three brothers set off together; and when they come
to some cross-roads, they halted and refreshed themselves a bit. And
there they agreed to meet on a certain time, and not one was to go home
before the other. So Valentine took the right, and Oliver [126] went on
straight, and poor Jack took the left. And, so as to make my long story
short, I shall follow poor Jack, and leave the other two take their
chance, for I don’t think they was much good in them. Well, now, poor
Jack rides off over hills, dales, valleys, and mountains, through
woolly woods and sheepwalks, where the Old Chap never sounded his
hollow bugle horn, further than I can tell you to-night, or ever I
intend to tell you. [127]
At last he came to some old house near a great forest, and there was
some old man sitting out by the door, and his look was enough to
frighten the Devil. And the old man said to him, ‘Good-morning, my
king’s son.’
‘Good-morning to you, old gentleman,’ was the answer by the young
prince, and frightened out of his wits, but he did not like to give in.
The old gentleman told him to dismount and to go in and have some
refreshments, and to put his horse in the stable, such as it was. After
going in, and Jack feeling much better after having something to eat,
and after his long ride, began to ask the old gentleman how did he know
that he was a king’s son?
‘Oh dear!’ said the old man, ‘I knew that you was a king’s son, and I
knew what is your business better than what you do yourself. So you
will have to stay here to-night; and when you are in bed, you mustn’t
be frightened when you hear something come to you. There will come all
manner of snakes and frogs, and some will try to get into your eyes and
into your mouth. And mind,’ the old man said, ‘if you stir the least
bit, then you will turn into one of those things yourself.’
Poor Jack did not know what to make of this, but however, he ventured
to go to bed; and just as he thought to have a bit o’ sleep, here they
came around him, but he never stirred one bit all night.
‘Well, my young son, how are you this morning?’
‘Oh! I am very well, thank you, but I did not have much rest.’
‘Well, never mind that. You have got on very well so far, but you have
a great deal to go through before you can have the golden apples to go
to your father. So now you better come to have some breakfast before
you start on your way to my other brother’s house. Now you will have to
leave your own horse here with me, until you come back here again to
me, and to tell me everything about how you got on.’
After that out comes a fresh horse for the young prince. And the old
man give him a ball of yarn; and he flung it between the horse’s two
ears. And off he goes as fast as the wind, which the wind behind could
not catch the wind before, until he came to his second oldest brother’s
house. When he rode up to the door, he had the same salute as he had
from the first old man; but this one was much uglier than the first
one. He had long grey hair, and his teeth was curling out of his mouth,
and his finger and toe nails were not cut for many thousands of years.
So I shall leave you to guess what sort of a looking being he was, but
still his Rómani speech was soft and nice, much different to his
younger brother. He puts his horse in a much better stable, and calls
him in, and gives him plenty to eat and drink, and lots of tobacco and
brandy. And they have a bit of chat before they goes to bed. When the
old man asks him many questions: ‘Well, my young son, I suppose that
you are one of the King’s children, and come to look for the golden
apples to recover him, because he is sick?’
Jack.—‘Yes; I am the youngest of the three brothers, and I should like
well to get them to go back with.’
Old Man.—‘Well, don’t mind, my young son. I will send before you
to-night to my oldest brother, when you go to bed, and I will say all
to him what you want, and then he will not have much trouble to send
you on to the place where you must go to get them. But you must mind
to-night not to stir when you hear those things biting and stinging
you, or else you will work great mischief to yourself.’
The young man went to bed, and beared all, as he did the first night,
and got up the next morning well and hearty, and thought a good deal of
the old man’s Rómani way the night before. After a good breakfast, and
passing some few remarks, What a curious place that was, when the old
man should say, ‘Yes’ to him, ‘you will see a more curious place soon;
and I hope I shall see you back here all right.’ When out comes another
fresh horse, and a ball of yarn to throw between his ears. The old man
tells him to jump up, and said to him that he has made it all right
with his oldest brother to give him a quick reception, and not to delay
any whatever, ‘as you have a good deal to go through in a very short
and quick time.’
He flung the ball, and off he goes as quick as lightning, and comes to
the oldest brother’s house. (I forgot to tell you that the last old man
told him not to be frightened at this one’s looks.) Well, to make my
long story short, the old man received him very kindly, and told him
that he long wished to see him, and that he would go through his work
like a man, and return back here safe and sound.
‘Now to-night I shall give you rest; there shall nothing come to
disturb you, so as you may not feel sleepy to-morrow. And you must mind
to get up middling early, for you’ve got to go and come all in the same
day. For there will be no place for you to rest within thousands of
miles of that place; and if there was, you would stand in great danger
never to come from there in your own form. Now, my young Prince, mind
what I tell you. To-morrow, when you go in sight of a very large
castle, which will be surrounded with black water, the first thing you
will do you will tie your horse to a tree, and you will see three
beautiful swans in sight. When you will say, ‘Swan, swan, carry me over
for the name of the Griffin of the Greenwood’; and the swans will swim
you over to the castle. There will be three great entrances, before you
go in. The first will be guarded by four great giants, and drawn swords
in their hands; the second entrance lions and other things; and the
other with fiery serpents and other things too frightful to mention.
You will have to be there exactly at one o’clock; and mind and leave
there precisely at two, and not a moment later. When the swans carry
you over to the castle, you will pass all these things, when they will
be all fast asleep, but you must not notice any of them. When you go
in, you will turn up to the right, you will see some grand rooms, then
you will go downstairs and through the cooking kitchen, and through a
door on your left you go into a garden, where you will find the apples
you want for your father to get him well. After you fill your wallet,
you make all the speed you possibly can, and call out for the swans to
carry you over the same as before. After you get on your horse, should
you hear any shouting or making any noise after you, be sure not to
look back, as they will follow you for thousands of miles; but when the
time will be up and you near my place, it will be all over. Well, now,
my young man, I have told you all you have to do to-morrow; and mind,
whatever you do, don’t look about you when you see all those dreadful
things. Keep a good heart, and make haste from there, and come back to
me with all the speed you can. I should like to know how my two
brothers were when you left them, and what they said about me.’
‘Well, to tell the truth, before I left London, my father was sick, and
said I was to come here to look for the golden apples, for they were
the only things would do him good. And when I came to your youngest
brother, I could not understand him well: his speech was like the
English Gypsies and not like yours. [128] You speak the same as the
Welsh Gypsies, and so I understand your second brother well. He told me
many things what to do before I came here. And I thought once that your
youngest brother put me in the wrong bed, when he put all those snakes
to bite me all night long, until he [i.e. the middle brother] told me,
“So it was to be,” and said, “So it is the same here,” but said you had
none in your beds, but said when I came to you I should find you a fine
dear Rómani old man.’
The Old Man.—‘So ’tis, my daddy. My youngest brother ran away when he
was young with the English Gypsies, and their speech is not the same as
our speech. Well, let’s take a drop more brandy and a little tobacco,
and then let’s go to bed. You need not fear. There are no snakes here.’
The young man went to bed, and had a good night’s rest, and got up the
next morning as fresh as newly caught trout. Breakfast being over, when
out come the other horse, and, when saddling and fettling, the old man
began to laugh, and told the young gentleman that if he saw a pretty
young lady, not to stay with her too long, because she may waken, and
then he would have to stay with her, or to be turned into one of those
unearthly monsters, like those which he will have to pass by going into
the castle.
‘Ha! ha! ha! you make me laugh that I can scarcely buckle the
saddle-straps. I think I shall make it all right, my uncle, if I sees a
young lady there, you may depend.’
‘Well, my daddy, I shall see how you will get on.’
So he mounts his Arab steed, and off he goes like a shot out of a gun.
At last he comes in sight of the castle. He ties his horse safe to a
tree, and pulls out his watch. It was then a quarter to one, when he
called out, ‘Swan, swan, carry me over, for the name of the old Griffin
of the Greenwood.’ No sooner said than done. A swan under each side,
and one in front, took him over in a crack. He got on his legs, and
walked quietly by all those giants, lions, fiery serpents, and all
manner of other frightful things too numerous to mention, while they
were all fast asleep, and that only for the space of one hour, when
into the castle he goes neck or nothing. Turning to the right, upstairs
he runs, and enters into a very grand bedroom, and seen a beautiful
Princess lying full stretch on a beautiful gold bedstead, fast asleep.
It will take me too long to describe the other beautiful things which
was in the room at the time, so you will pardon me for going on, for
there was no time to lose. He gazed on her beautiful form with
admiration, and looked at her foot, and said, ‘Where there is a pretty
foot, there must be a pretty leg.’ And he takes her garter off, and
buckles it on his own leg, and he buckles his on hers; he also takes
her gold watch and pocket-handkerchief, and exchanges his for hers;
after that ventures to give her a kiss, when she very near opened her
eyes. Seeing the time short, off he runs downstairs, and passing
through the cooking kitchen, through where he had to pass to go into
the garden for the apples, he could see the cook all-fours on her back
on the middle of the floor, with the knife in one hand and the fork in
the other. He found the apples out, and filled his wallet well; and by
passing through the kitchen the cook did very near waken, and she did
wink on him with one eye; he was obliged to make all the speed he
possibly could, as the time was nearly up. He called out for the swans,
and off they managed to take him over, but they found he was a little
heavier than when he was going over before. No sooner than he had
mounted his horse, he could hear a tremendous noise, and the
enchantment was broke, and they tried to follow him, but all to no
purpose. He was not long before he came to the oldest brother’s house;
and glad enough he was to see it, for the sight and the noise of all
those things that were after him near frightened him to death.
‘Welcome, my daddy, I am proud to see you. Dismount and put the horse
in the stable, and come in and have some refreshments; I know you are
hungry after all you have gone through in that castle. And tell all
what you did, and all what you saw there. There was other kings’ sons
went by here to go to that castle, but they never came back alive, and
you are the only one that ever broke the spell (for me to go from
here). And now you must come with me, and a sword in your hand, and
must cut my head off and must throw it in that well.’
The young Prince dismounts, and puts the horse in the stable, and then
goes in to have some refreshments, for I can assure you he wanted some.
And after telling him everything that passed, which the old gentleman
was very pleased to hear, they both went for a walk together, the young
Prince looking around and seeing the place all round him looking
dreadful, also the old man. He could scarcely walk from his toe-nails
curling up like ram’s horns that had not been cut for many hundred
years, and big long hair. And although his teeth was curling out of his
mouth, he could speak the Rómani language better than any other. They
come to a well, and he gives the Prince a sword, and tells him to cut
the old man’s head off, and to throw it in that well. The young man,
through him being so kind to him, has to do it against his wish, but
has to do it.
No sooner he does it, and flings his head in the well, than up springs
one of the finest young gentlemen you would wish to see; and instead of
the old house and the frightful-looking place, it was changed into a
beautiful hall and grounds. And they went back, and enjoyed themselves
well, and had a good laugh about the castle, when he told him all about
what had passed, especially when he told him about the cook winking on
him and could not open the other eye. The young Prince leaves this
young gentleman in all his glory, and he tells the young Prince before
leaving that he will see him again before long. They have a jolly
shake-hands, and off he goes to the next oldest brother; and, to make
my long story short, he has to serve the other two brothers the same as
the first, and he has to take to his own horse to go home.
Now the youngest brother there was a good deal of the English Gypsy in
him, and begun to ask him how things went on, and making inquiries and
asking, ‘Did you see my two brothers?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did they look?’
‘Oh! they looked very well. I liked them much. They told me many things
what to do.’
‘Well, did you go to the castle?’
‘Yes, my uncle.’
‘And will you tell me what you see in there? Did you see the young
lady?’
‘Yes, I saw her, and plenty other frightful things.’
‘Did you hear any snake biting you in my oldest brother’s bed?’
‘No, there were none there; I slept well.’
‘You won’t have to sleep in the same bed to-night. You will have to cut
off my head in the morning.’
The young Prince had a good night’s rest, and changed all the
appearance of the place by cutting his head off before he started in
the morning, having a good breakfast, and supplying himself with a
little brandy and a good lot of tobacco for the road before starting,
for he had a very long way to go, and his horse had not the same speed
as theirs had. A jolly shake-hands, and tells him it’s very probable
that he shall see him again very soon when he will not be aware of it.
This one’s mansion was very pretty, and the country around it
beautiful, after having his head cut off. And off he goes, over hills,
dales, valleys, and mountains, and very near losing his apples again.
(I forgot to tell you that he give some to each of those brothers
before leaving.)
At last he arrives at the cross-roads where he has to meet his brothers
on the very day appointed. Coming up to the place, he sees no tracks of
horses, and, being very tired, he lays himself down to sleep, by tying
the horse to his leg, [129] and putting the apples under his head. When
presently up comes the other brothers the same time to the minute, and
found him fast asleep. And they would not waken him, but said one to
another, ‘Let’s see what sort of apples he has got under his head.’ So
they took and tasted them, and found they were different from theirs.
They took and changed his apples for theirs, and hooked it off to
London as fast as they could, and left the poor fellow sleeping.
After a while he awoke, and, seeing the tracks of other horses, he
mounted and off with him, not thinking anything about the apples being
changed. He had still a long way to go by himself, and by the time he
got near London he could hear all the bells in the town ringing, but
did not know what was the matter until he rode up to the palace, when
he came to know that his father was recovered by his brothers’ apples.
When he got there, his two brothers went off to some sports for a
while. And the king was very glad to see his youngest son, and was very
anxious to taste his apples. And when he found that they were not good,
and thought that they were more for poisoning him, he sent immediately
for the head butcher to behead his youngest son; and was taken away
there and then in a carriage. But instead of the butcher taking his
head off, he took him to some forest not far from the town, because he
had pity on him, and there left him to take his chance. When presently
up comes a big hairy bear, limping upon three legs; and the Prince,
poor fellow, climbed up a tree, frightened of him, and the bear telling
him to come down, that it’s no use of him to stop there. With hard
persuasion poor Jack comes down; and the bear speaks to him in Rómani,
and bids him to ‘Come here to me; I will not do you any harm. It’s
better for you to come with me and have some refreshments. I know that
you are hungry all this time.’
The poor young Prince says, ‘No, I am not very hungry; but I was very
frightened when I saw you coming to me first, when I had no place to
run away from you.’
The bear said, ‘I was also afraid of you when I saw that gentleman
setting you down from that carriage. I thought you would have some guns
with you, and that you would not mind killing me if you would see me.
But when I saw the gentleman going away with the carriage, and leaving
you behind by yourself, I made bold to come to you, to see who you was;
and now I know who you are very well. Isn’t you the King’s youngest
son? I seen you and your brothers and lots of other gentlemen in this
wood many times. Now, before we go from here, I must tell you that I am
a Gypsy in disguise; and I shall take you where we are stopping at.’
The young Prince up and tells him everything from first to last, how he
started in search of the apples, and about the three old men, and about
the castle, and how he was served at last by his father after he came
home; and instead of the butcher to take his head off, he was kind
enough to leave him to have his life, and to take his chance in the
forest, live or die; ‘and here I am now, under your protection.’
The bear tells him, ‘Come on, my brother. There shall be no harm come
to you as long as you are with me.’
So he takes him up to the tents; and when they sees ’em coming, the
girls begin to laugh, and says, ‘Here is our Jubal coming with a young
gentleman.’
When he advanced nearer the tents, they all begun to know that he was
the young Prince that had passed by that way many times before; and
when Jubal went to change himself, he called most of them together in
one tent, and tells them everything all about him, and tells them to be
kind to him. And so they were, for there was nothing that he desired
but what he had, the same as if he was in the palace with his father
and mother. He was allowed to romp and play with the girls, but no
further, though his princely manners and the chastity of the girls
hindered all bad thoughts. Him having lessons on the Welsh harp when a
boy by some Welsh harper belonging to the Woods or Roberts family, who
were Welsh Gypsies of North Wales, made a little difference to his way
of speaking to that of the London magpies, when they used to say,
‘Dorda! this young gentleman talks as if he was two hundred years old;
we can’t understand him.’ They used to have a deal of fun with him at
night-time, when telling his funny tales by the fire. Jubal, after he
pulled off his hairy coat, was one of the smartest young men amongst
them, and he stuck to be the young Prince’s closest companion. The
young Prince was always very sociable and merry, only when he would
think of his gold watch, the one as he had from the young Princess in
that castle. The butcher allowed him to keep that for company, and did
not like to take it from him, as it might come useful to him some time
or another. And the poor fellow did not know where he lost it, being so
much excited with everything.
He passed off many happy days with the Stanleys and Grays in Epping
Forest. But one day him and poor Jubal was strolling through the trees,
when they came to the very same spot where they first met, and,
accidentally looking up, he could see his watch hanging up in the tree
which he had to climb when he first seen poor Jubal coming to him in
the form of a bear; and cries out, ‘Jubal, Jubal, I can see my watch up
in that tree.’
‘Well! I am sure, how lucky!’ exclaimed poor Jubal, ‘shall I go and get
it down?’
‘No, I’d rather go myself,’ said the young Prince.
Now when all this was going on, the young Princess whom he changed
those things with in that castle, seeing that one of the King of
England’s sons had been there by the changing of the watch, [130] and
other things, got herself ready with a large army, and sailed off for
England. She left her army a little out of the town, and she went with
her guards straight up to the palace to see the King, and also demanded
to see his sons, and brought a fine young boy with her about nine or
ten months old. They had a long conversation together about different
things. At last she demands one of the sons to come before her; and the
oldest comes, when she asks him, ‘Have you ever been at the Castle of
Melváles?’ and he answers ‘Yes.’ She throws down a pocket-handkerchief,
bids him to walk over that without stumbling. He goes to walk over it,
and no sooner he put his foot on it he fell down and broke his leg. He
was taken off immediately and made a prisoner of by her own guards. The
other was called upon, and was asked the same questions, and had to go
through the same performance, and he also was made a prisoner of.
Now she says, ‘Have you not another son?’
When the King began to shiver and shake and knock his two knees
together that he could scarcely stand upon his legs, and did not know
what to say to her; he was so much frightened. At last a thought came
to him to send for his head butcher, and inquired of him particularly,
Did he behead his son, or is he alive?
‘He is saved, O King.’
‘Then bring him here immediately, or else I shall be done for.’
Two of the fastest horses they had were put in the carriage, to go and
look for the poor Welsh-harping Prince. And when they got to the very
same spot where they left him, that was the time when the Prince was up
the tree, getting his watch down, and poor Jubal standing a distance
off. They cried out to him, Did he see another young man in this wood?
Jubal, seeing such a nice carriage, thought something, and did not like
to say No, and said Yes, and pointed up the tree. And they told him to
come down immediately, as there is a young lady in search of him with a
young child.
‘Ha! ha! ha! Jubal, did you ever hear such a thing in all your life, my
brother?’
‘Do you call him your brother?’
‘Well, he has been better to me than my brothers.’
‘Well, for his kindness he shall come to accompany you to the palace,
and see how things will turn out.’
After they go to the palace, he has a good wash, and appears before the
Princess, when she asks him, or puts the question to him, ‘Had he ever
been at the Castle of Melváles?’ when he with a smile upon his face,
and gives a graceful bow.
And says my lady, ‘Walk over that handkerchief without stumbling.’
He walks over it many times, and dances upon it, and nothing happened
to him. She said, with a proud and smiling air, ‘That is the young
man’; and out comes the exchanged things by both of them. Presently she
orders a very large box to be brought in and to be opened, and out come
some of the most costly uniforms that was ever wore on an emperor’s
back; and when he dressed himself up, the King could scarcely look upon
him from the dazzling of the gold and diamonds on his coat and other
things. He orders his two brothers to be in confinement for a period of
time; and before the Princess demands him to go with her to her own
country, she pays a visit to the Gypsies’ camp, and she makes them some
very handsome presents for being so kind to the young Prince. And she
gives Jubal an invitation to go with them, which he accepts, also one
of the girls for a nurse; wishes them a hearty farewell for a time,
promising to see them again in some little time to come, by saying,
‘Cheer up, comrades, I’m a Rómani myself; I should like to see you in
my country.’
They go back to the King and bids farewell, and tells him not to be so
hasty another time to order people to beheaded [131] before having a
proper cause for it. Off they go with all their army with them; but
while the soldiers were striking their tents, he bethought himself of
his Welsh harp, and had it sent for immediately to take with him in a
beautiful wooden case. After they went over, they called to see each of
those three brothers whom the Prince had to stay with when he was on
his way to the Castle of Melváles; and I can assure you, when they all
got together, they had a very merry time of it. The last time I seen
him, I play upon the Prince’s harp; and he told me he should like to
see me again in North Wales. Ha! ha! ha! I am glad that I have come to
the finish. I ought to have a drop of Scotch ale for telling all those
lies.
As I said in my notes to No. 54, Mr. Joseph Jacobs has also
reprinted this story, with alterations (e.g. of ‘head butcher’ to
‘headsman’), additions, and omissions of his own. Especially has he
deleted every mention of Gypsies, whilst leaving in references to
‘tents,’ ‘camp,’ etc., which thus appear rather à propos de bottes.
Such tampering with folk-tales reminds one somehow of your
‘restoring’ architect, called in about an old church. ‘Yes,’ he
pronounces, ‘that window is Late Perpendicular, so will have to
come out, and we’ll put in an Early English one according to the
original design.’ Not that he knows the original design, but he
pleases his dupes: some there be, however, that curse. But Grimm,
Mr. Jacobs pleads, rewrote his fairy-tales. Maybe He did, but every
folklorist is not a Grimm.
After this, Mr. Jacobs remarks that ‘the tale is scarcely a good
example for Mr. Hindes Groome’s contention (in Transactions
Folk-Lore Congress) for the diffusion of all folk-tales by means of
gypsies as colporteurs. This is merely a matter of evidence, and of
evidence there is singularly little, though it is indeed curious
that one of Campbell’s best equipped informants should turn out to
be a Gypsy. Even this fact, however, is not too well
substantiated.’ As I have shown in my Introduction, I have never
made such a contention; there, too, I have told all I know about
Campbell’s informant—Mr. Jacobs, perhaps, may know more. But his
oracular judgment, that this story is a poor example for my (real)
contention, that is what staggers me, unbacked though it be by one
tittle of counter-evidence. The following is all I can adduce in
self-vindication.
My friend Mr. Sampson has got from Matthew Wood another Welsh-Gypsy
version, called ‘I Valín Kalo Pāni’ (The Bottle of Black Water).
‘This,’ he writes, ‘is a variant of your “King and his Three Sons,”
with which it agrees in most particulars, except of course Roberts’
own picturesque little touches, and that a bottle of black water
takes the place of the three golden apples.’ Then, what I did not,
could not know when I published In Gypsy Tents (1880), there is a
closely parallel non-Gypsy variant in Professor Theodor
Vernaleken’s In The Land of Marvels (Eng. trans. 1884), No. 52, pp.
304–9 and 360. It is called ‘The Accursed Garden,’ and comes from
St. Pölden in Lower Austria. Here is a summary:—
A king has three sons, the youngest the handsomest. He falls sick,
and learns he can only get better by eating a fruit from the
Accursed Garden. The brothers set out one after the other; the two
eldest lose all their money gaming in an inn, and are put in jail
(cf. No. 49, p. 184). The youngest son comes to a hermit’s in a
great forest, inquires the way to the Accursed Garden, and gets a
red ball, which, flung before him, will show the way. He next comes
to a black dog, and sleeps three nights with him, then to a red
dog, lastly to a white maiden. Before reaching the mountain on
whose top is the garden he ties his horse to a fig-tree. He has to
enter the garden at eleven, and leave before noon. In a castle in
the midst of the garden he finds a sleeping lady, writes down his
name and address, departs and is pursued by devouring beasts.
Returning to the white maiden, he is desired by her to divide a
grape into four parts, and to cast a part into each corner of her
dwelling. Immediately it became a splendid palace. The red and
black dogs are likewise changed into princes, and the hermit into a
king. The prince comes up as his brothers are going to be hanged,
buys them off, is robbed by them in the night of his fruit,
receiving in its stead a poisoned one, and then is thrown into a
valley. The late hermit discovers and revives him, but the king his
father, finding his fruit is poisoned, orders him to be shot. But
the servant spares him; and the young lady, arriving with a great
army, proclaims that if the prince who fetched the fruit be not
produced she will besiege the city. Then the servant tells how he
spared the prince, who is sought for and brought to the king. He
accurately describes the garden, and marries the princess.
This version is markedly inferior to our Welsh-Gypsy one; still, I
know in all folklore of few closer parallels. And the two versions
are separated by over four centuries and by more than a thousand
miles. The ball of yarn on p. 221 recurs in two other Welsh-Gypsy
stories, ‘The Black Dog of the Wild Forest’ (‘You follow this ball
of worsted. Now it will take you right straight to a river’) and
‘The Green Man of Noman’s Land’ (‘She ... gives him a ball of
thread to place between the horse’s ears’). In Dasent’s Norse tale
of ‘The Golden Palace that hung in the Air’ (Tales from the Fjeld,
p. 291) an old hag gives the hero ‘a grey ball of wool, which he
had only to roll on before him and he would come to whatever place
he wished.’ In Addy’s Household Tales, p. 50, there is a curious
but poorly told story from Wensley in Derbyshire, ‘The Little Red
Hairy Man,’ a variant of our ‘Mare’s Son’ (No. 20) and
‘Twopence-halfpenny’ (No. 58). Here the little man throws ‘a small
copper ball on the ground, and it rolled away, and Jack followed it
until it came to a castle made of copper, and flew against the
door.’ So with a silver ball and a silver castle, and a golden ball
and a golden castle. On which it is just worth remarking that
underground castles of copper, silver, and gold occur in No. 58, p.
245, in a story told to Campbell of Islay by a London Gypsy (Tales
of the West Highlands, iv. 143), and in Ralston’s The Norka, pp.
75–76. In Wratislaw’s Hungarian-Slovenish story of ‘The Three
Lemons,’ p. 63, [132] we find castles of lead, silver, and gold,
and at each the hero gets dumplings of the same metals, which he
afterwards throws before him, when they fix themselves on the glass
hill, and permit him to ascend (cf. too, our ‘Three Dragons,’ pp.
152–4; Irish folk-tale in Folk-lore Journal, i. 318; and Folk lore
for December 1890, p. 495). In Hahn’s ‘Filek-Zelebi’ (No. 73, ii.
69) the heroine has to follow three golden apples; and in ‘The
Wicked Queens’ (J. H. Knowles’s Folk-tales of Kashmir, p. 401) a
jogi gives a boy a pebble, telling him to ‘throw it on before and
to follow its leadings.’
The well-known Sleeping Beauty recurs in two other Gypsy
stories—the Moravian one of ‘The Princess and the Forester’s Son’
(p. 147), which offers marked analogies to John Roberts’s tale, and
that from the Bukowina, ‘The Winged Hero’ (pp. 100–104), which is
very Oriental in character. Whether she was ever familiar to
English or Scottish folklore I do not know; but Scott in chapter
xxvi. of The Antiquary alludes to her.
For the three helpful brothers, cf. F. A. Steel’s Wide-awake
Stories, p. 35–36; and for the prohibition not to look about
[behind], Maive Stokes’s Indian Fairy Tales, p. 140.
NO. 56.—THE FIVE TRADES
Once there were a sailor and other four men. One was a smith, and the
other was a soldier and a tailor, and the last was an innkeeper. The
sailor asked the smith to come upon the sea. The smith said, ‘No, I
must go and do some work.’ ‘What is your work?’ ‘To heat iron,’ says
the smith, ‘and make it into shoes for horses.’ The sailor asked the
other three to come on board his ship. The soldier said he must go to
make facings and marchings; and the tailor said, ‘I must go and make
clothes to keep you warm.’ And the innkeeper said, ‘I am going to make
beer to make you drunk, that you may all of you go to the devil.’
That’s all of that.
This little temperance apologue by a non-teetotaler is one of the
very few Gypsy stories with a moral.
NO. 57.—ASHYPELT
Once there was an old man and an old ’ooman livin’ in the Forest o’
Dean. They ’ad twelve sons, and there was one son called Ashypelt. He
was the youngest son, and they didn’t never think but very little o’
Ashypelt, as ’ee was allus used to be i’ the esshole under the fire,
an’ the brothers used to spit on ’im and laugh at ’im an’ make fun of
’im an’ that. He never spoke, didn’t Ashypelt, nor hear nuthin’. These
eleven brothers—they was nearly allus felling timber and that—used to
go, they used to go off tel Saturdays for a week. They used to do that
very reglar, and were bringing a lot of money in for the old man and
the old ’ooman.
So the old ’ooman sez one day, ‘Well, John, I sez, I think you an’ me
’as got enough money now to live on which will keep we all the days of
our life. An’ we’ll tell ’em to-night’—it was on a Saturday, an’ they
was comin’ home again, they was comin’ home with all the week’s
wages—‘we’ll say to ’em as the pressgang ’as been after ’em, as they’ve
got to ’ear as we’ve got eleven very fine sons, and they wants to make
soldiers of ’em. So I’ll begin a-cryin’ when they comes ’ere to-night,
and I’ll say to ’em, “O my very dear sons, the pressgang’s been after
yous ’ere to-day. They want yous to go for soldiers, an’ the best you
can do, my dear children”—the old ’ooman was cryin’ very much, makin’
herself so—“is to go to sleep in the barn.” An’ we’ll put ’em to sleep
in the barn, an’ give ’em their week’s victuals with ’em’ (what they
used to take reglar), sez the old ’ooman to the old man. ‘We can soon
put Ashypelt out o’ the road.’ (He was listenin’ all the time, the poor
Ashypelt, listenin’ wot the old ’ooman was sayin’.) ‘Soon as we’ve put
the eleven sons in the barn we’ll set fire to ’em about twelve o’clock
and burn ’em: that’s the best way to take it out of ’em. We’ll burn
’em,’ she sez.
Poor Ashypelt gets up out o’ the esshole—this was about the hour of
eleven: they was sittin’ up till twelve to set the barn afire. He goes
up to the barn, an’ ’ee throws ’is brothers up one after another neck
and crop—an’ they was goin’ to kill ’im—an’ their week’s victuals.
‘Oo are you?’ they sez.
‘I am your brother Ashypelt,’ he sez, ‘I am your brother Ashypelt.’
So one looks at ’im, an’ another looks at ’im, to find a certain mark
as they know to him. They went to kill poor Ashypelt for throwing them
up.
He sez, ‘My father and mother is goin’ to set you afire, all the lot o’
you, that’s the reason they put you in the barn. An’ come with me up on
that back edge, an’ you’ll see the barn goin’ afire directly,’ sez
Ashypelt.
They sat on this high edge tel twelve o’clock come, an’ they was
lookin’ out, an’ they seen the old ’ooman an’ the old man go with a
lantern, an’ puttin’ a light to the barn an’ all the straw what was in
it. So they thanked Ashypelt very much for savin’ their lives, but they
didn’t injure their father or mother; but they all started to go on the
road together. They comes to twelve cross-roads; an’ poor Ashypelt,
never bein’ out o’ the esshole before, ’ee took very sleepy, through
bein’ a very ’ot day.
So one brother sez to the other, ‘We’ll all take a road to ourselves.
Each one will take a road, an’ in twelve months an’ a day we’ll all
meet ’ere agen.’
So poor Ashypelt the sun overcame ’im, an’ ’im never bein’ out o’ the
esshole, ’ee fell asleep; an’ each brother left a mark on the road
which way they went, for ’im to go ’is road to ’imself. When poor
Ashypelt wakened up, ’ee began lookin’ round ’im an’ rubbin’ ’is eyes.
They left ’im a very old nasty lane to go up, an old nasty lane with
the mud up to your knees. Poor Ashypelt bein’ very weak, he got fast
several times goin’ up this old lane, an’ tumbled down in the mud; an’
the ’edges was growed very high with ’em so meetin’ together; and the
briers was scratching poor Ashypelt’s eyes very near out, as ’ee was
goin’ up this old lane. ’Ee travels on, over high dales an’ lofty
mountains, where the cock never crowed and the divel never sounded ’is
bugle horn. It’ll last tel to-morrow night, but I don’t mean to half
tell you so long. [133] But poor Ashypelt got benighted up this old
lane. ’Ee used to fall asleep, bein’ summer-time, an’ very early in the
mornin’ come daylight ’ee wakens up, an’ ’ee kept on the same old lane
all the way he was goin’. ’Ee travels on tel ’ee come to a castle an’ a
new ’ouse, where there was a man, an’ ’ee axed this man could ’ee give
’im a job.
’Ee sez, ‘Yes, Ashypelt, I can give you a job,’ ’ee sez. ’Ee sez, ‘Wot
can you do?’
Ashypelt sez, ‘I can do everythink as you try to put me to.’
‘Well, Ashypelt,’ ’ee sez, ‘I’ll give you fifty pounds to sleep into
the castle all night, an’ a good suit o’ clo’es.’
‘Oh! yes,’ ’ee sez; ‘I’ll sleep there,’ ’ee sed.
So ’ee sez to Ashypelt, ’ee sez, ‘You shall have a good bag o’ nuts to
crack an’ plenty o’ ’bacca to smoke, an’ a good fire to sit by,’ ’ee
sez.
But ’ee allowed him no can o’ beer to drink, plenty o’ water, so as he
wouldn’t get trussicated. An’ ’appen about eleven o’clock at night ’ee
sez, ‘Now Ashypelt, it is about the time you’ve got to come in along o’
me.’
So ’ee takes Ashypelt with ’im about eleven o’clock to this castle. ’Ee
opens the door, an’ ’ee sez, ‘There you are, go an’ take your seat, an’
sit down.’ ’Ee sez ‘Here is your bag o’ nuts, an’ plenty o’ ’bacca to
smoke.’
So just now Ashypelt was sittin’ down, an’ just about the hour o’
twelve ’ee could ’ear a lot o’ noise about the room. ’Ee looks around
behind ’im at the door, an’ ’ee sees a man naked.
So ’ee sez, ‘Come up to the fire an’ warm you. You looks very cold.’
It was a sperrit, you see. ’Ee wouldn’t come up to the fire, so
Ashypelt went an’ fetched im. Ashypelt sez, ‘Will you ’ave a smoke?’
’ee sez, an’ ’ee takes an’ ’ee fills ’im a new pipe. ’Ee sez, ‘Will you
crack some nuts?’
So ’ee smoked all poor Ashypelt’s ’bacca, an’ cracked all ’is nuts, an’
poor Ashypelt ’ad none. But ’ee sez, ‘You are a very greedy fellow
indeed, I must say,’ ’ee sed, ‘after a man bringing you up to warm you
at the fire, an’ taking everythink off ’im.’
Just about the hour o’ two o’clock away goes this man from ’im. So
therefore Ashypelt sits contented down afore the fire to hisself.
So next mornin’ the master sez to ’im at the hour o’ six o’clock, ‘Are
you alive, Ashypelt?’
‘Oh! yes,’ ’ee sez to ’im, ‘I am alive, sir. An’ there came a very rude
man ’ere last night, an’ took all my ’bacca, an’ cracked all my nuts
off me,’ ’ee sez, ‘for the kindness I done for ’im. ’Ee was naked, an’
I axed ’im to ’ave a warm.’
‘Well,’ ’ee sez to Ashypelt, ‘come along an’ ’ave some breakfast,
Ashypelt.’ An’ ’ee takes ’im to the new ’ouse from the castle, to ’ave
some breakfast. ‘Would you wish to stop another night, Ashypelt?’ ’ee
sez, ‘an’ I’ll give you another fifty pounds.’
‘Oh! yes,’ sez Ashypelt, ‘’im never seein’ anythin’, an’ never knowin’
wot sperrits or ghostses was, ’im bein’ allus in the esshole.’
So all day Ashypelt went up an’ down the garden, an’ learnin’ ’ow to
dig in the garden an’ one thing or another, tel eleven o’clock came
again the next night.
‘Well, come, Ashypelt, my lad,’ ’ee sed, ‘it’s time for you to go back
to your room agen now.’
So the next night ’ee gave ’im very near ’alf a pound o’ ’bacca to
smoke an’ a bigger bag o’ nuts. So about the hour o’ twelve o’clock ’ee
turns round to the door again, an’ there was five or six of these
ghostses came in to ’im this time an’ sperrits. So there was one stood
up in the corner in ’is skeleton. There was five more runnin’ up and
down the room pitity-pat, pitity-pat.
‘Come up to the fire,’ Ashypelt sez, ‘an’ warm yous. Yous looks very
cold all runnin’ about naked,’ ’ee sed. ’Ee sez, ‘There’s some ’bacca
there an’ some pipes. ’Ave a smoke apiece.’
So this poor fellow stood up in the corner.
‘You come ’ere,’ sed Ashypelt; ‘you looks very cold, you’re nuthin’ but
bones.’
But ’ee gave Ashypelt no answer. So Ashypelt comes up to ’im, to pull
’im out up to the fire, an’ ’ee ’appened to give ’im a bit of a touch
round the neck—somewhere under the jaw, I think it was—as ’ee wouldn’t
come for ’im. This fellow tumbled all into pieces, in small bits o’
pieces about ’alf an inch, tumbled all into pieces when Ashypelt ’it
’im.
‘Now, Ashypelt,’ sez one of ’em, ‘if you don’t put that fellow up agen
as you fun’ ’im, we’ll devour you alive.’
Poor Ashypelt got fixing one little bone on top of another, an’ one
little bone on top of another, but ’ee got tumblin’ them down as quick
as ’ee was fixing them very near. Well, ’ee fixed an’ fixed at last tel
it come very near one o’clock that ’ee was bein’ with ’im, but ’ee got
’em together agen. So away they all goes just about two o’clock an’
leaves ’im; an’ when ’ee come to look for the ’bacca, every morsel ’ad
gone, ’ee never ’ad one pipeful.
‘Well,’ ’ee sez, ‘they’re a greedy lot o’ fellows, them is,’ ’ee sez.
‘They served me worse agen to-night,’ ’ee sez. So ’ee comes an’ sits
’imself down completely by ’is own fire agen.
Next morning at the hour o’ six o’clock the master comes for ’im agen.
‘Are you alive, Ashypelt?’ ’ee sez.
‘Oh! yes,’ ’ee sez, ‘I’m alive.’
He sez, ‘Did you ’ear anythin’ last night?’
‘Yes,’ sez Ashypelt, ‘there come a lot o’ greedy fellows ’ere, an’
smoked all my ’bacca an’ cracked all my nuts off me.’
So ’ee sez, ‘Come on down, Ashypelt, an’ ’ave your breakfast.’ ’Ee
takes ’im to the new ’ouse to ’ave ’is breakfast. But after ’ee’d ’ad
’is breakfast, ‘Now, Ashypelt,’ ’ee sez, ‘I will give you another fifty
to stop another night.’
Well, poor Ashypelt, never ’avin’ no money, ’ee sed, Yes, ’ee would do
it. Well, ’ee took ’im, as usual, up an’ down the garden agen next day
with ’im, taking ’im up an’ down the garden tel eleven o’clock come the
next night.
‘So now, Ashypelt, my boy, it’s time for me to take you up to your
room,’ ’ee sez. ‘I’ll give you a little extra ’bacca to-night. I’ll
give you a pound, an’ a bigger bag o’ nuts—altogether it might be a
gohanna [guano] bag o’ nuts—an’ a pound o’ ’bacca.’
So ’ee fastened ’em into the room before Ashypelt comes, an’ ’ee leaves
’im sittin’ ’down comfortable to ’isself ’avin’ a bit o’ a smoke o’ ’is
’bacca. But ’ee ’eard one o’ the terriblest noises ’ee ever ’eard in
’is life shoutin’ blue wilful murders, but ’ee couldn’t see nuthin’.
This was at the hour o’ twelve. Bangin’ one of ’is doors wide open, in
comes a man to ’im with ’is throat cut from ’ere to there. Ashypelt
axed ’im to come an’ ’ave a pipe o’ ’bacca, an’ to ’ave a warm. Well,
poor Ashypelt never seein’ nuthin’, ’ee wasn’t frightened a bit.
So the man sez to ’im, ‘Now, Ashypelt, my boy, I see you are not
frightened. Come with me, an’ I’ll show you where I lies. My brother
’as killed me—it’s my brother what gives you this money to stop ’ere.
You come with me, Ashypelt, down these steps.’
He took ’im down steps, down steps, down steps. Ashypelt axed ’im ’ow
much further ’ee ’ad to go, an’ it ’ad been very dark goin’ down these
steps. Ashypelt couldn’t see ’is way, but when ’ee got to the bottom
there was a very fine light.
‘Now, Ashypelt,’ ’ee sez, ‘come with me,’ ’ee sez. ‘I’m that man as you
struck in the room an’ knocked all to pieces. Now, Ashypelt, I’ll make
you a gentleman for life if you’ll do one thing for me. Come along o’
me,’ ’ee sez to Ashypelt. Then ’ee sez, ‘Lift up that flag,’ ’ee sez.
‘No, sir,’ sez Ashypelt, ‘I can’t lift it up,’ ’ee sez to ’im; ‘but
lift it you.’
‘Put your ’and down to it, an’ try to lift it up,’ ’ee sed.
Ashypelt done what ’ee told ’im, puttin’ ’is ’and down to lift the
flag, an’ he draws the flag up. What was under that but a big pot o’
gold spade-ace guineas an’ that.
So ’ee sez, ‘Come along o’ me, Ashypelt,’ ’ee sez, ‘on further,’ ’ee
sez. ’Ee sez, ‘Rise that flag up, Ashypelt.’
Ashypelt doin’ so, ’ee told ’im to rise one flag up, ’ee sez, ‘Rise the
other one, Ashypelt, next to it.’
Ashypelt rises the other one, an’ there this ’ere skeleton was lyin’ in
the coffin. That’s where ’ee was buried; ’is brother buried ’im there
into the coffin. This was the older brother tel what the one was that
was alive, that was dead. But they got fallin’ out which would ’ave the
castle. The next brother killed the old one, an’ buried ’im there.
‘Now,’ sez this man with his throat cut from ’ere to there, ‘Ashypelt,
I want you to do me a favourite, an’,’ ’ee sez, ‘you’ll never be
troubled no more. You can sleep in that room all your lifetime,’ ’ee
sez, ‘nuthin’ will ever trouble you no more. Now, in the mornin’,’ ’ee
sez, ‘when my brother comes for you, ’ee ’ll ax you what sort o’
night’s rest you ’ad. So you say, “All right, only they smoked all my
’bacca an’ cracked all my nuts agen.” An’ the first town you get to,
Ashypelt, an’ you leaves here, you make a report as ’ee’s killed ’is
own brother; an’ when they calls for witnesses, Ashypelt, I’ll repear
into the hall with my throat cut from ’ere to there. You can come back,
Ashypelt, an’ take the castle, ’cause there’s nobody takes the castle
barrin’ me an’ my brother.’
So Ashypelt goes to the next town as ’ee could meet with, an’ ’ee goes
an’ makes a ’larm to a magistrate; an’ the magistrate sent some
pleecemen with ’im, back to fetch this gentleman, an’ Ashypelt goes
with ’em.
‘Hello!’ sez ’ee to Ashypelt, ‘what brings you back ’ere?’ ’ee sed.
So the pleeceman got close to this man. ‘For you,’ ’ee sez, an’ catches
’out of ’im, ‘They are come back for you, for killin’ yourn brother,’
takin’ ’im off back to the town agen, an’ Ashypelt along with ’im,
takin’ ’im an’ tryin’ ’im. When they were tryin’ ’im, at the hour o’
twelve the magistrate cries out for witnesses, an’ the man repears with
’is throat cut from ’ere to there, just as they cried out for
witnesses. ’Is brother got life—twenty years; an’ ’ee died shortly
after ’ee got life. ’Ee broke ’is ’eart.
Well, Ashypelt goes back to the castle an’ lives there, an’ got a
servant or two with ’im into the castle. One day ’ee bethought ’isself
about ’is brothers where ’ee ’ad to meet them. ’Ee gets a pair of
’orses and a carriage, an’ ’ee buys eleven suits o’ clo’es, thinkin’
upon ’is poor brothers. So ’ee drives ahead until ’ee comes to these
twelve roads, where ’ee ’ad to meet ’em twelve months an’ a day. So ’ee
was drivin’ up to these ’ere twelve roads, an’ there they was all lyin’
down.
‘Hello! my men,’ ’ee sez, ‘what are you men all lyin’ down for?’
(Ashypelt bein’ dressed up, lookin’ gentleman, they didn’t know ’im.)
‘We’re waitin’ for a brother of ours by the name o’ Ashypelt,’ they
sed.
‘Would you know ’im if you would see ’im?’ ’ee sed.
‘Oh! yes, we would know ’im very well. Twelve months an’ a day we ’ad
to meet on these roads.’
So ’ee sez to ’em, ‘I’m your brother Ashypelt,’ ’ee sed to the one.
So they looks at ’im.