in order to celebrate a wedding the clergyman and the _executioner_ were
sent for. Several of the clergy who live among the Székely people on the
very spot have been applied to for an explanation of the perplexing
word, but they were unable to furnish any clue. The word is not given in
Kriza's Glossary. It appears to be one of those curiosities of popular
nomenclature so often found in Hungary, and may be a fanciful name for
"sacristan," or sexton. One of the many names of this official is
"harangozó," _i. e._ the bellringer; hence the individual who holds the
corresponding office among the Jews is in small villages sometimes
called "the Jewish bellringer," a clear case of _lucus a non lucendo_. A
friend of the editors (who is a Székely) says that "hóhér" in his part
means any one who torments, maltreats, or brutalises another. It is also
made into a verb thus, "hóhérholja a lovat," "he maltreats the horse."
He says that the hóhér is nearly always mentioned in fairy tales in
connection with the priest, who was generally accompanied by him: but he
does not think the word has any special significance in Folk-Lore.
_Page 5._ "Vasfogu Bába." Bába, in Magyar, as in Japanese, means a
midwife: in Slavonic, an old woman. See Ralston's _Russian Folk Tales_:
note, p. 137. "The French are coming." This must be unique. The usual
exclamations are, "The Turks are coming," or "The Tartars are coming."
The nurse will frighten a naughty child with Turks or Tartars. For the
heroic deeds of a popular hero against the French, cf. "_Le Chevalier
Jean_, Conte Magyar, par Alex. Petoefi ...traduit par A. Dozon." Paris.
18º.
The present story is one of a host wherein the gratitude of beasts is
compared with the ingratitude of man; and is a more perfect version of
the well-known Puss in Boots. Cf. Schiefner, _Avar Tales_. There is a
variant, "Madon linna" ("The Snake's Castle"), collected in Russian
Karelia, where the hero is the only son of an old couple, the mother
when dying tells her son not to be downhearted, as he still has his
father to help him; soon after the father fell sick. "What shall I do,
dear father, when you die?" asked the lad. "Go to the forest," replied
the father, "and there you will find three traps, bring home alive
whatever you find." Soon the father died, and the lad was left alone in
his sorrow; after many days he suddenly remembered what his father had
said, and set off to the forest, where he found the traps. In the first
and second there was nothing, but in the third was a brown fox, which he
brought home alive, thinking to himself, "There's not much to be got out
of this beast; I shall soon die of hunger." When he got home, he put the
fox on a bench and sat down, when, lo! the fox said, "Look here, Jussi
Juholainen, wouldn't you like to get married?" The lad replied, "Why
should I marry, poor fox? I couldn't live with a poor woman, and a rich
one wouldn't have me." "Marry one of the royal family, and then you'll
be rich." The lad said that it was all nonsense; but the fox declared he
could do it, and then the story goes on very much like Prince Csihan,
shewing the king how rich the suitor for his daughter's hand was, and
frightening the dependents of the snake into declaring that they
belonged to Jussi Juholainen. At last they reach the snake's castle,
"the like of which is not in the whole country, nay, not in the wide
world. An oak was growing by the wayside, and a holly tree in the
courtyard, all the leaves were golden coloured, and golden feathered
birds sang among the branches; and in the park was a magnificent elk
with gold and silver hairs."
The fox frightens the snake by telling of the coming of a great king,
saying, "O poor snake, the king is coming to destroy your house, and
kill you." The snake at once hurried off to the store-house[1] where the
linen was kept, and hid there, and in due course was burnt up with the
stores, by the fox, who set fire to the whole. The king was "giddy" with
delight at his son-in-law's wealth, and stayed many days. When he
prepared to return home, the fox proposed that Jussi Juholainen and his
man should now visit the king, much to the king's chagrin, who tried to
make excuses; but as this failed, calves and dog-like creatures, and so
forth, were made to jump about the wayside, and in the courtyard, so as
to be something like the palace of his son-in-law. But all failed; and
the fox, having shown how much greater and wealthier a man Jussi
Juholainen was, disappeared. See _Suomen Kansan Satuja ja Tarinoita_.
Part ii. Helsingissä, 1873:[2] where, under head "Kettu kosiomiehenä"
(the fox as wooer for some one), page 36, another variant (Kehnon koti),
"the Evil One's home," is given.
In the Karelian story, "Awaimetoin Wakka" (the Keyless Chest), _S. ja
T._ i. p. 151, a lad, when walking in the wood one day, heard his dog
barking, and saw that it was a wood-grouse it had found. He drew his bow
and was about to shoot when the bird begged him not to do so, and
promised to reward him. The lad kept the bird for three years, and at
the end of each year a feather fell from the bird's tail, first a copper
one, then a silver one, and lastly a gold one; which feathers in the end
brought wealth and greatness.
In the Finnish story of "the Golden Bird," a story very much like
"Cinder Jack" (in this collection), p. 149, a wolf brings fortune and
power to the hero because he fed her and her young ones.
In another Finnish story, "Oriiksi muutettu poika" (The Enchanted
Steed), in _Suomalaisia Kansansatuja_, i. (Helsingissä, 1881), a fox
assists the fugitives to defeat the devil, who pursues them. This tale
is very much like the latter part of "Handsome Paul," p. 33. Compare
also a variant from near Wiborg in _Tidskriften Suomi_, ii. 13, p. 120.
In a Lapp story a little bird helps. See "Jætten og Veslegutten," from
Hammerfest. _Lappiske Eventyr og Folkesagn ved. Prof. Friis,
Christiania_, 1871,[3] p. 52, &c.
It is a cat in "Jætten, Katten og Gutten," from Alten, _Friis_, 63; and
a fox in "Bondesønnen, Kongesønnen og Solens Søster," from Tanen,
_Friis_, 140.
Mr. Quigstad reports another variant from Lyngen, in which also a cat
helps the hero.
See also Steere's _Swahili Tales_: "Sultan Darai"; Dasent's _Tales from
the Norse_: "Lord Peter," and "Well done, and ill-paid."
_Old Deccan Days_: "The Brahman." "The Tiger and the Six Judges."
Mitford's _Tales of Old Japan_: "The Grateful Foxes." "The Adventures of
little Peachling"; and a Bohemian story of the Dog and the Yellow-hammer
in Vernaleken's _In the Land of Marvels_.
Ralston's _Puss in Boots_ in _XIXth Century, January_, 1883. A most
interesting and exhaustive article.
Ralston's _Russian Folk Tales_: "The water King and Vasilissa the Wise."
A story which in the beginning is very like "The Keyless Chest."
Benfey's _Pantschatantra_, i. 208, and _passim_.
Kletke, _Märchensaal aller Völker_: "Gagliuso."
Perrault, _Contes des Fées_: "Le maitre chat."
Hyltén-Cavallius and Stephens. _Svenska Folksagor_, i. _Stockholm_,
1844: "Slottet som stod på Guldstolpar."
Gubernatis, _Zoological Mythology_, vol. i. 193; vol. ii. 134, 157.
Grimm's _Household Tales_, Bohn's ed. vol. i. "the Golden Bird," p. 227;
vol. ii. pp. 46, 154, 323, 427, 527.
_Mentone Stories_, in the _Folk-Lore Record_, vol. iii. part 1, 43.
Denton's _Serbian Folk-Lore_, 51, 296.
Naake's _Slavonic Tales_: "Golden Hair," p. 133, a Bohemian Tale.
Stokes's _Indian Fairy Tales_: "The Demon and the King's Son," 180.
Payne's _The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night_, "Abou
Mohammed," vol. iv. p. 10.[4]
STEPHEN THE MURDERER. Kriza, xviii.
The Hungarians have had a Dr. Faust in the person of Professor Hatvani,
but in his case he got the best of the bargain; see _A Magyar Fauszt_,
by Maurus Jókai. The Hungarian professor is an historical personage, and
only resembles Dr. Faust in having a compact with the devil.
Lad. Arany traces a resemblance between this tale and one in Benfey's
_Pantschatantra_, where it is related how a poor Brahmin, in reward for
his long penitence, has his bones thrown into the sacred waters of the
Ganges.
There is a curious Finnish story which resembles this tale,
"Ennustukset" (Predictions), from Ilomantsi in _S. ja T._ ii. 64-72. Two
wise men (seers) were out walking, and came near a house where a ewe was
just in the throes of parturition. The younger man wished the elder (and
chief) to help it. "Why should I?" replied he, "a wolf will eat the
lamb." "It is very sad; but still we ought to help the poor sheep." In a
moment the lamb was born. Just then the cries of the mistress of the
house were heard, for she was in travail. The young man again begged his
companion to use his power. "Well! I will help her," said the old seer;
"but would it be kind, for the boy, when born, will murder his father?"
He gave his assistance, and in a moment the child was born. The master
of the house, however, had overheard the conversation, and told it to
his wife, who was horrified at the news. Upon talking it over, they
decided to let the lamb and child live, as the men's words were most
likely of no importance. In the autumn, at the feast of Keyri (the
cattle-god), the lamb was slain and made into Keyri soup, according to
the old custom. The broth was put on the table, and the meat in the
window to cool;[5] and the couple laughed at the words of the men. After
the broth was finished they went for the meat, and lo! it was all
scattered on the ground, and a wolf was devouring the last pieces at its
leisure.
They were terrified, and cried, "Well, then! the men's words were true."
The man then snatched the child out of its cradle, and was about to cut
its throat, when the woman cried, "Do not kill our own child! Let us
fasten it on a plank, and put it to sea, so that it may die in that
way." And so they did. Tossed by wind and waves, the child chanced to
come to the shore near a monastery, where a peasant found him and took
him to the abbot, who brought him up. When he had grown up, he got tired
of living there, and was sent to the mainland. He wandered on and on
till he came to a house. The mistress only was in, the master being in
the wood. Here the lad was engaged to go and look after the turnips, as
some thieves had been stealing them; and the mistress gave him a bow and
arrows, with strict orders to shoot any one who came. This just suited
the lad, who went and hid himself behind a large stone in the middle of
the field. Before long a man came over the fence and filled his arms
with turnips. The lad drew his bow and shot, and the man fell. The lad
returned home, and told what he had done; and the mistress said that she
was glad that the thief had perished. They then waited for the master's
return, but as he did not come, they went to look for him, and found
that the lad had killed him. The lad stayed with the woman, and after a
time married her, and all went well till one day they went to the
bath[6] together; then she saw a red stripe on the man's chest, and
asked, "What is this?" "I don't know," replied he, "I've had it ever
since I was born." "Where were you born?" asked the woman. He then told
her all he knew; and, to their horror, i they found out they were mother
and son. The man at once set off to the wise men, to know what to do,
and how to be forgiven. On the way he met a monk, with a book under his
arm, and said, "I've killed my father, and married my mother! How can I
be forgiven?" The monk looked through his book and said, "Poor man! your
sins can never be forgiven; they are too awful." The man could not
contain himself when he heard this, and struck the monk such a blow that
he died.
He then went on and met an older monk and told him all. He looked
through his book and said "There is no forgiveness." He then killed this
monk also. Going on he met a third monk with books under his arms, and
cried, "I've killed my father, and married my mother, and murdered two
old men who said there was no forgiveness. What do you think?" The old
man looked through his books, thought a little, and said, "There is no
crime so great but that it can be forgiven when man truly repents. You
must go to a rock and dig a well in it. Wait till the water rises. And
your mother must sit beside it with a black sheep in her arms until its
wool becomes white." When the man heard this he thanked the monk, and
returned and told his mother all. So they went to a rock, and the man
began to dig with a chisel; and the woman sat beside him with the sheep
in her arms. He worked for a long time, but with no success. Now the
rock was close to the road, and good and bad passed by. One day a
gentleman drove past gaily, the horse-bells tinkling as he went; he
asked the man what he was doing, and was told all. "Who and what are
you?" said the man. "O! I am a very clever man," replied the other. "I
can make wrong right, and right wrong. I am going to the assizes, where
I will help you if you pay me." This enraged the man, because he had to
work so hard, whilst the other lived by trickery. Whilst he grumbled his
old anger flared up, and he struck the gentleman in the forehead with
his chisel and killed him. In a moment the rock opened and there was a
well, and the black sheep became white. This they were exceedingly glad
to see, but the man did not know what to do about killing the gentleman.
So he went to the old monk again and told him all. "Well!" said the
monk, "that's better. He has sinned much more against God than you;
therefore your time of repentance has been shortened. Go in peace." Thus
the sinners escaped judgment and continued to live together in peace.
The one as mother, the other as son. So much for that! (The ordinary
ending of Finnish tales.)
Another Finnish story, "Antti Puuhaara" (Andrew Tree Twig), _S. ja. T._
ii. 100, begins much in the same way, only in that case the child is to
be heir of a rich merchant who happened to be in the house at the time
and overheard all. He does his best to prevent the prediction coming
true; which, however, spite of all, is fulfilled. Cf. _Magyarische
Sagen_ von Mailáth. "Die Brüder." Also "_Die Thaten des Bogda Gesser
Châns_," _eine ostasiatische Heldensage aus dem mongolischen übersetzt
von J. J. Schmidt_, _Petersburg_ 1839. And _Folk-lifvet i Skytts härad i
Skåne wid början af detta århundrade, Barndomsminnen utgifna af
Nicolovius_, _Lund_. 1847. "Rike Pehr Krämare." Also _Dasent_, "Rich
Peter the Pedlar"; _Grimm_, "The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs"; and
_Sagas from the Far East_, in which the king fears when he hears the
hermit's prophecy of his son's future, p. 268.
The bed that the devils so much dreaded occurs in the Polish tale,
"Madey," Naake's _Slavonic Tales_, p. 220. A merchant being lost in a
wood promises an evil spirit that he will give him something that he had
not seen in his house if he will set him in the right road. This
something turns out to be a son born in the merchant's absence. When the
boy grows up he sets out to get the bond from the devil that his father
gave when lost in the wood. As the lad goes on his journey he comes to
the hut of a robber of the name of Madey. He had murdered his father,
and only spared his mother to prepare his food. Here, as in the Magyar
story, the lad is spared on condition that he finds out what sort of bed
is prepared for the robber in hell. The lad enters hell by means of holy
water and incense, and the lame demon Twardowski[7] is threatened with
Madey's bed if he does not give up the bond, which he is loth to do.
This at once produces the desired effect, and Madey was so horrified at
the lad's account of the bed that he struck his murderous club into the
ground, and vowed he would wait till the lad returned as a bishop. Years
afterwards, when the little boy had become a bishop, he found a
beautiful apple tree and an old man kneeling at its foot. The tree was
the robber's club, the old man Madey. As Madey makes his confession
apple after apple becomes a dove and flies heavenward, till at last he
confesses his father's murder, and then the last disappears; and, as the
bishop pronounces the absolution, Madey crumbles to dust.
See, also, _Svenska Folksägner_, _af H. Hofberg_, _Stockholm_, 1882, p.
48. "Ebbe Skammelsson was a knight who was engaged to the beauteous
Malfrid of Tiraholm. As they both were yet young, the knight set out for
the Holy Land, promising to return in seven years. Soon after Ebbe's
departure Malfrid's father died, and the maid remained with her mother.
Years rolled on, but Ebbe did not return; and as the maid began to fade
away, her mother promised her to another, thinking Ebbe must be dead.
There was a splendid wedding; and just as the guests sat down to the
table, a knight in golden armour galloped up to the house. The bride
turned pale beneath her crown, and the mother, who recognised Ebbe,
rushed out and reminded him that the seven years were past, and he was
too late. In wild rage he struck off the lady's head; and then, dashing
into the wedding hall, slew the bride and bridegroom. Filled with horror
and remorse at his own deeds, he vaulted on to his horse, and rode into
the wild woods. There he roamed in agony and despair. The pope's
indulgence was obtained at the holy father's feet, but not peace; so,
returning to the home of his old love, he begged the judge to sentence
him to the severest punishment. After long deliberation the council
determined that he should be loaded with the heaviest irons, and should
pass a day and a night on each of the three hundred and sixty-five
islands in Bolmen. This was carried out; and in his little boat he
dragged himself from isle to isle. At length he reached the last, and
crawled into a barn. His sad fate had made a deep impression on the
people, and a minstrel wrote a song, which, a witch said, so soon as
Ebbe heard, his irons would fall off and he would die. As he lay in the
barn, a servant, who went to milk the cows, began to sing, 'Knight
Ebbe's Song.' He listened with breathless attention, and then cried out:
'One part is true, one part is false.' The girl fled in terror. Soon the
villagers gathered round to know who he was. He dragged himself to the
hill, and, telling who he was, begged to be taken to the churchyard.
Now, between the village of Angelstad and the church there is a large
stone: mounting this, Ebbe cried, 'Am I worthy to rest in consecrated
ground? If so, let it be....' At that moment the irons dropped off, and
he died. The people buried him in the path, outside the north wall of
the church; but the wall fell down each night, until it was so built as
to include the outlaw's grave. The crosses on the roof of the parish
church are said to be made of Ebbe's fetters, which for a long time hung
inside the sacred building." Cf. J. Allvin, _Beskrifning öfver Vestbo
härad_, p. 147. The same story, with some slight difference, is current
in Halland.[8] A comparison between this and the wild Finnish story is
not without interest, as shewing the humanising influence which has
toned down the rude and rugged teaching of the early ages.
Cf. Campbell, _Tales of the Western Highlands_, p. 19: "The
Inheritance."
Baring Gould, _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_. "The Mountain of
Venus," p. 213.
_Grimm_, vol. ii. p. 366. "The Three Green Twigs."
Merényi, _Tales from the Banks of the Danube_, vol. ii. p. 7, in
Hungarian.
There is an interesting Lapp variant, "Fattiggutten, Fanden og
Guldbyen." _Friis_, p. 161.
THE LAMB WITH THE GOLDEN FLEECE. Kriza, ix.
Cf. _Round the Yule Log._ "Hans, who made the Princess laugh," p. 269.
_Grimm_, vol. ii. "The Jew among the Thorns," p. 97 and Notes, p. 410,
in which the Jew is compelled to dance to the sound of the fiddler.
Engel's _Musical Myths_, vol. ii. "The Indefatigable Fiddler," p. 29,
and the "Ratcatcher of Hamelin," p. 37. (Also, _Baring Gould's Curious
Myths_, p. 417.)
_Griechische und Albanische Märchen, von J. G. von Hahn, Leipzig_, 1864,
vol. i. p. 222, and vol. ii. p. 240.--_Ladislaus Arany._ "The Sad
Princess" (in Hungarian).--_Gaal_, vol. iii. "The Powerful Whistle."
FISHER JOE. Kriza, xvi.
_Page 16. Grimm_, vol. i, "The Gold Children," p. 331, where a man draws
a gold fish out of the water, which tells him if he will throw it back
into the water he shall have a splendid castle. He throws it back, and
all comes as the fish said. The fisher must not reveal how it has come
about; but his wife's curiosity makes him break his word, and all
disappears.[9] The man catches the fish once more, and the same things
happen, wealth and destitution; and then the fish is caught a third
time. This time the fish is cut into six pieces, two of which are put in
the ground, and grow up as golden cities; two are given to the man's
horse, which has two golden foals; and two to the man's wife, who bears
two golden children. See _Grimm's_ notes, p. 453. _Gubernatis_, vol. i.
p. 249 (as to Phallic Significance), and vol. ii. sub. art. "Fish," p.
330. Also Caballero's (Spanish) _Fairy Tales_, "The Bird of Truth," p.
1, and the "Knights of the Fish," p. 29, where a poor cobbler, with no
work, goes a-fishing as a last resource, catches a fish, and cuts it
into six, with the same result as in the above tale. And _Portuguese
Folk-Tales, Folk-Lore Society_, 1882; "The Baker's Idle Son," p. 72;
Payne's _Arabian Nights_, vol. i. pp. 33-51.
Just as Fisher Joe lays his head on his wife's knee, and sleeps while
wonders happen, so does the drummer rest, while the maiden does his
tasks for him, in the story of the "Drummer," in _Grimm_, ii. 335.
Cf. also Dasent's _Tales from the Norse_. "The Mastermaid," p. 84, and
Denton's _Serbian Folk-Lore_. "The Golden Fleeced Ram," p. 71.
_Page 18._ The trouble that comes from the king (or lord) seeing the
hero's wife, or bride, is a common incident in Folk-Tales.
See the Finnish "Leppäpölkky" (Alder Block). _S. ja T._ ii. p. 2, where
the hero, after infinite trouble, secures the lovely Katherine, who is
said to be so beautiful that--
"One can see her skin through her clothes,
Her flesh through her skin,
Her bones through her flesh,
Her marrow through her bones!"
When he arrived at home with his lovely prize, the king wished to know
the whole of his adventures. Now it so happened that Alder Block had
during his travels changed himself to an ermine, and had heard
Syöjätär--who was the mother of the snakes he and his comrades had
killed--tell what plans she had for destroying her children's murderer,
as in the Magyar tale of "The three Princes, the three Dragons, and the
Old Woman with the Iron Nose," p. 202 of this collection. Syöjätär
declared at the same time that whoever dared to repeat her words[10]
would be changed into a blue cross. Alder Block saved his comrades from
the snares till the last one, which took the form "of beds with feather
pillows;" and this time his companions, before he could stop them, threw
themselves down, and were caught. The king ordered him to explain why
his companions were not with him; and as Alder Block did so, he changed
into a blue cross, standing in the churchyard. The whole story is a most
interesting one, weaving in materials that are ordinarily to be found,
not in one, but in many folk tales. The end of all is, the king got the
lovely Katherine, and "took her to his castle, where they still live
to-day, and perhaps to-morrow also; and there came good sons and
beautiful daughters. I was also at the wedding. They gave me a wax
horse. The saddle was made of turnip and the whip of peas. The feast
lasted for many days; and when I came from it I came to Riettilä's corn
kiln.[11] The kiln began to burn, and I to extinguish it. In the heat my
horse began to melt, my saddle to roast, and the village's illegitimate
children to eat it up. I began to drive them away, but the dogs were set
at me; and when I began to whip them, they bit my whip to pieces. So all
my things were destroyed, and poor me fell down. Perhaps I shall never
be well again, it was so long." Compare this characteristic ending with
that of the Magyar tales.