RUMANIAN BIRD AND BEAST STORIES
RENDERED INTO ENGLISH
BY
M. GASTER, Ph.D.
VICE-PRESIDENT AND SOMETIME PRESIDENT OF THE FOLK-LORE SOCIETY
VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY
VICE-PRESIDENT AND SOMETIME PRESIDENT OF THE JEWISH HISTORICAL SOCIETY
ETC., ETC.
"But ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee;
And the fowls of the air, and they shall tell thee."
Job xii. 7.
LONDON
Published for the Folk-Lore Society by
SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD., 3 ADAM ST., ADELPHI, W.C.
1915
To
HER MAJESTY QUEEN ELISABETH OF RUMANIA
"Carmen Sylva"
To Whom the Soul of the Rumanian People is as an Open Book
A Page of that Book
Is
By Gracious Permission
Dedicated
PREFACE.
"Neither can men hear the voice of the cattle; both the fowl of the
heavens and the beast are fled, they are gone." The forests are silent,
over hill and dale hangs a black pall; beast and bird are in hiding;
the voices are hushed. But before they have disappeared, following
in the track of others, I have endeavoured to catch the hum of the
bee, the twitter of the bird, the chirp of the cricket, the song of
the dying swan, and all the tales which beasts and birds and little
beetles tell their young before they go to sleep ere the flash of
the glow-worm flits across the darkness of the forest.
I have followed up to their lairs the ferocious wolf, the cantankerous
dog, the sly fox and the wise hedgehog, have listened to the lark and
to the nightingale, and paid homage to little king wren. Who knows how
much longer they will disport themselves in the fields and forests of
Rumania, where the hoofs of the horses, the feet of the marching men,
the shout of battle and the thunder of the guns have silenced--let
us hope only for a while--the voice of the dumb creatures, who still
speak so eloquently to him who knows their language and understands
the cunning spell of their hidden wisdom. It is as if I had gathered
flowers from the field of the Rumanian popular imagination. They are
fresh from the field, and the dew still hangs upon them like so many
diamonds, flashing in the light of popular poetry; nay, sometimes a
few specks of the original soil are still clinging to the roots. I
have not pressed them between the leaves of this book. I have handled
them tenderly. It has been a work of love, the dreamy fancies of youth,
the solace of maturer age. Peradventure one or the other may be taken
out and planted anew in the nurseries of the West, where they may
blossom and grow afresh. They might bring with them the breath of the
open field, the perfume of the forest. They might conjure up the time
when the nations were still young and lived in the great Nursery of
Nature. If one could only bring to the nations of the West for awhile
a glimpse of the time of their youth! In my wanderings through these
enchanted fields I have tried to find whence the seeds have come,
whose hands have sown them, and what spiritual wind and weather have
fostered their growth, whether the rain of heaven or the fountains
of the deep have watered the roots, what sun has shone upon them,
what fiery blast has made these flowers wither and die.
Such as they are, then, they are offered in love to the English people.
I have to thank Mr. S. L. Bensusan, who in true friendship, with
admirable skill and with untiring zeal has helped me to remove the
boulders, to level the ground, to plan the beds and to trim the edges;
Miss C. S. Burne, whose keen sympathy, unerring eye and deft hand have
helped to weed the tares and group the flowers; my son Vivian, who
with loving care and gentle touch has brushed away the dead leaves that
had fallen on the green sward, and last, but not least, the Folk-Lore
Society, which has granted me a niche in its great Pantheon. It is
indeed no small honour to be in the company of the gods.
M. G.
In the month when
"smale fowles maken melodie."
CONTENTS.
Introduction
I.
Why is the Bee black, and why is it making Honey? How did the Bee
outwit the Devil?
I. B.
How did the Bee outwit the Mole?
II.
Why is the Bee busy and the Spider sullen?
III.
Why is the Bee black, and why has it a Narrow Waist?
IV.
Why does the Little Worm glow?
V.
Why does the Little Worm glow?
VI.
Why does the Little Worm glow?
VII.
Why is the Wolf ferocious?
VIII.
Why do the Eyes of the Wolf glow and his Hair bristle?
IX.
Why does the Wolf run after the Devil?
X.
Why the Goat's Knees are bare
XI.
Why did Noah get drunk?
XII.
God and the Lamb
XIII.
The Hart and the making of the World
XIV.
Why is the Fly called the Devil's Horse?
XV.
The Devil stealing the Sun
XVI.
Why is it called the Bull-Fly?
XVII.
Why is the Saw-Fly red?
XVIII.
Why does the Saw-Fly live in Stables?
XIX.
Why is the Lady-Bird dainty?
XX.
Why does the Gad-Fly sting the Cattle?
XXI.
Why does the Fly of Kolumbatsh poison the Cattle?
XXII.
Why is there a Worm in the Apple?
XXIII.
Why are the Locusts voracious?
XXIV.
Why does the Grasshopper run to and fro?
XXV.
Another Story of the Grasshopper
XXVI.
Why does the Nun Beetle cover its Face?
XXVII.
Why is the Beetle called the Nun?
XXVIII.
Why is the Wasp the Gipsies' Bee?
XXVIII. A.
Another Version of the Wasp Legend
XXIX.
Why does the Hornet live in Smoky Places?
XXX.
Why is the Hornet so spiteful?
XXX. A.
Hornet Charm
XXXI.
Why has the Woodpecker such a Long Beak and why does it peck at
the Trees?
XXXII.
Why has the Pelican a Big Pouch under its Beak?
XXXIII.
Why does the Titmouse get into the Pumpkin?
XXXIV.
Why has the Nightingale a Drab Colour?
XXXV.
Why has the Nightingale Twelve Tunes and why does the Turtle-Dove coo?
XXXVI.
Why is the Nightingale the Songster of the King?
XXXVII.
Why does the Thrush hide in the Tree?
XXXVIII.
Why has the Partridge a Mottled Colour?
XXIX.
Why has the Thistle-Finch Ruffled Feathers?
XL.
Why has the Bullfinch a Red Breast and a Big Mouth?
XLI.
Why does the Hoopoe feed on Droppings?
XLII.
Why is the Wagtail called the Gipsies' Bird?
XLIII.
Why is the Hoopoe such a Dirty Bird?
XLIV.
Why does the Cuckoo lead a Restless Life?
XLV.
Why is the Cuckoo silent in the Winter?
XLVI.
The Story of the Crow and its Ugly Fledglings
XLVII.
Why is there enmity between the Crow and the Hawk?
XLVII. A.
Crow Charms
XLVIII.
Why does the Heron drink only Rain-Water?
XLIX.
Why does the Kite cry in Dry Weather?
L.
Why can the Mole not come out on the High Road?
LI.
Why has the Tortoise a Round Back?
LII.
Why have the Fish no Feet?
LIII.
Why do the Plover fly singly?
LIV.
Why does the Spider hang on a Thread?
LIV. A.
Why are the Spider and the Mouse accursed?
LV.
Why has the Swallow a Forked Tail and a Red Spot on its Breast?
LVI.
Why does the Frog shrivel up at Death?
LVII.
Why does the Silkworm spin a Thin Thread?
LVIII.
Why is it right to kill a Sparrow?
LIX.
Why should the Oak Tree not boast?
LX.
Why does the Mosquito live in the Well?
LXI.
Why does the Mosquito feed on Blood?
LXII.
Why does the Fly eat the Cherry?
LXIII.
Why has the Butterfly Rings on its Wings?
LXIV.
Why does the Cricket chirp?
LXV.
Why do the Ants feed the Cricket?
LXVI.
Why do Cats and Dogs fight?
LXVII.
Why do Cats eat Mice?
LXVII. A.
Another Version
LXVIII.
Why does a Cat sit on the Doorstep in the Sun?
LXIX.
Why does the Fly settle on the Dead?
LXX.
Why is the Foot of Man arched?
LXXI.
Why has a Snake no Tail? and why do Fleas suck Human Blood?
LXXII.
Charms against Fleas and other House Vermin
LXXIII.
Charms against Bugs
LXXIV.
Why does the Cuckoo call "Cuckoo"?
LXXV.
Why does a Wagtail wag its Tail?
LXXVI.
Why has the Hoopoe a Tuft?
LXXVII.
Why does the Eagle live on Raw Meat?
LXXVIII.
Why has the Lark a Tuft?
LXXIX.
Why is the Tuft of the Lark dishevelled?
LXXX.
Why do Larks fly towards the Sun?
LXXX. A.
The Story of the Lark
LXXXI.
The Wooing of the Sister of the Sun
LXXXII.
The Wooing of a Fairy
LXXXIII.
Where did the Swan come from?
LXXXIV.
The Swan Maiden, the Bird of Heaven and the Crown of Paradise
LXXXV.
Why does the Duck feed on Refuse?
LXXXVI.
Why has the Stork no Tail?
LXXXVII.
Why has the Swallow a Forked Tail and a Red Spot on its Breast?
LXXXVIII.
Why does the Swallow live in Hot Places?
LXXXIX.
Why is the Dove a Homing Bird?
XC.
Why does the Raven feed on Carcases?
XCI.
Why is the Ant cut in the Middle?
XCII.
Why does the Cuckoo call "Cuckoo"?
XCIII.
Why does the Armenian love the Dirty Hoopoe?
XCIV.
The Story of the Partridge, the Fox and the Hound
XCV.
The Story of the Partridge and her Young
XCVI.
The Story of the Lark and the taming of Women
XCVII.
The Story of the Turtle Dove and its love for its Mate
XCVIII.
Why does the Wren hide himself?
XCIX.
Why is there no King over the Birds?
C.
The Story of King Log and King Stork
CI.
The Story of the Stork and Little Tomtit
CII.
The Story of the Flea and the Gnat
CIII.
The Story of the Gnat, the Lion, and the Man
CIV.
The Story of the Gnat and the Buffalo
CV.
The Story of the Town Mouse and the Field Mouse
CVI.
The Story of the Hare and the Frogs
CVII.
Why does the Buffalo walk slowly and tread gently?
CVIII.
The Story of the Pointer and the Setter
CIX.
The Story of the Rat and his Journey to God
CX.
The Story of the Seven-Witted Fox and the One-Witted Owl
CXI.
The Story of the Fox and his Bagful of Wits and the One-Witted
Hedgehog
CXII.
The Story of the Peasant, the Snake, and King Solomon
CXIII.
The Story of the Dog and the Snake and the cure of Headache
CXIV.
The Story of the Horse, the Lion, and the Wolf
CXV.
The Marriage of Tom and the Vixen
CXVI.
The Story of Man and his Years
CXVII.
The Judgment of the Soul of Man, accused and defended by Beast
and Birds
CXVIII.
The Pilgrimage of the Soul after Death
CXIX.
The Reward of the Good Man
APPENDIX I.
RUMANIAN INCANTATIONS AGAINST THE ILLNESSES OF ANIMALS.
I.
Against the Illness of Poultry
II.
Charm for a Cow against the Evil Eye
III.
Charm for a Suckling Calf
IV.
Charm for a Cow against Snake-Bite
V.
Charm against Evil Eye
VI.
Charm against Evil Eye
VII.
Charm against Worms in Beasts
VIII.
Against Worms
IX.
Charm against Snake-Bite
X.
Charm if bitten by a Weasel
APPENDIX II.
THREE STORIES FROM ARKIR.
The Rumanian Version of the Story of Ahikar
APPENDIX III.
ANIMAL STORIES FROM THE HEBREW ALPHABET OF BEN SIRA.
I.
Why were Flies created which live only One Day?
II.
Why did God create Wasps and Spiders which are of no use?
III.
Why has the Ox no Hair on his Nose?
IV.
Why does the Cat eat Mice more than any other Creeping Thing?
V.
Why does the Ass mix his Water with that of other Asses, and smell
the Dung?
VI.
Why does the Dog fight the Cat?
VII.
Why is it that the Dog recognises his Master and the Cat does not?
VIII.
Why is there a Seam in the Mouth of the Mouse?
IX.
Why does the Raven hop in its Walk?
X.
Why does the Raven mate differently from any other Bird?
XI.
Why are there no Counterpart to the Fox and the Weasel among the
Creatures of the Sea? and the Story of the Fox's Heart and the
Fishes
INTRODUCTION.
The Rumanian animal tales, which appear here for the first time
outside Rumania, are so weird, so different from any known to the
folk-lore of the West, that they arrest our attention and invite
close examination. They are, for the most part, not only beautiful
in themselves, but by reason of a peculiar flight of fancy and a
powerful imagination are so unlike anything known in other collections
of folk-lore that they raise problems far reaching, and, I venture to
think, of the highest importance to the study of popular literature. We
are moving in a religious atmosphere. Many of the tales start, as
it were, from the beginning of creation. God, the Apostles, the Evil
One seem to take a hand in the work and to rejoice more or less in the
labour of their hands. We have, besides, animal fables pure and simple,
tales designed for enjoyment, tales of fancy in which the nimble and
small creatures outwit the burly and heavy ones. We have also fairy
tales like those known to us in the West and made familiar to us
by numerous collections. A prominent characteristic is the childlike
simplicity of all the stories, the absence of any dualistic element. No
"moral" has been tacked on to these tales, and probably they were not
even intended to teach one. The questions which the study of folk-lore
has raised, whether anthropological, psychological, or historical will
be raised with a renewed force. I shall endeavour, however briefly,
to deal with some of the problems in the light which this collection
of Rumanian tales is able to shed upon the study of folk-lore.
The anthropological, historical and psychological problems underlying
our studies must be attacked--I venture to think--from a fresh point of
view. The view I hold is that the European nations form one spiritual
unit, and that within that unit the various degrees of development
through which one or the other has passed are still preserved. I
believe that we must study the manifestations of the human spirit
from a geographical angle of vision, that this development has spread
directly from one group of men to another, and that, before going
to the extreme ends of the earth for doubtful clues, we must first
try to find them, and perhaps we shall succeed in finding them more
easily and satisfactorily, among some of the European nations whose
folk-lore has not yet been sufficiently investigated. We can find
in Europe various stages of "culture," and these we must trace by
slow descent to the lowest rung of the ladder. At a certain stage of
our descent we may strike the stratum of Asiatic folk-lore which may
lead us further in our comparative study. Let me give some practical
examples of my meaning. The relation between man and animal has been
the subject of numerous highly speculative but none the less extremely
interesting and acute investigations. We have had Totemism, we have
had Animism and many other explanations, which by their number became
simply bewildering. Students have gone to the Bushmen of Australia,
and to the Red Indians of America for parallels and explanations,
or for proofs of their highly ingenious theories. But are there no
animal and bird stories in Europe which would show us how, to this
day, the people understand the relations between man and other living
creatures, what views they hold of birds and beasts and insects? Are
the animals humanised--using the word in the sense of impersonating
a human being? Do the people see any fundamental difference between
the created things? In the fairy tale, at any rate, no such definite
clear-cut distinction between man and animal can be discerned.
But at the root of many anthropological myths the animal is only a
disguised human being. The worth of these Rumanian stories--culled
as they are from the mouth of the people--is their ability to show
how to this very day the people look upon the animal world. Perhaps
another view will ultimately find its way among the students of
folk-lore. What I am anxious to emphasise is the fact that there are,
for the investigation of folk-lore students, mines of untold wealth
that have hitherto not been sufficiently worked.
These tales represent one or more of the earlier stages of European
folk-lore. The elements, not yet quite closely moulded together,
allow us at times to lay bare the sources and thus trace the inner
history of this part of folk-lore. The people are confronted by
a world filled with weird and mysterious animals, birds, insects,
each with their own peculiarities to invite question.
Almost everything that is not of daily occurrence excites the people's
curiosity, and they ask for an explanation of it; where does this
or that animal come from, and why has it this or that peculiarity
in its habits, colours, form and other matters? They are very
grateful for instruction. But it must be of a kind adapted to their
understanding. It must be plausible, even if it puts some strain on
their imagination. The more wonderful and weird that explanation,
the more easily it is accepted by the people, and the more firmly
is it believed. This question of "belief" has often been raised in
connection with fairy tales. It is asked whether the people believe
in the existence of fairies, monsters, marvellous and wonder-working
animals, in short, in all the mechanism of the fairy tale.
To this an unhesitating answer can be given in so far as these Rumanian
tales and legends are concerned. They are believed in implicitly. They
form an integral part--I feel almost inclined to say they form an
exclusive part--of the popular religious beliefs of the folk. The
people are neither too squeamish, nor too sophistical in their faith,
nor do they enquire too closely into the dogmatic character of such
beliefs or into the sources from which they have come.
In the East too the people, as a rule, are good-natured, and a good
story remains a good story, whether told by a believer or an infidel.
The study of these tales promises to exceed by far in interest the
study of mere "fairy tales." We are moving in a spiritual world,
which appears to be much more primitive in the animal tale than in
the fairy tale. We are getting much nearer to the very soul of the
people, to its power of imagination and abstraction. We can see more
clearly the manner of its working.
The comparative study of fairy lore has led to the surprising
recognition of the world-wide range of these tales. In spite of
investigations carried on for close upon a century, no satisfactory
solution has yet been found which would explain the appearance of one
and the same fairy tale at such widely separate parts of the world
as India and England. Various answers have been advanced in order
to explain this surprising similarity. And the same problem arises
here. This collection of tales, as already mentioned, contains two
groups. The larger group consists of the legend or creation stories--in
which, however, one section contains fairy tales though used also
as creation stories--and the other group consists of fables pure
and simple. It would be unscientific, I hold, to treat these groups
on one plane as if they were all contemporary in their origin. They
may represent various degrees either of local evolution, and if so,
that may be found to be the best solution, or they may have come
in various stages of transmission. The theory of migration has been
applied hitherto to the fairy tale. I am not aware that the history of
the popular fable has been attempted, still less that of the creation
legends, which have remained almost unknown until quite recently. I
will deal with each of these groups as far as possible separately,
and the conclusions drawn from each group will afterwards be merged
into one final conclusion established by the fact of their actual
presence in Rumanian popular lore.
Migration, no doubt, offers the best solution of the riddle set by
the fairy tale. No one, unless he solves the riddle of the heroine
in the fairy tale, can win her. But still the opinion of scholars is
divided. The mistake, I venture to think, has been that all the tales
called by this title, and even culled from the mouth of the people,
have been treated on one general principle, without recognising
the possibility that there may be divers layers, some older, some
of a more recent date. This probability seems to have been entirely
overlooked. That which holds good for one cycle need not hold equally
good for all the rest. But the question of the central origin of tales
must not be confused with that of their transmission. Thus a tale may
originate in India or Egypt, but once it has started on a journey of
its own it will be carried, chiefly by word of mouth, from country
to country. And as its structure is loose, a mere framework with
a very simple plot, it will assimilate other elements and undergo
those manifold changes, the investigation of which is the delight
and despair of the folk-lorist.
We are now faced by a new set of stories, some of which are mere tales,
while others are of a more legendary character. I class under the
latter heading all those in which the religious element stands out
prominently. They have assumed their actual form no doubt probably
under the powerful sway of some religious influence. The peculiar
shade of religious teaching which has moulded the actual form of
these legendary stories, and which is of decisive importance in our
investigation, will be discussed more fully later on, after we have
been able to dispose of other solutions offered by the explanation
of the origin of these tales. It will then be possible to approach
the question of the fairy tales from the coign of vantage gained.
Within this class of tales there are some in which the legendary
character is not so pronounced, where the tale is intended to
explain certain peculiarities of animals. These seem to be of so
primitive a character that the closest parallels can only be found
among primitive nations. Here a new problem sets in--the problem of
origins. For curiously enough a striking similarity cannot be denied
to the Rumanian, Indian, African and possibly American tales. But
the similarity is only in the aim. The other nations ask precisely
the same questions about the animals with which they are familiar,
and they endeavour to give an answer to their query. The parallelism
is in the question. Are we, then, to treat these tales in the same
manner as the "fairy tales" and account for that similarity in the
same manner as that of fairy tales gathered from distant regions? Or,
in other words, have we here another set of tales which have been
carried chiefly by word of mouth from one country to another? Are these
stories also new witnesses to the process of "migration"? And are we,
then, to assume that this theory of migration should be applied to
these animal tales, as it has been to the fairy tale? Or, are we to
assume that the unity of the human soul works on parallel lines in
divers countries among divers nations not otherwise connected with
one another? If not, how is this similarity to be explained? True,
the parallelism between Rumanian and Indian tales is not so close as
it is between the "fairy tales." For the animals are often not the
same. They are everywhere local beasts. This change in the animals
chosen may be due to different circumstances and local assimilation. It
is quite natural that for a tiger and jackal, a wolf and a fox might
have been substituted when the animal tale reached Europe, for the
tale had to be localised in order to preserve its interest in a new
atmosphere. One need not go very far to find the same change taking
place even in written literature. The jackals in the frame story of
the Panchatantra become "foxes" in Kalila Wa Dimna in the European
versions. Or, to take another example, in the famous parable of the
"man in the pit" in the Barlaam Josaphat legend the furious elephant
becomes a camel, however incongruous the substitution may appear. If
such changes could take place in the written literature in which the
incidents are fixed, how much more easily could it take place when
a story is carried only by word of mouth? Then the substitution of
a familiar animal for one unknown would be quite natural. The people
want to know the reason for the peculiarities of those animals that
they know. They are not likely to care much for unknown fauna. Unless
those other animals are of a purely mythical and fantastical character,
and as such appeal to the universal imagination, there is no room in
the popular mythology for animals of foreign countries.
If, then, we admit that these animal fables have been brought to Europe
in the same manner as the fairy tales, by means of oral transmission,
then they have preserved their original character and their primitive
form less modified than has happened in the case of the fairy tale,
for reasons which would have to be explained. The only other suggestion
is that these legends and animal tales are of a local origin, the
product of the poetical imagination of the Rumanian peasant, and as
such quite independent of any other source. If this is not acceptable
we must admit a continuous stream of popular tradition, setting in
at a time not yet determined and spreading from East to West or from
South to North, the direction of the stream having been determined
by the presumable centre of origin in Asia, before or contemporary
with the spread of the real fairy tales.
But, it might be argued, as has been also done in the case of the fairy
tales, that these stories are the product of individual efforts of
local myth-makers and popular poets, that they are purely indigenous in
origin. One cannot deny that the people could invent such stories. Some
one must have invented them, and why could they not have been invented
by the Rumanian peasant independently of the Indian story teller?
The cosmogonic setting invalidates this suggestion. Such a setting
presupposes a definite set of ideas about the beginnings of things
which are neither spontaneous nor indigenous. All that can be said is
that, once the impulse had been given, the imagination of the people
followed the lead and worked in its own way on the given lines. This is
the general trend of real popular lore. Each nation mints in its own
fashion the gold brought from elsewhere, and places its own imprint
upon it.
This view I find myself unable to accept. It could be entertained
only and solely if no parallels whatsoever could be found anywhere to
some at least of the more important and characteristic creation tales,
fairy tales and fables.
The question then remains, Where do these tales come from? Are they
indeed the expression of the primitive mind, and if so, have we to
recognise these specific Rumanian beast tales as so many indigenous
products of the primitive Rumanian mind?
Tylor, in his Primitive Culture (i. 3 ed. 410 ff.), discusses at
some length the beast tales found among primitive peoples, tales
that as yet are not the excuse for a moral and have not been reduced
to the background of an allegory. He takes his examples from the
North Indians of America, from the Kamtchadals of Kamtchatka and
from the inhabitants of Guinea. These stories are thus, as it were,
the primitive expression of the myth-making imagination of peoples in
which the animal stands in as close a relation as any human being. Be
this as it may, the conclusions drawn by Tylor rest on this evidence
gathered only from so-called dark ages. He is not aware of any such
tales among the nations of Europe, who certainly cannot be classed
among the primitive peoples. And on the other hand he is fully alive to
the fact that a number of such beast tales have been worked up in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries in the famous epic of Reynard the Fox.
The question arises, Whence came some of the incidents believed
to be more ancient? They lead us straight to the supposition that
such animal tales in a primitive form must have existed among the
peoples of Europe, even as far west as Flanders and France. They
were afterwards woven into one consecutive narrative, conceived
in a spirit of satire on existing social and clerical conditions. A
"moral" has thus been introduced into a set of more ancient tales. But
of this anon. In view of these Rumanian tales we can no longer be
content to leave the question of the compilation of Reynard where
Tylor has left it. The new materials now at our disposal allow us to
follow it much further and to arrive at conclusions differing from
those of Tylor. From the moment that we find in Europe similar beast
tales to those found among primitive peoples in other parts of the
world, we are confronted by a new problem. We may recognise the same
spiritual agency at work: we may see the same action of the mind,
asking everywhere for an explanation of the phenomena from beast and
bird, from sky and sea. Thus far the minds of all the nations run on
parallel lines. The differentiation begins with the answer, and here,
then, the problem sets in. How many nations give the same answer, and
in so doing form, as it were, a group by themselves? How old is this
or that answer or the tale that contains it? And what is the form in
which it is given? Is it a fable or has it a religious colouring? In
endeavouring to reply to these queries we find ourselves face to
face with the problems of indigenous character, primitive origin,
independent evolution and question of survival. We are thus brought
face to face with yet another theory--the theory of survivals--the
most important of all, which sways the trend of the study of modern
folk-lore. I must deal with it here at some greater length. I mean,
of course, the theory that sees in every manifestation of the popular
spirit, in every story, in every ballad or song, a survival from
hoary antiquity, a remnant of prehistoric times, to which the people
have clung with a marvellous tenacity, although they have entirely
forgotten its meaning. Out of an unconscious antiquarian weakness
they are supposed to have preserved every fossil even if and when it
had become burdensome to them. But it must not be forgotten that the
people retain only those practices and beliefs by means of which they
hope to obtain health, wealth and power, and they will take care not
to jeopardise such benefits by any neglect. So long as these results
are expected, the people will cling tenaciously to the beliefs which
promise them the greater gifts. It is not impossible that such beliefs,
being too deeply rooted, might survive local political changes.
But in order to survive, two conditions are essential, continuity of
place and continuity of ethnical unity. The religious continuity is
also an important condition, though not by any means so essential. The
clash of two or more religious doctrines causes on the one hand
the destruction of the official system of religious ceremonies
and practices, and on the other drives to the bottom that mass of
ceremonies from the observance of which benefits to health and wealth
are expected. In the moment when the belief in their efficacy has gone
they disappear without leaving a trace. Very little, if anything,
survives. It is a fallacy to believe, as is now the fashion, that
without such continuity any real survival can take place. This
theory has been carried to extreme lengths, without the slightest
justification. It all rests on finely spun hypotheses in which time
and space have entirely disappeared.
No connecting link has been brought forward to bind the present to
the past. However plausible some aspects of the "vegetation god"
may appear, one must remember the essential fact, that there is now
not a single nation in Europe living on the soil where such practices
as the slaying of an annual king god has been practised, if, indeed,
they have ever been practised, beyond a very strictly limited area
in Asia Minor and possibly in Sicily or Italy. With whom could such
practices survive, for example, in Bulgaria or even in Thrace? It is
known that the population there has changed its character many times,
even within the last eight hundred years. There is such a medley of
races, some old, some new, that it would be impossible to expect
survivals from the Pelasgian or Dacian past. Nor would they have
anything in common. The Rumanians of Latin origin are certainly not
the oldest inhabitants of Rumania. If, then, each of these ethnical
unities had separate practices or, to come nearer to our subject,
separate tales and stories marked with its own individuality, it
might perhaps be argued that these stories and popular beliefs are
survivals from prehistoric times, remnants of a past long forgotten,
embodying a folk-lore and popular psychology which date back to remote
antiquity. None of these nations, and, in fact, none of the modern
nations of Europe, reach back to any extreme antiquity, nor are they
homogeneous in their ethnical character nor the descendants of the
autochthonous inhabitants. There may be a few rare strains of other
blood in the modern admixture, but not of any decisive character,
certainly it is not strong enough to have preserved any survivals.
True, many of the modern practices are no more of yesterday than
these tales and stories are, but again, they are certainly not so old
as a modern school of thought endeavours to make out. Comparatively
modern nations, often alien to the soil which they inhabit, none of
them of a pure unmixed origin, cannot have retained beliefs, tales,
etc., of which their forefathers knew nothing. They could not have
laid stress on things which had disappeared with the nations whom
their successors or victors had destroyed. If, then, we find that
these nations of diverse origins and of diverse times possess a
certain stock of folk-lore in common, it follows naturally that
they must have obtained it in common at a certain definite period,
when in spite of their ethnical and possibly political differences
they were all subjected together to one pervading influence. A great
spiritual force moulded them at one and the same time, and this
produced one common result, which, in spite of its genetic unity,
would have allowed a certain latitude for individual development. If,
as I assume, it was the all-pervading influence of religious sects
which stretched from far East to extreme West and embraced all the
cultured nations of Europe, impressing them with the same seal--a
certain popularly modified Christianity embellished with legends and
tales appealing to the imagination, containing a strong didactic and
ethical strain, propounding a new solution of the world's problem
suited to the understanding of the people, accounting satisfactorily
for the evil in the world, warding off the effects of these spirits
of evil--then it is small wonder that their teaching sunk deeper into
the heart of the people and brought about that surprising spiritual
unification in the religion of the masses which survives in folk-lore.
They would thus date from more or less the same period, when the
whole of Europe felt the influence of teachings which lasted two to
three centuries at least, quite long enough to leave indelible traces.
It is not to be denied that among these tales some may belong to an
anterior period. The newer facts had in some cases been grafted on
older ones. Some remnants of ancient myths had survived the first
process of forcible Christianisation. But only there where ancient
paganism can be shown to have flourished when this new wave of
proselytism set in, only there might one be able to discover such
traces. These are the local incidents, the local colouring, which
give to each tale its own popular character without changing its
substance. Such process of assimilation is akin to the other before
mentioned, viz. the substitution of the European fauna for Asiatic or
Indian animals. Though references to ancient Greek myths occur in these
stories, yet in spite of that the Rumanian versions approximate more
closely to the later Byzantine than the ancient classical forms. The
transformation sets in practically where the Middle Ages part from
antiquity. Here is yet another proof for the more recent phase of
this popular literature.
A grave danger threatens the scientific character of folk-lore, if
a wrong method of investigation be persisted in much longer. I refer
to the system of haphazard comparisons arising out of the view that
everything done and every rite kept by the folk must of necessity be a
survival from extreme antiquity and belong to a period anterior to our
modern civilization--a fossil from the age of man's childhood embedded
in layers of more recent date. For proof of this theory parallels are
sought and found among primitive nations, or those who we believe have
not yet left the rude stage of primitive culture. If, then, something
is found among them which resembles closely or remotely any of the
customs, tales, and beliefs, in our own midst, we are convinced that
these customs, tales or beliefs are really remnants of an older stage,
through which the modern nations have passed before they reached the
present stage of development, and which they have cherished and kept
unchanged throughout the ages. The history of comparative philology
offers the best analogy for the demonstration of the futility of
such reasoning. Nothing contributed so much to make the study of
comparative philology a laughing-stock as this endeavour to build up
theories of the origin of the language on such arbitrary foundations.
How deceptive such haphazard similarities can be is best demonstrated
by the endeavours to derive all the European languages from the
Hebrew. This was believed to have been the original language which
Adam spoke. Nothing more natural, then, than to trace all the languages
back to the Hebrew, which moreover was a holy language. Much ingenuity
and immense learning were spent--nay wasted--for centuries in this
undertaking. The most trifling incident, the most superficial identity
in sound or meaning was looked upon as complete evidence. It has taken
close upon half a century to demolish this fabric of philological
fallacy, and to place comparative philology on a sound basis. We
know now that similarities in different languages may be the result
of independent evolution.
The similarities are often quite superficial. No one would, for
example, compare a modern English word with an old Latin or Greek stem
or with any archaic dialect of these languages, without showing the
gradual development of our modern word. He would take it back step by
step, and then compare the oldest English form with a contemporary
form. Most of the European languages, as we now see, are derived
from one common stock, more archaic than any of them. No one would
now trace a French word directly to that old Indo-European root,
without going first to the Latin; and so with every other language
belonging to the same group. Each nation has put the seal of its
own individuality on its language, which it has moulded and shaped
according to its own physiological and psychical faculties. The
one will have retained more primitive forms; for example, local and
historical as well as ethnical continuity have kept the Italian much
closer to the Latin than Spanish or Portuguese. No one dreams to-day
of reducing a French word to a Hebrew root, despite any similarity
of form which they might have in common.
We can go now one step further and suggest a common origin for the
Indo-European and Semitic groups of languages, a unity which lies
beyond the time of their separation, and it is the dream and aim of
comparative philology to attain this goal.
Returning now to our science of folk-lore, we have a perfect analogy
in the study of comparative philology briefly sketched above. The
analogy is so complete that it is almost unnecessary to elaborate
it in detail. It is obvious that safety and scholarship lie in the
following line of investigation. A European group of folk-lore must
first be established, and the dependence on an earlier common stock
demonstrated. But the historical connection stands foremost, and the
fixing, more or less definitely, of the time of its appearance in the
form in which it now exists. In adopting this line of investigation,
it will then become unscientific to postulate early survivals
for elements that may date from a comparatively recent period,
and for which an explanation can be found by this historical and
comparative study. And just as it has happened in the case of the
study of comparative philology, so it will happen that we shall be in
a much better position to separate and to appreciate the individual
character of the folk-lore of each nation, the form which the common
stock assumes under the psychical and cultural conditions which
characterise its spiritual life. This method will give us also the
key to the ethno-psychology, the ultimate aim and goal of folk-lore
studies. No doubt some higher unity may possibly emerge out of this
historical investigation, for which again the study of comparative
philology offers us the best parallel. Separate groups may be formed of
European and Asiatic folk-lore. The artificial geographical division
need not form the separating barrier either in folk-lore, or, as has
been proved, in the study of language. But to continue the method of
haphazard parallelism and indiscriminate comparison between old and
new will be indefensible. It will be found that even in the so-called
immutable East continual changes have taken place which do not allow us
to assume favourable conditions of continuity and "survivals." Still
less is this the case with the peoples who concern us more directly,
the inhabitants of the south-eastern part of Europe. One has only to
cast a glance at the medley of nationalities inhabiting the Balkan
Peninsula and the neighbourhood to realise the profound differences
of faith, origin and language of Greeks and Albanians, Slavs and
Rumanians, Hungarians and Saxons, and one is forced to the conclusion
that whatever these may possess in common is not a survival from olden
times, but must have come to them at a time when they were all living
together in that part of Europe, subject to one common influence
strong enough to leave an indelible impression on their imagination.
This result is unavoidable if we remember also the past history of
these countries. They have been swept over by nations, one more
barbarous than another, one more ruthless than another, and none
remaining there long enough to become a decisive factor in the
formation of the existing nationalities. Dacians and Pelasgians,
Romans and Goths, Petchenegs and Cumans, Alans and Huns, Tartars and
Hungarians, Bulgars, Slavs and Turks have succeeded one another with
great rapidity, not to mention the numerous colonies of Armenians,
Syrians and Gipsies planted in the heart of the Byzantine Empire by
the foreign rulers on the throne of Byzantium. It would be a sheer
miracle if anything of ancient times could have survived. Assuming
even the theoretical possibility of such a miracle--and those who
hold strongly to such a theory of unqualified survivals evidently
do believe in such miracles--even then it will remain to be shown,
with whom these ancient beliefs and tales originated and survived. The
romantic legend may have, and practically has, been forgotten in its
entirety. Out of one of the episodes have grown the popular Rumanian
poems of the Wanderer.
If folk-lore is to become an exact science I venture to think that the
problem of survivals will have to undergo a serious re-examination. We
shall have to revise our views and try to define more precisely
the method according to which we ought to label certain practices,
customs and tales as survivals, and also to determine the period to
which such survivals may be ascribed. A primary condition consists
in establishing historical continuity and ethnical unity.
If nations of diverse origin and of different ages possess the same
tales and practices, it follows that this common property cannot be a
survival, but each must have received all these at a certain fixed date
simultaneously, quite independent of their own ethnical or historical
and local past. All of them must have been standing under one and
the same levelling influence. This new influence may have brought
with it some older elements belonging to different traditions and
to a different past, and introduced them among these nations, as in
the case of the Barlaam legend or that of the legend of St. George
and the Dragon; but though locally accepted and assimilated they are
not original constituent elements of the local folk-lore of these
nations. These were only adopted and assimilated materials brought
from elsewhere. They are not local survivals.
The analogy between the study of folk-lore and that of comparative
philology can be pursued profitably much further. It may prove of
decisive importance. It is not an indifferent question as to whether
language and ethnic character are interchangeable terms. Russified
Tartars, Magyarised Rumanians, Anglicised Hindoos will speak Russian,
Hungarian or English as the case may be, but this will not change
their ethnical character. They will remain what they were: Tartars,
Rumanians or Hindoos. Thus also nothing can be proved for the specific
origins of folk-lore if found among any one of these nations; it
may be just as much Tartar as Russian, Rumanian or Hungarian, etc.,
for it can easily have been taken over with the language.
The fact that these tales are found in Rumania and are told by
Rumanian peasants is in itself not yet sufficient proof of their
indigenous origin. We are taken out of the region of hypothetical
speculation into that of concrete facts by modern philology. In the
first place, it is put on record, on the irrefutable evidence of the
modern languages themselves, that there is no nation in Europe which
speaks a language of its own so pure as to be free from admixture with
foreign elements. All owe their very origin, in fact, to this clash
of languages, which was the determining factor in their creation and
form. English is typical in that respect in the west, and Rumanian
in the east of Europe. Both languages have been born through the
combined forces of at least two different languages. In England,
through the violent Norman conquest, French was superimposed upon
Anglo-Saxon. In Rumania, through peaceful penetration and religious
influence, Slavonic became part of the Rumanian language.
If, then, we should examine each of the European languages to find
the various elements of which they are composed, we should be able
to trace the origin of much that is also the spiritual property of
these nations. Every word borrowed from another language represents
a new idea, a fresh notion taken from elsewhere and embodied. We
can study the history of nations from their vocabulary. We can
trace the migrations of the Gipsies by the foreign words now in
their language. The proportion of these alien elements helps us to
determine the period which elapsed since they went from one nation
to another. The large number of Rumanian words in the Gipsy language
shows that the Gipsies must have lived a long time peaceably among the
Rumanians, and the Rumanian words in all the dialects of the Gipsy,
from Spain to Siberia, are conclusive evidence for the fact that
Rumania was a centre of diffusion for the European Gipsy. And yet
step by step one can follow up a modification; small at the confines
of the Balkans, it grows greater the further it is carried westwards.
The conclusion is obvious. In Rumanian, the language is preponderantly
of a Latin origin, but other tongues come in to make up its
present character. A comparatively large proportion of the popular
language--which alone is of importance--is Slavonic; then follow in
decreasing proportions Hungarian, modern Greek, Turkish and Albanian
elements, but scarcely any trace of a more ancient local language. In
the Hungarian language there is a large proportion of Slavonic,
then of Rumanian and German elements. The other languages of the
Balkans show a similar mixture of heterogeneous influences. So
thorough has been this process of assimilation that the original
Tartarian language of the Bulgars, who hailed from the Volga--hence
their name--has entirely disappeared. The same has happened with the
Cumans in Hungary. If there is anything tenacious it is undoubtedly
the human language, the means of satisfying one's daily wants. And
yet there is constant change and assimilation going on all the time,
one nation borrows freely from its neighbour and enriches its own
treasury with the possessions of the others. How easily, then, could
a philologist of the eighteenth century, who wanted to compare these
languages among themselves, by collecting similar words haphazard
prove that Rumanian was Turkish, that Hungarian was Slavonic and
that Bulgarian was Greek, or on finding some Albanian words in
Rumanian and Bulgarian how easily could he declare these languages
to be survivals of the ancient mythical Pelasgians with whom the
Albanians were connected. Thanks to our modern comparative science
these languages are placed on their proper basis, and the words and
elements are sifted and separated from one another. Each one by the
form in which it appears in the other languages yields to the scholar
the secret of the time when it was adopted. Having got thus far,
we may now apply these results to the question which is before us,
viz. the origin of these tales and apologues.