came to her and did all the work, and told her at the same time to
go to the hollow tree; there she would find a carriage and pair and
beautiful clothes waiting for her. She did so, went to church in state,
left before the others, and was at home to meet her people coming
back from church and found the house swept and clean, and the linseed
separated from the poppy seed. They spoke of the beautiful girl who
had come to church, and chided their poor daughter for staying at home.
The second week the same thing happened. This time there were two
sacks of poppy seed and linseed which she had to separate. And again
the doves helped. And so on the third Sunday. The son of the squire,
who had seen her on the former two Sundays, tried to stop her on
her way out of church, and trod on her slipper, which was knocked
off her foot. She did not wait to recover it, but returned home
as fast as she could. The young man went round with the slipper to
find the person whom it would fit. When he came near the house, the
step-mother, fearing lest he see her step-daughter, hid her under a
big trough behind the door. When the young man, after having tried
the slipper on her daughter, whom it did not fit, asked whether there
was another girl in the house, and she replied, "None," but a cock
who was standing by began to sing: "O that old crone is telling lies;
there is another girl hidden under the trough behind the door."
The young man, hearing the words of the cock, which the old woman
tried in vain to drive away, sent his servant into the house to find
out whether it was so. He lifted the trough and found there the other
girl, clothed in dirty rags and huddled up. The woman, seeing that the
girl had been discovered, said to the man, "Do not take any notice of
her; she is a dirty slut and an idiot." But the cock again sang out,
"O that old crone is telling lies; it is the daughter of the old man,
and she is very wise." The young man, who was waiting outside, became
impatient, and calling for the servant, he told him to bring the girl
out. He tried the slipper, which fitted like a glove, and there and
then he married her.
And this is the origin of the dove.
XC.
WHY DOES THE RAVEN FEED ON CARRION?
The Story of Noah and the Raven.
The Rumanian story about the raven is more or less the well-known
story of the raven in Noah's ark as told in the Bible. But it has
not reached the people in that simple ungarnished form. It has been
embellished with legends. Those found among the Rumanian peasants
agree in the main with those told by oriental writers and found in
"historiated" Bible's--that great treasure-house of legendary Biblical
lore and the depository of many of the legends of the past.
It is important to see how stories, the literary origin of which
cannot be doubted, have penetrated among the people and have become
actual popular legends. We can almost trace the way which they have
come. And this lends a special value to such popular Biblical legends.
The story runs as follows:
The raven was originally a bird with white feathers. When Noah sent
out the raven to find out how things were in the world, the raven
espied the carcase of a horse floating on the waters which had begun
to subside. Forgetting his errand, the raven settled on the carcase
and started eating, and he continued eating for three days and three
nights. He could not get satisfied; only at the dawn of the fourth
morning did he remember the errand on which he had been sent, and
started on his return. When Noah saw him at some distance, he cried,
"Why hast thou tarried so long, and what is thy message, and how does
the world without look?"
The raven, unabashed, replied, "I do not know anything about the
world and how things are going; I only know that I was very hungry,
and finding the dead body of a horse, I sat down and ate, and now
that I have had my fill, I have come back."
When Noah heard this answer from the raven, he grew very angry, and
said, "Mayest thou turn as black as my heart is within me," for his
heart had turned black from anger and fury. And from that minute the
raven's feathers turned as black as coal. And Noah went on saying,
"As thou hast fed on carrion, so shalt thou feed henceforth only on
the dead bodies of animals and beasts."
And in order that the ravens should not multiply too quickly, it was
ordained that they should lay their eggs in December and not hatch
them until February, for only then, when the frost is so strong that
even the stones burst, does the shell of the raven's eggs split, and
the young are able to come out and be fed by their parents, for they
are unable to hatch them unless they are aided also by a hard frost,
which causes the shells to break. Otherwise, if they had laid their
eggs in the summer and hatched them in the summer, like other birds,
they would grow so numerous that people would not have been able to
defend themselves from the raven.
Moreover, the raven, when sent by Noah, saw only the peaks of the
mountains, and those have remained to this very day the real haunt of
the bird. They only nest in very high crags and peaks of mountains,
and never in villages.
Thus far the legend, which occurs in many variants. The raven, whose
peculiar appearance is well known, has become the bird of oracle
par excellence. There are a large number of treatises on the augury
of the raven, notably in the Arabic literature, some of which are
traced back to Indian originals. As for the part which the raven has
played in Northern mythology, it is sufficient to mention the ravens
of Odin, not to speak of the Biblical legend according to which the
raven fed the prophet Elijah. (Another interpretation of the word in
the Bible changes the raven into Arabians, who fed the prophet in his
hiding-place.) There are some Rumanian popular beliefs connected with
the raven which I will mention here.
If two or three ravens fly over a village and croak, it is a sure
sign that there will be death in the village.
If two ravens, one coming from the north and one coming from the south,
meet over the roof of a house, it is a sure sign of the death of one
of the inmates of the house.
It is an old saying that if ravens are seen flying in a great number
in one direction, it is a sure sign of plague or some death among
beasts and men.
If ravens croak over a flock of sheep, the shepherds keep a double
watch, for they believe the ravens foretell an inroad by wolves or
other wild beasts.
If a raven, meeting a herd of cattle, croaks, the Rumanian responds,
"May it be on thy head, thy feathers and thy bones," for he believes
that one of his animals will die and become food for the raven.
And, if one raven is seen flying over the head of a man and continues
to do so for a while, it is a sign of the death of that man.
It is generally assumed that the ravens fly in pairs, and the
appearance of one alone is therefore ominous.
These few examples will suffice. They stamp the raven as the bird
of ill-omen.
XCI.
WHY IS THE ANT CUT IN THE MIDDLE?
The Story of the Young Maiden and her Step-mother the Demon.
Once upon a time there was a widow who had only one child, a girl, and
all her possessions (goods and chattels) consisted of a flock of sheep.
When the girl grew up, the mother sent her with the flock, and told
her at the same time to put on a man's clothes and not to speak to
anyone in the manner of women.
The girl did as she was told, and fed the flock for a long time. One
day, however, she was in the forest, where a young boy also fed his
flock. But he was not the son of man; he was the son cf the serpent
(dragon). How was she to know it? And even if she had known it, what
good would it be to her, seeing that she did not know what a dragon
or a she-dragon was?
Regarding him as a shepherd like herself, she began talking to him,
and the whole day they went together with their flocks. When the young
dragon came home in the evening, he told his mother, "I think that
he with whom I spent the day is not a man in spite of the clothes
but a woman, but he does not seem to have a woman's voice. Would
it not be better if I brought him here, and you might then tell me
whether it is a man or a woman, for if she be a woman, I should like
to have her as my wife. I have not yet seen in the whole world one more
beautiful." "Go," said the mother, "bring him. If he be a man, he will
return safely from us, but if she be a woman, then thine shall she be."
On the next day, meeting the daughter of the widow, they fed their
flocks together, and in the evening, when they were to separate,
he asked the girl to spend the night at his house. The girl, not
thinking aught evil, and being somewhat far away from her own house,
accepted his invitation and went with him. What did the she-dragon do
when she saw her coming? She went out to meet her and engaged her in
conversation. Then she turned to her son and spoke to him, but in a
foreign tongue. She told him to put a flower under the pillow of his
companion, and if in the morning the flower will be faded, for sure
then she is a girl; otherwise the flower would remain fresh. So he
did. The girl, seeing that they talked in a foreign tongue, understood
that they were talking about her, and determined to watch and see. No
sooner had she gone to bed than she began to snore, as if she had
fallen fast asleep, but she did not sleep. Her hosts, thinking her
fast asleep, got up, went on tip-toe into the garden, and, taking a
carnation in full flower, put it under her pillow and fell asleep.
The girl, feeling that something had been put under her pillow,
understood that something was wrong. So she got up and took out of
her bag a charmed mirror by which to undo the sorcery of her hosts. No
sooner had she taken out her mirror, than the dragon-mother woke up,
and, running quickly to the bed, found the flower faded, to her own
great joy and that of her son. What was the girl to do now? She
could not deny that she was a girl. So she began to speak with a
woman's voice. The young dragon then insisted on her marrying him,
but she said, if he insisted on taking her she would neither speak
to him nor kiss him. The young dragon, more in a joke, took her in
his arms and squeezed her so tight that her face got swollen and her
eyes almost started out of her head. She then changed herself into an
insect and ran to the door to get out from under the threshold. But
the old dragon took a knife and slashed her across the body when she
had crept half-way out of the house, so that she nearly cut her in
twain. Her luck was that just a little flesh remained by which the
other part of the body was kept hanging on, and thus she has remained
to this very day, for she became the ant.
The first part of this story agrees in the main with the first part of
the swallow story, No. 87. It is another example of the transfer of
a story from one object to another, like the story of the woodpecker
and the pelican. (Cf. also the slashing of the bee in the stories,
No. 1 ff.)
Popular belief is that the ant is the grandchild (niece nepoata)
of God, and the handmaid of the Virgin, although I have not yet been
able to find the legend upon which this belief rests. The ant must
not be molested, for the Virgin sighs as often as an ant is killed.
The red ant comes from the tears shed by St. Mary over the grave
of Christ.
The ant is used as a remedy against toothache by boiling it together
with the earth of its nest and rinsing the mouth with the water
(which thus contains the well-known arnica of the pharmacopoeia).
XCII.
WHY DOES THE CUCKOO CALL "CUCKOO"?
The Story of the two Brothers and King Alexander.
In the time of Alexander the Great, King of Macedon, there lived a very
wealthy man who had two sons, each one more beautiful than the other,
and both more beautiful than any other living being. When they grew up
to be twelve years old, the fame of their beauty had reached the Court
of King Alexander. He was told that no young men so beautiful as they
were could be found over nine seas and nine countries. Alexander went
himself to see them, and no sooner had he seen them than he appointed
them captains in his army, for he was a high and mighty king, and he
liked to have in his army valiant knights like himself.
At that time there lived the dog-headed people, who were human from the
waist down and dogs from their waist upward. Their kingdom stretched
far away to the north of Alexander's realms. Every year the king of
the dog-men and his people made incursions into the countries, and,
capturing many women, carried them away. The men they fattened, and,
after killing them, used to eat them, but the beautiful women they
brought to their king to become his wives. They treated the men just
as we treat our animals, which we fatten to kill and eat.
When Alexander saw that these wild dog men would not give him peace,
he decided to make war upon them, and to free the world of such wild
creatures. But to fight with these dog-men was not an easy task, and he
therefore selected the best men among his host, all seasoned warriors,
and he put the best captains over them. Among these were also the two
brothers, one of whom was called Cuckoo and the other Mugur. Wherever
they went they did wonders. The heads of the dog-men fell before the
strokes of their swords like the grass cut by the scythe. The battle
lasted for three days and three nights. On the fourth, the two brothers
captured the king of the dog-men and brought him to Alexander. There
they killed him. Then they set fire to the land of the dog-men, and
the fire burnt for over a month. It was so wide a country that no one
has ever known the end of it, and so these dog-men were routed utterly
and none were left; only their name has remained behind. When Alexander
saw the valiant deeds of these two brothers, he appointed them leaders
of his army. They had to be always near him, and wherever they went
and drew their swords, the blood of the heathen ran like water.
Alexander had many wars with kings and emperors, and he conquered
them all. No one dared to stand up against him, for God had given
him strength, and he marched on to the ends of the earth; he was to
become king over the whole world and then die.
He went to the south with his army, passing through many desolate
countries, filled with wild animals and monsters, dragons and
serpents: wherever he went he burned them with fire so as to cleanse
the world. For months Alexander went on with his march, accompanied by
the two brothers and his army, for he had set his heart upon going to
the very ends of the earth. One day on their march they met a company
of women riding on white horses, one more beautiful than other, and
there was one who by her beauty outshone them all. She was dressed,
moreover, so radiantly that she shone like the sun. Alexander drew
near, and he asked them how it came about that they were riding such
beautiful horses, and where were the men?
To this the women replied: "Ours is the country where the women
rule, the women take the place of the men and the men that of the
women." Alexander rested there for a while with his two companions
and his army, and they were well entertained by the women, who were
more beautiful than any known among men of this part of the world.
Among these there was one who was like the moon among the stars. Cuckoo
fell in love with her, and they became inseparable. Cuckoo thought he
could not live without her. Mugur, who was of a more retiring nature,
restrained his love and kept aloof from the women.
When the two weeks had elapsed which Alexander had appointed for him
to stay there, he broke up his camp and journeyed onward until the
army reached the gates of Paradise. These were guarded by angels with
flaming swords, who would allow access only to those who were pure
and sinless. When the soldiers beheld the beauty of Paradise they
wondered greatly at it, and some of them were desirous of entering
it, and went to the angel to ask his permission. Amongst these were
Mugur and his brother Cuckoo. Mugur went in front, Cuckoo followed
with his beautiful wife at his side. When Mugur drew near, the gate
of Paradise was flung open and he entered without hindrance. Cuckoo
wanted to follow him, but the door was shut in his face, and for his
audacity he and his fair companion were turned into birds, for no
man is allowed to enter Paradise with a companion.
Since then Cuckoo is continually calling aloud his name in the hope
that his brother may look for him and thus find him.
This story is remarkable for its origin. We have here the popular
reflex of the famous Romance of Alexander, which had reached
Rumania, as all the other countries of Europe, in a literary
form. The book has been read for at least three hundred years,
and it is extremely interesting to see how deeply it has influenced
the popular imagination. What we have here is not one incident only
from the "Romance," but practically an abridged recital of the famous
"Journey to Paradise," and "Alexander's Letter to Aristotle." We have
here his wars with the Kynokephaloi, or the people who were believed to
be human beings with dog's heads. The Eastern Church, and no less the
Rumanian, even venerates a saint with a dog's head, Christophorus. In
the Rumanian monastery of Neamtz there appeared a "Life" of that saint,
in which the woodcut picture of the saint represented him as having a
dog's head. We have, further, Alexander's war with the Amazons, and
even the fact that he reached the gates of Paradise. But what gives
to this tale importance is that the "Romance of Alexander" has become
the tale accounting for the origin of a bird. No doubt there must be
some more detailed account of this immediate fact, explaining a little
more clearly the sudden transformation of the cuckoo and his mate into
particular birds. Here it is described as a punishment for Cuckoo's
audacity in attempting to bring his female companion into Paradise.
The only point of resemblance between this and the Albanian tale of
Hahn (No. 105), is that Cuckoo was originally a man by that name,
and he was the brother of Gion.
XCIII.
WHY DOES THE ARMENIAN LOVE THE DIRTY HOOPOE?
The Story of the Armenian, the Cuckoo and the Hoopoe.
A funny story about the hoopoe and the cuckoo is told by the Rumanians
at the expense of the Armenians. It is said that in olden times the
forefather of the Armenians had to flee for his life. So, taking all
his belongings with him, and mounting on a horse, he rode away as fast
as he could. He feared lest his enemies would overtake him. Riding on,
he came to a forest and, not being able to find the way, he got into
a bog. In vain did he try to get his horse up again. The more he tried
the further it sank; so, taking all his belongings, he dismounted, and
wading through the mud, he sat down at the edge of the bog and thought
all the time what was he to do to get his horse out. He could not carry
all his belongings, and, if he tarried much longer where he was, his
enemies were sure to overtake him. Where he sat, there was a cuckoo,
resting on the tree, and singing all the time, but the more he sang the
deeper the horse seemed to sink into the mire. He took some food out of
his bags, and, showing it to the horse, he tried to tempt it, but the
horse paid no attention to him. Whilst he was now in great despair,
there came a hoopoe and sat on another tree and began to cry "Hoop,
Hoop." No sooner did the horse hear the bird shouting "hoop, hoop,"
than up it jumped as if stung by wasps. Overjoyed, the Armenian got
hold of it, and putting his food into his sack he mounted again and
went on his way. And out of gratitude the Armenians call the hoopoe
to this very day by the name of cuckoo, for he saved their ancestor
by his cry "up, up." The cuckoo had made it lie down by singing "coo,
coo," but the hoopoe made it jump up by singing "up, up."
There are some beliefs attached to the cry of the hoopoe forming part
of that great section of prognostications by the cry of the birds. It
is not, however, considered as an ominous bird. It merely foretells
the fruitfulness or the barrenness of the coming year.
XCIV.
THE STORY OF THE PARTRIDGE, THE FOX AND THE HOUND.
Once upon a time there was a partridge, and that partridge was sorely
troubled, for no one in this world is safe from trouble and worry. Her
trouble was that for some time back she was not able to rear her young,
because of AUNTIE FOX, who made a royal feast of the young brood. No
sooner did the fox find out that the partridge had hatched her young,
than she tied some brambles to her tail, and, dragging it along the
ground, pretended to plough the land, close to the place where the
partridge had her nest. Turning to the partridge, the fox would say:
"How dare you trespass on my land. Off you go, lest I eat you up." The
partridge, frightened, would run away, and the fox would eat the
young. This had gone on for three years. On the fourth year it so
happened that, while the partridge was weeping, just as a man will
do out of worry and grief, she met a hound.
"What is the matter with thee, friend; why dost thou weep so, what
ails thee, why art thou so inconsolable?"
"Eh!" said the poor bird, "I am full of trouble."
Then the hound said sympathetically, "What has happened unto thee?"
"What has happened unto me? O! dear friend, so many years have I
tried to rear my young, and no sooner do I see God's blessing when
auntie fox, with the brambles and thorns trailing behind her tail,
comes and claims the land, and says, 'Hast thou again hatched young
on my land? Get thee off lest I eat thee.' And I am so frightened
that I run away, and the fox then takes the family and leaves me
childless." The bird stopped here and looked despairingly at the
hound. She wondered what he could do for her. But no one knows whence
help may come, and just when it is least expected it comes. And so
it happened to the bird. The dog who had been sitting all the time,
listening as it were with half-closed ears, suddenly shook himself
and said, "Is that the trouble which ails thee?"
"Yes, that is my trouble."
"Well, if that be so, let me come with thee, and may be that I shall
be of some help."
And so they both went to the nest of the partridge. There the dog
crouched behind the bushes and waited for the fox to come. He had not
to wait very long until the fox came with the brambles tied to her
tail, and, pulling it along, made pretence of ploughing the land. "Now
then you partridge, are you trespassing again--"
But the fox was not allowed to finish the sentence, for out of the
bushes sprang the dog. The fox took to her legs, running as fast as
they would carry her. Now, whether the hound ran or did not run I do
not know, but I certainly can say that the fox ran for all she was
worth and raised a cloud of dust behind her. And so she ran and ran
until she reached her lair, and she buried herself deep in the ground,
very thankful to have saved her skin from the jaws of death. The hound,
wearied, tired, and vexed that the fox had escaped, settled down at the
mouth of the lair waiting for the chance that the fox would come out
again, that he might set his eyes upon her, but it was all in vain,
for the fox, once safe, never dreamt of coming out again. But then
the fox, having nothing else to do, started talking to herself.
"Clever fox, clever fox, I know that thou takest care of thy
skin. Well, thou didst well to save thyself, and to get safely away
from that hound. Now let me ask my eyes, 'What did you do when the
hound was after me?'"
"Well, we, turning right and left, looked out to see which way we
could save thee and hide thee."
"Dear eyes," said the fox, and full of satisfaction, she stroked them
with her paws.
"Now I will ask my forelegs."
"And ye, my forelegs, what did you do when the hound was chasing me?"
"What did we do? We ran as fast as we could to carry thee safe to
the lair and to save thee."
"Very good, then, my darlings," and she kissed them and stroked
them lovingly.
Then she asked the hind legs.
"What did you do when the hound was chasing me?"
"What did we do? We raised the dust and threw it into his eyes to
save thee."
"My darlings," again the fox said, and licked them and caressed them,
"so must you always do."
The fox, having nothing else to do, said, "I must now ask thee, tail,
'What didst thou do, O my tail?'"
"I, what was I to do? I waddled to the right and left and yet he
never caught me. If it were not for the legs, I am afraid I should
not see the sun any more, and neither wouldst thou, O fox."