TALES
POPULAR FICTIONS.
SOOHRAB AND GURD-AFREED.
DRAWN BY \V. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., J.MiUUI.H "\ \\ooi. |jy Q, 15\\Ti:K.
i>i lu.iMirn i',\ \\ HI rrxKi-.u AND co.
TALES
AND
POPULAR FICTIONS;
THEIR RESEMBLANCE,
AND
TRANSMISSION FROM COUNTRY TO COUNTRY,
BY
THOMAS KEIGHTLEY,
AUTHOR OF ' OUTLINES OF HISTORY,' * THE CRUSADERS,' ETC.
'Fore God, they are both in a tale ! "
Much Ado about Nothing.
UNIV
LONDON:
WHITTAKER AND CO., AVE-MARIA LANE.
1834.
GENERAL
PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR, RFD LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. LL.D.
POET LAUREATE, ETC.
THE POET,
THE HISTORIAN, THE CRITIC,
.AND
THE MAN OF UNBLEMISHED LIFE,
THIS VOLUME
IS INSCRIBED.
109512
PREFACE.
CHANCE led me to write this work; and 'to
print, or not to print,' in days like these, was a
question I debated for some time. The die is now
cast, the work is lying before me in sheets ; and
as I look at them, I cannot refrain from passing
mentally in review the various divisions of my
future readers.
First then, in fancy, I behold a band of youth-
ful students, aged ten years and upwards, eager
to gaze on pretty wood-cuts, to learn how Prince
Cleomades carried off the Princess Claremond,
and to fathom the mysteries of the Giant-killer,
and of Whittington's Cat. My eye next rests on
a train of fair and accomplished ladies, whose
studies go beyond the mere novel, and who have
a taste for the light kind of philosophy here to be
found. I lastly view grave philosophers and men
of learning, who know that even here there is
Vlll PREFACE.
philosophy, and that a few hours devoted to Po-
pular Fictions may not prove misspent.
Such, with those who have read and been
pleased with my other works, will be my corps
d'armee : there will, of course, be some stragglers
from other quarters, but on these alone I reckon
with any confidence. Thus I give up all hopes of
the lovers of excitement and breathless interest,
my work being rather placid and sedative in its
nature ; and to the supercilious disciples of Uti-
lity I cry with the Sibyl, * Procul, O procul este,
profani totoque absistite libro ! ' for here is
nothing for you, nothing about rail-ways, corn-
laws, circulating medium, or anything that is
useful."
Without meaning to disparage my other works,
I may state that this has had advantages which
they have not enjoyed. It was written at perfect
leisure, from materials which had gradually col-
lected in my mind, and more than a year before it
was sent to press ; and I had some most important
aid. I am therefore disposed to regard it as my
least imperfect work, and feel that I have no right
to ask for any indulgence at the hands of the cri-
tics. My literary sins are all premeditated; tastes
differ, and here it may be seen how / think Popu-
PREFACE. IX
lar Fictions should be treated. The manner being
therefore somewhat desultory, and the matter va-
rious, I would advise those who read for mere
amusement to begin at the second and to skip
over the eighth chapter. They cannot then com-
plain of my having deceived them.
Be the reception of this volume what it may,
I think I can assure my readers that it is the
last time we shall meet upon this ground. I
have here, and in the Fairy Mythology, contri-
buted my full quota on the subjects of popular
fiction and superstition ; the days when inquiries
respecting them could attract the general ear are
departed, perhaps never to return, and graver
studies now demand my attention. I have, I be-
lieve, made some few discoveries ; and my name
may, possibly, be mentioned by future critics and
commentators. Small, however, in any case, is
the portion of fame to which I can aspire.
Nothing to me is more delightful than the ac-
knowledgement of favours and kindness. In the
preface to my Fairy Mythology, I had to regret my
total want of acquaintance with the learned and
the ingenious. My case is widely different now,
and I could produce a very creditable list of lite-
rary friends. Of these I will venture to mention
X PREFACE.
two, namely, Francis Douce, Esq. and Sir Frede-
rick Madden, as, from them I have received most
valuable aid. To enjoy the advantage of Mr.
Douce's conversation, to be permitted to draw ad
libitum on his stores of knowledge, and to have
the command of his noble library, are privileges
of no common order.
Nor must I, while speaking of friends and obli-
gations, omit my excellent friend and countryman,
W. H. Brooke, Esq., whose elegant and fanciful
designs, exhibited to such advantage as they are
by the admirable wood-engraving of Mr. Baxter,
will, I am inclined to think, form the greatest at-
traction of my volume. Specimens of art to equal
these are not of common occurrence ; and I must
particularly call attention to the beautiful manner
in which Mr. Baxter has printed them. It will
give me much and sincere pleasure to see the fame
of both artist and engraver widely diffused.
T. K.
London, January 1st, 1834.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Page.
INTRODUCTION Similarity of Arts and Customs
Similarity of Names Origin of the Work Imi-
tation Casual coincidence Milton Dante ... 1
CHAPTER II.
The Thousand and One Nights Bedoween Au-
dience around a Story-teller Cleomades and
Claremond Enchanted Horses Peter of Pro-
vence and the Fair Maguelone 31
CHAPTER III.
The Pleasant Nights The Dancing Water, the
Singing Apple, and the Beautiful Green Bird
The Three Little Birds Lactantius Ulysses
and Sindbad 91
CHAPTER IV.
The Shah-Nameh Roostem and Soohrab Con-
loch and Cuchullin Macpher son's Ossian
Irish Antiquities 129
CHAPTER V.
The Pentamerone Tale of the Serpent Hindoo
Legend 183
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
Page.
Jack the Giant-Killer The Brave Tailorling
Thor's Journey to Utgard Ameen of Isfahan
and the Ghool The Lion and the Goat The
Lion and the Ass 205
CHAPTER VII.
Whittington and his Cat Danish Legends Ita-
lian Stories Persian Legend 241
CHAPTER VIII.
The Edda Sigurd and Brynhilda Volund Helgi
Holger Danske Ogier le Danois Toko
William Tell 267
CHAPTER IX.
Peruonto Peter the Fool Emelyan the Fool
Conclusion 303
APPENDIX 337
ENGRAVINGS.
N.B. The References are to the Pages from which the Subjects are taken.
Page.
I. Combat of Soohrab and Gurd-afreed 142
II. Bedoweens round a Story-teller 34
III. Cleomades and Claremond carried off on
the Enchanted Horse 56
IV. Serena taking the Green Bird 106
V. Death of Soohrab 160
VI. The Serpent embracing the Princess Gran-
nonia 190
VII. The Tailorling seeing the Giant 209
VIII. Ansaldo's Cats at the Court of Canary 255
IX. Descent of the Valkyrias 275
X. The Princess Vastolla enclosed in the Cask . 311
ERRATA.
Page 132, line 18, for descriptive read deceptive.
261, 18, for Aquilina read Aquileia.
282, 23, for Sorv ... Antoeor read Sorde ... Antvor.
TALES
POPULAR FICTIONS,
RESEMBLANCE AND TRANSMISSION.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION SIMILARITY OF ARTS AND CUSTOMS
SIMILARITY OF NAMES ORIGIN OF THE WORK IMI-
TATION CASUAL COINCIDENCE MILTON DANTE.
MANY years ago I chanced to read in a news-
paper an interesting account of the loss of a ship ;
but in what part of the world it occurred, I am
now unable to recollect. The narrative stated,
that the crew and passengers saved themselves on
two desert islets at some distance from each other.
They remained for some time separate ; at length
they joined, and made their way to a friendly port.
To their no small surprise, they found that during
their state of separation they had fallen on pre-
cisely the same expedients for the supply of their
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
wants. As they had been in a state of nearly total
destitution, the vessel having gone down, these ex-
pedients were necessarily various and numerous,
and many of them were remarkably ingenious.
This little narrative made a strong impression
on my mind. I often reflected on it : I compared
with' it other phenomena as they presented them-
selves, and insensibly fell into the habit of view-
ing man as :in inventive and independent, rather
than a merely imitative being.
Aristotle and his authority is high with me
asserts, in his Politics, that "forms of govern-
ment, and most other things, have been invented
over and over again, or rather an infinite number
of times, in the long course of ages ; for necessity
would of itself teach such as were indispensable,
and those relating to comfort and elegance would
then follow of course." Of the truth, to a certain
extent, of these words of the philosopher, I am
firmly convinced ; and I will freely confess, that
I see little strength in the arguments for the ori-
ginal unity of mankind, founded on a similarity
of manners, customs and social institutions; and
am also inclined to reject these arguments, when
brought forward in proof of migrations and colo-
nisation. I know no proof of the former but the
testimony of Scripture and physical characters ;
I admit no evidence of the latter but language
and a constant and credible tradition 1 .
1 Supposing, what has not been demonstrated, that the
ancient inhabitants of Attica were divided into classes re-
SIMILARITY OF ARTS AND CUSTOMS. 3
Examples are always agreeable, and sometimes
convincing; I will therefore give a few of the
cases in which I am sceptical.
The similarity of form between the brazen
casque of the Hellenic warrior and the feather-
helm of the Polynesian chief, is to me no proof of
the common origin of the Greeks and the South
Sea islanders. A branch of olive might be the
symbol of peace among the one people, and a
branch of plantain among the other, and nought
be proved thereby. The universal employment
of the bow, the spear and the shield, affects me
not. I see not why every tribe who dwelt on the
shores of the sea or of lakes, or on the banks of
rivers, may not have discovered the mode of con-
structing boats. The Egyptians, we are told, were
brewers of beer ; so also were the ancient Scan-
dinavians ; and it follows not that they borrowed
from each other, or from a common instructor.
Almost every people of the circle of the earth in
which the vine is indigenous, appears to have dis-
covered the art of making wine. Mining and
the art of smelting metals may have been prac-*
tised by tribes as remote in origin as in position.
Alphabets, I suspect, are an invention to which
more than one people may lay claim. The early
knowledge of gunpowder in the East is no proof
that Schwartz did not discover the mode of ma-
sembling the castes of Egypt, it does not follow that an
Egyptian colony came to that country nearly 1500 years
before we have any account of it.
B 2
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
king it 1 . The mariner's compass may have been
invented at Amalfi, though familiar to the Chinese
from the most remote times. Finally, I cannot
discern in the pyramidal form of the Pyramids of
Egypt, the temple of Belus at Babylon, and the
temples at Cholulu and elsewhere in Mexico, a
proof of anything but of the common perception
of the stability and convenience of that form.
The same is the case with religious and poli-
tical institutions. Attic laws occur in the insti-
tutes of the Hindoo Menoo ; and I do not thence
infer any communication between Attica and Hin-
doostan. Ancient Egypt had its Feast of Lamps,
and China has its Feast of Lanterns ; yet I see
no connexion between them. There were Vestals
at Rome, and Virgins of the Sun at Cuzco, bound
to chastity ; yet it does not follow from thence
that Peru derived its religion from Asia, or that,
as I have seen it asserted, Rome was founded by
a colony of gypsies from India 2 . I could cite
many more cases, but these may suffice.
A practice, which has been carried to a most
ludicrous extent, is that of supposing that where
two or more peoples have the same or a similar
1 I am only supposing possibilities, not making assertions.
Were the invention of gunpowder an ancient mythic legend,
I would say that the name Schwartz (Black} looked a little
suspicious ; yet Dr. Black was a celebrated chemist, and a
man's name and his occupation have often a most curious
coincidence.
2 The object of the author was to account for the similarity
between the Sanscrit and the Latin languages.
SIMILARITY OF NAMES. 5
name, the one is a colony from the other. The
Albanians of Epirus, and the Iberians of Spain,
are confidently deduced from Mount Caucasus.
Scoti happening to resemble Scythi, and Hiberni
Iberi, what is called the ancient history of Ireland
favours us with an account of the Scythic and
Spanish origin of the Celts of that island, per-
fectly heedless of their community of language,
manners and religion with those of Britain and
Gaul
I look upon the following coincidences of name
as being purely accidental : Albani of Caucasus,
Albani of Latium, Albanians of Epirus, Albyn
or Albion a name of Britain, Albis (Elbe) of
Germany, and Alpes ; Iberi of Caucasus and of
Spain, Hiberni of Ireland, Ibrim (Hebrews) of
Syria; Veneti of Italy and of Gaul, Venedi
(Vends) of Germany, and Heneti of Asia Minor;
German! of Europe, and Germani (Kermanians)
of Persia, and the country of Caramania in Asia
Minor ; Lygies of Italy and of Asia.
Those may be questioned : no one, I hope, will
deny that the following are accidental : Brito-
martis was the Cretan name of Diana, and Brito-
martis was a king of the Gauls ; Pharphar was a
river of Damascus, and in Italy there was a stream
named Farfarus ; Arganthonius was a king of
Tartessus in Spain, and there was an Argantho-
nian Hill near the Euxine Sea. Mazippa was a
Moorish chief, who at the head of his light horse
gave the Romans some trouble in the time of
6 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Tiberius ; and who knows not Mazeppa the Cos-
sack? The North American Indians call a fall or
rapid, Coho ; and such is the popular appellation
of a cascade near Spa in Germany.
When chance led me to think of writing the
Fairy Mythology, I had to read a great quantity
of poems, tales, romances, legends and traditions
of various countries and in various languages. I
here met such a number of coincidences where
there could hardly have been any communication,
that I became convinced that the original same-
ness of the human mind revealed itself as plainly
in fiction as in the mechanical arts, or in manners
and customs, civil or religious.
Accordingly, in the Preface to that work, I
stated how much I had been struck by this simi-
larity, and expressed my dissent from those who
supposed nations of common origin to have brought
these legends with them at the time of their mi-
gration from a common country ; and I reminded
the reader of the sameness which runs through the
thoughts and the actions of man, which wearies
us in history, in fiction, and in common life.
Some legends were, I thought, transmitted ;
others, of independent formation. When in a tale
of some length a number of circumstances are the
same, and follow in the same order, as in another,
I should feel disposed to assert that this is a case
of transmission. Brief fictitious circumstances,
such as shoes of swiftness and coats of darkness,
might, I thought, be independent, and be referred
ORIGIN OF THE WORK. 7
to what I termed the poverty of the human ima-
gination, which, having a limited stock of mate-
rials to work on, must of necessity frequently pro-
duce similar combinations. A third class of fic-
tions, such as Whittington and his Cat, a legend
to be found (as I shall show,) in more countries
than one, I professed myself unable to dispose
of to my own satisfaction : they might be trans-
mitted, they might be independent.
" These," said I, " are a few hints on a subject,
the full discussion of which would demand a vo-
lume." Little, at the time, did I think that I ever
should write a volume on it ; but ' thou knowest
not what a day may bring forth' : the volume is
written, and I have only to request that no one
will suppose it intended to be a ' full discussion*
of the subject. It only claims to be regarded as
a development of the principles contained in that
Preface, and is designed, by giving a sufficient
number of instances of resemblance, to enable the
reader to judge for himself on this curious sub-
ject. The tales and legends are given at length ;
for what conviction could I hope to convey to the
mind of a reader, by merely telling him that such
a tale in the Neapolitan Pentamerone, for instance,
resembles a Hindoo legend ? or that an episode
of the Persian Shah Nameh is founded on the
same circumstance with an Irish poem? How
many readers would, how many could, examine
these different tales and compare them ?
I am, certainly, neither so ignorant nor so san-
8 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
guine, as to reckon on a very extensive class of
readers ; and if I 'fit audience find though few,'
I shall be very well content. The direction taken
by what is usually, but incorrectly, termed the
* march of intellect' 1 9 is such, that all the lighter
and more elegant branches of literature seem
likely to fall, ere long, into utter neglect. Wild
improbable romance, bit-and-scrap knowledge,
or political disquisitions, alone have attractions.
Never shall I forget the look of mingled pity and
contempt with which I was regarded by a gentle-
man who has written some things on political eco-
nomy, when I chanced, in his hearing, to speak
on the subject of classical mythology. He seemed
altogether amazed at my folly in expecting that
such puerile fictions could find readers in this en-
lightened age.
Yet, though thus despised by the narrow-minded
and intolerant disciples of utility, popular fiction
has attractions for those whose views are more
enlarged, and who love to behold Philosophy ex-
tending her dominion over all the regions of the
human mind. A writer whom I shall frequently
quote in the following pages, and who was no
mere man of letters, thus expresses himself on
the subject 2 . <c Believe me, he who desires to be
1 I say so, because with us march is a military term,
whereas the marche of the French, from whom we have bor-
rowed the phrase, merely denotes progression. La marche
de Vesprit can hardly be said to be figurative.
2 Sir John Malcolm, Sketches of Persia, ii. 92,
ORIGIN OF THE WORK.
well acquainted with a people, will not reject their
popular stories or local superstitions. Depend
upon it, that man is too far advanced into an arti-
ficial state of society who is a stranger to the
effect which tales and stories like these have upon
the feelings of a nation ; and his opinions of its
character are never likely to be more erroneous,
than when in the pride of reason he despises such
means of forming his judgement." Sir Walter
Scott 1 says, " A work of great interest might be
compiled on the origin of popular fiction, and
the transmission of popular tales from age to age
and from country to country. The mythology of
one period would then appear to pass into the ro-
mance of the next century, and that into the
nursery tale of the subsequent ages. Such an
investigation, while it went greatly to diminish
our ideas of the richness of human invention,
would also show that these fictions, however wild
and childish, possess such charms for the popu-
lace, as enable them to penetrate into countries
unconnected by manners and language, and hav-
ing no apparent intercourse to facilitate the means
of transmission." And long since the illustrious
Luther 2 said, " I would not for any quantity of
gold part with the wonderful tales which I have
retained from my earliest childhood, or have met
with in my progress through life." Surely then,
1 Note on the Lady of the Lake.
2 Quoted by Grimm, Kinder- und Hausmarchen, iii. 265.
B 5
10 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
even though few should be induced to go the
same road, I need feel no shame to travel in such
society as this, and may let those plod on their
weary way, who, knowing but one subject, think
it contains all knowledge.
Those words of the great Reformer reveal the
true cause of the high degree of pleasure which
some minds derive from popular fictions. They
bring back the memory of childhood of those
innocent and happy days when, as a Swedish poet
most beautifully expresses it, * the dew of morn-
ing lay upon life' ] : they come surrounded by
a thousand delightful associations, whose effect,
though powerful, is not to be described ; for,
mellowed by distance, every event and every
scene connected with childhood acquires a charm
to the eye of memory. It is, I apprehend, only
on those who have passed their early days in the
country that this principle operates with its entire
force. May I, since such is the case with myself,
(and it is not totally alien to the matter in hand,)
may I hope for indulgence while I trace the
origin of my own fondness for popular fiction ?
It was my lot (no unenviable one,) to be reared
in the country, and near the mountains. In Ire-
land we are less aristocratic, and mingle more
familiarly with the lower orders of the people,
1 " In her early dawn, with the ' dew of her youth ' so
fresh upon her " Robert Hall, of the Princess Charlotte.
Was the passage of Scripture here quoted in the mind of the
Swede also 1
ORIGIN OF THE WORK. 11
than seems to me to be the case here : one cause
of this I believe to be nearly the same with that
which produces similar affability in the East ',
and which also operates in the South of Europe.
Be this as it may, in consequence of this state of
manners, a great companion of my younger days
was Johnny Stykes, who, like Guse Gibbie of fa-
mous memory, first kept the turkeys, and then,
as his years advanced, was promoted to the more
important office of minding the cows. Johnny,
by the way, though called Stykes, and a good Ca-
tholic 2 , knew well that his real name was Sykes 3 ,
and that he derived his lineage from one of the
soldier-saints of the formidable Oliver Cromwell,
to whom the lines had fallen in those pleasant
places where we dwelt. Often, as memory looks
back through the glade of life along which my
course has lain, doth her eye rest on the figure of
my humble companion, returning in the evening
from the stubble with his feathered charge, who
go along yeeping and leisurely picking their steps,
heedless of the hushing and bawling of their
driver. To any one who should then ask Johnny
how many turkeys he had, he would stammer out,
1 See Sketches of Persia, ii. 185, 186.
2 The lower order of the Irish Catholics are quite proud if
they can prove that they have what they call good Protestant
blood in their veins. They regard the Protestants as a su-
perior caste.
3 It is very amusing to observe the corruption of proper
names. Among the peasantry of the place of which I write,
Archbold had become Aspal, and Hopkins, Hubbuk,
12 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
" Three twenties and a ten" or so, an answer
which was always sure to produce a laugh, either
on account of his employing twenty for score, or
it may be from the * march of intellect,' which
had taught the peasant to despise his forefathers'
simple mode of counting by dozens and scores.
But it was in Johnny's bucolic days that he was
favoured most with my society ; partly because
he was a capital player at tip-top-caslle, but chiefly
because he had not his fellow in the whole country
for what is called shanahas, or old talk, that is,
tales, legends, and traditions, handed down from
age to age, and transmitted from mouth to mouth.
And let me now fearlessly confess the truth. I
have since seen some of Nature's finest scenery,
I have conversed with the learned and the inge-
nious, and have read the master-works of the
human mind; and yet I am convinced I have
never, at most very rarely, felt a degree of plea-
sure at all comparable to what I enjoyed, when
sitting with Johnny, of a summer's day, beneath a
spreading tree, or on the bank of a purling stream,
while his cows were feeding around, and the air
was filled with the melody of birds, and listening
to some wild tale of wonder and enchantment.
Much would I give to 'be able to recollect his
tale of The Fair Norah na Vodha and the White
Bear of Worroway (Norway), a Beauty-and-Beast
kind of story, in which the heroine is pursued
by I know not who, and " when he was on the
hill she was in the hollow, and when she was
ORIGIN OF THE WORK. 13
on the hill he was in the hollow;" or another
about a princess, (for he had all kinds of high per-
sonages at command,) who was confined in some
dismal place all full of sarplnts and toads and
vifers l . Johnny, too, had a story answering to
the Robber-bridegroom in MM. Grimm's collec-
tion, in which the lady at the bridal banquet
told, as if relating a dream, all that she had seen
when she secretly entered the robbers' den, and
as she proceeded in her narrative, the disguised
robber would get up and say,
" Dreams are butfeebles, andfeebles are but lies ;
By your leave, gentlemen, pray let me by."
He also knew the Frog-king 2 , and several others
in the same collection ; and he had tales of fairies
without end. Poor Johnny ! he grew up, got mar-
ried, died young (no uncommon fate with the Irish
peasant), and lies buried at the ruined church of
Tipper ; a place to which, in my serious moods,
I was wont to repair, to meditate among the
graves, not tombs, for tombs there were none.
These little details into which I have ventured
to enter, chiefly, I must own, to indulge in the
pleasure which I feel in calling back the happy
1 Animals nearly as unknown to the Irish peasant as kan-
garoos and opossums.
2 This story was also related to me by a woman from So-
mersetshire. Dr. Leyden heard it in Scotland. My Somer-
set friend concluded it by saying, " and I came away." She
could not tell why ; but it is, I should suppose, a formula
signifying that the narrator knows nothing further.
14: TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
days of childhood, will, I know, expose me to the
scorn of many, doubtless very sage and very sa-
gacious personages ; but there are others (and
they are those whose approbation I most covet,)
by whom they will, I am confident, be received
with indulgence, if not with favour. Begging par-
don, therefore, for my digression, I now proceed
with my subject.
A great coincidence of thought and expression
is often to be observed between writers of the
same age and country, or of different ages and
different countries ; and yet there may have been
no imitation whatever. We are, in fact, too apt to
make charges of plagiarism. For my part, I am
slow to make the charge myself, or to admit it
when made by others l . It must, to convince me,
be quite certain that the author had read the work
from which he is accused of having borrowed, and
that the number of similar ideas and expressions
should be so great as to leave no room for doubt 2 .
1 I have myself been charged with taking the simile of a
map of the world, in the Preface to my Outlines of History,
from the work of a similar title in the Library of Useful Know-
ledge ; whereas the truth is, I doubt if I have ever seen that
work.
2 " There is a pleasure sure in being mad
Which none but madmen know."
Dryden's Spanish Friar.
" There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Which none but poets know." Cowper's Task.
Though I think there is imitation here, I would not positively
assert it.
IMITATION. 15
Thus no one can hesitate to believe that Lord By-
ron took the admired description of a shipwreck
in his Don Juan from a narrative which was pub-
lished a short time before at Edinburgh, though
his lordship kindly left to the critics or to poste-
rity the pleasure of making the discovery. It has
never entered the mind of any one to doubt that
Spenser was largely indebted to Tasso for his
Bower of Acrasia, or that Virgil frequently did
no more than translate Homer. The simile of the
reflection of the sunbeams from the water, in the
^Eneis, has surely been taken from the Argonau-
tics of that sweet poet Apollonius of Rhodes ; and
Ariosto ] and Camoens 2 have as surely been in-
debted to Virgil for the use of the same compari-
son, though the latter poet has altered, in my opi-
nion much improved it, by substituting a mirror
in the hand of a boy for the original pot of water.
On the other hand, (to give a single and a slight
instance,) when Horace says that the Julian star
(the young Marcellus) shines among others like
the moon among the lesser fires 3 ; and when Bo-
jardo, in one of his most pleasing stanzas, says
that all other beauties were to Angelica as the
other stars to the moon, or the moon to the sun 4 ,
1 Orl. Furioso, c. viii. st. 71.
2 Os. Lusiadas, c. viii. st. 87.
3 " micat inter omnes
Julium sidus, velut inter ignes
Luna minores."
4 " Tal sarebbon con lei qual esser suole
L'altre stelle a Diana e lei co '1 sole."
Orl. Innam., I. c. iii. st. 69.
16 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
we might say that he had Horace in view ; for
the lord of Scandiano was well read in the classics.
But when, in an Arabian tale, we meet, " Noor-
ed-deen, who shone among his companions like
the moon among the inferior luminaries" 1 , we see
at once that this is a mere coincidence ; for what
could the Arabian story-teller know of Horace ?
These coincidences are much more frequent
than people in general seem to suppose. I will
give an instance which occurred to myself. Hav-
ing occasion, in the Fairy Mythology, to re-
late an Irish legend in the character of an old
woman, I said, speaking of a field of wheat at
sunset, " and it was a pretty sight to see it waving
so beautifully with every air of wind that was
going over it, dancing like to the music of a
thrush that was singing down below in the hedge."
It was not without surprise that some time after
I read, in the Rosenol of Jos. von Hammer, the
following passage from an Arabian author :
" The sun was just setting, and the glow of rubies
was penetrating the emeraldine enamel of the
trees, whose boughs were waving to the sound of
the melody of the birds V Though the language
and colouring are widely different, the idea, it will
be seen, is precisely the same. Here I will ob-
serve, for the benefit of writers of fiction, that
minds operate in so similar a manner, that one
1 Noor-ed-deen signifies ' light of religion': hence the
simile readily presented itself.
2 Fairy Mythology, ii. p. 184. Rosenol, ii. p. 45.
CASUAL COINCIDENCE. 17
may venture, without fear of violating nature, to
give very poetic and even very philosophic ideas
to characters taken from any rank in society, pro-
vided the language in which they are clothed be
such as these persons are in the habit of employ-
ing. An instance may serve to illustrate this as-
sertion.
Coleridge, in a most beautiful poem, when de-
riding the error of those who call the note of the
nightingale melancholy *, exclaims,
" A melancholy bird ! Oh ! idle thought !
In nature there is nothing melancholy :
But some night- wandering man, whose soul was pierc'd
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And so, poor wretch! fill'd all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow,) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain,
And many a poet echoes the conceit 2 ."
1 The earliest instance, perhaps the source, of this error
is the passage of the Odyssey, xix. 518 et seq.
3 See Petrarca, son. 270. In ' Die Nacht' of Gothe oc-
curs the following stanza, which contains the whole philoso-
phy of the matter :
" Wenn die Nachtigall Geliebten
Liebevoll ein Liedchen singt
Das Gefang'nen und Betriibten
Nur wie Ach und Wehe klingt."
" When the nightingale to lovers
Singeth full of love a lay
That to captives and th' afflicted
Soundeth nought but Wellaway."
Had Coleridge read this before he wrote the lines above ?
18 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
I was one evening in a favourite village of mine,
listening with my usual delight to the song of this
' Attic warbler,' and I remarked to the mistress
of the house where I was living, how absurd it was
to say that the note was melancholy. She readily
agreed that it was not so ; and observed, that it
was probably first regarded as such by some one
who was sitting up at night with a sick friend, and
heard the nightingale singing. My worthy friend
is no great reader, and sure I am she had never
read those lines of Coleridge ; yet how, except
in elegance of thought and expression, does her
hypothesis differ from that of the metaphysical
poet?
" Deuce take the ancients, they have stolen all
my best thoughts ! " was a very natural exclama-
tion ; and Nullum est jam dictum quod non dictum
sit prius was said two thousand years ago. How
constantly, too, do discoverers find that they have
been anticipated l ! In my own Mythology of
Greece, (to speak from knowledge,) there is ten
times more originality than I shall ever get credit
for ; but I claim no praise, for I should have
known what had been done by others, and I
must be content to be considered indebted to
them, and that, to make matters worse, without
having * whispered whence I stole those balmy
1 Can anything be more surprising than the anticipation
of ttie theories of Wolf and Niebuhr by Vico, in his Scienza
Nuova ? Neither of them, certainly, knew anything of that
work.
CASUAL COINCIDENCE. 19
spoils' 1 . Again, as my style is tolerably lucid,
(for I am never content if I do not make my
meaning perfectly clear,) I am, by those who
seem to judge of depth by obscurity, frequently
represented as deficient in profundity. I will not
presume to say that the charge is totally devoid
of foundation ; but I would entreat such persons
to reflect that the utmost perspicuity is compa-
tible with considerable depth 2 ; and I would re-
mind them that the limpid animated Thames
flows deeper than the opake sullen ' Mole. I
will cite an instance which bears on the present
subject. A passage was selected from that My-
thology as a proof of my want of depth. Now
the very same thought happens to occur in Plato,
and expressed in so similar a manner that few
would believe I had not taken it from him ; yet
most certainly I had not then read that part of
his works.
Though a writer may be indebted for his ideas
and expressions to a work which he has read, it
does not follow that his imitation is direct, or that
the passage was actually present to his mind at
the time. I will again, at the risk of being charged
1 Often have I repeated these words of Neapolis, an old
commentator on Ovid : " Hoc olim me primum vidisse crede-
bam, sed repperi postea ab aliis prteoccupatum."
2 I always thought that Cicero had more depth than he
gets credit for; and I am glad to find that the learned
A. Bbckh is of the same way of thinking. I doubt if John-
son be very much more profound than Addison.
20 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
with egotism, instance in myself; for I know what
has occurred in my own case, and could only con-
jecture in the case of another.
I remember to have written many years ago
some very indifferent verses ; for I except myself
from the number of those to whom it has been
given to be poets. If I recollect rightly, the first
stanza ran thus :
As when a storm in vernal skies
The face of day doth stain,
And o'er the smiling landscape flies,
With mist and drizzling rain ;
If chance the sun look through the shower
O'er hill and flowery dale,
Reviving nature owns his power
And softly sighs the gale.
It will be seen at once that the original of this
are the following beautiful lines of Milton :
"As when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds
Ascending, while the north-wind sleeps, o'erspread
Heaven's cheerful face, the lowering element
Scowls o'er the darkened landskip snow or shower :
If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive,
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings."
Many even of the words are the very same. I
was familiar with Milton, and yet it was some time
before the similarity struck me. The passage, then,
had been secretly lurking in my mind ; and I was
beguiled with a phantom of originality at the time
MILTON. 21
that I was an unconscious imitator. I consi-
der this case worth recording as a psychological
fact 1 .
As I do not intend to subject myself to the
trammels of method, and am resolved to digress
when and where I please, I will now make an ex-
cursion, and attempt to vindicate the poetic cha-
racter of our great poet ; for he has fallen into
the hands of a sad set of literary thief-takers, who
are eager to exercise their vocation on even the
mere suspicion of a possibility. In fact, every one
of those ingenious persons who have undertaken
to elucidate the Paradise Lost, and his other
poems, has shown a most laudable desire to re-
duce him from his high estate, and bring him
down to the condition of a mere centoist, who
went sedulously peering into every nook and
corner of literature in search of words and ideas.
They seem incapable of conceiving the creative
and self-sufficient power of original genius ; they
think that because Milton was a great reader he
must needs have been a great plagiary ; and they
make him like the daw in the fable, with this
difference, that the daw adorned his person with
the feathers of finer birds than himself, while the
eagle of British poetry pilfered the plumage of
1 I however think that a man may have met with thoughts,
images, expressions, or even theories, in books he had read,
which made no impression on him at the time, and which he
afterwards produced of himself.
22 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
birds of every kind, even of the titmouse and the
wren ! .
Now I opine differently. I regard Milton as
being of the Dantean, and not of the Virgilian
class of poets ; and I view the Paradise Lost as
one great conception, matured in the maker's
mind, and poured, as it were, from the furnace
at a cast, not a mosaic sedulously and painfully
put together from pieces collected in various
quarters. We have, in fact, no proof that Milton
was gifted with any extraordinary powers of me-
mory, (indeed, the errors into which he falls in
some plain points of classical mythology prove
the contrary 2 ,) and without such he could hardly
have retained all those passages of poets, both
great and small, which it is supposed he imitated.
It is nowhere said that, like Butler, he kept a
commonplace-book ; and his daughters and his
1 It may be said that they meant that unconscious kind of
imitation of which I have just given an instance. Whoever
reads them, however, will see that they had no such idea,
and thought only of plain, palpable, direct imitation.
- We are told by Toland, that Milton had Homer nearly
by heart. How then could he say,
*' As when Ulysses on the larboard shunn'd
Charybdis, and by the other whirlpool steer'd"?
Surely the Homeric Scylla is not a whirlpool !
Again, where did he learn that Hermione (Paradise Lost,
ix. 506.) was the name of the wife of Cadmus? In what ro-
mance did he read that
" Charlemain with all his peerage /^/7
By Fontarabbia"?
MILTON. 23
friends do not seem to have been in the habit of
reading to him the divers obscure works to which
we are told he was indebted. If I understand
him aright, Milton himself intimates that his read-
ing, at least at the time he may be supposed to be
meditating his great poem, was select : and in the
Paradise Lost he says,
" But knowledge is as food, and needs no less
Her temperance over appetite, to know
In measure what the mind may well contain ;
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind."
which surely is not the language of a literary
glutton.
By far the larger part of these supposed imi-
tations are nothing more than coincidences, and
often very slight ones. Johnson, in his Life of
Addison, tells us that a schoolmaster once said to
him, speaking of the simile of the angel in the
Campaign, that if he were to give the Battle of
Blenheim as a theme to ten of his boys, it would
not surprise him if eight of them brought him that
simile. I must confess that it would surprise me ;
and I should strongly suspect them of being all
copyists but one. Still it is certain, that when
two or more persons write on the same subject,
there will often be a marvellous similarity of dic-
tion, thought and imagery. This might suffice,
methinks, to account for the resemblance between
a few passages of the Paradise Lost and the Ada-
mus Exsul of Grotius, the Adamo of Andreini,
24 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
and other obscure poems on the same subject. I
think I have seen it hinted, that Milton was under
some obligation to the Batavian poet Vondel, and
to the Anglo-Saxon Caedmon : though he knew not
Dutch, and it may be doubted if his editor Junius,
much less Milton, understood Caedmon. Were any
passages similar to some in the Paradise Lost to be
found in the Ramayuna or Maha-Bharata, it would
not in the least amaze me to see the course traced
out by which Milton had irrigated his genius by
rivulets derived from these huge tanks.
Milton, who, as Mr. Rossetti most justly ob-
serves, resembled Dante in more points than one,
derived, like him, his inspiration from the Bible.
This was the fount to which he unceasingly re-
paired, and whence he * in his golden urn drew
light' ; and he who will understand Milton aright,
must study the sacred volume, riot merely in the
translation, but in the original languages 1 . The
higher poetry of Greece and Latium was also fa-
miliar to his mind, and his knowledge of it was
kept up by frequent perusal, and ideas thence de-
rived were mingled with his own original concep-
tions. Very few traces of his obligations to the
minor poets are to be found ; and it is remarkable
how seldom he has adopted the language or ideas
of the * lofty grave tragedians', though Euripides
1 Dante, on the contrary, drew from the Vulgate, which
must be read if we would understand him. Mr. Rossetti has
used it to great advantage. Dante borrowed from it and
Virgil alone ; in this independence, too, resembling Milton.
MILTON. 25
was one of his greatest favourites, and he had pro-
bably the Prometheus of ^Ischylus in view when
he conceived his Satan. I doubt if he read much
Italian in his latter years : he very rarely employs
the thoughts or language of Dante l ; but some
passages of Tasso seem to have adhered to his
mind. He was evidently fond of Fairfax's ver-
sion of the Jerusalem Delivered ; and expressions
derived from it, the Faerie Queene, and the dramas
of Shakspeare, occur in his heroic poems. I feel
disposed to doubt the extent of his acquaintance
with the old romances of chivalry, as everything
relating to it in his works is to be found in the
Morte d'Arthur and the Italian romantic poems 2 .
Such are a few of my notions respecting Milton
and his poems. His commentators seem to be all
of a different way of thinking : to prove him to
be the most learned of poets, they have sought to
lower him in the poetic scale, placing nearly on a
1 From the terrestrial Paradise of Dante, and its copy by
Ariosto, Milton only took the idea of its being on a hill.
* We are told that Swift showed that
" on a sudden openfly,
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,
The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder,"
was suggested by " Open flew the brazen folding- doors, grating
harsh thunder on their turning hinges" in Don Bellianis of
Greece, Pt. ii. c. 19. See Todd. Another critic (see Newton)
sends us for it to the castle of Brandezar in that romance. I
have examined three translations of Bellianis, published in
the seventeenth century, and could not find it.
C
26 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
line with Virgil and Gray, him whose proper sta-
tion is with ^Eschylus and Dante. I will give an
instance or two of this lust of tracing imitation.
When the gates of hell opened, the poet says,
" So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth
Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame."
His last commentator, in his note, refers us to
Dante :
" E giammai non si videro in fornace
Vetri o metalli si lucenti e rossi
Come io vidi un che dicea :" Purg., c. xxiv.
" Was ne'er in furnace glass or metal seen
So bright and glowing-red as was the shape
I now beheld." Gary.
This is certainly worthy of honest Fluellin : 'there
is & furnace in both' and there ends the parallel.
On
" up stood the corny reed,
Embattled in her field,"
all the commentators quote Virgil's
" quo cornea summo
Virgulta et densis hastilibus horrida myrtus,"
regarding it, of course, as at least an illustration.
I confess my apprehension is not acute enough to
discern the secret tie which links the cornel-trees
of the one poet with the corny reed of the other.
This, however, may only prove the obtuseness of
my intellect ; but I think, on the other hand, that
I can prove that they have all misunderstood the
'corny reed,' which they assert to be equivalent
with ' horny rush.' Johnson, for instance, gives
MILTON. 27
in his Dictionary, * horny' as a sense of * corny/
quoting this very passage of Milton as a proof, to
which Mr. Todd adds, from Lisle's Dubartas,
" (The rain) downward 'gan to rave,
And drowned the corny ranks."
I however think, that as, in another place of the
poern, * balmy reed' plainly signifies the reed that
bears the balm, so here the most natural sense of
* corny reed' is the reed (calamus, not arundo,} that
produces corn.
I would prove it thus. The angel is describing
to Adam the progress of the vegetable creation :
the * bare earth,' he says, * brought forth the ten-
der grass' ; then < the herb that flowered ' ; then
" Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub
And bush with frizzled hair implicit."
The progression is leaf, flower, fruit ; and we find
the * corny reed' placed with the last. I will only
add, that * embattled in her field' applies far better
to a field of wheat or barley than to rushes grow-
ing in a marsh or along a stream. The ' corny
ranks' of Lisle will also apply best to a field of corn.
Ere I quit the subject of Milton, I will notice an
instance of critical hardihood emulative of Bentley.
Speaking of the infernal artillery, the poet says,
" at each behind
A seraph stood, and in his hand a reed
Stood waving, tipt with fire, while we suspense
Collected stood within our thoughts amused."
c 2
28 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
In the last edition, the note on ' stood waving'
is, " This is certainly an error ; * stood' occurs in
the line before and after. Bentley would read
* held' ; but wishing to keep as close to the text
as I can, I propose ' shone' : Mr. Dyce proposes
' shook'."
Now I would crave permission to suggest to
these ' learned Thebans,' that Milton must have
had the proof-sheets of his poem read out to him,
and that such an enormous error could hardly
have escaped his ear, and be repeated in his second
edition. This consideration alone might satisfy us.
But in reality, Milton had not the horror of the
recurrence of the same word which prevails among
us pygmies of these degenerate days : like his
admired ancients, he loved, as numerous instances
show, to repeat the same word ; and his object
here was evidently to express the state of pause
and anxious expectation which preceded the dis-
charge of the Satanic ordnance. Possibly the
second f stood' was meant to express the Italian
stava : it was, however, more probably intended
to indicate the erect posture in which the reed
was held, * waved' by its own weight, or by the
motion of the air.
I have many more arrows in my quiver ready
to discharge at the Miltonian commentators, but
I must not trespass too much on the patience of
the reader. A time may perhaps arrive when I
shall be able to devote my pen to the illustrious
theme, and possibly clear away some of the clouds
DANTE. 29
of error and ignorance which still dim the efful-
gence of this other sun of the British heaven of
poetry.
Having mentioned Dante, I cannot refrain from
gratifying (as I know it will) his admirable expo-
sitor, my friend Rossetti, by declaring thus pub-
licly my conviction of the soundness of his views
respecting the true sense of the Divina Commedia.
His commentary on the Inferno commands my
assent : the poem is no longer the pilgrimage of a
Catholic devotee through the abodes of the de-
parted ; it is the keen satire of the ardent Ghibel-
line : the hell is Guelfic Italy, immersed in vice
and misery; the Pope is Lucifer ; and Virgil, who
conducts the poet, is a personification of the mon-
archic principle. I have little doubt that Mr. Ros-
setti's succeeding volumes will, as he promises ',
prove that the Purgatory reveals the means of
political regeneration, and the Paradise pictures
forth the reformed world under one sole head the
image of God on earth. I must confess, too, that I
am not indisposed to regard the Beatrice of Dante,
the Laura 2 of Petrarca, the Fiammetta of Boc-
1 In his curious work " Sullo Spirito Antipapale de' Clas-
sici Italiani."
3 In the canzone beginning with
" Una donna piu bella assai che '1 sole,"
the lady is evidently a ' donna di mente,' or personification ;
yet I think it is hinted pretty plainly that she is Laura.
" I should be glad," said an ingenious friend to me, " to
see any theory established which would prove that Petrarch
was not a fool." There is meaning in this.
30 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
caccio, and all those ladies with significant names
first met in Passion-week, and who die so strange-
ly, all before their lovers, as having more the air
of abstraction than of reality. I also think it by
no means unlikely that the Ghibellines were a
secret society, and had a gergo, or conventional
language, understood only by themselves. I have
had occasion to make some inquiries into the sub-
ject of secret societies ; and perhaps things which
prove stumbling-blocks to others are plain and
easy to me.
Let not, then, my excellent friend despond :
truth is great, and will prevail ; and if his system
of interpretation be founded in truth, as I believe
it is, his name will go down to the most remote
posterity coupled with that of one of the greatest
poets that have ever existed. To few is such glory
given !
CHAPTER II.
THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS BEDOWEEN AUDIENCE
AROUND A STORY-TELLER CLEOMADES AND CLARE-
MOND ENCHANTED HORSES PETER OF PROVENCE AND
THE FAIR MAGUELONE.
IT is now more than a century and a quarter since
Europe became, through M. Galland's French
translation, acquainted with the Thousand and
One Nights l , the Elf Leila wa Leila of the Arabs
that marvellous collection of tales which has
afforded more delight to mankind than perhaps
any other product of the human imagination. The
avidity with which these tales were read almost ex-
ceeds belief; they were speedily translated into
other European languages; the adventures of Sind-
bad, Aladdin, Agib, and the other heroes of these
brilliant fictions, became as familiar and as attrac-
tive in the West as they were in the East ; and by
a curious casualty, the same tale might be listened
to at the same moment; in the Syrian or Egyptian
coffee-house, the Bedoween circle, and the French
or British cottage. We are told that in Paris par-
ties used at night to stop before the house in which
1 Or Arabian Nights' Entertainments, as the Grub-street
worthy who was employed to do them into English chose to
entitle them.
S2 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
M. Galland resided, wake him up from his sleep,
and insist on his relating to them a story.
It is needless to ask whence the charms of the.e
tales arise : the wonderful will always have attrac-
tions, brilliant imagination will always assert its
power ; and the circumstance of our religion, and
the volume in which it is contained, being derived
from the East, raises in the youthful mind an early
predilection for that part of the world. The East,
we are taught, contained the blissful Paradise of
man's infancy and innocence, which the genius of
Milton has filled with all that can yield delight.
It was in the East that Abraham and the succeed-
ing patriarchs led that life of pastoral ease and
abundance so dear to the imagination of ingenuous
youth.
" Those pleased the most where by a cunning hand
Depicted was the patriarchal age ;
What time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee land
And pastured on from verdant stage to stage,
Where fields and fountains fresh could best engage.
Toil was not then: of nothing took they heed
But with wild beasts the silvan war to wage,
And o'er vast plains their herds and flocks to feed.
Blest sons of nature they ! true golden age indeed!**
The East was the scene of the sweet tale of Ruth,
and of the interesting adventures of David. It was,
in fact, the land of miracle and wonder, favoured
with the choicest regards of the Deity ; and imagi-
nation has always invested its front with a nimbus
of splendour. Such, at least, were my own early
impressions of the East ; and I should suppose I
THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS. 33
am but one of the many. The Thousand and One
Nights, and similar collections, come to augment
this illusion ; the noble Vision of Mirza and other
fictions of the same kind lend their aid ; and I ap-
prehend there are few persons fond of reading who
have not exaggerated ideas of the magnificence and
beauty of that part of the world lurking in the
recesses of their imagination. Nor is this illusion
(as those who have lost it well know,) to be deplored.
Many are the dark and cloudy days of life ; and
most happy is he for whom they are most frequently
gilded by the rays of fancy. And the brilliant fic-
tions of the East, and the popular tales which amused
our childhood, and still recall its pleasures, have in
this the advantage over the modern novel, they
go at once beyond the regions of probability, and
cannot therefore injure by exciting romantic ex-
pectations of the fortune of the hero or heroine
being realised in ourselves l . This power of yield-
ing innocuous pleasure they share with the higher
order of poetry, a taste for which has never, I be-
lieve, proved anything but beneficial to any mind
whatever.
In Europe we read these tales ; in the East,
where the printing-press is unknown, they are
1 Few have a clear conception of the evils produced by in-
discriminate novel- reading. Sir Walter Scott, with his usual
felicity, compares novels to opiates. These of course should
be used with extreme moderation ; but, alas ! I fear that the
number of our opium-eaters is considerable. Was he then
totally blameless who supplied so much of the seductive drug,
and gave dignity to the use of it ?
c 5
34 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
mostly listened to from the lips of the story-teller.
The manner in which the story-teller by profes-
sion enacts his narrative to the idle loungers in the
coffee-house, or to the crowd in the streets, has
often been described } ; but few have an adequate
conception of the eager attention and breathless
interest with which the unsophisticated children
of the desert listen to tales of love, of war, and of
wonder. I will therefore, in the words of an eye-
witness, place a Bedoween audience and story-
teller on the scene.
" When the burning sun," says M. von Ham-
mer 2 , " has sunk behind the sand-hills, and the
thirsty ground is licking up and swallowing the
cooling dew, they no less greedily swallow the
tales and fables which they have perhaps already
heard a hundred times, but which nevertheless
thanks to the mobility of their imagination and
the expertness of the narrator operate on them
with all the force of novelty.
" One should see these children of the de-
sert, how they are moved and agitated, how they
melt away in feeling and flame up in rage, how
they fall into an agony and then recover their
1 See Jon. Scott's Introduction to his edition of the Arabian
Nights, Hajji Baba, Sketches of Persia, &c.
2 In a review of the English translation of Antar in the
Vienna Jahrbiicher der Literatur, vol. vi. Whenever I have
to treat of matters concerning the East, I am always deeply
indebted to the writings of this distinguished orientalist, with
whose friendship and correspondence I am honoured.
TALES
With e
Of IOT
story
nil glory ;
DRAWN BY W. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY G.
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER AND CO.
BEDOWEEN AUDIENCE. 35
breath, how they laugh and weep, how they par-
ticipate with the narrator and with the hero of the
tale, in the magic of the descriptions, and the
frenzy of the passions. It is a perfect drama, but
one in which the audience are at the same time
the actors. Is the hero of the story threatened
by imminent danger, they shudder, and cry
aloud, * No, no, no, God forbid, it cannot be ! '
(La, la t la, iataghferallah /) Should he be in the
midst of the fight, mowing down the hostile
squadrons with his sword, they grasp their own,
and stand up, as if they would fly to his aid.
Does he fall into the snares of treachery and
falsehood, their foreheads contract in wrinkles
of displeasure, and they cry, ' The curse of God
on the traitor ! ' Does he succumb at last beneath
the multitude of his foes, a long and glowing * Ah ! '
comes from their breast, accompanied by the bless-
ing of the dead, * May the mercy of God be upon
him ! may he rest in peace ! ' But if he returns
from the fight victorious and crowned with fame,
the air is filled with loud cries of * Praise God the
Lord of Hosts ! ' Descriptions of the beauties of
nature, and especially of the spring, are received
with repeated exclamations of Tctih> taib, i. e.
' Good, good ! ' and nothing can compare with
the satisfaction that sparkles in their eyes when
the narrator leisurely and con amore draws a pic-
ture of female beauty.
" They listen with silent attention ; and when he
ends his description with the exclamation, * Praised
36 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
be God, who hath created beautiful women ! ' they
all, in the enthusiasm of admiration and gratitude,
shout out in full chorus, * Praised be God, who
hath created beautiful women! ' Forms of speech of
this kind frequently introduced into the course of
the narrative, and lengthened out with well-known
sayings and circumlocutions, serve, as it were, for
resting-places to the narrator, to enable him to
take breath, or to continue quietly and easily spin-
ning on with them the thread of the narrative,
without any new demand on his memory or ima-
gination. Where the narrator to a European au-
dience would say, * And now they continued their
journey,' the Arabian orator says, * And now they
went on over hills and dales, through woods and
plains, over meads and deserts, over fields and
pathless wilds, up hill, down dale, from the morn-
ing dawn till the evening came.' While uttering
these forms of speech, which flow unconsciously
from his lips, he collects his attention, and then
goes on with his story, till the declining night, or
the fatigue of his lungs, enjoins him to break off
his narrative, which, with the good-will of his au-
ditors, would never come to a termination. A
story-teller, however, never ends his tale the same
evening, but breaks off in one of the most interest-
ing parts, promising to give the continuation or
the conclusion the next evening : and if it should
happen to terminate early in that evening, he im-
mediately begins another, the continuation of which
again is put off till the following evening : and thus
THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS. 37
evening after evening are woven together in a series
of narrations l ."
It is a general, but I believe an erroneous idea,
that the Thousand and One Nights are familiarly
known all over the Mohammedan East. Mr. Jo-
nathan Scott says that he never heard any of them
in India. I do not recollect that Mr. Morier, or
any of our travellers in Persia, makes any mention
of them as forming a part of the literary funds of
the story-tellers of that country. M. Hammer
says, that when he went to Constantinople in the
year 1799, he was charged by the Austrian mi-
nister for foreign affairs to purchase for him a
copy of these tales, at any price ; and the result
of his inquiries at the book-mart and among the
Meddah, or coffee-house narrators, was, that they
were totally unknown at Constantinople, and were
only to be had in Egypt. And in effect it is only
in Syria, Arabia, Egypt, and the north coast of
Africa, that is, in the countries where the Arabic
language is spoken, that copies of this work can
be procured 2 .
Yet Persia is evidently the original country
of the Thousand and One Nights. M. Hammer
quotes the following passage from the Golden
1 This explains the artifice of Shehrzade in the Arabian
Nights.
2 The Arabic Thousand and One Nights is now made
attainable to all orientalists by a very neat edition, published
lately in Germany by Dr. Habicht, from a manuscript pro-
cured from Tunis.
38 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Meadow of Massoodee, a writer who flourished
in the twelfth century. " The historical work of
Obeid Ben Sheriyeh is in the hands of all the
world ; but many persons class his narrations with
the tales and stories invented for the amusement
of indolent princes, by which people seek to in-
sinuate themselves into their favour. This book,
then, is rather one of the same kind with those
fabulous works which have been translated out of
the Persian, Indian and Greek languages; such,
for example, as the book of the Thousand Arti-
fices (Hezar Efsdneh), called in Arabic the Thou-
sand Tales (Elf Kharafa), and which is usually
known under the name of the Thousand Nights
{Elf Leila). It contains the story of a king, his
daughter Shehrzade, and her nurse Dinarzade.
A similar work is that of Jelkand and Sheemas,
that is, the History of an Indian King and his ten
Viziers : such, too, are the Voyages of Sindbad,
and other works of the kind." The same writer
says in another place, speaking of the Khalif
Mansoor, the father of Haroon-er-Rasheed, " He
was the first who had books translated out of the
Persian, among which was that called Kolaila iva
Dimna 1 .'* M. Hammer infers from these pas-
1 That is, the Fables of Bidpai, or Pilpai, the celebrated
Kartaka Damnaka, or Hitopadesa of the Hindoos. In the
Sketches of Persia (vol. i. p. 139 et seq.) will be found a
very interesting account of the manner in which this work
was brought to Persia in the time of Noosheerwan the
Just.
THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS. 39
sages that the Thousand Nights, as they were
originally called, could not have been translated
into Arabic before the time of Mansoor ; but as
the first passage quoted is not to be found in all
the manuscripts of Massoodee, and as it has been
asserted that the Persian poet Rastee, who lived
at the court of Mahmood of Ghizni (a century
later than Massoodee,) was the author of the
Thousand Tales (Hezar Efsdneh\ he will not
maintain that the passage in question is not an
interpolation, an evil to which, he says, manu-
scripts are so very liable. At all events, it is clear
that the work is originally Persian, and some of
the tales (particularly the two presently to be no-
ticed,) bear evident marks of their Persian ex-
traction. As, however, Haroon-er-Rasheed, the
son of Khalif Mansoor, is the hero of the greater
portion of them, M. Hammer is led from this and
other circumstances to infer, that it was at the
court of the later Mamlook sultans of Egypt that
the work received its present form, and the greater
part of its present contents were written. The
Voyages of Sindbad, we may observe, was ori-
ginally a separate work. I will further add, that
I cannot perceive any traces of a Hindoo original
in the tales translated by M. Galland ; but some
of those translated by M. Hammer certainly came
from the land of the Bramins.
I trust the reader will not deem this inquiry
into the origin and history of these celebrated tales
superfluous. It follows from it, that at least the
40 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Persian portion of them was in existence before
the Decamerone, or any other European collection
of tales, was written. I will now proceed to show
that some of these very Persian tales made their
way to Europe centuries before the appearance
of M. Galland's translation.
The most distinguished French poet of the thir-
teenth century was Adans, or Adenes, surnamedZe
Rot, either on account of his superior poetic talent,
or, as M. Paris with more probability thinks, be-
cause he held the post of Roi des Menestrels, or mas-
ter of the band of jongleurs, at the court of France.
Adenes was a native of Brabant ; and when the
Princess Mary of Brabant became queen of France,
she took him with her to Paris. Here, to gratify
his patroness and her sister-in-law Blanche of
France, he composed a long romance in verse,
named Cleomades, of which the date may be thus
determined. Mary of Brabant was married to
Philip the Bold in 1274, and Blanche, who had
been married in 1269 to Fernando de la Cerda,
infant of Castille, returned on his death in 1275
to the court of her brother. King Philip died in
the year 1283, so that the romance was probably
composed in the interval between 1275 and that
year.
This romance, of which several copies exist in
France, but not one I believe in this country, con-
tains about 19,000 octosyllabic verses. The scene
is laid in the time of the Emperor Diocletian ; and
the narrative is frequently interrupted by episodes,
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 41
one of the most remarkable of which is the ac-
count of the marvels performed by the poet Virgil,
the greatest magician of his time in Rome. Le
Cheval de Fust, or the Wooden Horse, is another
title of this poem, as a steed of that kind is an
important actor in it 1 .
An Extrait of this story, under the title of
* Cleomades et Claremonde', was given by Count
Tressan in the Bibliotheque des Romans. His ac-
count of it is, that it was originally composed in
Spanish verse, and then translated into prose, both
in French and Spanish. From a copy of the former
version in the library of the Marquis of Paulmy,
he made his Extrait. Having perhaps an unjust
suspicion of Count Tressan's literary integrity,
and not being able to go and personally examine
the poem, I applied to M. Paulin Paris, of the
Royal Library at Paris, who most kindly gave me
all the information I required. The following is
a part of his letter.
" Tressan's imitation, though it gives but a very
imperfect idea of the merit of the romance on
which it is founded, is nevertheless exact as to
the succession and connexion of the events. The
romance imitated by Tressan is not, however, that
of the Roi Adenes, but an imitation in prose, made
at the end of the fifteenth century by an unknown
author after the romance in verse of Cleomades,
1 For the preceding details I am indebted to the letter pre-
fixed by M. Paulin Paris to his edition of Adenes' poem of
Li Romans de Berte aux grans Pies. Paris, 1832.
44 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
to travel for his improvement. He visited Greece,
Germany and France, and was proceeding to
Italy, when he was summoned home by the king
and queen to give his presence at the nuptials of
his sisters, whose hands were sought by three
great princes, who were now arrived in Seville,
whither their fame had preceded them. For they
were not only powerful monarchs, but were deeply
versed in astronomy, and well skilled in the art of
magic. The one was Melicandus, king of Barbary ;
the second was Bardigans, king of Armenia ; the
third, whose name was Croppart, was king of Hun-
gary. This last was ugly and hump-backed ; his
soul was as deformed as his body, and his tongue
was pregnant with falsehood.
These three kings had met together before they
set out for Seville, and had agreed that each should
give such a present to the king and queen as would
entitle him to ask a gift in return. On their ar-
rival they were received with all becoming ho-
nours ; and King Melicandus presented the royal
pair with a man of gold, who held in his right
hand a trumpet formed of the same metal, made
with so much art, that if treason lurked within
even a considerable distance of him, he put the
trumpet to his mouth and blew a loud and piercing
blast.
Bardigans presented a hen and six chickens of
gold, so skilfully formed that they seemed to be
alive, He placed them on the ground, and they
instantly began to run about, to peck, and to clap
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 45
their wings. The hen flew up on the queen's knee,
cackled, and laid a fine pearl in her lap. " She
will do the same every third day," said Bardi-
gans.
All present were lost in admiration of these
wonderful gifts. King Croppart now came for-
ward with a large wooden horse, magnificently
caparisoned, with pins of steel on his head and
shoulders. " Sire," said he in a harsh and dis-
cordant voice, " with the horse which I offer you
one may mount in the air, cross the seas, and
travel at the rate of fifty leagues an hour."
The king and queen, who yielded to none in
generosity, offered the strangers in return any-
thing that was in their power to bestow. At once
they craved as a boon the hands of the three fair
princesses of Seville ; and Marchabias and Ectriva
seeing no sufficient reason to justify a refusal, ac-
corded them their demand. The two elder prin-
cesses and the whole court were pleased with the
kings of Barbary and Armenia, who were hand-
some and agreeable in their persons. But the
Princess Maxima, when she saw that she was the
choice of King Croppart, burst into tears, and
running to her brother, implored him to deliver
her from such a hideous monster, or to put her to
death with his own hand. Cleomades, who loved
his sister tenderly, and could not endure the idea
of her being thus sacrificed, arose and declared to
his father that he had bound himself by oath to
defend the liberty of his younger sister, and that
46 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
he could not consent to such a union. On the
other hand, Croppart insisted on the promise of
the king. The prince, darting at him a look of
indignation, said, " The two other kings have
merited by the value of their gifts the performance
of the king's promise ; but what claims do this pal-
try wooden horse, and the fable you have ventured
to tell us, give you?" " My lord," said Croppart,
gladly seizing the opportunity presented of getting
rid of the prince, " be judge yourself of the merits
of my horse. There is nothing I will not submit
to if I deceive you." "Yes," cried the prince, " I
will make the trial of him this very instant." So
saying, he had the horse brought out into the
garden : the golden man gave a loud blast on his
trumpet, but his warning was unheeded, all being
so occupied about Prince Cleomades. The prince
mounted the horse, but he remained immoveable :
he began to menace Croppart : " Turn the steel
pin in his forehead," cried the latter : the golden
man blew his trumpet more fiercely than before.
The king heard it, and called to his son to dis-
mount ; but it was now too late, the prince had
turned the pin, and was aloft in the air, carried
along with such velocity that he was speedily out
of sight.
The king and queen, full of grief and indig-
nation, instantly had Croppart seized, menacing
him with the most cruel death in case any evil
should befall their son. But he replied with the
greatest calmness, " The fault is not mine ; he
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 47
should have waited till I had told him how to
manage the horse." There appeared so much
reason in what he said, that they did not feel jus-
tified in having recourse to any measures of ex-
treme rigour against him. He was therefore only
confined in an apartment in the palace, but in other
respects honourably treated. To the two other
kings they made an apology for deferring the
nuptials till they should have had tidings of the
safety of their son, at the same time assuring them
that they had no idea whatever of not fulfilling
their engagements.
Meantime Prince Cleomades was carried along
with great rapidity. He lost neither his courage
nor his self-possession. At first he expected that
the horse would bring him back to where he had
set out from ; but when he saw the appearance of
the country continually changing beneath him, and
at last found that he was passing over the sea, he
perceived to his grief that he was quitting Spain.
Night was now spread over the earth, but still the
speed at which he was proceeding remained un-
changed. Recollecting, at length, that there were
pins on the horses shoulders similar to that on his
forehead, he took advantage of the first rays of
light to make trial of them. He found that by
turning one of them to the right or the left, the
horse went in that direction ; and that when the
one on the other shoulder was turned, he slack-
ened his pace and descended towards the earth.
This discovery cheered the prince, and he even
48 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
began to conceive hopes of some fortunate adven-
ture. The rays of the sun, now reflected from
glittering domes and spires, informed him that he
was passing over some great and magnificent city ;
so, skilfully managing the pins on the shoulders of
his horse, he descended on the leads of a lofty
tower, which stood in the midst of the gardens of
a great palace.
The prince, who was both fatigued and hungry
after so long a journey through the air, dis-
mounted, and leaving his horse on the roof of the
tower, opened a trap-door, and went down a flight
of steps, which led him to a hall, where stood a
table still covered with the remains of a feast. He
sat down and regaled himself, and having drunk
some delicious wine, ventured to enter a chamber,
the door of which was half open. The first ob-
ject that met his view was a huge giant, lying
stretched on the ground, and fast asleep. The
prince softly drew from his hand a key which he
saw in it, and coming to a richly ornamented door,
tried the key, and opened it. He there beheld
three beds, on each of which was reposing a young
and beautiful maiden. The prince gazed for a mo-
ment on their charms, and then passed on to a door
which was standing open, and which gave him a
view of a chamber still more magnificent than that
which he was in. He entered, and found a bed with
rich hangings, and occupied by a maiden in the
flower of youth, whose beauty far surpassed that
of her companions. She was in a profound sleep.
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 49
Cleomades stood lost in rapture, and then for the
first time felt the influence of love. As he gazed
on her a bee flew into the apartment, and was
going to settle on her bosom : fearing to awaken
her, the prince blew at the bee with his breath :
the insect turned and stung him in the cheek.
Just at that instant the maiden awoke, and seeing
a man in the chamber gave a loud cry. " Rash
man," said she, " how have you presumed to enter
this apartment ? Are you King Liopatris, whose
bride I am destined by my father to be ? If you
are not, nothing can save you from death." " Yes,
Princess," instantly replied Cleomades, " I am.
By rny address, and under cover of the night, I
have penetrated into this chamber. I wished to
see and do homage to the beauty destined for me,
before I offered her my hand. Haply my respect
had led me to retire without awaking you, had
not this cruel bee menaced your bosom ; and I
could only avert the stroke by receiving it my-
self." He took her lovely hand ; the princess was
moved, and said, " I pardon you this indiscretion :
retire to the garden, while I summon my attendants
to aid me to rise."
The prince obeyed without hesitation, and the
three attendants coming at the call of their mis-
tress, prepared to attire her. She related to them
with a blush her adventure, and did not conceal
the impression which the appearance and manners
of her future husband had made on her mind.
When dressed, the fair princess, followed by her
D
50 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
maids of honour, went down to the garden, where
she found Cleomades expecting her. They en-
tered an arbour, and in the course of the conver-
sation which ensued, he learned, by what fell from
the attendants, that the princess's name was Clare-
mond, and that she was daughter of Cornuant king
of Tuscany, who had engaged her to Liopatris
king of A strachan.
Cleomades could not avoid secretly reproaching
himself for the deception he had practised ; but
he was too deeply in love to run the risk of losing
his present bliss. Under his assumed character
he proffered vows of everlasting attachment ; and
taking advantage of the momentary absence of the
princess's maidens, who had risen to gather flowers,
he fell on his knees before her, and drew from the
fair Claremond a confession of corresponding af-
fection, and a vow of eternal fidelity. Just at this
moment a loud noise was heard, the doors of the
garden flew open, and King Cornuant entered, fol-
lowed by his courtiers and a troop of armed men.
The giant on awaking had gone to look after
his fair charge. Not finding her in her apartment
he became uneasy ; but hearing the voices of her
maids in the garden, he looked out at a window,
and beholding a young knight at the feet of the
princess in the arbour, he went with all speed and
gave information to the king.
Cornuant in a rage demanded of his daughter,
how it happened that he thus found a stranger at
her feet. " Surely," replied the princess, "it must
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 51
be with your own consent that he is come hither,
for he is no other than the prince to whom you
had engaged me."
" Traitor," cried the king in a fury, turning to
Cleomades, " what madness has induced you to
intrude on the retirement of my daughter, and to
call yourself Liopatris ? "
" Ah, Sire," replied Cleomades respectfully,
" have pity on a young and helpless knight, who
is persecuted by the vengeance of the fairies. My
father, one of the sovereigns of Europe, having
given them some offence, they condemned me at
the moment of my birth to be exposed for three
days in each year to the greatest perils, and the
moment in which these perils excite fear in my
soul, is to be the last of my life.
" From the time I was knighted they have every
year caused me to be carried off by a wooden
horse, that flies through the air, and takes me all
over the world, exposing me to the most appalling
dangers ; but as yet my courage has never given
way. Deign now, Sire, to send up to the leads
of this tower, and the horse will be found, who of
himself descended in that place. Overcome with
hunger and fatigue, I went down in search of re-
lief. Entering the chamber of your daughter, I
heard her cry out, ' Rash man, if you are any
other than Prince Liopatris, I will call for aid,
and your head will be cut off.' I must confess,
Sire, that the natural love of life made me have
recourse to a stratagem, which I now strongly con-
D 2
52 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
demn, and I submit to whatever you may please
to determine respecting me."
Cornuant was amazed at this relation, to which
he did not, however, give full credit. He sent
some persons to the roof of the tower, and con-
trary to his expectations, saw them return, bear-
ing with some difficulty a large ill-formed wooden
horse.
He assembled his council, and their unanimous
opinion was, that the stranger was deserving of
death, for having dared to deceive the Princess
Claremond, and assume the name of King Liopa-
tris- King Cornuant then directed him to prepare
for death, as he had not many moments to live.
" I expected nothing else," replied the prince
with calmness ; then turning to Claremond, who
seemed overwhelmed with affliction, " Pardon,
divine Princess, the artifice to which I had re-
course. Impute it to love, and believe that the
most devoted of lovers will expire before your
eyes."
The princess sighed, wept, and unable to speak
covered her head with her veil. The executioners
approached.
" King Cornuant," cried the prince, " I am a
knight, and of noble blood ; let me die according
to the fashion of my own country, where a knight
always receives death mounted on his war-horse.
Let me mount this instrument of the malignity of
the fairies ; it may suffice to save my honour and
that of my country."
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 53
Cornuant, who felt a secret pity for the prince,
readily granted his request. Cleomades mounted
the wooden horse, turned the pin in his forehead,
and was in an instant high in the air, and beyond
all danger. He hovered about for some time, to
the utter terror and amazement of the beholders ;
then crying aloud, " Charming Princess, I shall
ever remain faithful,"^ directed his course home-
wards. As he now perfectly understood the ma-
nagement of the horse, he speedily reached Se-
ville. He dismounted, and left the horse at a
small country palace, not far from the city, and
hastened to console his anxious parents.
The nuptials of the two elder princesses with
the kings Melicandus and Bardigans were no
longer delayed. But as the Princess Maxima
persisted in her aversion to King Croppart, and
the golden man blew his trumpet every time he re-
newed his proposal, and Prince Cleomades more-
over still declared himself the champion of his
sister, King Marchabias gave him a positive re-
fusal, accompanied with orders to quit the court
immediately.
Croppart having been obliged to quit his own
kingdom, and stay away for the space of a year,
on account of some crimes which he had com-
mitted, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood
of Seville. He disguised himself, and passed for
an Indian physician l t and taking up his abode in
1 In the old French romances physicien has the sense of
54 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
one of the villages near the city, watched the
movements of the royal family. He soon learned
that Prince Cleomades had set out on another ex-
pedition. For this young man, unable to control
the violence of his passion for the fair Claremond,
had made a confidant of his mother, who, feeling
that it would be useless to seek to detain him, had
consented to his returning, by means of the wooden
horse, to the abode of that princess, only enjoining
him prudence and caution.
Cleomades arranged the time of his departure
so as to arrive by night at the tower of his beloved
Claremond. Instead of alighting on the leads, he
directed his horse to a little garden, whose only
entrance was from the apartments of the princess,
and concealed him in an arbour. Full of hope,
of fear, and love, he then drew nigh to the door.
It was open, he entered, and advanced towards
the chamber of Claremond. He found her lying in
a gentle slumber : a single lamp gave light in the
apartment. Having gazed for some moments with
rapture on her charms, he gently waked her.
" Ah ! rash youth," said she, in a tender and af-
fectionate tone, " why will you again venture on
certain death ! What do you propose, since you
are not King Liopatris ?" " To adore you while I
live," returned he, " and give you a station worthy
our word physician. M. Tressan has perhaps added this
trait from the eastern tale, in which the owner of the horse
is an Indian. They knew nothing of Indian physicians in
the thirteenth century in Europe.
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 55
of you. I am Cleomades, son of the king of Spain.
My parents know of my love, and will press you
to their bosom, and make you mistress of one of
the most splendid thrones in the world." " What ! "
cried the princess, " are you that Cleomades whom
fame proclaims to be the most gallant and accom-
plished of knights ? " The prince replied by pre-
senting her with a splendid bracelet, containing
his mother's portrait and his own. The princess
avowed her love ; she told him that Liopatris was
to arrive that very day, attended by all the knights
of his court, and that nothing would induce her
father to break his word. Cleomades then in-
formed her of his plan, and she consented to mount
the enchanted horse, and suffer him to conduct
her to Spain.
Day was now approaching : she summoned her
three attendants to her presence, who were greatly
surprised to see there again the young man who
had already run such a risk. Their surprise was
augmented when their mistress informed them that
he was the celebrated Prince Cleomades. They
made no needless remonstrances, but attired the
princess in her most costly dress. One packed
up her jewels in a small writing-case; another
made ready a basket of provisions for her to take
with her. The third, more cautious, begged of
Cleomades to defer his departure till the sun was
risen, and to carry off the princess in the sight of
King Cornuant, who every morning walked in the
56 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
gardens adjoining those of the princess; by which
means, she said, she and her companions would
escape all blame. Cleomades consented ; the maids
retired to their beds, and leading the princess out
into the garden, he placed her behind him on the
mngic horse.
The sun was now spreading his beams over the
earth. Cleomades turned the pin in the forehead
of his horse, and the steed rose into the air. \Vhen
he had ascended as high as the tops of the palace
towers, he beheld the king and his court in the
gardens beneath : " Sire," cried he, " know that I
am Cleomades, prince of Spain. Be not uneasy
about the princess, my father and mother will re-
ceive her with all respect and affection. If King
Liopatris, who has never beheld her, should feel
offended, I will give him satisfaction ; or if he
will, I will bestow on him the hand of my sister."
So saying, he made an inclination to the king ;
the princess stretched forth her arms to her father,
but the rapidity of the motion soon made her clasp
her lover round the waist.
The aerial travellers did not arrive at Seville
till early the next morning. The prince descended
as before, at the small summer palace, and leaving
the princess there to take some repose and re-
cover from the fatigues of her journey, he pro-
ceeded to the city to announce her arrival to his
father and mother. Marchabias and Ectriva were
charmed at his success \ they ordered their most
TAJLIES
Swift as the shaft flies from the s
Swift as tlie bird is on the whig,
The enchanted steed bears throuj
Cleomades and Claremond fair.
DRAWN BY W. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD 13 V G.
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKEll AND CO.
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 57
splendid equipages to be prepared, and in a few
hours the whole court set forth to conduct the
fair stranger to the city.
Claremond meantime having taken some repose
and refreshment, went forth into the garden, where
she amused herself with gathering flowers and
weaving them into a chaplet, singing the while
some extemporaneous verses. As ill-luck would
have it, the malignant Croppart was at one end of
the garden culling simples, in his assumed charac-
ter of a physician. Hearing a melodious voice, he
drew near unperceived, and the first object that
met his view was his own wooden horse. He then
looked on the princess, and he thought her still
more beautiful than Maxima. Just then Clare-
mond gave a sigh, and began to weep. " Cleo-
mades, beloved Cleomades, where are you ? Could
you have deceived me when you said you were
going in quest of those who would receive me
with honour ? Haste, haste, delay no longer ! "
Croppart instantly formed his plan ; he ap-
proached the princess. " Fair and noble lady,"
said he, " dry up your tears. The prince on ar-
riving at the palace, finding himself unwell in con-
sequence of fatigue, said to me, who am in his
most secret confidence, ' Mount the enchanted
horse, fly to her whom I adore, and bring her
hither with all speed.' He then taught me how
to manage him. So, lady, mount, and I will with
speed conduct you to the prince."
The unsuspicious Claremond mounted the horse
D 5
58 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
without hesitation. Croppart turned the pin, and
they ascended into the air with such velocity, that
the princess was obliged to shut her eyes to avoid
becoming dizzy. But when she at length ventured
to look below, and saw no signs of a city, but on
the contrary forests, lakes and mountains, she be-
came aware of the extent of her misfortune. Crop-
part, heedless of her reproaches, grasped her fair
hands, and turning the head of his horse from the
direction of Hungary, whither he was at first pro-
ceeding, urged his course over Italy towards Africa.
Suddenly the princess gave a piercing cry, and
Croppart found that she had swooned away.
He immediately made the horse descend in a
mead, watered by a fountain. He took her down,
and sprinkled her with water till she revived. He
then began to make proposals of love to her, de-
claring that he had been so captivated by her
charms, that he had considered every stratagem
lawful, but that it was to raise her to the rank of
queen of Hungary that he had carried her off.
The princess, who did not want for talent and
quickness, instantly replied, " Ah ! Sir, what are
you thinking of? Would you make a queen of a
poor peasant girl, whom Prince Cleomades pur-
chased of her parents for his pleasure ? " " No
matter," said Croppart, " your beauty makes you
worthy of the first throne in the universe."
His respect, however, now in a great measure
vanished, and he urged his suit to the princess in
such a manner that she began to grow terrified.
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 59
She had again recourse to art. " Stop," said she,
" or I shall expire before your eyes. I consent
to marry you, if you will only wait till we come
to some town where we may be legally united."
Croppart, who, bad as he was, did not wish to
be needlessly lowered in her opinion, assented to
this moderate request ; and being nearly overcome
by the heat and fatigue, he went and plunged his
arms into the fountain : he also drank of the water
to quench his thirst, and the cold of it was so great,
that he fell nearly senseless on the ground. Clare-
mond also sat down at a little distance, and ex-
hausted by grief and fatigue, fell fast asleep.
In this state they were found by the falconers
of the king of Salerno, who were in pursuit of one
of their hawks which had flown away, and had
seen him alight at the fountain to drink. They
<were not a little amazed at finding in this lone-
some place an ugly little hunchback, who was
breathing as if struggling against death, and near
him a lady of surpassing beauty lying fast asleep.
They immediately dispatched one of their number
with the strange tidings to the king of Salerno,
whose name was Mendulus.
This prince, who was of a voluptuous character,
instantly mounted his horse and flew to the mead,
where he found Croppart and Claremond in the
same state in which the falconer had left them.
The beauty of Claremond astonished him, and for
the first time in his life perhaps he experienced
love mingled with sentiment and with respect.
60 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
On their awaking he interrogated them. Crop-
part asserted that he was a free man, that he had
fallen asleep at the fountain, and that the young
woman was his wife. Claremond, being asked if
this was true, positively denied it, and implored
the king to protect her against him. Mendulus
had them both brought to the palace ; the horse,
of which he knew not the use, was not left behind.
The fair Claremond was assigned an apartment in
the palace : Croppart was placed in confinement ;
but the disorder which he had caught at the foun-
tain was so severe, that he expired during the
night.
Next morning Mendulus, all impatience, waited
on Claremond with the offer of his hand and crown.
But she pretended to believe that he was only
mocking her. She told him that she was nothing
but a foundling, picked up by some persons, who
gave her the name of Trouvee (Foundling), and
had afterwards married her to a gentleman ; but
that the hunchback, who was a great clerk and
physician, had carried her off, and brought her
with him from country to country, where he made
a great deal of money by his philtres and tricks of
sleight of hand ; so that he had always kept her
well clothed and fed until the evening before, when
he had beaten and abused her without reason.
Mendulus, who was a good sort of man, and
not troubled with too much delicacy, was not at
all repelled from the alliance which he proposed
by this frank confession. Having for form-sake
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 61
held a council, composed of the companions of his
pleasure, and gotten their approval of his design,
he returned and announced it to the princess.
Claremond now saw no other means of retarding
the marriage, which she dreaded, than to feign that
joy had turned her brain. She committed acts of
the greatest folly and extravagance, and at length
became so violent, that the king found it neces-
sary to take measures for her cure, and he put her
under the care of ten of the most sensible and
strongest women he could find.
The court of Spain was meantime in the utmost
affliction. When the king and queen arrived with
Cleomades at the summer palace, they sought in
vairi for the Princess Claremond. Cleomades
picked up one of her gloves, but no other trace
of her or of the enchanted horse could be disco-
vered. His parents brought him back to the pa-
lace in a condition which caused apprehensions to
be entertained for his life.
In the course of a few days came ambassadors
from the court of Tuscany, and the royal family
were filled with shame at being obliged to declare
that they knew not what was become of the prin-
cess. The chief of the embassy, however, who
was a prudent sensible man, saw that reproaches
would be cruel, and he set about giving consola-
tion to the prince. At the same time he could
not refrain from upbraiding him for thus giving
himself up to despair, instead of setting out and
62 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
searching the whole world for a princess so de-
serving of regret.
Cleomades felt his strength and courage revive
at this reproof; and as soon as he was able to
bear the weight of his arms, he mounted a gallant
steed, and directed his course towards the king-
dom of Tuscany, in the hope of there hearing
some tidings of his adored princess. He reached
the lofty mountains which surround it, passed
through them, and it was far in the night when
he came to a castle which stood alone, where
he resolved to demand hospitality. As the draw-
bridge was raised, he called aloud, and a man an-
swered him from the battlements, and told him
that it was the custom of this castle, that any
knight who was entertained in it should next
morning leave his arms and his horse, unless he
was willing singly to engage two valiant knights
in arms. " The custom is a discourteous one,"
replied Cleomades. " It was established," said
the other, " in consequence of a traitor who was
entertained here having assassinated the lord of
the castle during the night. When his two nephews
found him next morning weltering in his blood,
he made them swear, ere he expired, to maintain
this custom."
Cleomades was not to be daunted by the pro-
posed terms of hospitality : the drawbridge was
lowered, he entered, was well received and enter-
tained, and then retired to repose. In the morn-
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 63
ing, the knight who had done the honours of the
house required him to surrender his arms, or to
fight. The prince forthwith mounted his horse,
grasped his lance, and rode forth to where two
armed knights awaited his arrival. Immediately
the two charge him together; their lances are
shivered against his shield, but he remains firm
in his seat, while one of the knights is unhorsed,
and his shoulder put out of joint by the stroke of
the prince's lance. The other then drew his sword,
and a long and dubious conflict ensued. At length
Cleomades proves victorious, and disarms his op-
ponent, whom he now finds to be a most valiant
knight whom he had met when on his travels.
They both go to the aid of the wounded knight,
who, on being informed of the name of his illus-
trious adversary, assured him that it was against
his will he had aided to maintain that iniquitous
custom ; adding, that he only regretted his wound
because it would prevent his undertaking the de-
fence of a damsel wrongfully accused of treason.
They convey the wounded knight to the castle,
and then Cleomades learns that the damsel is one
of the princess Claremond's maids of honour.
For on the arrival of Liopatris at the court of
Tuscany, three knights of his train had forthwith
accused the three maids of honour of being ac-
complices in the carrying off of their mistress.
The two knights confess to Cleomades that they
are enamoured of two of the accused damsels, and
the wounded man again bemoans his inability to
64 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
defend the life and innocence of his mistress,
" Ah, sir," replied Cleomades, " cease to afflict
yourself; no one is more bound than I to defend
the fair Lyriade. I will depart with your comrade,
and trust speedily to restore her to you."
Cleomades having selected a suit of plain ar-
mour, that he might not be known, set out with
his comrade for the court of King Cornuant. On
their arrival, he halted in the suburbs, while the
knight of the castle went forward to announce
that two knights were come to undertake the de-
fence of the accused damsels against the three
accusers. Next morning the combatants appear
in the lists ; the word of onset is given, the knights
dart forth and encounter. The strongest of the
champions of Liopatris singly engages Cleomades,
whose lance penetrates his shield and corselet, and
enters his heart. He then flies to the aid of his
companion, whom the other two had unhorsed.
Ere long they cry for mercy, and deliver up their
swords. According to the law of combat, the ac-
cused damsels are now pronounced innocent, and
delivered to their defenders ; and mounting their
palfreys, they set forth with them, and accompa-
nied by their relatives, for the castle whence the
victor-knights had come.
When Cleomades disarmed himself, the damsels,
to their great surpr'-e and joy, recognised in him
the lover of the Princess Claremond. Their gra-
titude to him knew no bounds ; but their inqui-
ries after their mistress awoke his grief, and they
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 65
mingled their tears with his. All now began to
consult on the means of getting tidings of her ; but
none of the proposed plans seemed to offer a like-
lihood of success. At length an old knight said
he knew at Salerno an astronomer " who saw the
most secret things quite clear." Cleomades in-
stantly resolved to go and consult this sage ; and
accordingly, next morning, after taking leave of
the lovers, and making them promise to come to
Spain to him if he should find his Claremond, he
set out for Salerno.
On his arrival in that city, Cleomades put up at
an inn in the suburbs. His first care was to inquire
of the host after the sage of whom he was come
in quest. " Alas ! sir," said the host, " it is now
a year since we lost him ; and never did we regret
him more ; for were he now alive, he might be of
the most essential service to our prince, by re-
storing to reason the most beautiful creature that
ever lived ; of whom, though she is of low origin,
he is so enamoured, that he is resolved to marry
her."
Cleomades was filled with melancholy at hear-
ing of the death of the sage ; and the host, to di-
vert him, related the tale of the hunchback, and
how the king had met with that lovely creature,
and how her head had turned with joy at the idea
of being married to a king. He ended his nar-
rative by what he deemed the least interesting
part of it, namely, by telling of the wooden horse
which had been found near where the rascally
66 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
hunchback was lying. When he mentioned the
horse, Cleomades threw his arms about his neck :
" Ah ! my dear friend," said he, " both your for-
tune and mine are made ; for I possess infallible
cures for madness. Lead me at once to your
prince : but stay, as my arms might excite some
suspicion, get me a false beard, and the dress of
a physician. Depend upon my success, and on a
full half of the reward."
The host quickly supplied him with all that he
required, and then going to the court, announced
the arrival at his house of a most renowned phy-
sician, who would undertake the cure of the mad
lady. The king ordered him to be brought to
court without a moment's delay.
Cleomades, taking with him the glove of Clare-
mond, which he had filled with some common
herbs and flowers, repaired to the palace. King
Mendulus himself conducted him to the apartment
of the fair patient, who, as soon as she saw him
approaching, redoubled her demonstrations of
frenzy. " Sire," said Cleomades, " be under no
apprehension, I will soon make her calm." He
drew nigh to her, and put her glove near her face,
as if to make her smell to it. Surprised at seeing
her own glove, she looked sharply at the physi-
cian, and at once recognised Cleomades. Instantly
she became quite calm : she took his hand, and
he felt the pressure of love and of recognition.
" Doctor," said she, " your glove is skilful, for it
has done me some good ; but as for yourself, poor
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 67
creature, I believe you are just as mad as I am.
With all your airs of importance, I bet that my
wooden horse knows more than you do. But,
by the way, I am afraid they will let him die of
hunger. I wish they would bring him here to
dispute with you. Oh ! how he would argue if
he could get some Seville oats to eat ! " and she
raised her eyes to heaven.
Her lovely countenance had now resumed all its
beauty. Mendulus, enraptured, but at the same
time grieved to hear her, as he thought, talking
more irrationally than ever, implored the physician
to employ all his skill for her recovery. " I will,"
replied he ; " but we must begin by giving way
to her little caprices and fancies. Fair Trouvee,"
then continued he, " I have not the slightest ob-
jection to argue with your horse. I have often
before now disputed with these animals. It is,
to be sure, no easy matter to convince them ; but
by proper management one may succeed in taming
them, and making them useful. Let them lead in
your horse then, and " " Ha ! ha ! ha ! you
poor fool ! " cried Claremond in a fit of laughter,
" my horse is of another sort from those you are
used to hold your arguments with. Lead him in !
He will not let himself be led ; he likes to be car-
ried by asses like yourself. So go fetch him, and
then, if you dare, dispute with him in my pre-
sence." Cleomades pretended not to understand
her. " Sire," said he to Mendulus, " she has got
68 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
some fancy about a horse into her head : let one
be brought out of your stables." Mendulus, who
thought himself now wondrous wise, replied, " I
see how it is ; I know better than you what she
wants :" and he ordered the wooden horse to be
brought out into the garden.
" Fair Trouvee," said he then with a smile,
" you know the horse might dirty your chamber:
come down to the garden, and he shall be there
for you." " Ah ! " said she, " you talk sense, not
like this prig of a physician. Come, give me your
arm and let us go down." She then caught Cleo-
mades by the ear, as if to pull him after her ; and
all the court followed, laughing at her acts of folly.
When she saw the horse, she ran up and embraced
him. " Ah ! " said she, " how lean you are : they
have half starved you :" and she instantly began
to gather grass and flowers to feed him.
Cleomades, showing the king a little phial, said,
" We must lose no time in making her swallow
this." Claremond instantly changed her tone, and
affected to feel great confidence in the physician
and his remedies. " O thou great man," cried she,
" mount the horse with me, and take me away
from this rabble, who are tormenting me. You
will find my cure in the horse's ear." Cleoma-
des shrugged his shoulders, as if he now doubt-
ed of her cure ; but Mendulus pressed him to
comply with her whim, and he himself placed her
behind him on the horse. The prince, with the
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 69
phial in his hand, affected to search the ear of the
horse ; and watching his opportunity, turned the
pin. The horse rose, like an arrow from a bow,
into the air, and all present uttered a cry of amaze-
ment. " Mendulus," said he, as they went off, " I
am Cleomades prince of Spain, and this is the fair
Claremond, daughter of the king of Tuscany :" and
they soon were out of view.
Next morning the happy pair arrived at Seville.
The nuptials were immediately performed ; and
shortly afterwards King Cornuant came, with a
part of his court, to visit his daughter. KingLio-
patris, who also came in disguise, was so smitten
with the charms of the Princess Maxima, that he
forthwith asked and obtained her in marriage.
Claremond's maids of honour, and their lovers
also, made their appearance at the court of Se-
ville, and all respired joy and happiness.
Before I offer any remarks on this tale, I will
give some proof that it is a genuine Extrait of the
old story. Tn the delectable history of Reynart
the Foxe, translated into c rude and symple En-
glyssche' by William Caxton, and imprinted by
him ' in thabbey of Westmestre' in the year
1481, and in the 32nd chapter, Reynart, when
enumerating the jewels he had lost, thus speaks
of the wood in which his wonderful glass was
set '.
1 Mr. Douce first directed my attention to this passage.
70 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
" The tree ] in which this glas stode was lyght
and faste, and was named cetyne, hit sholde en-
dure ever er it wold rote, or wormes shold hurte
it, and therefore kynge Salamon seelyd (cieled)li'is
temple wyth the same, and withy nforth men prysed
it derrer than fyn gold, hit is like to tree of he-
benus (ebony), of whyche wode kynge Crompart
made his hors of tree for the love of kynge Mo-
rardigas daughter that was so fayr, whom he hail
wende for to have wonne, that hors was so made
within that wo somever rode on hit if he wolde he
shold be within lesse than on hour an hundred
myle thens and that was wel preved ffor Cleo-
medes the kynges sone wolde not byleve that that
hors of tree had suche myght and vertue, he was
yonge lusty and hardy and desired to do grete
dedes of prys for to be renomed in this world,
and leep on this hors of tree, Crompart torned a
pynne that stode on his brest, and anon the horse
lyfte him up and went out of the halle by the
wyndowe and ere one myght say his pater noster
he was goon more ten myle waye, Cleomedes was
sore aferd and supposed never to have torned
agayn as thystorye therof telleth more playnly
but how grete drede he had and how ferre that he
rood upon that horse made of the tree of hebenus
er he coude knowe the arte and crafte how he
shold tome hym and how joyeful he was when he
knewe it and how men sorowed for hym and how
1 In the northern languages, tree is ' wood.' With us, roof-
tree, boot-tree, cross-tree* swingle-tree, &c. are still in use.
CLEOMADES AND CLAREMOND. 71
he knewe all this and the joy e thereof when he
came agayn al this I passe over for losyng of
tyme."
Here, then, we have some of the most import-
ant circumstances of the romance in the 15th cen-
tury ; and I think we may place the usual degree
of faith in Count Tressan's honesty.
The story, as every one must see, is that of
the Enchanted Horse in the Thousand and One
Nights ; and it is a very remarkable instance of
the transmission of fictitious narratives, little al-
tered, from distant regions. It is undoubtedly in-
ferior to the oriental tale ; but that is a matter of
no importance in our present inquiry. We have
here, then, an eastern tale known in Europe in the
13th century : let us see how it came thither.
The Enchanted Horse is in my opinion an an-
cient Persian tale, from the time of the Shahpoors
and Yezdejirds ; and is in all probability one of
those which moved the choler of the Arabian pro-
phet, and against which a Sura of the Koran came
down from heaven. It is purely Persian, free
from all allusion to Islam, and its tenets and prac-
tices. It is, we may observe, at the ancient Persian
festival of the Noo Rooz (New Day), by which
Persia has, according to tradition, from the time
of the renowned Jemsheed, celebrated the return
of the vernal equinox, that the Indian appears
with his wonderful horse before the monarch of
Iran : the king is named Khoosrou Shah, and his
son Firooz Shah, both genuine Persian names ;
72 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
and the only countries mentioned in the tale, be-
sides Persia itself, are the neighbouring realms of
India and Cashmeer. The description too of Persia
given in it perhaps accords best with the state of
the country in the time of the Sassanian dynasty.
I cannot take on me to say that the Sassanian
monarchs held their court at Sheeraz, as they are
made to do in this tale; but the substitution of a
well-known name for an obsolete one could have
been no great liberty in the Arabian translator.
Observe the difference between this tale and that
of Beder and Giauhara (Jouhara) \ The scene of
this last is also in Persia, and in the time of the
Sassanians ; but the personages are all good Mos-
lems, their names are Arabic, and the king's pa-
lace is in an island, arid close to the sea ! Yet this
is possibly an ancient Persian tale also, though the
Arabian narrator may have taken greater liberties
with it. As a further proof of the Arabs' igno-
rance or negligence of the ancient Persian history,
I will just notice that the Bluebeard-sultan, to
whom all these tales of the Khalif Haroon-er-
Rasheed and others are related, is called a Sassa-
nian, and is made a good Mussulman before the
days of Mohammed ! l
1 I cannot, however, help suspecting that the Arabs re-
tained, to a certain extent, the original frame of these tales,
and that it was to a Sassanian Shah, and not a Moslem Sultan,
that Shehrzadeh (City-born), when awaked by her nurse
Dinarzadeh (Dinar-born) a good name for a slave related
tales of the ancient Kyanean princes of Iran. The names in
this frame are all Persian. See above, p. 38.
ENCHANTED HORSES. 73
" No law," justly observes M. Hammer, " be it
even given in the name of heaven, can long stand
on earth, if it be in direct opposition to the man-
ners and character of the people to whom it is
given." The Persians always loved wine, and
heedless of the Prophet they still drink it ; the
Arabs loved tales of wonder, and the Koran con-
demned them in vain. The ancient tales of Per-
sia soon spread along the shores of the Mediter-
ranean ; the Moors of Spain, who kept up a con-
stant intercourse with all the Moslems who spoke
the tongue of Arabia, must have had their share
in the possession of these treasures of the imagi-
nation ; the Franks, who occupied Syria with their
colonies during two centuries, must have learned
many a tale from their Moslem subjects and neigh-
bours ; and the Venetians, who possessed exclu-
sively the trade of Syria and Egypt down to the
sixteenth century, may have imported tales as well
as spices in their argosies. Why then should we
wonder to find an ancient Persian tale in France
in the thirteenth century ?
I might be content with merely reminding the
reader of the celebrated steed Clavileno Aligero
(Wooden-pin Wing-bearer), which enabled Don
Quixote and his faithful squire to achieve the de-
liverance from their beards of the Dolorida Duena
and her companions in misfortune. But Cervantes,
whose memory frequently played him false, has
74 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
made a mistake here, which none of his commen-
tators has discovered.
The Dolorida informs the knight that the en-
chanter Malambruno had told her, that when she
had found her deliverer he would send him a con-
veyance, which would be " that very wooden horse
on which the valiant Peter carried off the fair Ma-
galona, which horse is guided by a pin that he
has in his forehead, which serves him for a bridle ;
and he flies through the air with such speed that
it seems as if the devils themselves were carrying
him. This same horse, according to ancient tra-
dition, was framed by the sage Merlin. He lent
him to Peter, who was his friend, with which he
made long journeys, and carried off, as has been
said, the fair Magalona, taking her behind him
through the air, leaving in amazement all who be-
held them from the earth."
Again, when they are mounted on the wooden
steed, and Sancho in his terror implores the prayers
of the bystanders, the knight says to him in great
choler, " Art thou not, heartless and cowardly
creature, in the very same place which the fair
Magalona occupied, and from which she descend-
ed, not to her grave, but to be queen of France,
if the histories lie not?"
Bowie, in his note, points out the resemblance
between Clavilefio and the horse of brass in Chau-
cer's Squier's Tale, and hints that Chaucer and
Cervantes may have drunk at the same fount, and
ENCHANTED HORSES. 75
have found the fiction in some Arabian story. He
refers to the Seville edition of the romance, printed
in 4 to in the year 1533. Pellicer says, that how-
ever it may be with the horse of the English poet,
Cervantes assuredly took his from the Historia de
la Linda Magalona, hija del Rey de Napoles, y
de Pierres, hijo del Conde de Provenza, printed at
Seville in the year 1533, in 4to. Now, after all
this positiveness of assertion and exactness of re-
ference, it may surprise the reader unversed in
these matters to learn that, as will presently ap-
pear, there is not one word about a wooden horse
in that romance. The truth is, Cervantes, who
was poor, had probably but few books, and there-
fore was often obliged to depend on his memory.
He recollected to have read somewhere how a
prince carried off a princess on a wooden horse ;
he knew that Peter of Provence had run away
with the fair Magalona ; and he confounded the
two stories. I think that Tressan was right in
saying that Cleomades had been translated into
Spanish ; and, in my opinion, this was the very
story which Cervantes had read. It is evident
that neither Bowie nor Pellicer had ever examined
the romance to which they so confidently refer.
Bowie took its title from some catalogue, and
Pellicer copied it from him.
I think it not unlikely that
" the wondrous horse of brass
On which the Tartar king did ride,"
in the Squier's Tale, may also have been derived
E 2
76 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
from Cleomades. This horse was sent, with the
' vertuous ring and glass', as a present to ' Cam-
buscan bold', by the king of Arabic and Inde.
To set him in motion it was only necessary to
' trill ' a pin that was in his ear, and to tell him
whither to go : at the voice of his rider, and the
turning of another pin, he descended ; and when
a third pin was trilled, he vanished, but came again
when called in a particular manner. This is not
unlike the horse of King Croppart.
But who was ' Cambuscan bold ' ? and where
did Chaucer get the tale? On these points the
commentators give us no information ; but I think
I can make a guess myself. The Squier's Tale
begins thus :
" At Sarra in the lond of Tartarie
Ther dwelt a king that werreied Russie,
Through which ther died many a doughty man :
This noble king was cleped Cambuscan,
Which in his time was of so great renown
That ther n'as no wher in no regioun
So excellent a lord in alle thing."
And so it goes on enumerating the excellent qua-
lities of this '* noble king'. A little further on we
are told, that on the last Idus of March he held
the feast of his nativity with great pomp and
splendour, at which time the bearer of the pre-
sents of the king of Arabic and Inde entered his
hall of state.
Now in looking into the Travels of Marco Polo,
we find, in the very first page, that Barcha, the
ENCHANTED HORSES. 77
monarch of Western Tartary (Kipchak), " one of
the most liberal and courteous lords that had ever
been among the Tartars," had two cities, named
Bolgora and Assara ; the former his summer, the
latter his winter, residence. The proper name of
Assara is Sarai ; but Marco Polo seems to have
given it with the Arabic article prefixed.
Again, when describing the Court of the Great
Can at Cambalu, (also a winter residence,) the
traveller says, " All the Tartars, and those who
are subject to the Great Can, keep holiday on the
birthday of this lord ;" and " On this day all the
Tartars in the world, and all the provinces and
kingdoms subject to him, send him very great
gifts, according to the usage and custom."
I think, then, that it is not unlikely that Chau-
cer had seen the Travels of Marco Polo, and that
Cambuscan, or Cambu's Can, is a contraction of
Cambalu Can. We may observe that the name
of one of his sons is Camballo ] . Of Algarsif, the
other son, I can give no account. The name of
his daughter Canace is Greek. Chaucer himself
probably invented the story, which he has 'left
half told*.
The age and the author of Valentine and Orson
are unknown ; but it probably, like so many others,
belongs to the fifteenth century. The copy which
I have used was evidently printed early in the six-
teenth century. It is there said,
1 Spenser has Cambello, and Milton Cambuscan ; both
wrongly accented.
78 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
" That same dwarf was named Pacollet : he was
full of great sense and subtle ingenuity, who, at
the school of Toledo, had learned so much of the
art of necromancy, that he was, beyond all others,
the most perfect ; and in such sort, that by his en-
chantment he made and composed a little horse
made of wood ; and it had in its head, artificially,
a pin, which was so set that every time that he
mounted the horse to go anywhere, he turned the
said pin to the place whither he wished to go, and
he soon found himself in the place, and without
danger ; for the horse was of such fashion that
he went through the air as quickly and more
lightly than any bird could fly."
Have we not here, again, the horse of Cleo-
mades ? I say this because that is the oldest of
the European stories, and was evidently exceed-
ingly popular. We know how unceremoniously
the romancers borrowed from one another.
I have not yet exhibited the whole of my en-
chanted stud. I have still a horse to produce,
hitherto unknown to fame.
"The common fame," says Leland 1 , " is in
Ruthelandeshire, that there was one Rutter, a
man of great favour with his prince, that desired
to have of rewarde of hym as much land as he
could ryde over in a day upon a horse of woodde,
and that he ridde over as much as now is in
Ruthelandeshire by arte magike, and that he was
1 Itinerary, vi. 50,
ENCHANTED HORSES. 79
after swallowed into the yerthe ! ." " This," saga-
ciously adds my author, " is very like a lye."
I will not say that this horse came from Cleo-
mades ; but I pray the reader to observe how the
name gave origin to the legend. Rutland, i. e.
Red-land, is so named from the colour of its soil 2 .
The same principle which in Greece made kings
and heroes out of the names of towns and coun-
tries, gave being to Rutter ; and the resemblance
between Rutter and rider produced the horse,
which, to increase the wonder, was made of wood.
I have been all my life fond of horses, so I feel
loth to quit the subject, and will therefore say a
few words of the enchanted horses of flesh and
blood, or water-steeds as I may call them, from
their connexion with that element.
Every one knows the classic steeds Pegasus and
Arion, both the offspring of the god of the sea ;
the latter by Mother Earth. I need therefore only
allude to them.
It was foretold 3 to Yezdejird king of Persia,
father of Bahram Gur, hereafter to be mention-
ed, that he would come to the spring of Soo, and
1 Falstaff calls one of Prince Henry's companions Yedward
(Ang.-Sax. Eadward). Earl is by the vulgar still pronounced
yerL The Anglo-Saxon e would therefore seem to answer
to the Icelandic j, and Jarl and Earl to have been nearly the
same in sound.
2 " And little Rutlandshire is termed Raddleman."
Dray ton, Polyolb., Song xxiii.
3 See the Shah Nameh.
80 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
there find his death. He resolved that he would
never approach that fount, and so live for ever.
But a disorder seized him, and by the advice of
a priest he had himself carried to that fount;
where, on praying to God, and sprinkling a few
drops of its water on his head, he was cured of
his disease. But his pride returned when he found
himself restored to health and vigour. Then sud-
denly rose out of the spring a black horse, strong
and wild as a lion. Yezdejird commanded his
nobles to take the noose and catch the horse.
They tried, but in vain : the Shah, full of anger,
pursued the horse himself; but when he came
up with him, the water-steed smote him with his
hoof on the breast, so that he fell down and died.
The horse then plunged into the spring and va-
nished.
When King Gradasso l had cut down the tree
in the enchanted wood, there issued from it a
stately horse. The undaunted hero mounts him,
and the steed rises into the air, and then plunges
with his burden into the River of Laughter (Fiume
del Riso). This may remind one of the horse in
the tale of Prince Agib, or the Third Calendar,
who carries the prince away from the castle, where
he had lived in such 'great joy and solace' with
the fifty fair princesses, and leaves him, wanting
an eye, on the roof of the Castle of Repentance;
a tale, by the way, not without its moral. To
i Bojardo, Orl. Innam., IU. vii., 2428,
ENCHANTED HORSES. 81
these may be added the horse which Sindbad saw
come out of the sea to King Mihrage's mares l .
According to Gervase of Tilbury 2 , a Catalo-
nian nobleman of his time, whom he calls Giral-
dus de Cabreriis, had a very extraordinary horse,
by whose advice he was always guided. Gervase
cannot say in what manner the steed conveyed his
sentiments to his master, but he knew that he ate
wheaten bread out of a silver dish or trough
(concha), and lay on a feather-bed instead of
straw ; and further, that when, after his master's
death, he was seduced to solace himself with some
young females, he dashed out his brains with vex-
ation. The good marshal is sadly puzzled what
to make of him. " If he was an ordinary horse,"
says he, " whence did he get sense and reason ?
If he was enchanted, (Jadus^) why did he eat ? "
Whence we may learn that enchanted horses eat
not. Don Quixote, however, learned the same
respecting enchanted folk in general, when he was
in the cavern of Montesinos.
I cannot expect every one to take the same in-
1 Nothing is more curious than this wide-spread notion of
a connexion between horses and the water. See Fairy My-
thology, passim. I have in various places vainly attempted to
account for it. Perhaps my first attempt was the best. See
Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland, vol. i. adfinem.
It is singular that the Greeks should have named the large
quadruped which they saw in the Nile (the Behemoth of
Scripture) Hippopotamus, i. e. River-horse, though he has
not the slightest resemblance to a horse.
2 Leibnitz, Scriptores Rerum Brunsvicarum, i. 991.
E 5
82 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
terest in horses that I do myself; I must there-
fore conclude, passing, over that very suspicious
steed who carried our great Robert Grosthed
(who was afterwards bishop of Lincoln) through
the air and among the planets, from England to
Rome and back again, in less than a day ] . This
however, and steeds of the sort, I suspect were
not real horses, but daemons, who had taken that
form for the nonce.
To what a digression has Cleomades given rise !
In that pleasing old French romance of Peter
of Provence and the fair Maguelone, mentioned
above, there is a circumstance so like one in the
Arabian Nights, that it may have come from the
East. I know not the age of the romance, but it
is certainly posterior to the establishment of the
Angevin dynasty at Naples. As it does not ap-
pear to have ever existed in verse, I would refer
it to the fifteenth century.
Peter, son to the Count of Provence, hearing of
the beauty of Maguelone, daughter of the king of
Naples, determined to go thither in person, and
view the peerless maiden. He accordingly went
in disguise to the Neapolitan court, and there, as
an unknown knight, so distinguished himself in
1 See Ricardus Badeniensis de Vita Robert! Grosthed apud
Wharton, Anglia Sacra, ii. 331. For this reference I am in-
debted to Mr. Douce.
PETER OF PROVENCE AND THE FAIR MAGUELONE. 83
the tournaments, that he won the favour of the
king, and the heart of the lovely Maguelone. After
some time, being desirous to return to Provence,
he persuaded the princess to fly with him. She
yielded her assent, and they secretly left the pa-
lace and departed on horseback, taking a third
horse laden with provisions. On the second day
they came to a dense wood on a mountain near
the sea, and being fatigued and overcome with
the heat, they alighted from their horses to rest
them ; and the princess, laying her head on the
lap of Peter, fell fast asleep and l
" While Magalona, as has been said, was sleep-
ing on the lap of her dear friend Peter, the said
Peter delighted his whole heart by gazing on the
sovereign beauty of his lady ; and when he had
to his pleasure contemplated her beautiful coun-
tenance, and had well admired and kissed that
sweet and agreeable, small and beautiful mouth,
he could not satiate himself with looking at it
more and more : then he could not refrain from
uncovering her a little, and gazing on her most
beautiful and white bosom, that was whiter than
the crystal ; and he touched her sweet bosom, and
when he did so he was so penetrated with love
that it seemed to him that he was in paradise, and
that nothing could ever cause him any affliction.
But that pleasure did not last long ; for he suffered
1 I translate from a Spanish translation of the romance in
the King's Library, printed at Seville in 1519; possibly the
very edition that Cervantes had read.
84 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the most inestimable pain and ill-fortune, as you
shall hear, that man could ever think of. And
the noble Magalona suffered not less, for she af-
terwards passed through many great afflictions.
" For while Peter thus admired and touched the
sweet Magalona, he found in her bosom a coloured
piece of silk, which was folded up, and he had a
very great desire to know what was in it. And
he began to unfold it, and he found in it three of
his mother's rings, which he had given to Maga-
lona, and she had kept them out of good love.
And when Peter had seen them, he folded them
up again, and placed them near him on a stone ;
and he turned his eyes to the noble Magalona,
and regarded her with good love, and he almost
fainted away with love and with pleasure, so that
it seemed to him that he was in paradise. But our
Lord showed that in this world there is not plea-
sure without pain, nor perfect happiness. For a
bird of prey, thinking that that coloured silk was
a piece of flesh, came flying, and took that silk,
and went away with it, and flew to the mountain,
and seated itself on a very lofty tree.
" When Peter saw this he was greatly grieved,
and he thought that Magalona would be grieved
at it, whom he wished to please more than any
person in the world. He put his cloak under the
head of Magalona, and then got up very quietly,
without her perceiving anything. And he began
to follow that bird, and to pelt it with stones, to
make it drop the silk it was carrying. And there
PETER OF PROVENCE AND THE FAIR MAGUELONE. 85
was there a little rock near the land. Yet between
the rock and the land there was a great quantity
of water, and no one could pass to that rock with-
out swimming. And this bird went flying from
tree to tree to settle on that perilous rock, and
Peter flung a stone at it, so that that bird went
from thence, and let that silk fall into the sea ;
and the said Peter could not pass thither, because
he knew not how to swim. Nevertheless, as the
distance was not great, he began to search on one
side and the other if he could find anything in
which he could pass to the rock to go to look for
it. Then said Peter, * Would to God that I had
not taken the rings or the silk from where I took
them, and that I had not meddled with them, for
they will cost me dear, and Magalona still more ;
for if I delay much longer Magalona will go look
for me.' And as Peter was thus searching along
the shore of the sea, he found an old boat, which
the fishers had abandoned because it was worth
nothing ; and Peter went into it, and was greatly
joyed, but his joy lasted not long. And he took
some sticks that he had picked up to row with,
and went off for the rock. But God, who does all
things at his pleasure, caused to rise a great wind,
cold and strong, from the land side, which carried
Peter and his bark, against his will, very far out
to sea, and all his rowing availed him nought ;
for the sea was very high and very deep, and he
could not get to land, and the wind carried him
along in despite of himself."
86 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
I need not tell how Peter was taken up by a
ship and brought to Egypt, where he became a
great favourite with the Sultan, and how Mague-
lone went to Provence, and was made directress of
an hospital, whither Peter was brought as a pau-
per, and how she recognised him, and made herself
known to him, and how they were united, and
passed their days in uninterrupted felicity.
The Arabian tale, in which the corresponding
circumstance occurs, is that long tale of tales,
' The Story of the Amours l of Camaralzaman
prince of the Isles of the Children of Khaledan
and of Badoura princess of China,' the main story
of which (for the episodic ones certainly are not)
is possibly of Persian origin. In this tale, the hero
and heroine, as they and their suite were journey-
ing from China to the dominions of the prince's
father, came one sultry day to a delicious mead,
planted with trees. Camaralzaman ordered the
tents to be pitched ; and as soon as her tent was
1 In this and the preceding story, the ignorant translator
finding amours in the French, instead of rendering it by loves,
as he should have done, retained a word which bears quite a
different sense in English.
It is, I believe, a rule of the Semitic languages to express the
magnitude or quantity of an object by using the plural num-
ber ; if so, may not Loves be intended to express the greatness
of their affection ? I do not recollect to have seen explained
anywhere why Behemoth (a fern, plur.) should be the Hebrew
name of the River-horse ; yet the reason I think is simple.
Behema (sing.) is pecus; therefore Behemoth is the huge
graminivorous animal.
PETER OF PROVENCE AND THE FAIR MAGUELONE. 87
ready, the princess went into it, and taking off
her girdle, lay down to sleep. The prince shortly
afterwards entered the tent, and seeing that she
was asleep, sat down, and taking up her girdle,
began to admire the precious stones which adorn-
ed it. Perceiving a little purse attached to it, and
containing something solid, he opened it, and found
in it the princess's talisman, a cornelian, on which
some unknown characters were engraven. Being
curious to examine it, he went out into the light;
and as he was holding it in his hand, a bird made
a dart at it, and snatched and carried it off. The
prince pursued the bird in vain during ten days,
and at last lost sight of it. The princess meantime
assumed his dress and character, and, arriving at
the island of Ebene, married the daughter of the
king. Camaralzaman is afterwards, when she by
accident learns where he is, brought by her or-
ders to the isle of Ebene, and becomes the hus-
band of the two princesses.
We may perceive at once the similarity of the
circumstance of the bird carrying away the talis-
man, and the silk with the rings. But there is
also another incident equally similar in the two
stories.
When Camaralzaman had found the treasure in
the garden, the old gardener with whom he lived
advised him to distribute it in pots, and fill the
upper part of them with olives. He did so ; but
the ship sailed without him, and went to the isle
of Ebene, where the Princess Badoura bought the
88 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
olives, and in them found her talisman. Just so
Peter of Provence, when leaving Egypt, put his
valuables into barrels, which he filled with salt;
and having fallen asleep in the isle of Sagona, the
ship sailed away, leaving him behind. On ar-
riving at the place where Maguelone dwelt, the
captain gave her the barrels of salt for the use
of the hospital, and in them she found the trea-
sure.
It is therefore, I think, by no means unlikely
that some part at least of the oriental tale travelled
westwards.
Every one who has read Ariosto or La Fontaine
must recollect the very amusing, if not very de-
corous, tale of Giocondo. Making due allowance
for the difference between Asiatic and European
taste and manners, we may see at once that it is
the very same story as the introductory tale of the
Thousand and One Nights ; and I think we may
venture to say, that at some time or other it also
came from the East.
The mountain of loadstone in the tale of Prince
Agib, or the Third Calendar, is plainly the same
with the chastel d'aymant in the old French ro-
mance of Ogier le Dannoys } . I do not think,
however, that we should be justified in asserting
a transmission of it from Syria to France; yet,
1 Fairy Mythology, vol. i. p. 75. Both the Grub- street
hero and Mr. Dunlop render aimant by adamant. They
never reflected that adamant does not attract iron.
PETER OF PROVENCE AND THE FAIR MAGUELONE. 89
as the following lines of Petrarca prove, there
was in the middle ages a notionthat a mountain of
loadstone existed somewhere in the East.
" Una pietra e si ardita
La per 1'Indico mare, che da natura
Tragge a se il ferro, e il fura
Dal legno in guisa che i navigj affonde."
Canzone xxxi.
*% Since the last sheet went to press, I have been informed
by Sir Frederick Madden that a copy of the poem of Cleo-
mades was purchased by Sir Thomas Phillips at Mr. Lang's
sale in 1828. The Histoire Plaisante et Recreative du noble
et excellent chevalier Clamades et de la belle Clermonde was
printed at Troyes. It has no date. Les ^ventures de Cla~
mades et Clarmonde appeared at Paris in 1733.
91
CHAPTER III.
THE PLEASANT NIGHTS THE DANCING WATER, THE
SINGING APPLE AND THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN BIRD-
THE THREE LITTLE BIRDS LACTANTIUS ULYSSES
AND SINDBAD.
HAVING shown, then, that a tale of the Thousand
and One Nights was known in Europe in the thir-
teenth century, I might consider my theory esta-
blished. To make, however, assurance doubly
sure, I will show that one of them was printed in
the sixteenth century.
In the year 1550 appeared at Venice, under the
title of the Pleasant Nights (Le Notti Piacevoli\ a
collection of tales written by a person named Stra-
parola. They are divided into thirteen Nights,
and are seventy-four in number. Though some
of them are very indelicate, the author assures us
that they are not his, but that he heard them from
the lips of ten young ladies. It is probable, how-
ever, that this is merely a literary artifice, and that
he picked up the tales wherever he found them.
At all events, they seem not to be any of them his
own invention.
The following is the third story of the Fourth
Night :
92 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
THE DANCING WATER, THE SINGING APPLE
AND THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN BIRD.
In Provino, a famous and royal city, dwelt in
times past three sisters, fair of face, polished in
manners, and correct in conduct, but of low ex-
traction; for they were the daughters of one
Master Rigo, a baker, who baked other people's
bread in his oven. One of them was called Bru-
nora, the other Lionella, and the third Chiaretta.
As these three maidens were one day all to-
gether in their garden, in which they took great
delight, Ancilotto, the king, passed by with much
company, on his way to amuse himself at the chase.
Brunora, who was the eldest, seeing such a fine
and honourable company, said to her sisters, " If
I had the king's major-domo for a husband, I
would undertake to satisfy the whole court with
a single glass of wine." " And I will make this
boast," said Lionella, " if I had the king's privy
chamberlain for a husband, I would with a rock
of my thread make so much linen, that I should
supply the whole court with the finest and most
beautiful shirts." "And I will declare," said
Chiaretta, " that if I had the king for my husband,
I would bear him three children, two boys and a
girl, at a birth, and each of them would have its
hair hanging down on its shoulders, mixed with
the finest gold, and a collar round its neck, and a
star in its forehead."
These words were overheard by one of the
THE DANCING WATER, ETC- 93
courtiers, who immediately rode up to the king
and informed him exactly of all that the girls had
been saying. The king had them brought before
him, and asked them one after the other what it
was they had said when they were together in the
garden. They all three, with the utmost respect,
repeated in order what they had been saying.
King Ancilotto was greatly pleased with them,
and he did not leave the spot till the major-domo
had taken Brunora, the chamberlain Lionella, and
himself Chiaretta to wife : and giving up all idea
of going to the chase, they all returned home,
when the nuptials were celebrated with great
pomp.
The king's mother was greatly displeased at
his marriage ; for although the maiden was of a
beautiful and agreeable countenance, of a hand-
some person, and expressed herself with the ut-
most sweetness, yet as she was of a mean and low
origin, she was not suited to the greatness and
power of the king : neither could his mother in
any way endure that a major-domo and a cham-
berlain should be called the brothers-in-law of her
son. Her hatred to her daughter-in-law became,
therefore, so intense, that she could not hear of
her, much less see her. However, not to grieve
her son, she kept her hatred concealed in her own
bosom.
It came to pass* according to the pleasure of
Him who ruleth all, that the queen proved with
child. This caused the greatest joy to the king,
94 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
who was now in the utmost raptures, expecting
to see the beautiful progeny which she had pro-
mised him. Having, however, to journey to an-
other country, and to stay there a few days, he
most earnestly commended to his mother the
queen, and the children which she should bear.
And though she did not love her daughter-in-law,
or even wish to see her, still she made lavish pro-
mises to her son that she would take good care of
them.
Soon after the king had taken leave and set out
on his journey, the queen lay-in of three children,
two males and one female, and all three, exactly
as she had promised the king before marriage,
had their hair hanging down in ringlets on their
shoulders, with handsome chains round their necks,
and stars on their foreheads. The cruel and ma-
lignant mother of the king, devoid of all pity, and
inflamed with mortal and destructive hatred, as
soon as the three dear infants were born, resolved,
without ever changing her perfidious design, to
put them all to death, so that they should never
more be heard of, and the queen should fall into
disgrace with the king. Besides this, ever since
Chiaretta had been queen and ruled over all, her
two sisters had conceived the greatest possible
envy of her, and with their arts and practices con-
tinually laboured to increase the hatred of the
foolish queen-mother against her. Now it hap-
pened just at the time that the queen lay -in, a
shepherd's bitch had had three whelps in the
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 95
court-yard, two male and one female, with stars
on their faces, and a sort of ring round their necks.
The two envious sisters, moved by a diabolical
spirit, took the three puppies from the dugs of
their mother, and brought them to the cruel mo-
ther-in-law, and having made the due reverence,
said to her, " We know, madam, that your high-
ness has little love and affection for our sister, and
justly so, for she is of low origin; and a woman of
such mean blood as she is of, is not suited to your
son and our king. We, therefore, knowing your
desire, are come hither, and have brought three
puppies, that have stars in their foreheads, in order
that we may have your opinion."
The queen -mother was greatly delighted at
this, and she resolved to present them to her
daughter-in-law, who did not as yet know what
she had brought forth, and to tell her that these
were the children she had borne. And that there
might be no discovery, the wicked old woman de-
sired the nurse to tell the queen that the children
she had lain-in of were three little puppies. The
mother-in-law, then, arid the queen's sisters, and
the nurse, went all together to the queen, and said,
" Behold! O queen ! the result of your fine lying-
in. Keep it, that the king when he comes may
see the beautiful fruit you have produced." And
having said these words, the nurse put the little
dogs beside her, comforting her withal, and telling
her not to despair, for that things of this kind were
wont now and then to befall great personages.
96 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
The wicked women had now accomplished their
vile and odious design, and one thing only re-
mained, to give a cruel death to the innocent
children. But it was not the will of God that
they should defile their hands with their own
blood, so having made a coffer, and covered it
well with pitch, and put the infants into it, and
closed it up, they flung it into the neighbouring
river, and let it go down the stream. The righteous
God, who permits not that innocent blood should
suffer, sent to the bank of the river a miller named
Marmiato, who, seeing the coffer, took it and
opened it, and found within it three infants that
smiled on him. As they were so beautiful, he
thought that they must be the children of some
great lady, who had committed such a heinous
deed through fear of the world. So closing the
coffer, and putting it on his shoulder, he went
home and said to his wife, whose name was Gor-
diana, " See, wife, what I found on the banks of
the river. I will make thee a present of it." Gor-
diana, when she saw the children, received them
kindly, and reared them as affectionately as if
they were her own offspring. To one of them she
gave the name of Acquirino, to the other that of
Fluvio, because they had been found in the river ;
and the little girl she called Serena.
Meantime King Ancilotto was quite happy, al-
ways thinking that on his return he should find
three beautiful children. But matters did not turn
out as he expected ; for his crafty mother, as soon
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 97
as she perceived him coming to the palace, went
forth to meet him, and told him that his dear wife
had brought forth, instead of three children, three
shepherd's curs. She then led him into the cham-
ber where his afflicted wife was lying, and showed
him her, and the three little dogs beside her ; and
though the queen, weeping piteously, most posi-
tively averred that she had neve? brought them
forth, nevertheless the envious sisters confirmed
everything that the old mother had said. The
king was greatly agitated, and nearly fell to the
ground with grief. When he was somewhat re-
covered, he stood a long time in suspense, but at
last gave implicit credit to what his mother had
told him. But as the wretched queen had been
most patient, and suffered with magnanimity the
envy of the courtiers, he felt too much pity for her
to put her to death, but ordered that she should
be set under the place where they washed the pots
and dishes, and that her food should be the filth
and offal that fell down from it.
While the poor queen was thus dwelling in this
odious place, Gordiana, the wife of Marmiato the
miller, lay-in of a son, whom she named Borghino,
and brought up in affection with the other three.
It was her practice every month to cut the long
curling locks of the three children, from which
there used to fall many precious jewels and large
white pearls ; the consequence of which was that
Marmiato gave up his paltry trade of milling, as
he speedily grew extremely rich; for Gordiana and
98 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the three children and Borghino lived in great har-
mony and comfort.
When the three children were somewhat grown
up, they learned that they were not the offspring
of Gordiana and Marmiato, but that they had been
found in a little coffer floating down the river.
This caused them great uneasiness ; and being de-
sirous to try their fortune, they asked permission
to depart, a thing which gave little satisfaction
to Marmiato and Gordiana, who thus saw them-
selves deprived of the treasure which came from
their fair ringlets and their starred foreheads.
The two brothers, then, and the sister, having
quitted Marmiato and Gordiana, made many long
journeys, till at length they chanced to arrive at
Provino, the city of Ancilotto their father ; where,
having hired a house, they all lived together, sup-
porting themselves by the sale of the jewels and
precious stones that fell from their heads.
It happened one day that as the king was going
through the town with some of his courtiers, he
passed by where the sister and the two brothers
lived ; and as they had never seen or known the
king, they came down stairs and out at the door,
where they took off their caps, and bending the
knee and bowing, respectfully saluted him. The
king, who had the eye of a falcon, looked them
steadily in the face, and saw that they had both
of them a golden star in their forehead, and he
immediately felt in his bosom a vehement per-
suasion that they were his sons. So he stopped,
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 99
and said to them, " Who are you, and whence do
you come ?" They humbly replied, "We are poor
strangers who are come to live in this city." The
king said, " It pleases me much ; and what are
your names?" The one then said, " Acquirino";
the other said, " My name is Fluvio." " And I,"
said the sister, " am named Serena." The king
then said, " We invite you all three to dine with us
tomorrow." The young persons blushed a little,
and as they could not refuse so courteous an invi-
tation, they promised compliance.
The king on returning to the palace, said to his
mother : " Madam, as I was going out today to
take an airing, I saw by chance two handsome
youths and a beautiful maiden, all of whom had a
golden star in their forehead ; so that, if I err not,
they seem to be the very children that were pro-
mised to me by the queen Chiaretta."
When the wicked old woman heard this, she
smiled a little at it, though it was like the stab of
a knife in her heart ; and calling for the nurse to
whom the children had been given, she said to
her, " Do you not know, good nurse, that the
king's children are alive, and are handsomer than
ever ? " " How is that possible ? " replied the
nurse, " were they not drowned in the river ?
And how do you know it?" " As far," said the
old queen, " as I can understand by the words of
the king, they are alive, and we have now more
need than ever of your assistance, otherwise we
are all in peril of death." "Do not be uneasy,
F 2
100 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
madam," answered the nurse, " for I expect to be
able to manage so that they shall all come to their
death."
The nurse then departed, and went immediately
to the house of Acquirino, Fluvio and Serena ; and
finding Serena alone, she saluted her, and entered
into a long conversation with her ; and after she
had talked a great while she said, " Do you
happen, my child, to have any of the Dancing
Water ? " Serena replied that she had not. " Ah !
my dear child," said she, " what fine things you
would see if you had some of it, for you would
only have to wash your face in it to become far
more beautiful than you are." " But how, then,"
said Serena, " could I manage to get it ?" " Send
your two brothers to look for it," said the old
woman ; " they will find it, for it is not far from
this country."
So saying she took her leave ; and when Acqui-
rino and Fluvio came home, Serena went to meet
them, and besought them out of regard for her to
search with all solicitude till she should have some
of the precious dancing water. Fluvio and Acqui-
rino laughed at her folly, and refused to go, be-
cause they did not know where such a thing was
to be found. At length, however, overcome by her
entreaties, they took a phial and departed. They
had ridden several miles along the road, when
they arrived at a clear living fountain, where a
white dove was refreshing herself. The dove, cast-
ing away all timidity, said to them, " O youths !
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 101
what is it you are looking for ?" Fluvio replied,
" We are looking for that precious water which
they say dances. " O wretched youths!'* said
the dove, " and who has sent you to get such
water ?" " It is our sister," said Fluvio. Then
said the dove, " For certain you are going to your
death, for there are many venomous animals there,
who, as soon as they see you, will devour you.
But leave the burden of this to me, and I will
surely bring you some of it." So taking the vial
which the youths had with them, ar/? tying it
under her right wing, she rose* into the air, and
going to where that delicate wat^r 'vas. sYe'fillcc'
the vial with it, and returned to the youths, who
were waiting for her with the greatest anxiety.
The young men having gotten the water, arid
expressed their gratitude to the dove, returned
home and presented it to Serena, giving her a
strict charge not to impose any more such tasks
upon them, as they had been in danger of losing
their lives.
Some days after, the king saw them again, and
said, " Why, after you had accepted our invita-
tion, did you not come to dine with us ? " They
replied with the utmost respect, " Please your
sacred majesty, the most urgent affairs have been
the principal cause." " Then," said the king, " we
shall expect you tomorrow at dinner, without fail."
The young men made their excuses.
The king, on his return to the palace, told his
mother that he had again seen the youths with the
102 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
stars on their foreheads, which when she heard,
she was greatly disturbed in her rnind ; and she
again sent for the nurse, and told her the whole
in private, praying her to see and provide against
the imminent danger. The nurse reassured her,
and told her not to be afraid, for she would take
care that they should not be seen any more. And
leaving the palace, she went straight to the house
of Serena, and finding her alone, asked her if she
had yet had the dancing water. She replied that
she !rid, but not without the greatest peril of the
lives of her brothers. " Ah ! but, my daughter,"
Sc'id the nurse, " I should wish you to have the
Singing Apple, for you never saw a finer, and never
tasted a sweeter and more delicious song." " T
know not," said Serena, " how I can get it, for my
brothers will not go in search of it, since they have
already had more peril of death than hope of life."
" They brought you the dancing water," said the
old woman, " and they are not dead, and they will
bring you the apple in the same way." She then
took her leave and departed.
The nurse was scarcely gone, when Acquirino
and Fluvio came in, and Serena said to them,
" Ah, brothers ! I long so to see and taste the
apple that sings so sweetly ; and if you do not
contrive to get it for me, you may reckon on soon
seeing me without life." When they heard this,
they reproved her sharply, telling her that they
would not expose their lives for her as they had
done already. Still such was the effect of her
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 103
reiterated and urgent prayers, joined with the co-
pious tears that flowed warm from her heart, that,
come what might, Acquirino and Fluvio resolved
to do everything to content her.
They accordingly mounted their horses and de-
parted ; and they rode till they came to an inn,
which they entered, and calling for the host, asked
him if he could give them any information respect-
ing the place where the apple might be found that
sung so sweetly. The host replied that he could,
but that they could not go to it, for the apple was
in a charming and delightful garden, under the
care of a deadly animal, who, with his expanded
wings, killed all who went near it. " But what
are we to do ? said the young men, " for we have
determined to have it at all events." The host
replied, " If you do what I tell you, you will have
the apple, and you will not be afraid of the venom-
ous beast, and still less of death. You have only
to take this vest, all covered with mirrors, and one
of you to put it on him, and thus clad to enter the
garden alone, of which you will find the door
open; and the other to remain outside, and not let
himself be seen on any account. And as soon as
he shall have entered the garden, the animal will
come towards him, and seeing himself in the mir-
rors, he will straightways fall dead on the ground l :
and then let him go up to the tree that bears the
1 In Hatim Tai (p. 47.) a monster is destroyed in a similar
manner. There is something of the same kind in the Orlando
Innamorato, lib. 1. c. xii. st. 38, 39.
104 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
singing apple, pluck it gently, and go out of the
garden without looking behind him."
The young men gave many thanks to the host,
and departed. They did exactly as he had de-
sired them, and having gotten the apple, brought
it to their sister, at the same time requesting her
not to send them any more on such dangerous ex-
peditions.
A few days after, the king saw the young men,
and calling them to him, said, " What is the reason
that you did not come to dine with us as we had
agreed?" Fluvio replied, "No other reason,
sire, has prevented our coming than the divers
occupations which have detained us." The king
said, " We shall expect you then tomorrow, and
take care not to fail on any account." Acquirino
made answer, that if they could get free from some
family affairs, they would go most willingly.
On his return to the palace, the king told his
mother that he had seen the young men again, and
that they were deeply impressed on his heart, as
he was always thinking of those that Chiaretta
had promised him, and that he could have no
peace of mind till they came to dine with him.
The old queen hearing these words was in greater
trouble than ever, fearing that she had been dis-
covered ; and in great grief and affliction she sent
for the nurse, and said to her, " I thought, nurse,
that those children were dead by this time, and
that we should hear nothing more of them ; but
they are alive, and we are in danger of death*
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 105
Look, then, to our case, or else we shall all be de-
stroyed." " Noble madam," said the nurse, " be
of good cheer, and do not disturb yourself, for I
will manage in such a way that you will praise
me, and never more hear tell of them." And she
departed full of rage, and going to Serena, gave
her the good day, and asked her if she had gotten
the singing apple. Serena replied that she had.
The crafty old jade then said, " Do not think,
daughter, that you have gotten anything, if you
have not a thing that is far more beautiful and far
finer than those two." " And what is that, mo-
ther, that you tell me is so beautiful and so fine?"
said Serena. '* T is," said the old woman, " the
Beautiful Green Bird that talks night and day,
and says wonderful things. If you had him in
your possession, you might call yourself fortunate
and happy indeed."
So saying she went away ; and as soon as her
brothers came home, Serena went to meet them,
and begged them not to refuse her one single
favour. They asked her what that favour was,
and she replied the beautiful green bird. Fluvio,
who had encountered the venomous beast, and
recollected the danger he had there incurred, po-
sitively refused to go ; but Acquirino, though he
also refused several times, was at length moved by
fraternal love, and by the copious tears that Se-
rena shed ; and he prevailed on his brother, and
they both resolved to satisfy her. So mounting
their horses, they rode for several days, till they
F 5
106 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
came to a verdant flowery mead, in the midst of
which was a lofty tree of thick foliage, surround-
ed by various marble figures that appeared to be
alive ; and by it ran a little brook, that watered
the whole mead. On this tree was the beautiful
green bird, amusing himself with jumping from
bough to bough, uttering words that seemed not
human but divine. The young men got down
from their horses, and turning them to graze in
the mead, approached the marble figures ; but
scarcely had they touched them, when they be-
came marble statues themselves.
Serena, having for several months anxiously
expected her beloved brothers Acquirino and Flu-
vio, at length became persuaded that they were
lost, and that she should never see them again.
Having long grieved and deplored their untimely
fate, she at last resolved to try her own fortune :
so mounting a stout horse, she set out, and rode on
till she came to the place where the beautiful green
bird dwelt, sweetly talking on the branch of a
leafy tree. When she came into the verdant mead,
she instantly recognised the horses of her brothers,
which were feeding on the herbage ; and casting
her eyes hither and thither, she saw her brothers
turned into two statues, which retained their like-
ness, at which she was utterly astonished. She
got down off her horse, and approaching the tree,
stretched forth her hand and put it on the green
bird, who, when he saw himself deprived of liberty,
prayed her to let him go, and not to keep him, for
TTALIEI
Full many a year, at liberty,
The Green Bird hopped on yonder tree,
While all who came to take him
Were turned to stone ; but now the day
Is come, in which a lady gay
Her captive was to make him.
DRAWN BY W. II. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY G. BAXTER,
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER AND CO.
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 107
in due time and place he would remember her.
Serena replied that she would not on any account
comply with his desire, if her brothers were not
first restored to their former state. " Then," said
the bird, " look under my left wing, and you will
find a feather much greener than the rest, with
some yellow marks inside of it. Take it, and go
to the statues, and touch them with it ; for as soon
as you have touched them, they will become alive,
and return to their former state."
Serena raised his left wing and found the feather
as the bird had told her ; and going to the marble
figures, touched them one after the other with it,
and instantly they became men instead of statues.
When she saw her brothers restored to their ori-
ginal form, she kissed and embraced them with
the utmost joy. As she had now accomplished
what she had desired, the beautiful green bird
again besought her to give him his liberty ; pro-
mising her, if she granted him that favour, to aid
her much if at any time she should have need of
his succour. Serena, not satisfied with this, re-
plied that she would never release him until they
had found out who were their parents ; adding, that
he must support that calamity patiently. A great
dispute now arose among them for the possession
of the bird, but after much contest it was by com-
mon consent left with Serena, who kept it with no
little care, and held it very dear. Having thus
gotten the beautiful green bird, Serena and her
108 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
brothers mounted their horses, and returned home
happy and contented.
The king, who often passed by the house of the
young men, was greatly surprised at not seeing
them ; and on his inquiring of the neighbours what
was become of them, they replied that they knew
not anything of them, and that it was a long time
since they had seen them. But two days did not
pass after their return, till they were seen by the
king, who asked them what was the reason that
they had not let themselves be seen for so long a
time. Acquirino replied, that some strange acci-
dents which had occurred were the cause ; and
that if they had not waited on his majesty as he
wished, and as was their desire, they asked par-
don, and w r ould make amends for their fault.
The king, hearing of their misfortune, and feel-
ing great compassion for them, would not stir from
the spot till they all three agreed to go to the pa-
lace to dine with him. Acquirino secretly took
with him the dancing water, Fluvio the singing
apple, and Serena the beautiful green bird ; and
they joyfully entered the palace with the king,
and sat down at the table. The malignant mother
and the envious sisters, seeing such a beautiful
maiden, and such handsome and elegant youths,
whose eyes shone like lovely stars, had great mis-
givings, and felt no little anxiety in their hearts.
When dinner was over, Acquirino said to the
king, " Before the table is taken away, we will
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 109
show Your Majesty some things that will please
you much :" and taking a silver cup, he put into
it the Dancing Water, and set it on the table. His
brother Fluvio then thrust his hand into his bosom
and drew out the singing apple, and set it near the
water. Serena, who had the beautiful green bird
in her lap, lost no time in putting him on the table.
The apple then began a most delightful tune, and
the water danced wonderfully to its melody. The
king and all present felt so much pleasure at this,
that they could not refrain from laughing. But the
grief and apprehension of the iniquitous queen-
mother, and of the sisters, increased not a little,
for they were in great doubt of their lives.
When the song and dance were ended, the
beautiful green bird began to speak, and said,
" O ! sacred king ! what would that person de-
serve who had caused the death of two brothers
and a sister ? " The crafty queen-mother instantly
replied, " Nothing less than the fire : " and all pre-
sent said the same. Then the dancing water and
the singing apple raised their voice, and said,
" Ah ! false mother ! full of iniquity, thy own
tongue condemns thee : and you, ye wicked and
envious sisters, shall be condemned to the same
punishment along with the nurse."
The king hearing this, was quite astonished ;
but the beautiful green bird went on and said,
" Sacred Majesty ! these are the three children
that you so much longed for; these are your
children who have a star in their forehead ; and
110 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
it is their most innocent mother who has been to
this hour, and is still, in that filthy place."
The unhappy queen was then brought forth
and honourably clad ; and as soon as she was
dressed, she came into the presence of the king ;
and although she had been a long time a prisoner
and ill-treated, she had nevertheless been pre-
served in all her original beauty. The beautiful
green bird then, in the presence of all, related the
whole story from beginning to end ; and the king,
learning how matters had really been, with many
tears and sighs embraced his wife and his beloved
children. The dancing water, the singing apple,
and the beautiful green bird, as no one was mind-
ing them, all vanished in an instant. Next day
the king commanded that a large fire should be
kindled in the great square, and ordered that his
mother and the two sisters, and the nurse, should
be burnt without any mercy in presence of all the
people. He then lived a long time with his dear
wife and his amiable children ; and having mar-
ried his daughter honourably, left his sons sole
heirs of his kingdom.
This is, as every one will perceive, ' The Story
of the Sisters who envied their younger Sister,'
and beyond question it has been transmitted from
the East. This assertion will find more ready ac-
ceptance, when we consider that it was at Venice
that the work in which it appears was published ;
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. Ill
and Venice was, if T may so express it, the most
Oriental city in Europe l . The Venetians had com-
mercial establishments in Syria and Egypt, and
in a great measure monopolized the commerce of
these countries, before they fell under the power
of the Ottomans ; and these, as has been already
observed, are the countries in which the Thousand
and One Nights are best known. Venice is there-
fore the very spot in which we might expect to
meet with these tales.
I look upon the tale in the Arabian Nights as
being genuine old Persian. In the first place, the
names in it are all pure Persian : and this is a
circumstance of some weight ; for just as Homer
gives Greek names to his Egyptians, Pheeacians,
and other distant nations, and makes them all of
the same religion and same manners with the
Greeks, so the Arab gives Arabic names to the
Chinese, for example, and makes them good Mos-
lems 2 . And though the circumstance of the proper
names in a tale being Arabic, and Islam being the
religious system which appears in it, is no proof
1 It is curious enough that the host who tells the story of
Giocondo in Ariosto (see above, p. 88.), says he was told it
by a Venetian.
2 Thus in the tale of the Wonderful Lamp (in my opinion
a story of Persian origin also), the proper names which occur
in it are all Arabic. They are but four in number ; Mustafa,
Fatima, Aladdin (Ala-ed-deen, Exaltation of Religion), and
Badroulboudour (Bedr-ul-budur, Full-moon of Full-moons).
All the personages in the tale are followers of Islam.
112 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
of its not being an old Persian tale, any more than,
in the present case, the Italian names of the per-
sonages in the Italian version are an argument
against its Eastern origin ; yet the retention of the
original names is, when well considered, nearly a
convincing proof of its belonging to the country
in whose language these names are to be found.
The Sultan of this tale is Khoosrou Shah (King
Khoosrou), the Cyrus of the Greeks; the two
brothers are called Bahman and Perveez, well-
known names of the Sassanian kings ; and their
sister is named Parizade (Pari- or Peri-born *),
the Parysatis of Grecian history. In the second
place, I regard the manners in it as perhaps ac-
cording better with those of ancient than of mo-
dern Persia. Parizade, " when the princes were
learning to ride, would not permit them to have
that advantage over her, but went through all ex-
ercises with them, learning to ride, bend the bow,
and dart the reed or javelin (i. e. the Jereed\ and
oftentimes outstrip them in the race." I do not
recollect that the Moslem fair, except among the
Eelyats or nomadic tribes, acquire these accom-
plishments 2 ; but in an episode shortly to be
given from the Shah Nameh of Ferdousee, in
1 For the Peris, see the Fairy Mythology.
2 The abbot Guibert, one of the original historians of the
First Crusade, says that in the Persian (i. e. Turkish) army
of Kerboga, which came to the relief of Antioch, pharefrata
cum arcubus advenere virgines. As the abbot was not an
eye-witness, I am strongly disposed to doubt the fact.
THE DANCING WATER, ETC. 113
which the manners of Old Persia are so well pre-
served, we shall find a Persian heroine, like a
Marfisa or Bradamante, encountering the formi-
dable Soohrab in the battle-field. I think some
other proofs of a Persian origin might be given,
but these must suffice for the present.
The inferiority of the European tale to the ori-
ginal must be apparent to every one ; and I know
not whether the introduction of the stars, collars,
and precious stones and pearls, should be called
an improvement. The tale in Straparola has the
appearance of one written from an oral, and per-
haps altered, narrative of the oriental story. It is
curious, however, to observe how some minute and
unimportant circumstances of the original have
been preserved. Thus, Bahman and Perveez twice
disappoint the Sultan, when he invited them to his
palace ; and the young men in the Italian tale do
just the same. In this last, the character of Serena
is far less amiable than that of Parizade in the
original ; for she shows considerable selfishness
and disregard for the lives of her brothers. The
circumstance of the knife and string of pearls,
which were to inform Parizade of the fate of her
brothers, is not to be found in the tale in Strapa-
rola ; but we meet something like it in one, of
those in the Neapolitan Pentamerone 1 .
1 In the tale of the Enchanted Hind. When Cannelora
is departing, his friend Fonzo asks him for a token of his
love. He sticks his dagger in the ground, and a fountain
rises from the place, which, he tells him, by the state of its
114 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
The Pleasant Nights of Straparola were trans-
lated into French ; and Madame D'Aulnoy took
from the present tale her Princess Fair-star (La
Princesse Belle Etoile). She has made consider-
able alterations in it, especially by introducing a
Prince Beloved (Cheri '), a cousin of Fair-star and
her brothers, and consequently, to suit the French
taste, a love-story. This ingenious lady could not
possibly have known anything of the Thousand and
One Nights at the time her Fairy Tales were
written, as Galland's translation did not appear
till 1704, only the year before her death.
But this tale is also a popular one in Germany.
There is a mountain called the Keuterberg, or Teu-
terberg, about nine English miles west of Corvei,
on whose summit the boundaries of Corvei, Lippe
and Hanover meet. Its sides are covered with
wood : its top is bare, affording a scanty pasturage
for sheep ; large stones lie scattered upon it, and
many a legend is connected with it. Six villages
lie at its feet, in one of which MM. Grimm heard
the following tale, which they have given in the
original dialect in which it was narrated to them 2 .
water, will always indicate the condition of his life : and
plunging his sword into the ground, he causes a myrtle to
shoot up, which will always do the same by the appear-
ance of its branches and foliage.
1 Of which the English translator made his Prince Cherry.
2 Kinder- und Haus-marchen, ii. 63. iii. 180.
115
THE THREE LITTLE BIRDS.
It is a thousand years and more ago, when there
were only little kings in the land here, that one of
them lived on the Keuterberg, who was very fond
of going a-hunting. One time, as he was riding
out with his hunters from his castle, there were
three girls keeping their cows under the hill ; and
when they saw the king with all his train, the
eldest called out to the other two girls, and point-
ed to the king, " Hilloa ! hilloa ; if I do not get
him, I will have nobody." l Then answered the se-
cond, from the other side of the hill, and pointed
to him who was on the right hand of the king,
" Hilloa ! hilloa ! if I do not get him, I will have
nobody." Then cried the youngest, and pointed
to him who was on the left hand, " Hilloa! hilloa!
if I do not get him, I will have nobody." Now
these were the two ministers. The king heard
all this ; and when he was come home from the
hunt, he had the three girls brought to him, and
he asked them what it was they had said the day
before on the hill. They would not tell him ;" but
the king asked the eldest if she would not have
1 In illustration of this, MM. Grimm say, that when the
children who are keeping cattle on the different sides of the
Keuterberg want to say anything to each other, one calls out
" Hilloa !" or " Hilloa ! hilloa ! harkye :" then answers the
other from above, " Hilloa! hilloa ! what do you want ?"
"Hilloa! hilloa! come over to me." " Hilloa ! hilloa! I
will come bye and bye." It is curious to observe how by
these means tales are localised.
116 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
him for her husband. She said " Yes." And her
two sisters married the two ministers ; for they
were all of them fair and handsome, especially
the queen, who had hair like flax.
Now the two sisters had no children ; and when
the king one time had to take a journey, he let
them come to the queen, to keep up her spirits,
as she was with child at the time. She brought
forth a little boy, that had a rich red star on its
forehead. Then the two sisters said one to the
other, they would throw the pretty babe into the
water. When they had thrown it in, (I believe it
was into the Weser,) up flew a little bird into the
air, and sang,
" Ready to die,
For judgement hie
To the lily-bough :
Brave boy, is it thou ? 1
When the two heard this, they grew quite uneasy,
and hurried away from the place. When the king
came home, they told him that the queen had had
a little dog. Then said the king, " What God
does is well done ! "
1 " Tom Daude bereit,
Up wietern Bescheid,
Tom Lilien-Strus :
Wacker Junge, bist du 's ?
which MM. Grimm say, means " the child was ready for
death (L e. dead), but has been saved for a further decision
(that of God) : the lily lives still, for the lily is also the immor-
tal spirit." I am inclined to think that " to the lily-tuft" is an
allusion to the old German custom of holding courts under trees.
THE THREE LITTLE BIRDS. 117
But there lived a fisherman on the river, who
fished up the little boy while he was still alive ;
and as his wife had no children, they reared him.
A year after, the king went to travel again ; and
the queen had another little boy, which the two
false sisters took, and threw him also into the
water. That little bird then flew again up in the
air, and sang,
" Ready to die,
For judgement hie
To the lily-bough :
Brave boy, is it thou ? "
And when the king came back, they said to him
that the queen had again had a little dog ; and he
said again, " What God does is well done ! " But
the fisherman drew this one out of the water also,
and reared him,
The king then went to travel again; and the
queen had a little girl, which the false sisters
threw also into the water : the bird then flew
again up into the air, and sang,
" Ready to die,
For judgement hie
To the lily-bough :
Brave girl, is it thou ? "
And when the king came home, they said to him
the queen had had a cat. The king then grew
angry, and he threw his wife into prison, where
she remained many years.
The children had in the mean time grown up ;
and the eldest of them went out one time with
118 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
other boys to fish ; but the other boys would not
let him be among them, and said, " Go your ways,
you foundling ! " He was then greatly troubled,
and he asked the old fisherman if that was true.
He told him that he was fishing one time, and
had drawn him out of the water. He then said,
that he would go away and look for his father.
The fisherman and his wife besought him to stay
where he was, but he would not be kept, and at
last they gave their consent. He then set out, and
went along the road for several days ; and at last he
came to a huge great river, by which an old
woman was standing and fishing. " Good day,
mother ! " said the youth. " Many thanks."-
(t Thou wilt be a long time fishing there before
thou catchest any fish." " And thou wilt be a
long time seeking, before thou findest thy parents.
How then wilt thou get over the river ? " "Aye,
God only knows that." The old woman then took
him on her back, and carried him over, and he
sought for a long time, and could not find his
parents.
When a whole year had passed, the second went
away too, to seek his brother. He came to the
river, and the same thing happened to him as had
happened to his brother. The daughter alone was
now in the house, and she mourned so about her
brothers, that she too at last prayed the fisherman
and his wife to let her go and seek her brothers.
She came then to the great river, and said to
the old woman, "Good day, mother !" "Many
THE THREE LITTLE BIRDS. 119
thanks." " God help you in your fishing !" When
the old woman heard this, she became very
friendly, and carried her over the river, and gave
her a rod, and said to her, " Now go, my daugh-
ter, all along this way ; and when you come to a
great black dog, you must go by him boldly and
silently, and without laughing, and without look-
ing at him. You will then come to a great open
castle, and you must let the rod fall upon the
threshold, and go straight through the castle,
and out at the other side : there is there an old
well, out of which grows a great tree, from which
hangs a bird in a cage : take him down, then take
a glass of water out of the well, and come the
same way back again with them ; take the rod
up again off the threshold, and when you are
passing again by the dog, strike him in the face,
and be sure that you hit him, and then come back
again to me."
She found all exactly as the old woman had
said ; and as she was coming back, she found her
two brothers, who had sought through half the
world. They went together, till they came to
where the black dog lay in the way ; she struck
him on the face, and he became a handsome
prince, and went with them to the river. The old
woman was still standing there, and she was
greatly rejoiced at their being all there again,
and she carried them all over the river, and then
she went away too ; for she was now released.
120 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
But the others all went to the old fisherman and
his wife, and they were all joyful at having all
come together again ; but they hung the bird up
against the wall.
But the second son could not stay quietly at
home, and he took his bow and went out to hunt.
When he was tired, he took out his flute and played
a tune. But the king was out hunting too ; and
when he heard it, he went towards it ; and when
he met the young man, he said, " Who has given
you leave to hunt here ? " " Oh ! no one."
" Who are you, then?" "I am the fisherman's
son." " He has no children." " If you will not
believe me, come with me." The king did so,
and he inquired of the fisherman and his wife :
they told him all, and the bird on the wall began
to sing,
" The mother sits alone,
And doth in prison moan,
O king, O noble blood !
These are thy children good.
The wicked sisters two
The pretty babies threw
Into the rapid stream,
Where the fisherman found them."
Then all were astonished ; and the king took the
bird, the fisherman, and his wife, and the three
children with him to the castle, and had the prison
opened, and took his wife out again ; but she was
quite sick and miserable. Then her daughter
gave her some of the water of the well to drink,
THE THREE LITTLE BIRDS. 121
and she became fresh and healthy ; but the two
false sisters were burnt, and the daughter married
the prince.
It will be seen that this homely German version
of the tale agrees in some points with the Eastern,
in some with the Italian story l . This MM. Grimm
regard as the surest proof of its independence ;
" though," they add, " any one who is acquainted
with the country where it was taken down, must
be convinced that those foreign tales never could
have reached it." I must confess I am not at
all convinced of this. The Keuterberg is not,
I apprehend, so completely separated from the
world that strangers do not visit its villages, and
some of their inhabitants resort in search of em-
ployment, or go as soldiers, to other parts of
Germany ; and how easily might one of them
bring back in his memory a tale he had heard
read, if he had not read it himself, out of the
Thousand and One Nights, or Madame D'Aul-
noy's Fairy Tales, or one of the many popular
story-books in which tales taken from these and
other collections of the kind are to be found !
MM. Grimm do not give us the age of the tale ;
they cannot prove that it was in existence in the
seventeenth century : and I know that tales from
the Arabian Nights, altered and localised as much
1 The difference of the details from those in the Italian tale
need not surprise us. See below, ch. ix., the Russian tale of
Emelyan and its original, as appears to me, in Straparola.
G
122 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
as I conceive it has been, are now popular stories
in Ireland. Why might not the same be the case
in Germany?
On the whole, I feel quite satisfied that the Per-
sian tale is the original, and that all the others
have been derived from it mediately or imme-
diately.
There is another tale in Straparola, and also a
popular story in Germany, which have some resem-
blance to one of those in the Thousand and One
Nights, though probably only an accidental one.
In the story of the Second Calendar, when the
Lady of Beauty is going to restore to his proper
form the prince whom the genie had turned into
an ape, she performs her magic rites, and the ge-
nie appears in the shape of a huge lion. She then
turns herself into a sharp sword, and cuts the lion
in two. The genie then becomes a scorpion, and
the princess a serpent. Overcome under this form,
he flies away as an eagle, and she pursues as a
larger eagle. A black cat then comes out of the
ground, followed by a black wolf: the worsted
cat changes herself into a worm, and pierces a
pomegranate, which swells and bursts : the wolf
becomes a cock, and picks up the seeds : one seed
rolls into a canal, and becomes a little fish : the
cock jumps into the water, and is turned into a
pike : presently the genie and princess appear all
in flames, and are reduced to two heaps of ashes.
LACTANTIUS. 123
The substance of the tale in the Pleasant Nights
is this: A magician, named Lactantius, followed
the trade of a tailor : he took an apprentice, who,
happening to overhear his incantations, loses all
relish for tailoring, and his father takes him home.
Lactantius, however, receives him again, and sets
him now only to common work, and the father
takes him away again. As they were very poor,
the son said to the father, " Father, I will turn
myself into a fine horse : do you then sell me,
but be sure to keep the bridle, and not to let it
go with me, or else I cannot come back." Lac-
tantius seeing the horse, knows who it is : he buys
him, and persuades the father to let him have the
bridle with him. Having got the horse into his
possession, he ties him up, beats him, and abuses
him. One day the daughters of the magician led
the horse to water, when suddenly he turned him-
self into a little fish, and dived down. Lactantius
hastened to the spot, and, becoming a large fish,
pursued the little one, who jumped, in the form
of a ruby set in a gold ring, into the basket of
the king's daughter, who was gathering pebbles
at that place. She takes him away with her, and
he shows himself to her in his true form, of a
handsome youth. She loves him, and keeps him
with her as a ring. The king falling sick, Lac-
tantius comes as a physician, and cures him, and
for his fee demands a ruby-ring which his daugh-
ter has, and with which he is well acquainted.
The princess refuses to give it up ; but when at
124 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
last she is compelled to surrender it, the youth
tells her to throw it against the wall before the
magician. She obeys ; and as soon as tHe ring
falls to the ground, it is turned into a pomegra-
nate, which bursts, and scatters its seeds about.
The magician converts himself into a cock, and
picks them up ; but one hides itself from him,
and, becoming a fox, catches him by the neck,
and bites his head off. The king then gives the
young man his daughter in marriage.
In the German tale of the Gaudeif (thief) and
his Master, as MM. Grimm heard it in the dialect
of Miinster, the pupil is sold in the same manner,
as a horse, and the father likewise gives the bridle
with him. When he gets it off he turns himself
into a sparrow ; the master pursues him in the
shape of a sparrow also : they then become fishes :
the master finally is a cock, and the pupil, as a fox,
bites his head off.
In an Austrian version, the last change is that
of the master into a grain of oats, which is swal-
lowed by the pupil in the shape of a cock ; and
the magician is thus annihilated.
There are, it will be seen, some points of resem-
blance in these different tales, but perhaps hardly-
sufficient to justify an assertion of one being bor-
rowed from the other. Yet possibly the Arabian
story had reached Venice.
The selling of the horse with the bridle reminds
us of a circumstance in another Arabian tale
ULYSSES AND SINDBAD. 125
that of Prince Beder, When Beder was instructed
by old Abdallah how to turn the tables on the
magic queen Labe, and to transform her into a
mare, he was strictly charged by him, if ever he
parted with her, to be sure not to give up the
bridle. Neglecting this admonition, he sold the
mare to an old woman, who happened to be
Labe's mother, and he was turned by them into
an owl l .
This is also a curious coincidence ; and I can-
not help thinking that the trait may have been
transmitted from the East.
Queen Labe, with her lovers turned into various
animals, reminds one strongly of the Homeric
Circe ; and I think it not at all impossible that
Grecian fable may have penetrated into Persia.
The escape of Sindbad from the cavern in which
he had been buried alive with his wife, by follow-
ing an animal which used to come in to feed on
the dead bodies, is exactly the same with that of
Aristomenes, the Messenian hero, from the cavern
into which he had been thrown by the Lacedae-
monians 2 . But the closest parallel is between the
1 There is nothing said about the bridle in the account of
the sale ; but I am sure that, in the original tale, Beder's mis-
fortune must have been owing to his having parted with it.
In Chaucer's Squier's Tale, the bridle would also appear to
have been of some importance.
2 Pausanias, iv. 18.
126 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
adventure of Ulysses with the Cyclops, and that
of Sindbad with the black giant.
This giant dwelt in an island : he had but one
eye, and he was as tall as a palm-tree. When he
saw Sindbad and his companions, who had entered
his palace, he selected the fattest of them, roasted
him, ate him for supper, and then fell asleep.
They were obliged to pass the next night in his
palace, when he killed and ate another of them.
But when he was asleep, ten of the boldest of
them made ten of his spits red-hot, and bored out
the eye of the monster. He roared aloud with
the pain, and groped about, but to no purpose,
for those who had caused it, and then went howl-
ing through the island. Next morning they saw
him coming, led by two of his brethren, and fol-
lowed by several others. They lost no time in
getting on the rafts they had constructed the day
before ; but the giants flung great stones with so
exact an aim, that they sunk them all except the
one which carried Sindbad and two of his comrades.
These circumstances are nearly the same with
those in the Odyssey. The feat of sinking the
rafts by flinging rocks on them was performed,
we must observe, not by Polyphemus, but by the
Lsestrigonians. The Cyclops missed the ship,
when, guided by the sound of Ulysses' voice, he
hurled pieces of rock at it J .
1 For the story of Ulysses and the Cyclops, see the Ninth
Book of Homer's Odyssey, pr my Mythology of Ancient
Greece and Italy.
ULYSSES AND SINDBAD. 127
I think it, then, not unlikely that the story of
the Odyssey travelled, one time or other, east-
wards. In proof of the migration of Grecian
fable, it may be mentioned that the Persian story
of Sicander, or Alexander the Great, was derived
from Byzantium.
Adieu to these splendid Oriental fictions, which
delight youth and beguile age ! The task of tracing
them in their progress from Asia to Europe has been
to me a source of much pleasure. I have proved,
I think, that some of them reached the West cen-
turies before the appearance of M. Galland's trans-
lation, and have so far established my theory re-
specting the transmission of fiction. I will now
proceed to show, that tales may be very similar,
and yet be quite independent of each other.
129
CHAPTER IV.
THE SHAH-NAMEH ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB CONLOCH
AND CUCHULLIN MACPHERSON's OSSIAN IRISH ANTI-
QUITIES.
" IT must be owned," says an elegant and philo-
sophic historian, when speaking of the British
Arthur ] , " that the traditions of our heroic age
have not the same historical value as those of
other nations. The fables of Greece, for example,
besides their singular beauty, have the merit of
being the native produce of the soil. As pictures
of manners, and indications of character, they are
therefore true to nature. They may occasionally
approach the inferior truth of time and place, of
names and particulars, by a faint and rude outline
of real occurrences."
As this is the very view which I have taken of
the Grecian mythology in my Work on that agree-
able subject, I feel both pleasure and confidence
1 Sir James Mackintosh, in his History of England, vol. i.
p. 27. Should there be any among my readers I hope they
will not be few who love to contemplate the exercise of a
mild, charitable, and enlightened philosophy, and who would
imbibe true political wisdom, and learn to view the institu-
tions of their country with love and veneration, I would advise
them to devote their hours to this valuable work. It is for
this effect, and not for the narrative, that it should be read ;
and not merely read, but studied.
130 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
at finding this coincidence of sentiment between
myself and so distinguished a man as the late Sir
James Mackintosh.
By * other nations,' in the above passage, I ap-
prehend could only be meant the Greeks, the Per-
sians, and the Scandinavians ; for I believe these
are the only nations that have a mythic history
the true growth of their own soil, unmingled with
exotic productions. Of that of Scandinavia I shall
bye and bye have occasion to say a few words ;
my present business is with that of Persia, and
the book in which alone it is to be found the
noble Shah-Nameh \ or King-book.
When the Arabian deluge poured in over Persia
under the first Khalifs, it extinguished alike the
literature and the religion of the conquered people.
The traditions of ancient Persian renown, which
had been cherished by the House of Sassan, were
despised by the new lords of Iran : the original
worshipers of Ormuzd, who had voluntarily or
compulsively embraced the law of the Arabian
prophet, gradually became negligent of the tales
which narrated the deeds of their fathers ; and
the faithful remnant who still clung to the religion
of Light, either sought a refuge in India, or led a
life of obscurity in remote districts of their own
country. A people whose spirit is broken are
generally negligent of the fame of their ancestors,
1 These letters, a, i, ft, are equivalent to aw,ee, oo. I shall
employ them indifferently ; ou is to be sounded as in our.
THE SHAH-NAMEH. 131
which is, as it were, a reproach to themselves ;
and the legends of Persian glory seem to have
been on the brink of perishing, when patriotism
or poetic feeling urged a man of rank in Iran to
seek to rescue them from oblivion. From the
books and from the lips of the Moobeds (Ma-
gi), he collected the old traditions, and he wrote
them out in the Pehlvi language. This book,
which was named the Bostan Nameh (Old Book\
became the consolation and the delight of all who
loved to dwell on the glories of the olden time ;
and one of the rnonarchs of the Turkish house
of the Samanee directed a poet to versify these
tales of the ancient wars of Iran and Tooran. The
poet commenced his task, but he shortly after-
wards perished by the hand of an assassin. At
length the renowned Mahmood of Ghizni imposed
the task on Aboo-'l-Kasim, the son of Ishak She-
riff Shah, a native of Toos in Khorassan, sur-
named Ferdousee (Paradisal) from the beauty of
his verses, or from his own or his father's occu^
pation being gardening 1 . At the mandate of the
mighty Mahmood, Ferdousee celebrated the deeds
of the ancient monarchs and heroes of Iran.
The poem, when completed, was named the
Shah-Nameh, or King-book ; and it is at the pre-
sent day, and is likely ever to continue to be, the
pride and glory of Persian literature. It consists
1 Paradise, originally signifying park, (a word perhaps con-
nected with it,) is of Persian origin, and was adopted by the
Greeks.
132 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
of sixty thousand rimed couplets : its measure is
rapid and animated ; it is everywhere embellished
by the flowers of a luxuriant and beautiful imagi-
nation. It is the only source from which the Per-
sians can derive any knowledge of the history of
their country previous to the Arabian conquest ;
and the sentiment of veneration with which they
regard it, almost exceeds that felt by the Greeks
for the Homeric poems.
It is impossible to assign the date of the mythic
legends of a people : they spring up, one knows
not how or when ; they receive accessions imper-
ceptibly ; they pass from mouth to mouth for
centuries before they are fixed by writing ; they
form a part of the life and being of the people.
The labours of the early logographers of Greece,
and of the Alexandrian critics, have given a de-
scriptive chronological air to the legends of Gre-
cian mythology : not merely the year, for instance,
but the very day of the month, on which Troy was
taken, was fixed ; though all must confess that this
event occurred before the Greeks began to write :
and it may very fairly be doubted if ever Troy and
its ten-year siege had an existence. All such
events lie far beyond the limits of chronology.
In like manner we can assign no date to the
early legends of the Shah-Nameh, the proper my-
thic history of Persia. Ferdousee asserts that he
invented none of them, but gave them as he found
them in the Bostan Nameh, or Old Book. Now
we know from Moses of Chorene, the Armenian
THE SHAH-NAMEH. 133
historian, who wrote in the middle of the fifth cen-
tury, that at that time the legend of Zohak and
Feridoon was well known. It, and consequently
its fellow legends, could therefore hardly have
been invented in the time of the Sassanians ; still
less can we assign them to the period of Parthian
or Grecian dominion, when Persian nationality was
no more. We thus find ourselves in the days of the
Kyaneans (the Achaemenides of the Greeks) ; and
I see no reason for denying that Jemsheed, Zo-
hak, Feridoon, Zal, and Roostem, were the heroes
of popular lays, and the wars of the Iranian Shahs
against Afrasiab and his Turanians, sung by the
bards of Iran centuries before Xerxes led his host
to Greece, or Cyrus conquered Lesser Asia. One
of the very few passages of the Persian poem which
correspond with the history of Persia, as given by
the Greeks, is that of the early days of Ky Khoos-
rou, which is like what Herodotus tells of Cyrus ;
yet even that may have been an ancient poetic
fiction, and be no truer in the case of Cyrus
than in that of Romulus, Paris, or Habis ; of all
of whom nearly the same thing is told. Herodo-
tus, who lived not more than a century after that
prince, says that there were no less than three
different accounts of him, of which he selected
that which appeared the most probable. He adds,
that the narrators of these histories were more so-
licitous to exalt their heroes than to ascertain the
truth.
At all events, we possess in the Shah-Nameh
134 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the genuine mythic history of Persia, as pure,
perhaps, as we have that of Greece in Grecian
poetry. The manners, too, are faithfully pre-
served : the heroes are those of old, and not of
Mohammedan Persia ; they are potent, for in-
stance, at the wine-cup, and enjoy the banquet ;
and we may recollect that one strong reason given
by the younger Cyrus to prove himself more
worthy of the throne than his brother Artaxerxes,
was, that he was able to drink more wine. Many
other traits of Persian manners will present them-
selves to the reader of the poem.
I will now give an epitome of the tale of Sooh-
rab, robbed of all the charms of verse, and of much
of the splendour of imagination. I regret much
that I can do no more 1 .
A
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB.
' Now let us hearken to the story of the com-
bat of Roostem with Soohrab, a tale full of pity
1 Mr. Atkinson has translated it into English verse. It
will also be found in his epitome of the Shah-Nameh. I fol-
low Gbrres' epitome of it in his Heldenbuch von Iran. My
knowledge of Persian being extremely slight, I always refer
in cases of difficulty to my friends MM. Forbes and Arnot,
of the London Oriental Institution.
A fine edition of the original poem, edited by Mr. Turner
Macan, from a comparison of several of the best MSS., has
been printed at Calcutta. It is curious to observe that the
reflections with which the following episode opens, are dif-
ferent in it from those in the MS. used by Atkinson, and that
Gorres' MS. differs from both.
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 135
and melancholy, and water of the eyes. The mild
heart of Roostem was thereby filled with affliction.
' O youth ! who hearest, turn not away thy
face from joy and love, for joy and love are suit-
able unto youth. There will be time enough after
us, when the rose will glow and the spring be re-
newed, many clouds will pass along, many flowers
will bloom, thy body will dissolve and be mingled
with the black earth. No one knoweth what will
befall tomorrow ; all abideth and goeth as seemeth
fit unto heaven. When the storm bursts forth from
the narrow ravine, and tears up the young tree by
the roots, wilt thou call this a violent act of God?
O fool ! acknowledge him to be all-wise. If death
is unjust, what is just? and why complain we of that
which is just? Thy soul knoweth not this secret,
that young and old come to the same goal. There-
fore, so shouldest thou live upon earth, that thou
shouldest win thy salvation at the end.'
It has been related by the ancients, from the
Moobeds the tradition has been handed down,
that one morning Roostem arose and prepared
himself for the chase. He filled his quiver with
arrows, he mounted Rakish 1 (Lightning), and turn-
ed his face to the marches of Tooran. As he drew
nigh to them, he saw the plain far and wide co-
vered with wild asses (Goordn). The cheek of
the hero lighted up like the rose ; he smiled, and
urged on Raksh. With bow and arrow, mace and
1 The name of Roostem' s famous steed.
1 36 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
noose, he brought to the ground many a swift ass
of the wilds. He gathered leaves and branches,
and kindled a fire ; then taking a tree, which in
his grasp weighed not a feather, he spitted on it
one of the wild asses. When it was roasted, he
ate it, and sucked the marrow of its bones ; he
then sought the water, and drank, and lay down to
sleep : his horse meantime grazed about. While
he slept, came seven-and-thirty times eight Turks
to the plain, and seeing a horse roaming alone in
the wood, they hasted to catch him. Raksh roared
like a lion ; one he killed with his teeth, another
with his hoof, but in vain ; they caught him in
the noose, and brought him to the city of Samen-
gan. When Roostem awoke, he was filled with
grief at the loss of his faithful steed ; but seeing
no remedy, he put the bridle and saddle on his
shoulder, saying, " Such is the way of the world;
now the back on the saddle, and again the saddle
on the back ; " and he moved on towards the
town.
As he drew nigh unto the town, the great men
advanced to meet him ; and when they saw that
he was clad in iron, they all said, " This is Roos-
tem." The Shah himself came forth and welcomed
him to his city. Roostem replied, that the traces
of his horse were thitherward, and menaced ven-
geance if he were not restored. The Shah de-
sired him to be pacified, promised that he should
be sought after and restored, and pressed him
meantime to come and pass the night over the
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB, 137
wine. Roostem accepted the invitation with joy :
the night passed away in festivity, and it was late
when the hero was conducted to a bed in the royal
palace. Overcome by wine and fatigue, he fell
asleep ; but when the night was nearly gone, and
the morning-star was gleaming, he heard a light
whispering by his bed. There stood Temeenah,
the daughter of the Shah, the moon-cheeked maid,
glittering like the sun, with a light in her hand at
the bedside of the drunken hero. * She came full
of fragrance and colour ; her eyebrows, two bent
bows ; her ringlets, nooses ; two rose-leaves flown
- on the cypress, her cheeks ; her lilies shedding
wine, and diffusing amber out of Paradise ; two
rubies beaming in the concealed place, pierced
through the middle with fire-hued diamond ; rings
in her glittering ear-lobes ; lips and neck formed
of sugar ; prudent and pure of soul, as if earth
had no share in her ; so was she formed in chas-
tity and beauty.* Roostem in amaze called out
to know who she was, and what she sought in the
dusky night. She told him she was the daughter
of the Shah. " I am," said she, " the tamer of
lions and tigers ; among the fair-ones of the earth
there is not my equal ; there is none so great as
I under the heaven. No one hath seen me be-
hind my veil, nor heard me speak." She then
proceeded to tell how tales had come to her ears
of the prowess of Roostem ; how he never had
feared either Deevs, or lions, or crocodiles ; how
he came alone in the night to Tooran, and slept
138 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
there, and roasted and ate a wild ass. " Thou
makest the air to weep with thy sword ; in dread
of thee the eagle ventures not to fly ; thou drawest
the sea-snake out of the deep ; the hawk, when
he beholds thy sword, ceases to hunt ; the lion
bears the mark of thy noose. When I heard all
these tales of thy prowess and thy might, I bit my
lips in grief, and I longed for thy arms, and shoul-
ders, and breast. Then God brought thee hither to
me, and now I come to ask thee if thou wilt have
me: neither bird nor fish has ever seen me."
The enamoured princess further promised that
she would procure him again his good steed Raksh,
and lay all Samenga'n at his feet ; and Roostem
saw that the prospect was good, and he desired a
Moobed to ask her for him from her father. The
Shah consented with joy, and sent his daughter to
the Pahluwan 1 . That very night the princess con-
ceived, and Roostem felt thereby love for her
more strongly impressed on his heart. With day-
break he drew from his arm a costly ring, set with
a blue stone, and giving it to her, directed her if
the child should be a female, to plait it into her
locks ; if a boy, to put it on his arm, assuring her
that the offspring of Roostem must be renowned,
and his virtue never could be concealed.
When the sun was rising, Roostem took leave
of the moon-cheeked princess : again and again he
1 Pahluwan signifies champion or hero. It is akin to the
Greek ira\ain<)v. Wrestlers are called Pahluw&na at the
present day in Persia.
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 139
kissed her eyes and head, and the hearts of both were
filled with sadness. And when the sun had mount-
ed his ivory car, with the crown of rubies on his
head, the Shah came to Roostem,and asking "how
he had found his chamber and his sleep," told him
that Raksh was at hand awaiting him. The ex-
ulting hero placed the saddle on his gallant steed,
bade farewell to the Shah of Samengan, sprang
to horse, arid soon beheld again Sabool and Seis-
tan 1 .. But he told no one what had befallen him.
Nine moons had passed, and Temeenah became
the mother of a son, bright as the refulgent moon,
the image of the mighty Roostem, like unto Sam
and Nareeman 2 , and with joy she named him
Soohrab. And the child throve and grew apace :
in the first month he was as a child of a year old ;
when three years old he began to wrestle ; at ten
years no one could stand before him in the com-
bat. * An elephant in body, his countenance like
blood, his arms powerful as those of a camel, high
in stature, narrow in the waist, strong of fist,
thus was he formed. The chase of the lion was
his delight, and with hawks he hunted the valiant
beast 3 .'
One day he came to his mother and demanded
to know who was his sire, that he might have
wherewithal to answer those who asked him, me-
1 The countries over which he ruled.
3 Ancestors of Roostem.
3 See in the Sketches of Persia the mode of hunting an*
{elopes at the present day with hawks.
140 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
nacing her with death in case of refusal. She
bade him rejoice, for that his sire was the noble
Roostem, the greatest hero whom earth had ever
seen. She showed him a letter from his father,
with three rubies and ten wedges of ruddy gold,
which Roostem had sent her out of Iran. But
she told him not, that, fearing to be deprived of
him, she had sent word to Roostem that her off-
spring was a female; and she prayed him to keep
all this a secret, lest it should reach the ears of
Afrasiab, the foe of Roostem and of Iran. The
soul of the youth took fire ; he vowed he would
never conceal so noble an extraction ; he would
collect an army of valiant warriors, he would in-
vade Iran, dethrone the unworthy Ky Kaoos, and
give the crown to Roostem ; then return, and hurl
Afrasiab also from his royal seat, and Roostem
should be the lord of the whole earth.
Forthwith Soohrab began to assemble an army.
For himself he sought a horse whose iron hoof
would crush the stones, who should be strong as
an elephant, swift as a bird in flight, as a fish in
the water, as a lion on the land. At the word of his
mother the whole herd was brought before him ;
he laid his hand on the back of each steed, and
the belly of each touched the ground beneath his
pressure. The youth was displeased. Then came
one, and told of a foal which Raksh had gotten
when in Samengan, whose body was like a moun-
tain, in speed a roe, an arrow in the wilderness ;
his talisman was the sun, and the wild bull dreaded
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 141
the stroke of his hoof. The foal was brought :
firm as a rock, he bent not beneath the pressure
of the hero's hand l . Soohrab grasped a lance like
a pillar, and cried, " Now that I have such a horse,
the day will darken before Kaoos." His grand-
father gave him horses, mules, arms and treasure
for the war against Iran, and joyful thereat was
the young Lion-heart.
Afrasiab, hearing of the warlike preparations of
Soohrab, sent two of his warriors, named Hooman
and Barman, with 12,000 men to his aid, in hopes
that Roostem would fall by the hand of Soohrab,
or Soohrab by that of Roostem, so that in either
case the advantage would be his : he therefore
directed his generals to prevent by all means the
mutual recognition of the father and the son. The
unsuspecting Soohrab hailed with joy the arrival
of the royal troops, and the march began for Iran.
Mounted on their wind-footed steeds, the war-
riors of Soohrab swept the country, wasting and
burning till they came before a fortress named
Zebeed. Hejeer, the governor, rode forth and
engaged in single combat with Soohrab, but he
was vanquished, and sent a prisoner to Hooman.
Gusdehem, who then took the command of the
fortress, had with him his sister, named Gurd-
1 This was the manner in which Roostem himself had se-
lected his steed Raksh. It is curious as an instance either of
original similarity of manners, or of the transmission of poetic
fictions, to find the same mode of selecting a hero's steed in
the Russian Popular Tales shortly to be noticed.
142 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
afreed, a maiden valiant as a Pahluwan, the com-
batant of lions, unequalled in battle. When she
heard the cry of grief raised by men and women
at the capture of Hejeer, the tulip of her com-
plexion became dark as pitch ; she clad herself
in arms, concealed her hair beneath the helmet,
and rode forth, bearing a huge steel-headed lance.
With a voice of thunder she called out, " Who are
ye who come hither to war?" Soohrab, smiling, bit
his lips, and sprang forth to meet her. The maiden
grasped her bow and showered arrows on him,
' that no bird could fly by.' Soohrab's wrath was
kindled. They fought eye to eye; the blood
flowed in streams. She flung away the bow and
seized the spear, but Soohrab came on like de-
vouring flame, and his lance tore her mail, and
cast her to the ground. Instantly she was on
foot, and drawing her sword, struck off the head
of the lance ; then springing to horse fled away.
The Sipehbad l pursued, shouting aloud. The
maid with a smile took off her helmet, and her
hair descended glittering like the sun, and Sooh-
rab saw that he had been fighting with a maiden.
He bound her, and told her that she was not to
look for freedom, for a wild ass like her had never
fallen into his toils, The maiden saw that her
only resource was craft. She threw on him the
full blaze of her charms : when her veil was with-
1 Sipehbad and Sipehdar mean warrior or commander.
Sipahi, from which we have made Seapoy, is in Persian a
soldier.
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 143
drawn, a garden like that of Paradise smiled on
him ; harts, her eyes ; bows, her eyebrows : the
soul of Soohrab was captured, and he allowed
her to enter the fort to procure its surrender. But
she laughed at him from the walls, telling him the
Iranians matched not with Turks ; and that brave
though he was, he would be unable to stand be-
fore the Shah and Roostem. Soohrab was en-
raged at being thus outwitted ; but night was at
hand, and he returned to his camp.
Gusdehem then wrote to the Shah, describing
the might and the prowess of Soohrab ; and that
very night he and the garrison retired from the
fortress by a secret way. When Soohrab in the
morning prepared to give the assault, he found
none to resist him. He entered, and the defence-
less people implored his clemency : he sought
everywhere for Gurd-afreed, but found her not :
his heart was full of love, and he said, " Alas,
that the bright moon should thus be hidden among
the clouds ! "
The hopes of Iran lay in Roostem ; and the
Shah sent the Pahluwan Geev to tell him of the
letter of Gusdehem, and summon him to the aid
of the kingdom. And Roostem marvelled who
the Turkish hero might be. " A son," said he to
Geev, " had I by the daughter of the Shah of Sa-
mengan, but he is young, and knoweth nought as
yet of war. His mother tells me he is strong and
bold, and drinks wine like a lion, and one day he
will surely be renowned. But come, let us pass
144 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
today in joy, and moisten the parched lip with
wine : tomorrow we haste to the field." The feast
was spread, they grasped their cups, and became
drunken. Each succeeding day was the same.
At last Geev reminded his host of the hasty tem-
per of the Shah, and on the sixth day the Pah-
luwan set his troops in motion.
When Geev and Roostem came into the royal
presence, Ky Kaoos ordered Toos to seize them
both, and hang them on a gallows. But Roostem,
kindling in anger, recounted all he had done for
the royal line of Iran, and for Ky Kaoos in par-
ticular, and then set out homewards, declaring he
would have nothing more to do with Iran, and
that with him sense and courage would depart
from the land. And all the men of renown were
dismayed, for he was the shepherd, they the flock;
and they sent Guders to remind the Shah of all
that Roostem had done for him, and how without
him they could not resist Soohrab. The Shah
listened to the words of Guders, and he saw that
they were true : he repented him of his folly, and
bade them to follow after Roostem, and persuade
him to return. Guders and his companions, when
they came up with Roostem, told him of the
Shah's repentance ; but he said, " What is this
Kaoos to me ? I need him not. My throne is my
saddle, my crown my helm, my robe my shirt- of-
mail." But they represented the disgrace it would
be to him should Iran be conquered by the Turks.
He paused awhile, and then consented to go back
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 145
with them. The Shah made excuses for what
he had done, and Roostem replied in the terms
of duty. " Today, then," said Kaoos, " we will
enjoy the banquet, tomorrow we march to the
field."
In the morning, when the sun had torn the
black veil (of night), Kaoos issued pay to his
army : 100,000 men came with shield and corse-
let ; the land was covered with horses and ele-
phants, and orders were given to march for Ze-
beed. When they approached the fortress, Sooh-
rab mounted the wall to view them. He sighed
as he beheld the plain filled with warriors, and he
said to Hooman, " This countless host makes me
uneasy. Seest thou not in the midst of it a war-
rior of lofty stature with a mighty mace?" But
he gave not way to melancholy ; and he came down
and called for wine. Then the Iranians came, and
pitched their tents before the fortress.
With night Roostem came before the Shah,
and craved permission to lay aside his helm and
corselet, and go to discover who the stranger-
chief and his commanders were. Having obtained
the consent of Ky Kaoos, he disguised himself as
a Turk, and entered the castle 'like a lion among
roes.' Following the sound of merriment, he came
to where Soohrab sat at the banquet with Zendeh
Resm at his right, Hooman and Barman at his
left : a hundred Turks stood around, and every
voice was raised in praise of the noble Soohrab.
Roostem stood long at a distance, looking on the
146 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Pahluwans. Struck with his appearance, Zendeh
Resm arose, and coming to him, asked who he
was, and desired him to let his face be seen. The
hero struck him with his fist, and Zendeh Resm
fell dead to the ground, for God had determined
that Roostem should be the slayer of his own son.
For when Soohrab was setting forth on his way
to Iran, his mother called her brother Zendeh
Resm to her, who had seen and known Roostem
when he was at Samengan ; and she said to him,
" Go, thou man of prudence, with the youth,
and should the host be in straits on the day of
battle, point out the father to the son:" and
now there was no one with Soohrab who knew
Roostem.
Roostem fled away, and Zendeh Resm remain-
ed lying on the earth ; no one knew that he was
dead, they thought he was reposing. Night ad-
vanced, and he came not back ; then Soohrab
missed him. They found him dead ; and Sooh-
rab arose, and came forth with lights and servants.
He said, " Let no one sleep today ; a wolf has got-
ten among the herd ; he has deceived both the
dogs and the keepers." He then went back, and
ordered them to drown their sorrow in wine.
The morn came forth in brightness ; the sun
shook out his glittering hair, and flame ran down
the sides of the mountains. Soohrab mounted his
stone-coloured horse : he ordered Hejeer to be
brought before him, and said, " Answer truly to
the questions I shall put to thee, if thou hope to
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 147
obtain liberty. If so, a costly gift shall also be
thine: if not, bonds and a prison shall be thy re-
ward." " Ask what thou wilt of Iran," said He-
jeer, " and with truth will I tell thee what I know."
" I would know of that council of the proud and
the valiant yonder below, of the Shah of the herd,
of Toos, of Guders, of Roostem, and of all the
others. Answer with truth, and give me the en-
sign of each." From the height of the castle he
looked over the host of Iran, as it stretched far
and wide on the plain, countless banners and pa-
vilions glittering in the beams of the sun 1 .
" First then," said he, " yon many-hued tent,
with a hundred elephants before it, a stately re-
tinue about it, in the midst of the camp, whose
may it be?" Hejeer said, "That is the Shah of
Iran." " And yonder black tent to the left, where
are assembled numerous Pahluwans and elephants,
with many other tents around it, whose sayest
thou it to be ? " " That is Toos, the son of Nevder,
of the blood of the Padishah 2 , a mighty Sipehdar."
" Yon yellow tent, a lion before it glittering in
ruddy gold, a costly stone in the centre, before
and behind a numerous host in array, how shall
I name the chief?" " Name him Guders, the son
1 M. Hammer has given a fine versified translation of this
dialogue of Soohrab and Hejeer in his " Schbne Redekunst
Persiens." Let any one compare it with that of Mr. Atkin-
son, and he will see the great advantage of adhering to the
original measure of the verse.
2 That is, emperor.
H 2
148 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
of Keshwad ; he himself has forty sons, like lions."
" And yonder green tent, in the midst of which is
a throne, and before it raised the banner of the
empire, whom may it contain? Here and there
sit Pahluwans in groups : one overtops them all ;
beside him is a horse, whose fellow I have ne'er
beheld ; his neighing is like the roaring of the sea.
Many harnessed elephants stand around ; when he
rises, and moves, none in Iran can compare with
Lim in stature ; like a dragon, he strides in his
strength: how namest thou the hero?" Then
said Hejeer to himself, " If I tell the ensign of the
Pure One ' to this lion-hearted youth, he will re-
move his luck from Roostem. Better then is it
that I tell him not the name of the Proud One."
Then said he, " Kerjeen came to the Shah while
I was in this castle : the Sipehdar may be he."
The soul of Soohrab was troubled when he saw
not the ensign of Roostem, of which his mother
had told him. He resumed : " Who are yonder
Pahluwans assembled around the ensign of the
\Vild Wolf, where I hear the sound of martial
pipes? and whose is the ensign?" " It is that of
Geev, the son of Guders, a chief over two parts of
the host of Iran, the brother-in-law of Roostem.
Few in Iran are like unto him." " Yonder," said
the youth, " I see a tent gleaming like the sun ; be-
fore it are many Pahluwans in ranks ; the Sipeh-
bad is on a golden throne, the tent is adorned with
1 A title of Roostem,
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 149
rich silk and satin ; many attendants are at the en-
trance. Who is the chief?" "That," said he, "is
Ferbers, the son of the Shah, the crown of the
nobles of Iran." " I see a yellow tent behind the
figure of a wild boar; its head a golden moon?"
" It is Kooras, of the race of Kiukans." Soohrab
was dejected ; he sought the ensign of his father,
and Hejeer concealed it, for so had destiny de-
creed. " Why cleave, O mortal ! to this world ?
its drink is poison, its pleasure is evil."
Again he asked after him for whom his heart
yearned, after the green tent and the illustrious
man. But Hejeer still maintained that he knew
not the owner of the green tent. " But where is
Roostem," cried Soohrzib, " he cannot be away in
the day of battle?" "Haply," said Hejeer, "the
lion is gone to Caubul ; it is now the season of the
banquet in Gulistan (Rose-land)" " Nay," said
the youth, "he goeth to the battle, he sitteth not
idle at the feast. Go to, now ! Show me the Pah-
luwan, and I will exalt thee above all, and open
to thee the hidden treasures ; else will I smite thy
head from thy body. Choose now between the
two." Hejeer pondered. The wise Moobed saith,
thought he, a word unspoken is like a precious
stone untouched in its cover ; if let free, it
darteth forth fire like a sun. Then said he to
Soohrab, " Who can do like the Pure One in
battle ? his head reaches to the clouds ; an ele-
phant is not so large as he ; he has the strength
of thousands ; his understanding reaches above
150 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the heavens. When he rages in the day of battle,
what are lions and warriors to him ? A solid rock
cannot stand before him. Thou hast never seen
such warriors as Afrasiab and his men ; with his
sword he has rained fire on their heads." But
Soohrab, in the pride of his strength, declares that
Roostem will tremble before him like the sea be-
fore the wind. " This tiger," says he, " will sink
in sleep when the sun draws his flaming sword."
Hejeer fearing for Roostem, and for the empire
in case of his fall, resolved not to reveal his en-
sign. " If I lose my life," thought he, " Guders
has still six-and-seventy sons lion-hearted as I,
and my death will inflame my friends with re-
venge." " Then turning to Soohrab, he said, "What
needeth this anger ? from me thou shalt never know
of Roostem. Strike off my head then, if thou wilt."
Soohrab turned round and smote him with his fist,
that he fell from his seat ; he hid his face from
him in silence 1 .
Soohrab rode forth in arms, and approaching
the camp of Shah Kaoos, summoned the Pahlu-
wans to the combat, but none ventured to reply.
He came close to the tents, and then the Shah
sent Toos to carry the tidings to Roostem. " The
day of battle is my day of work," said the Pure
1 This dialogue reminds one of that of Balak and Balaam
in the Book of Numbers. The whole passage resembles that
in the Ilias where Helena describes the Grecian warriors to
Priam, which has been imitated by Euripides, Statius and
Tasso.
ROOSTEM AND SOOIIRAB. 151
One ; and he commanded them to saddle Raksh :
he then mounted and rode forth, and called to
Soohrab with a pealing shout. The valiant youth
hasted to meet him ; and Roostem, in reply to his
threats, calmly noticing the feats of arms he had
himself performed, warned him of the danger of
the conflict. The heart of Soohrab inclined to
him, and he said, " I ask thee but one word, an-
swer me truly. I believe thee to be Roostem, of
the race of Nirm : tell me thy family, and delight
me with fair speech." The hero replied, " I am
not Roostem, nor is mine the race of Nirm ; he
is a Pahluwan, and I am one of no note, without
throne or crown."
Then hope departed from Soohrab ; the face
of the bright day darkened before his eyes : he
grasped his arms, and the combat began. In the
first career their lances broke ; they laid hold on
their swords, the blades sprang in pieces ; they
seized their maces, and the horses staggered as
they struck ; their shirts-of-mail were torn : ex-
hausted and bathed in sweat, stood both horses
and riders. Father and son stood apart; love
and understanding were far from both. ' Horses
know their young, and the fishes in the sea; man
doth not, when passion and cupidity blind him.'
Roostem said in secret, " The fight with the Deev
Seffeed l was but a blast of wind compared with
this."
1 That is, the White Deev, or demon. This occurred in Ma-
zenderan, when Roostem went to the relief of Ky Kaoos.
152 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Having rested them awhile, they bent their
hows, and showered arrows like lightning, but
neither could injure the other. Roostem then
flung a stone like a mountain, but the youth with-
stood the blow. Now dismounted the two lions,
and began again to rage. Soohrab called on Roos-
tem to give over, and own himself overcome.
Roostem bade him not to boast, for his end was
in the hands of God. He then flung his noose ',
and caught Soohrab ; but the youth strained his
strength, and burst it. Roostem in amaze called
on God, and Soohrab smote him on the shoulder
with his mace, and laughed, and cried, " O valiant
Pahluwan ! abide no longer the wounds of the
Strong One." He sprang into the host of the
Iranians like a wolf. Roostem sighing, rushed
among the Turanians. Again he and Soohrab met,
"Early tomorrow,'* said Roostem, "we fight with
the swords of vengeance. Come what God wills !"
Each returned to his camp. Soohrab asked
Hooman of the deeds of the unknown warrior, and
1 Here is an instance of the retention of ancient manners;
for the kamund, or noose, as far as I can learn, is not used
by the modern Persians; but Herodotus (vii. 85.) describes
the Sagartii, a Persian tribe, as serving on horseback, using
chains of plaited thongs, with a noose on the end of them.
According to Mela (i. 19.), the women of some of the tribes
about the Euxine made use of the noose in battle. Sir J. Mal-
colm says that the noose is employed for catching unwary
passers-by, by some predatory hordes in India. It is the
lazo used by the Spaniards of South America for catching
wild cattle. Was it from the Moors that they learned the
use of it ?
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 153
highly extolled his strength and valour : " And
now," said he, " let us haste to the banquet, to-
morrow is a day of severe conflict." Roostem,
on his part, asked of the exploits of Soohrab, and
learned that none of the warriors of Iran had been
able to stand before him. He came to the Shah,
who made him sit by him on his royal seat ; and
then he highly praised the might and the valour
of Soohrab, avowing that he could not say what
might be the event of the combat on the morrow.
" Tonight," said the Shah, " will I pray to the
Highest, and I trust in my salvation that he will
give thee victory."
Roostem entered his tent, and called for wine.
He charged his brother Sewareh to have his best
arms and armour ready before the tent at sun-
rise. He desired him, in case of his fall, to lead
his troops without delay back to Sabul, arid to
comfort Zalhis father, and his mother Roodabeh.
" Tell her not to grieve overmuch on my account,
for no one lives for ever upon earth. Jemsheed
and Hushenk, and Feridoon 1 , had never their
equals, and yet they are all gone into the dark
earth. Sam and Nareeman, too, are dead. Many
Deevs and warriors, and monsters, have I slain ;
many walls have I broken ; and were my years a
thousand, still is the way and the work the same."
One half of the night he talked of Soohrab, the
remainder he passed in repose.
1 Ancient monarchs of Persia.
H 5
154 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Soohrab sat at the banquet, and spake with
Hooman. " That warrior," said he, " is as large
as I ; I see on him the tokens given me by my
mother ; I believe he is Roostem, and unseemly
were it for the son to fight with the father."
" Oft have I seen Roostem face to face," said
Hooman, " and I have heard of his deeds in Ma-
zenderan. I know him ; none can withstand his
might and his star." Soohrab retired, and rested
till sunrise.
In the morning Roostem arose, and rode to the
field. He called aloud to the Turanians to come
forth to the fight. Soohrab mounted, and ad-
vanced to meet him. " Why," said the youth,
" art thou armed for the combat? Let us rather
sit down to the wine, and make a compact in the
sight of Him who rules the world ; and let our
hearts deplore our hatred, Let us make ready a
banquet, for my heart feels love to thee ; shame
will drive the water from my eyes. As thou art
descended from the great, make thy lineage known
to me. I have already asked thy name, do not
still conceal it. I see thy ensign, the name is still
to me unknown. Art thou not of the lineage of
the noble Dustan l ? " But Roostem said he was
come to fight, and not to parley, and refused all
satisfaction. " Then," said Soohrab, " let us dis-
mount, and wrestle with each other."
They tied their horses, they stood on the ground ;
1 A name of Zal, the father of Roostem.
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 155
like lions they struggled ; the blood ran down in
streams. Soohrab grasped Roostem by the girdle ;
as he dragged it he cried like a lion tearing a wild
ass: the Pure One staggered, and fell to the
ground. Soohrab drew his sword to strike off*
his head as he lay. Then, thought he, I must
employ artifice. He said, " O warrior ! this was
never my way. No one strikes off the head of his
foe the first time he falls. The second time he
justly smites it off, and gains a lion-name. Such
was always my custom." The words pleased
Soohrab, for his heart was moved with love to
him. He said, " It is just, since such is thy cus-
tom ;" and he let him go.
Soohrab went to hunt, and thought no more of
Roostem 1 . When he came to his camp, Hooman
asked him of the event of the combat ; and when
he heard how he had given his life to his foe, he
cried, " Alas ! alas ! O youth ! thy magnanimity
has destroyed thee ; thou hast let the lion go out
of thy net." He told Barman what had befallen ;
and he said, " Never despise thy foe ; strong as
thou mayest be, count thine enemies ; even the
elephant must count the ants," " Cometh he to
the fight tomorrow," said Soohrab, " thou shalt
place thy foot on his neck." Roostem meantime
went to the river, drank, and washed his head ; he
then prostrated himself before God, and prayed
for strength and victory. And the prayer of the
1 JSee my Crusaders, vol. i. p. 303.
156 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Pure One was heard, and God increased his
strength. He then went in before the Shah ; all
sat troubled and full of thought ; and all prayed,
both old and young, unto God for victory to Iran.
Soon as the trumpet sounded in the morning,
Roostem returned to the field. Soohrab, now
enraged with him, rushed down like a drunken
elephant, bearing mace and noose. " Why comest
thou again to the fight ? has honour departed from
thy soul ? Twice have I let thee leave the field ;
out of love to thee I will let thee now go the third
time. If thou tarry, with a blow of my fist I will
drive thy soul from thy body." " Thou speakest
as a youth, not as a manly warrior," said Roostem :
" come forward, and show what thou canst do."
They dismounted; each grasped the girdle of the
other. From the early morning until the sun again
cast shadows, lasted the conflict. Well saith the
pure-hearted Moobed, when speaking of ancient
writings, * When evil destiny is wrath, the hard
stone becometh soft as wax.' It was as if heaven
had bound the combatants in bands. At length
Soohrab fell to the ground; and Roostem, fearing
he might free himself from his grasp, drew his
dagger and plunged it into his bosom. The youth
gave a groan, and his thoughts of both good and
evil were enfeebled. He said, " I have brought
it on myself; I have put the key of my life into
thy hand. My mother gave me the token of my
father ; love brings my days to their close. I
sought him with eagerness, and dreamed not that
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 157
death should find me in the field, or that my hopes
should become dust. But swammest thou like a
fish in the water, couldest thou move through the
gloom of the night, or fly like a bird, thou wilt
not escape destruction ; and wentest thou like a
star in the sky, my father will yet exact vengeance
of thee, when he learns that I came from Tooran
hither out of love to Roostem, and have fallen by
the hand of a crafty old man." When Roostem
heard these words, the world grew dark before
his eyes, and he fainted away. On coming to
himself, he cried in accents of anguish, "O youth!
say what token hast thou of Roostem, for I am
he." " Art thou Roostem ?" saidSoohrab; "then
was the lot of my combat every way dark. Open
the band of my mail, and on my arm thou wilt
find thy ring, all that the son has ever seen of the
father. When the trumpets sounded before me,
the cheeks of my mother were filled with blood,
and she placed this ring on my arm, saying,
' Keep this as a memorial of thy father.' She
also sent with me her brother Zendeh Resm, that
he might show me my father ; but the chief was
slain, for my star was darkened." When Roostem
beheld the ring, he rent his clothes ; blood burst
from his eyes ; he tore his hair, he covered his
head with earth ; water ran down his face as he
mourned over his son. Soohrab spake to console
him. " Thine was this head ; weep not thus :
this self-destruction bringeth no good. So it was
fated to be."
158 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Meantime the sun drew nigh to setting ; and
when the Iranians saw that Roostem did not re-
turn, they became uneasy. They looked over the
plain, but could see nothing but the horses of the
two warriors, and they deemed that Roostem was
slain. They told Kaoos thereof, and he ordered
the trumpets to sound, and bade Toos to go and
examine the field ; " for," said he, " if Roostem
is slain, we must stay no longer here ; the host
must disperse over mountain and mead."
Meantime Soohrab said unto Roostem, " Since
my days are come to their close, for my sake let
not the Shah lead his host against the Turks. On
my account they came to Iran ; I gave them lofty
hopes, for I little deemed that I should fall by the
hand of my father ; and it were not seemly that
they should suffer injury. There is also a man
in that castle of whom I often asked after thine en-
sign : all he described to me accurately ; of thee he
would give but a confused account. See to him,
that he suffer no evil from the Turks. So was it
written in the stars, that I should die by the hand
of my father. Like lightning I came, like wind I
go." Again Roostem groaned in agony ; his heart
full of fire, and his eyes full of water, he said, " I
will do all as thou hast said, though for thy sake
I will no longer remain among the assembled
chiefs." Then mounting his horse, he rode to the
camp. The Iranians thanked God for his escape;
but when they saw dust on his head, and his gar-
ments rent, they marvelled, and asked what hacl
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 159
befallen. He told them all the mournful tale, and
they mixed their tears with his. He enjoined a
cessation of war with the Turks, and sent his
brother Sewareh to Hooman, to say that they
might depart in peace. He menaced Hooman,
whose artifices, he said, had caused the death of
Soohrab ; but the Turk threw all the blame on
Hejeer, whom Roostem would have slain, but for
the surrounding chiefs.
Roostem returned to his dying son, attended
by the chiefs of the Iranian host. They all strove
in vain to console him : he drew his sword, and
would have slain himself, but the chiefs caught
hold of him, and the words of Guders brought
him to composure. He then prayed Guders to
go to the Shah, and ask him to send some of his
precious balsam, so efficacious in the cure of
wounds, and with it a cup of wine. Guders
hasted to the Shah ; but Kaoos said, " If the
youth recover, he will slay Roostem ; and then
who is there to defend me, against whom all his
vengeance is directed ? Thou heardest how he
shouted out, ' Who is this Kaoos ? ' and how he
swore, * With this lance will I slay him.' He doth
evil who sustaineth his foe. I will never do aught
to benefit him." Guders brought the words of the
Shah to Roostem ; and the hero himself was on the
way to him, when a messenger overtook him, with
tidings that his son had expired. " A coffin, not
a throne, he now asks of thee : he sought his
father, gave a deep sigh, and closed his eyelids."
160 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
When the Pure One heard these words, he tore
his cheeks and hair, he flung himself from his
horse, and cast dust on his head. He lamented
for his son, and deplored his own hard fate, who
had done a deed unheard of on earth, a deed to
cover his name with infamy, and draw on him the
reproaches of his parents, the noble Zal and the
prudent Roodabeh.
Roostem returned, and clad his son in a royal
robe : he ordered the ivory car to be brought,
and a coffin to be prepared : he then returned to
the camp. They kindled a fire, and burned the
tent, the throne, and the saddle of Soohrab, and
all the host cast dust on their heads, and uttered
loud cries of grief. The Pahluwans sat by Roos-
tem, and mingled their tears with his : their cheeks
were pallid with mourning : they assayed to con-
sole the Pure One in his affliction. They said,
" How long wilt thou consume thyself? It is the
will of Heaven : in one hand the crown, in the
other the noose ; settest thou that on thy head,
this quickly snatches thee away. War is like the
sea ; now it yields pearls, now stones and sand.
Destiny never gives an account of the how and
the wherefore." The Shah, when he heard of the
death of Soohrab, came and beheld Roostem lying
on the ground, with his garments rent. He said,
" From Mount Elburz unto the ocean, all befalls
as Destiny has decreed : one endeth sooner, an-
other later ; in the end, we all are Death's. And
wert thou to draw the heaven down to earth, and
TALES
AND
F0FULAK FICTI0HJ
Ah gallant Soohrab ! in ill hour from Tooraa
Thau earnest, in quest of thy sire, to Iran ;
Lave and Hope led thee to him, but Destiny dire
HaJ doomed thee to fall, by the baud of that sire
DRAWN BY W. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY O. BAXTER,
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKEU AND CO.
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 161
cast fire into the world, still thou wouldst never
bring back the departed : his immortal part is in
yonder world. Alas! for these arms and this
breast ! from afar I beheld them, and was amazed
that such a warrior should be among the Turks.
Long did he fight against our host : at length he
fell before thee. The evil is come by the decree
of Fate : how long wilt thou weep for the de-
parted ? "
At the desire of Roostem, the Shah drew off
the host of Iran, and suffered the Turks to retire
unmolested, and the Pure One set forth for Sabu*
listan with the corse of his son. When Zal beheld
the coffin from afar, he dismounted from his
horse, and shed tears for the untimely fate of
the youth. Roostem placed the coffin in his pa-
lace ; he raised the lid, and displayed to Zal and
Roodabeh the beauty and the size of Soohrab ;
and they wept, and all their attendants with them,
and the palace was filled with mourning, as if the
noble Zal lay on his bier. Roostem said, " I will
raise him a golden monument:" and he made a
vault under the ground, and placed him in it, and
again they lamented the renowned youth, and
closed over him the tomb. * Thus is it decreed
for this world ; the riddle will never be solved ;
never wilt thou find the key, for no one may
open that which is closed.'
Hooman led back his host to Tooran, and the
mother of Soohrab heard of the fate of her son.
She wrang her hands, she tore her hair, she burned
162 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
her dark tresses in the fire ; blood burst from her
cheeks like water, and the voice of her grief
ascended unto heaven. "O soul of thy mother !"
cried she, " whither art thou gone ? A stranger
and helpless, thou art captured, alas! captured
in the ground. My eyes looked forth on the
way. I said, ' It may be that tidings come of my
son and of Roostem ; he is now in the battle ; he
sought his father, and he has found him ; now
will he hasten to come. 5 O how could I know
what an affliction was before me, or dream that
thy own father should plunge the dagger into thy
side ? Came there not over him pity of thy face,
thy form, and thy hair, that he thus slew thee
with the sword ? I had reared thee, fed thee at
my bosom in the day and in the long night ; and
now is the garment rent on thy pure body. Whom
shall I now take by the hands ? whom shall I em-
brace ? who is the affliction of my heart ? whom
call T to me ? for whom am I in this exceeding
grief? Woe to this head ! woe to this soul ! woe
to these eyes ! Despair is grown out of hope :
thou sleepest in the dark earth ! Why, when thy
father went to pierce thy silver breast, didst thou
not show the token of thy mother? Thou sough test
thy father, and hast found thy grave. Thy mother
now remaineth solitary without thee, consumed
with grief, struggling with affliction beyond en-
durance. O gallant youth ! what now shall I
do? Life must depart from my breast, it cannot
otherwise be."
ROOSTEM AND SOOHRAB. 163
She smote herself with her hands, and fell sense-
less to the ground. Again she revived, and she re-
newed her lamentation. She took the head-attire
of Soohrab, and wept over the crown. She called
for the horse that had borne him to the field, she
pressed his hoof to her bosom : the horse stood
amazed. She kissed his head and eyes, and a
stream of blood ran down on his feet. She laid
the arms of her son, his corselet and mail, his
bow, his sword, his mace, and lance, before her ;
she smote her head with his heavy mace ; she
took his saddle, bridle, and shield, and pressed
them to her cheek. She stretched his noose out
eighty ells before her on the ground. She wept
and mourned over them without ceasing. She
drew the sword of Soohrab, and cut with it the
halter of his horse, and gave him his liberty. She
gave to the poor one half of his riches, great
wealth in gold, in silver, and in horses. She clad
herself in blue : day and night she wept and
mourned without ceasing. She died, and her
soul went to her beloved Soohrab !
Justly has the poet called this 'a tale full of
waters of the eye' : even in this epitome it must
assert its claims over the human heart; and what
must be its effect in its full proportions, invested
in the majesty of a rich, harmonious, and va-
ried versification ? Let us cast away classic pre-
judice, and acknowledge that the Muse of an-
cient Greece or Latium has produced nothing that
164 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
will stand a parallel with the Persian tale. What
may be the age of the legend, it is beyond our
power to determine : it may go back to the most
distant ages, and be more ancient than even ' the
tale of Troy divine.' Neither can we ascertain
how much belongs to the early legend, how much
is to be ascribed to the genius of Ferdousee. Pro-
bably the Bostan-Nameh contained no more than
the mere story ; and the details, such as Soohrab's
survey of the Iranian camp and warriors, and the
description of the grief and lamentation of Te-
meenah, are the rightful property of the bard of
Toos.
Whither am I to go in search of a parallel for
this tale of woe ? The pathos of a son slain by
his father escaped the Muses of Hellas; the Ca-
tenae of Latium, who depend on their Grecian
sisters, know it not. It presented not itself to the
Scalds of Scandinavia. I have sought it in vain
in the ponderous tomes of chivalric romance.
Truth and history, to which he so rigidly ad-
hered, offered it not to the powerful genius of him
who has told, with unrivalled pathos, the sad tale
of Francesca da Rimini, and the horrid fate of
Ugolino. Had genius suggested it, or tradition
brought it, to the mind of Boccaccio, what a noble
pendant would it have formed to the tale of Ghis-
monda of Salerno ! To the various muse of Ari-
osto, and to the soft deep-feeling muse who in-
CONLOCH AND CUCHULLIN. 165
spired Tasso, it was alike unknown '. Shakspeare,
who invented no stories, never heard of this : there
is nothing resembling it among the poetic treasures
of the British Parnassus.
But there is a muse whose literary productions,
few and in general of no exalted merit, are little
known to fame, while her musical melodies, simple,
gay, and deeply pathetic, command the admiration
of all who possess taste or feeling of musical de-
light. This is the Celtic muse of Erin, the Isle of
the West ; and her the pathos of a son falling by
the hand of his own father has not escaped.
In the Reliques of Ancient Irish Poetry, pub-
lished by Miss Brooke 2 , we find the tale of Con-
loch slain by his father Cuchullin. The original
poem is printed in Miss Brooke's volume ; but
I am not sufficiently versed in Iberno-Celtic to
translate it ; and that lady's version, though very
creditable to her poetic talents, is too long and
too paraphrastic for admission into these pages ;
1 There is something very near it in the old Italian poem
La Regina Ancroja, where Rinaldo's son Guidone Selvaggio,
coming in quest of his father, defies and defeats all Charle-
magne's knights. At length he engages and is overcome by
Rinaldo, to whom he then makes himself known. This last
particular, though not so tragic, is like what occurs in the
Irish poem I am about to notice.
2 Miss Brooke was daughter to Henry Brooke, the author
of the Fool of Quality, Gustavus Vasa, and other works of
merit. As the worthy artist who embellishes this, as he has
done all my other volumes, is a near relative of Miss Brooke's,
I must take care and treat her with all fitting respect and
courtesy.
166 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
so I must e'en content myself, and try to content
my readers, with the simple unembellished story.
One of the most distinguished of the mythic
heroes of Ireland was Cuchullin, whom the Irish
historians make to have lived in the reign of
Conor Mac Nessa, a little before the Christian
aera. Ireland, we are assured, was at that time
distinguished for its civilisation : the sun of chi-
valry there shone in its meridian splendour, and
the Knights of Erin were renowned all over Eu-
rope under the name of the Heroes of the West-
ern Isle. Like the long posterior Knights of Ar-
thur's Round Table, and the Paladins of Charle-
magne, they did not confine their valour within
the narrow limits of their own isle ; they loved to
let their light shine so that all men might see it ;
and not unfrequently their adventurous spirit led
them over to the continent.
It was on his return from one of these conti-
nental expeditions, that the gallant Cuchullin,
taking his way through Albany (Scotland), ar-
rived at Dun Sgathach, in the Isle of Sky, where
he was hospitably entertained by Airdgenny, the
lord of the place. He became enamoured of Aise,
the beautiful daughter of his host : he demanded
her in marriage, and met no refusal. Urgent
affairs, some time after, calling him home, he
quitted his bride, whose altering form now an-
nounced that she was to be a mother. When
taking leave, he directed her, if her offspring
CONLOCH AND CUCHULLIN. 167
should be a boy, to have him carefully brought
up to arms in the academy of Dun-Sgathach; and
giving her a chain of gold, desired her to put that
round his neck when his education was completed,
and send him over to Ulster, when his father would
recognise the golden chain, and acknowledge him
as his son. She was, moreover, to impress upon
his mind the following precepts : Never to reveal
his name to a foe ; to give the way to no man who
seemed to demand it as a right ; to decline the
single combat with no knight under the sun.
When the youth, who was named Conloch, was
perfect in his martial exercises, his mother sent
him over to Ireland ; but moved, as it would ap-
pear, by jealousy, or by revenge for Cuchullin's
having so totally neglected her, she gave her son
a false character or description of his father,
hoping, probably, that the old warrior might en-
gage the youth, and fall by his hand. Conloch,
perhaps unacquainted with the usages of Irish
chivalry, landed clad in armour ; whence it was
to be inferred that he came * bearing war'. He
advanced into the country till he drew near to
Emania, the residence of the Ulster monarchs,
and the preceptory of the Knights of the Red
Branch (Croabh-ruadK). King Conor sent a he-
rald to demand who he was, and wherefore he
was come, and requiring him to pay an eric, or
fine. To yield this last would have been an
acknowledgement of the superiority of the Red
Branch Knights ; chivalry and the injunction of
168 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
his father forbade compliance with the former.
Conloch proudly defied to the Knights of Ulster.
A champion advanced to engage him, and was
overthrown ; a second shared his fate. Cuchullin
is now summoned in haste to sustain the honour
of the Ulster chivalry. He entreats the stranger
to reveal to him his name; and Conloch, in whose
bosom nature secretly operated at the sight of his
father, declares that he would most willingly do
so, were it not that the laws of chivalry forbade.
Cuchullin knew these laws two well to urge their
infraction, and the combat began. Long it con-
tinued : at length Cuchullin threw a spear with
such fatal aim as mortally to wound the youth.
Conloch, who, it would almost seem from the
poem, had known his father all along, reveals to
him who he is. The old hero, in his grief, apo-
strophizes Aise ; but his son assures him that she
is a treacherous woman, who, by deceiving him,
has caused his death. Conloch dies, and his father
mourns over him ! .
The tale of Conloch resembles that of Soohrab
in the circumstance of the father in each case
having quitted the mother of the unborn babe,
and never having returned ; and in that of his
having left behind him a token of recognition, to
be borne by his son (if it should be such) when
1 Very few of the foregoing particulars occur in the poem.
They are contained in the prose Introduction prefixed to it
by Mr. O'Halloran.
MACPIJERSON'S OSSIAN. 169
grown up ; circumstances in which they both
agree with the Grecian legend of Theseus. There
is a further coincidence in the refusal to tell the
name ; but in the Persian tale it is the father, in
the Irish one the son, who will not reveal himself.
The character of Aise is infinitely less amiable
than that of the tender daughter of the Shah of
Samengan, and in poetic merit the Irish poem
falls immeasurably short of that inspired by the
Muse of Iran ; yet the coincidence between them
is curious, and I think we have here a decided
instance of resemblance without imitation.
I believe the whole annals of literature do not
furnish an instance of so audacious and so suc-
cessful a forgery as the Poems of Ossian, the son
of Fingal. The poems of Rowley, though by no
means devoid of merit, have fallen into oblivion,
while those of Ossian are still read, still admired,
and (though the forgery has been actually demon-
strated by the late Malcolm Laing,) still believed
to be genuine by a large portion of the Scottish
nation, and by many of the Continental scholars '.
The phenomenon, however, has nothing in it to
surprise us : the antiquated orthography adopted
by Chatterton repels at once, (How many are
there who really read Chaucer ?) while the mea-
sured prose of Ossian offers no difficulty whatever.
The bard of Morven and his heroes, moreover,
1 F. A. Wolf and Niebuhr are not of the number.
I
1 70 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
possess great sensibility and gentleness of man-
ners, and his compositions are pervaded by a pen-
sive melancholy, which is both pleasing and sooth-
ing : they present noble mountain scenery, and
undoubtedly contain much genuine and beautiful
poetry l . Should we, then, wonder that they con-
tinue to give pleasure ? As to the Scots, their
well-known extreme nationality sufficiently ex-
plains why they thus fondly cling to the last hope
of preserving an ancient national poet ; yet surely
the country which has produced a Thomson, a
Burns, and a Scott, to say nothing of her living
bards, might very well give up maintaining the
genuineness of the pseudo-Ossian. I doubt if any
one south of the Tweed, who has read Laing's
edition of the poems, believes in their genuine-
ness ; and I must strongly suspect the soundness
of the critical acumen of such Continental scho-
lars as place the Poems of Ossian in the same
class with the Songs of the Edda, the Shah-Na-
meh, and the Homeric Rhapsodies 2 .
I must confess I have not always thought of
these poems as I do now. I doubt if even the
1 To deny genius to Macpherson is nothing but contempt-
ible prejudice.
2 Finn Magnussen, the learned expounder of the Eddas,
has written an essay, showing that the knowledge of the
Scandinavian religion evinced in the poems of Ossian was
unattainable in the days of Macpherson, and that conse-
quently the poems are genuine. As this essay is in the
Transactions of a foreign literary society, I have vainly
sought for it. I should like much to see it.
MACPHERSON'S OSSIAN. 171
Arabian Nights fascinated my young imagination
more than they did. I regarded them as the ge-
nuine heroic lays of my country ; for, though of
Saxon blood, I was a native of the land which,
tradition said, had been the abode of the Fingalian
cycle of heroes : the mountains, the valleys, and
the plains which I trod, had been trodden by them ;
the sea on which I gazed, had been ploughed by
their keels, or by those of Lochlin ; the melodies
to which I delighted to listen, had possibly sounded
on the harps of their bards. Often, in the days of
autumn, when the wind flew over the hill side,
bending the tall thin grass, and scattering the
thistle's beard, and the shadows of the clouds
swiftly flitted along, or in spring, when, after the
shower, the evening sun shone mildly in the vale,
have the forms of the hunters and the deer, the
venerable bards and the white-bosomed maids, be-
come to me almost actual objects of vision, so
strongly did imagination body them forth. Many
a happy hour did these poems give me; but, alas!
as reason matured, doubt stole in, and began to
disturb my blissful visions. It is true I had always
thought that Macpherson, or rather the Highland
bards, had presumed to take some liberties with
the original poems : such, for example, as trans-
ferring the heroes from Ireland to the Western
Highlands. For how could I, with the hill of
Allen l before my eyes, and Killashee (Kill-Oisin,
1 Of which Macpherson has made Albyn.
I 2
172 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Grave of Ossian,) within three miles of me ; who
knew the very spot where Finn Mac Comhal (Fin-
gal) had, as a babe in the cradle, bitten off the finger
of the Greek joiant (giant), who had bitten a piece
out of the iron griddle when it was baked in the
cake for him, and who flung the rock over the
house, and, attempting to catch it on the other
side, as Goll (Gaul) told him Finn and his heroes
used to do, was struck in the breast, and knocked
down by it ! ; and all the rest of the story ; and
had seen rocks and stones which had been cleft
by their swords, or flung by the vigour of their
arms ; and had heard legends of them without
number ; how could I believe that they were not
Irish heroes ? Does not Keating's most veracious
history assert it ? Did any genuine son of Mile-
sius ever doubt it ?
At length I met with Laing's edition of the
Poems, and all my illusions vanished ; and I said
with a sigh,
" Pol me occidisft' amice
Non servasfa' cui sic extorta voluptas
Et demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error."
For some years I could not endure even to look
on these poems, which so strongly offended my
moral sense ; but that feeling passed away with
time, and I read them now with pleasure, as a pic-
ture of ideal manners and sentiments, and of an
1 His Giantship was not so clever as the Nis who flung the
boy over the house. See Fairy Mythology, i. 233.
MACPHERSON'S OSSIAN. 173
ideal state of society, all as remote from any-
thing that the real world has ever presented, as
are those in the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney.
One of the most beautiful poems of the Ossian
of the eighteenth century is that named Carthon,
founded on the Irish tale which we have just been
considering. A comparison of it with the original
tale will, I think, give a very favourable idea of
Macpherson's genius, who could raise so noble a
structure on so slight a foundation. The imita-
tions of the Bible, the Classics, and the English
poets, which it contains, have been pointed out by
Laing, and are not now to be denied ! . It is a
striking instance of the power of confident asser-
tion to observe, that though, as I have remarked,
the usual tendency of the human mind is to infer
imitation where it finds similarity, when Macpher-
son had the hardihood to give at times in his Notes
the very passages he was imitating, as mere coin-
cidences, he was believed, and his numerous tacit
imitations were allowed to pass without examina-
tion,
It is quite certain that Macpherson could not
have had any knowledge of the story of Soohrab,
as no part of the Shah-Nameh had been translated
anterior to 1762, the year in which his Carthon
first appeared 2 . It is therefore curious to find
1 I do not of course go to the same extreme as Laing in
tracing imitation ; but Macpherson was a most notorious thief.
2 It is strange that the resemblance between the tale of
Soohrab and that of Carthon has, at least as far as I know,
174 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
that in one or two of the places in which he de-
parts from his original, he chances to coincide with
Ferdousee. Thus in the Irish poem it is the son
who refuses to tell his name ; in the Shah-Nameh
it is the father ; and it is the father also in Ossian.
Again, in the Irish poem, Cuchullin kills his son
with his spear in fair and open combat ; in Ossian,
Clessammor, when vanquished, plunges his dagger
into the side of his son ; in the Shah-Nameh, Roos-
tem and his son fall to the ground together, and
the former rather unfairly draws his dagger, and
pierces the bosom of his antagonist. The recog-
nition, too, in Ossian is much more like that in the
Shah-Nameh than that in Conloch. Here surely
we again have resemblance without imitation !
To ascertain the age of the Irish legend of Con-
loch is beyond our power. The poem which con-
tains it cannot, I should think, claim a date earlier
than the sixteenth, or at most the fifteenth, cen-
tury ; but the legend itself may have been the
theme of bards from times the most remote, and
may vie in antiquity with its Persian parallel.
Strong feeling, united with imagination, seems to
be the characteristic of the Celtic race. This is
strikingly exemplified in their music, with which,
never been observed. Yet Goerres is an admirer of Ossian,
and Atkinson has actually quoted from one of his poems in
his version of Soohrab.
IRISH ANTIQUITIES. 175
in variety and depth of feeling, no national music
whatever can compare *. Their mythic tales and
traditions present the same appearance. As we
have just seen, it was only in Ireland that the tale
of Soohrab could find its parallel : and Darthula,
another of Ossian's most beautiful and affecting
poems, is also founded on an Irish original. Such
being the character of the Celtic mind, one might
expect to find the Celts the most poetic race on
earth ; yet, strange as it may appear, they have
neither in Ireland, the Highlands, Wales, nor Brit-
tany, produced a poet ! I mean, of course, a poet
of the higher order. Whenever a man of genius
appears among them, we are almost sure to find
that he is of the Gotho- Germanic blood. Nor is
this phenomenon difficult of solution. To form a
great poet, judgement must be equal to imagina-
tion ; and in the former quality the Celts have
been at all times notoriously deficient. Add to
this the want of perseverance, which Caesar long
since noticed as a part of their character ; and it
is plain why they have produced no epic or dra-
matic poetry : a short flight wearies the Celtic
muse. It is almost needless to mention that there
is no such thing as a Celtic historian a .
As to Celtic antiquities and early history, they
are the wildest and most improbable figments and
deductions that have ever come to my knowledge ;
and one is apt to be amazed how rational men
1 Unless we except the Lowland Scotch.
3 Is Sir James Mackintosh to be called a Celt ?
176 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
could ever have arrived at the belief of such in-
credibilities. But, in fact, almost every one who has
entered this enchanted maze seems to have flung
off all the restraints of common sense and reason.
His faith almost exceeds that of Tertullian ; he
becomes a kind of literary ostrich, for whose di-
gestion nothing is too difficult. Surely if historic
criticism was generally known and cultivated in
Celtic lands, we should not find men, calling them-
selves scholars, with the plain testimony of history
before them as to the barbarism of the Irish in the
time of Henry II., dreaming of the ancient civili-
sation and ancient renown of the * Western Isle' } .
Even in the worst case of foreign conquest, history
presents no instance of decline and degradation
similar to what this theory must suppose.
Take a specimen of Celtic credulity. In the
poem called the Lament of Cuchullin, which fol-
lows that of Conloch in Miss Brooke's collection,
the hero, when bewailing his son, talks of India,
Persia, Greece, Spain, and the Picts. Any one
but a Celtic antiquary would, from this, at once
1 All Irish antiquaries are, of course, not included in this
censure. Sir James Ware, for example, forms an honourable
exception : See the Preface to his work. Ware, however,
was no Celt.
There is no greater desideratum than a philosophic and im-
partial history of Ireland ; and he who writes it will confer a
benefit on the world. From the pen of Mr. Moore, such is not
to be expected ; he is a poet, a Catholic, an Irishman, and the
author of Captain Rock, and the Travels of an Irish Gentleman.
Can he, then, hope that the adventure is reserved for him ?
IRISH ANTIQUITIES. 177
infer the late age of the poem. Not so Mr. O'Hal-
loran, the Celtic Mentor of that accomplished lady.
The ancient Irish, according to him, had knowledge
far transcending this. In a note, Miss Brooke says :
" Our early writers, says Mr. O'Halloran, tell
us, and Archbishop Usher affirms the same, that
the celebrated champion Conall Cearnach, Master
of the Ulster Knights, was actually at Jerusalem
at the time of the crucifixion of our Saviour, and
related the story to the king of Ulster on his re-
turn. He also adds, that one of our great poets
in the fifth century traversed the East, and dedi-
cated a book to the Emperor Theodosius. Many
similar instances and proofs," continues the fair
lady, "could be here subjoined."
It would not, I apprehend, be easy to produce
an instance of credulity to exceed or even equal
this. I should feel ashamed were I to set seriously
about pointing out all the improbabilities which it
involves ; but I will briefly state my opinion of
what the Irish were anterior to the introduction
of Christianity in the fifth century. They were
then, as far as I can learn, nothing but rude fero-
cious barbarians (and Christianity does not seem
to have made them much better J ) ; they were
1 In the Scriptores Rerum Hibernicarum, published by the
late Dr. O'Conor, I find assassination and every other crime
just as frequent after as before the fifth century.
" The learning of Ireland in the ninth and tenth centuries
was an exotic of unstable growth. It belonged not to the
people, but to the monasteries; and as soon as these were
I 5
178 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
ignorant of arts and letters, utterly unacquainted
with any country but their own and the neighbour-
ing Britain, with no vessel beyond the curragh, or
wicker-boat covered with raw hides. All their
commerce consisted in the exchange of their raw
materials with the foreign traders who visited
their coasts. The History of Ireland, by Jeffrey
Keating, is not one whit more true than that of
Britain by his namesake of Monmouth. The tri-
ennial convocations at Tara, the chivalry of the
Red Branch, all the pomp and splendour of Ema-
nia, are nothing but the fictions of monks l and
Senachies, to console a proud and ignorant people
under oppression, and rouse them to resistance,
but copied from nothing that ever really existed
in Ireland 2 .
With respect to Cuchullin, Finn Mac Comhal
destroyed by the Danes, every symptom of cultivation imme-
diately vanished, and Ireland was again barbarous." (Cooley,
Hist, of Marit. and Inland Discov.,i. 144.) For 'barbarous,'
I would read ' totally barbarous.'
1 It need not surprise us to find in Keating the story of
Midas and his barber told of an Irish king. Some monk had
read Ovid.
2 " Notandum quidem descriptiones fere omnium quae de
illis temporibus (antiquioribus dico) extant, opera esse pos-
teriorum seculorum." Warceus de Antiq., Praef. p. 1.
I know not whether it is to be regarded as a proof of the
palpable falsehood of early Irish history, or merely of my
tendency to historic scepticism, but 1 recollect to have re-
jected it with as full conviction before I was fifteen years of
age, as I do at this present moment
IRISH ANTIQUITIES. 179
(Cool) or Fingal, Oisin, Oscar, Goll Mac Morni,
and the other heroes of the Irish mythic cycle, it
is difficult to say positively whether they ever had
a real existence or not. They stand on precisely
the same footing with the heroes of the cycles of
Greece, Persia, and Scandinavia ; and mytholo-
gists are, with regard to these, divided ; some
maintaining that all such personages had a real
and actual existence as common mortals, but were
subsequently elevated to the region of the mar-
vellous ; others viewing them as pure poetic cre-
ations. On this, as on many other grave and du-
bious points, I have never been able to muster
sufficient conviction to take a very decided part,
and
" Quo me cunque rapit tempestas deferor hospes."
My leaning at present is certainly towards the lat-
ter hypothesis, which, it cannot be denied, offers
most range to the imagination ; and I love to
ramble, free and unimpeded, through the regions
of fancy, to chase the rainbow-forms that come and
go along their plains, to view the combats and
feats of arms in their Boreal Lights, and gaze on
the pinnacles, battlements, and towers, piled up
by the masses of their summer clouds.
I cannot quit Ireland without saying a word or
two of its Fairy Legends and Traditions. It is
180 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
well known that I had a share in the composition
of the work which contains them ; but it is not
equally known that, besides myself and the re-
puted author, no less than eight or ten other per-
sons contributed portions of fairy lore. My share
was a fair proportion of the tales l , and a very
large proportion of the Notes in the first and se-
cond volumes. With the third, which was appa-
rently intended to rival my Fairy Mythology, I,
of course, had nothing to do. It cannot be sup-
posed that I should expect any literary fame from
a share in a work of so trifling a character ; but
there has been so much of the sic vos non vobis in
the affair, and I have experienced so much hos-
tility on account of it, that I think it best to put
an end to all doubt on the subject. I have often,
also, been amused at seeing myself quoted by those
who intended to praise another person.
Enough of the Fairy Legends ! it was intended
to be nothing more than a work of mere amuse-
ment, and little is to be learned from it respect-
ing the Irish people. Other works of fiction have
since appeared, from which much more informa-
1 Namely, * The Young Piper', ' Seeing is Believing', ' Field
of Boliauns', 'Soul-Cages', 'Harvest Dinner', ' Scath-a-Le-
gaune', and 'Barry of Cairn Thierna'; besides greater or
smaller pieces of some others. My only verses are, Father
Cuddy's Latin Song and its translation. Some of those tales
have received a few additions from another hand. The non-
sense-verses in the Soul- Cages, for instance, are an extra-
neous beauty.
IRISH ANTIQUITIES. 181
tion may be derived. At the head of these, with-
out meaning disparagement to any ! , I must place
Mr. Carleton's Traits and Stories of the Irish Pea-
santry. Here the English reader will find the ac-
tual Irish peasant, with all his good and evil pro-
pensities and habits about him : no straining after
effect mars the due proportions of the figure ; no
unnatural unions of vices and virtues call up an in-
credidus odi. I pledge myself for the correctness
of Mr. Carleton's delineations, and most strongly
recommend his work to all who would become ac-
quainted with Ireland, a country the most diffi-
cult to be known, without actual residence, of
perhaps any on the globe.
1 How very pleasing are Mrs. S. C. Hall's Idyllic sketches
of Irish life! I know nothing of the kind to exceed her
' We '11 see about it '.
183
CHAPTER V.
THE PENTAMERONE TALE OF THE SERPENT HINDOO
LEGEND.
GIAMBATTISTA Basile, the author of the amusing
work named the Pentamerone, or Five Days' En-
tertainment 1 , was a Neapolitan by birth. He
spent his youth in the Isle of Candia, then pos-
sessed by the Venetians. He became a member
of the Venetian Accademia degli Stravaganti, ac-
companied his sister, a celebrated singer, to Man-
tua, and entered the service of the Duke. After
rambling a good deal through Italy, he returned
to Naples, where he died in the year 1637.
The oldest edition of the Pentamerone bears
the date of 1637, the year of the author's death.
It is a collection of fifty tales, of the kind we call
Fairy Tales, purporting to be related in five days
by ten women, for the amusement of a prince and
his wife. The tales are narrated in the Neapo-
litan dialect ; and in the opinion of Dr. Grimm,
with whom I fully concur, they are by many de-
grees the best and most amusing collection of the
1 The Neapolitan title is Lo Conto delli Conti, overo lo
Trattenemiento de Peccerille, i. e. The Tale of Tales, or En-
tertainment for the Little Ones. I know not whence the
title Pentamerone came : it is in no edition that I have
seen.
184 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
kind in any language. A great number of the
popular tales of other countries are to be found
among them, but narrated in so peculiar a manner,
as to become altogether original l . There is a great
exuberance of fancy displayed in them ; they
contain several allusions to ancient history and
mythology, and have many marks of Orientalism;
but they do not always keep within the strict
limits of decorum and propriety. Yet the inde-
licacies which we meet in the Pentamerone, are
innocuous rather than injurious ; they are the
pranks of a luxuriant imagination, and are more
apt to excite laughter than any improper feeling.
It is not easy to ascertain how Basile came by
his tales. We have no grounds for asserting that
they are all Neapolitan ; and I am rather inclined
to think that he picked them up in various places,
and then gave them to his countrymen in their own
dialect. His residence in Candia and Venice will
perhaps best explain the Oriental traits which they
present. It is rather curious, that though he has
four tales in common with Straparola, he does not
appear to have taken them from the Pleasant
Nights, or even to have known that work.
In the Fairy Mythology will be found trans-
lations of three of the tales of the Pentamerone.
The present volume shall contain two ; and these
1 Of the ten stories in the Mother Goose's Fairy Tales of
Perrault, seven are to be found in the Pentamerone. Let
the reader compare Puss in Boots (Le Chat Botte) with the
tale of Gagliuso given in the Fairy Mythology, ii. 262.
THE SERPENT. 185
five are, I believe, the only translations into any
language but Italian 1 .
THE SERPENT.
There was one time a gardener's wife who
longed for children more than the suitor longs
for a sentence of the judge in his favour, a sick
person for cold water, or an innkeeper for the
passing away of the dull season. But, gardener
as her husband was, she never was able to see
the produce she desired.
It chanced one day, that the poor man went to
the mountain to get a faggot for firing; and when
he came home with it, and opened it, he found a
pretty little serpent among the twigs. Sapatella
(that was the name of the gardener's wife), when
she saw it, gave a great sigh, and said, " Ah !
even the serpents have their little serpents ; but
I came into this world so unfortunate, and have
such a noody of a husband, that for all his being
a gardener, he cannot make a graft." At these
words the little serpent spoke, and said, " Well,
then, since you cannot have children, take me for
a child, and you will make a good bargain, for I
shall love you better than if you were my own
mother." Sapatella, hearing a serpent thus speak,
1 MM. Grimm justly take credit to themselves for having
been the first to give an analysis of the Pentamerone. I may
do the same for having been the first to venture on a trans-
lation from it.
186 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
had like to have fainted ; but plucking up courage,
she said, " If it were for nothing else than for this
affection which you offer, I am content to take you,
and treat you as if you were really the fruit of my
womb."
So saying, she assigned him a corner of the
house for a nursery, and gave him for food a
share of what she had, with all the affection in the
world ; and he increased in size every day. So
at length when he was grown pretty big, he said
one day to Cola 1 Matteo, the gardener, whom he
looked upon as his foster-father, " Daddy, I want
to get married." " With all my heart," said Cola
Matteo ; " we must look out, then, for another ser-
pent like yourself, and try to make up the match
between you." " What serpent are you talking
of?" said the little serpent. I suppose, forsooth,
we are all the same with the vipers and the adders !
It is easy to see you are nothing but an Antony,
and make a nosegay of every plant. It is the
king's daughter I want : so go this very instant,
and ask the king for his daughter, and tell him it
is a serpent that demands her."
1 Cola, answering to our Nick, is the abbreviation of Ni-
cola. The Italians dock the head, we the tail. Thus Mas
(from Tommaso) is Tom ; and the celebrated Masaniello is
nothing more. than Tom Lamb, not Tom Ring, as I have seen
it rendered. Renzo, the hero of Count Manzoni's beautiful
novel, would in Ireland be simply Larry, as it comes from
Lorenzo. The Italian Tonio and our Tony correspond.
Why have we not a readable translation of Manzoni's
novel ?
THE SERPENT. 187
Cola Matteo, who was a plain straight-forward
sort of man, and knew nothing about this kind of
wares, went quite innocently to the king, and de-
livered his message, saying, " The ambassador is
not to blame if the embassy should not please.
Know, then, that a serpent wants your daughter
for his wife. I am come therefore to try, as I am
a gardener, if I can make a graft of a serpent on
a young dove." The king, who saw at a glance
that he was a blockhead, to get him off his hands
said, " Go and tell your serpent that I will give
him my daughter if he turns all the fruit of this or-
chard into gold : " and then he burst out a-laugh-
ing, and dismissed him.
When Cola Matteo went home, and delivered
the answer to the serpent, he said, " Go tomorrow
morning and gather up all the fruit-stones you can
find in the city, and sow them in the orchard, and
you will see pearls strung on rushes." Cola Mat-
teo, who was no wizard, neither knew how to com-
ply or refuse ; so next morning, as soon as the
Sun with his golden broom had swept away the
dirt of the Night from the fields watered by the
Dawn, he put a basket on his arm, and went from
street to street picking up all the stones of peaches,
plums, nectarines, apricots and cherries, that he
could find. He then went to the orchard of the
palace, and sowed them as the serpent had desired
him. In an instant the trees shot up, and stems
and branches, leaves, flowers and fruit, were all
of glistening gold ; and the king, at the sight of
188 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
such a wonderful thing, gave a loud cry of amaze-
ment, and went leaping about for joy.
But when Cola Matteo came again from the
serpent to the king, to demand the performance
of his promise, "Fair and easy," said the king,
" I must first have something else, if he would
have my daughter ; and what I require is this,
let him make all the walls, and all the walks of
the orchard, to be of precious stones."
When the gardener told this to the serpent, he
made answer, " Go tomorrow morning and gather
up all the bits of broken crockery-ware you can
find, and throw them on the walks, and along
by the wall of the orchard, for we will not let
this difficulty stand in our way." So Cola Mat-
teo, when the Night, having stood by and backed
the robbers, gets aid and goes about collecting
off the sky the faggots of twilight, took a basket
under his arm, and went about collecting bits of
tiles, lids and bottoms of pipkins, pieces of plates
and dishes, handles of jugs, spouts of pitchers;
picking up all the spoilt, broken, flawed, cracked
lamps, and all the fragments of pottery of every
sort he could find in his way: and when he had
done all that the serpent desired him, there was
to be seen the whole orchard mantled with eme-
ralds and chalcedonies, and coated with rubies and
carbuncles, in such sort, that the lustre seques-
tered the sight in the warehouses of the eyes, and
planted admiration in the fields of the heart. The
king was struck all of a heap at the sight, and
THE SERPENT. 189
knew not what had befallen him. But when the
serpent sent to let him know that he was expect-
ing the performance of his promise, he made an-
swer, " Oh ! all that has been done is nothing, if
he does not turn my palace into gold for me."
When Cola Matteo had told the serpent this
new fancy of the king, he said, " Go get a parcel
of herbs of different kinds, and make a bundle of
them, and rub the bottom of the palace-walls with
them. We shall see if we cannot satisfy this whim
of his also." That very moment Cola Matteo
made a great broom of soft herbs, such as the
tops of turnips and carrots, and of honeysuckle,
and such like ; and when he had rubbed the lower
part of the palace with it, you might see it shining
like a gilded pill to purge melancholy from a hun-
dred houses that were ill-treated by fortune. And
when the gardener came again in the name of the
serpent to urge the conclusion of the marriage ] ,
the king, finding his retreat cut off, called for his
daughter, and said to her : " My dear Grannonia,
I am going to give you a husband. It is one who
has asked for you, and I imposed such conditions
as I thought were impossible to be complied with;
but seeing myself foiled, and obliged to consent,
I still scarcely know how to ask you, as you are a
dutiful daughter, to enable me to keep my word,
and to be content with what Heaven wills and I
1 The reader will recollect Aladdin's demand of the prin-
cess of China to wife, and his mother's repeated visits to the
Sultan.
190 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
am obliged to do." " Do as you please, papa,"
said Grannonia, " for I am not the one to oppose
a single jot of your will." The king hearing this,
bid Cola Matteo tell the serpent to come.
The serpent, on receiving the invitation, set out
for the palace mounted on a car all of gold, and
drawn by four golden elephants. But wherever he
came the people fled away in terror, at seeing such
a large and frightful serpent thus making his pro-
gress through the city : and when he arrived at the
palace, the courtiers all turned pale, and trem-
bled like rushes ; and even the very scullions did
not venture to stay in the place. The king and
the queen, too, shut themselves up in a room, and
Grannonia alone stood her ground ; and though
her father and her mother kept crying out to her,
" Fly, fly, Grannonia ! save yourself, Rienzo l !" she
1 This apparently alludes to the fate of Cola Rienzo (Nicola
di Lorenzo), the Roman patriot, which it would appear was
become proverbial. In Ireland (and I suppose in Scotland)
it is usual to say to a person who has met with misfortune,
" You unfortunate Argyle ! " evidently alluding to the fate
of the Marquesses of Argyle in the seventeenth century. It
is curious how popular sayings and rimes will keep up the
memory of political events. Blackstone has been praised by
Niebuhr for discerning the usages of feudalism in the plays
of children ; and justly, for nothing is beneath the attention
of the true philosopher. I will give an instance of what may
be found in nursery rimes. They say to children in Ireland,
" I'll tell you a story,
Of Johnny Macgory,
He went to the wood,
And he killed a tory."
These will appear unmeaning to most readers ; but perhaps
TALES
FOPHTLAB FE1F
In sooth it was a fearful sight
That serpent huge to see,
How be wound his long, long tail about
The waist o' the fair ladie.
DRAWN BY W. II. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD LY G. BAXTER,
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER AND CO
THE SERPENT. 191
would not show any signs of fear, but said, " Why
do you want me to fly from the husband whom
you have given me?" And when the serpent
came into the room, he took Grannonia by the
waist in his tail, and gave her such a shower of
kisses, that the king writhed for all the world like
a worm ; and I warrant if you had bled him, you
would not have got a single drop of blood out of
him. The serpent then carried her into another
room, and made her fasten the door; and then
he shook off his skin on the ground, and became
a most beautiful youth, with a head all covered
with ringlets of gold, and with eyes that would
enchant you ; and then embracing the maiden, he
gathered the first fruits of his love.
The king, when he saw the serpent going into
the room with his daughter, and shutting the door
after him, said to his wife, " Heaven be merci-
ful to that poor soul our daughter ! for she has
become food for that cursed serpent. Beyond
doubt he has swallowed her up like the yolk of
they are not so. They refer, in my opinion, to the period
after the Scottish colony had been planted in the North of
Ireland ; and the Irish, being driven from the open country,
took refuge in the woods, whence they issued to rob the set-
tlers. Tory is in Irish a robber, probably from the verb to-
raim, ' to give,' a word of course frequent in the mouth of a
plunderer. We have thus in these verses a state of society
placed before our eyes ; the original native lurking in the
woods, and the Scottish colonist, like the Spaniard in Ame-
rica, going out armed a tory-hunting, and killing the miser-
able aborigine as he would a wolf.
192 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
an egg ! " He then put his eye to the keyhole, to
see what had become of her ; but when he saw
the exceeding beauty of the youth, and the skin of
the serpent that he had left lying on the ground,
he gave the door a kick ; and they rushed in,
and took the skin, and flung it into the fire, and
burned it.
When the youth saw this, he cried out, " Ah !
you renegade dogs ! you have done for me," and
instantly turned himself into a dove, to fly away ;
but finding that the panes of the window prevented
his escape, he butted at them with his head till he
broke them, but he cut himself in such a man-
ner that there did not remain a whole spot on his
pate.
Grannonia, who thus saw herself at the same mo-
ment happy and unhappy, joyful and miserable,
rich and poor, tore her face and bewailed her fate,
accusing her father and mother of this interruption
of pleasure, this poisoning of sweets, this over-
throw of good-fortune ; and they excused them-
selves by declaring that they had not intended
any evil. She then kept herself quiet till Night
came forth to illuminate the catafalque of the
skies for the funeral pomp of the Sun ; and when
she saw all in bed, she took her jewels, which were
in a writing-desk, and went out by a back-door,
intending to search everywhere till she had found
the treasure she had lost.
\Vhen she was gone out of the city, and was
proceeding, guided by the light of the moon, she
THE SERPENT. 193
met a fox, who asked her if she wished for com-
pany. " Yes," said Grannonia, " you would oblige
me very much, for I am not overwell acquainted
with the country." So they went travelling along
together till they came to a wood, where the trees,
at play like children, were making baby-houses
for the shadows to lie in ; and being now rather
wearied with their journey, and wishing for re-
pose, they retired to the covert of the leaves,
where a fountain was playing carnival pranks
with the green grass, flinging the water on it by
dishfuls ; and stretching themselves on a mattrass
of tender soft grass, they paid the duty of repos
which they owed to Nature for the merchandise o
life.
They did not awake till the Sun, with his usual
fire, gave the signal to sailors and carriers to set
out on their road ; and after they awoke, they
still stayed a good while to listen to the singing
of the various birds. Grannonia expressed the
great pleasure she felt in listening to the warbling
they made ; and the fox seeing this, said to her,
" You would feel twice as much pleasure if you
understood, like me, what they are saying." At
these words Grannonia for women are by nature
as curious as they are talkative besought the fox
to tell her what it was he had heard the birds
saying in their own language. So after having
let her entreat him for a long time, in order to
excite the greater curiosity about what he was
going to tell, he said that those birds were talking
19i TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
to one another of what had lately befallen the son
of the king of the country, who, being as beautiful
as a Fay (wo Fato), because he would not comply
with the unlawful desires of a cursed Ogress (Hu~
orca\ had been sentenced by her magic power to
pass seven years in the form of a serpent; and that
he had just accomplished the term of his trans-
formation, when having fallen in love with the
daughter of a king, and being in a chamber with
the maiden, and having cast his skin on the
ground, her father and mother, out of their ex-
cessive curiosity, rushed in and burned his skin ;
and that as he was flying away in the shape of a
dove, and had broken a pane in the window to
get out at, he had broken in his skull in such a
manner that he was given over by the doctors.
Grannonia, who thus heard her own onions
spoken of, first of all asked whose son this prince
was, and then if there was any hope of cure for
his accident. The fox replied, that those birds
had said his father was the king of Big Valley
(Vallone Gruosso), and that there was no other
secret for stopping the holes in his skull, that his
soul might not get out at them, than to anoint his
wounds with the blood of those very birds who
had been telling the story. When Grannonia
heard these words, she fell down on her knees to
the fox, entreating of him to oblige and gratify
her by catching those birds for her, that she might
get their blood ; adding, that then, like honest
comrades, they would share the gain. " Fair
THE SERPENT. 195
and softly, 5 ' said the fox, " let us wait till night,
and when the birds are gone to bed, let your
mammy alone, for I will climb up the trees and
weasen them one after the other."
They then passed away the entire day, talking
one time of the beauty of the young prince, an-
other time of the mistake made by the father of
the maiden; again, of the mishap that had befallen
the prince, chatting, chatting away till Day was
gone, and Earth began to spread out her great
large black piece of pasteboard, to collect the wax
that might drop from the tapers of Night. The
fox, as soon as he saw all the birds fast asleep on
the branches, stole up quite softly, and, one after
another, he throttled all the linnets, larks, gold-
finches, bullfinches, chaffinches, redbreasts and
nightingales that were on the trees ; and when he
had killed them all he came down, and they put
their blood into a little bottle that the fox carried
with him to refresh himself on the road. Gran-
nonia was so overjoyed, that she hardly touched
the ground ; but the fox said to her, " What fine
joy in a dream is this ! But, daughter of mine, you
have done nothing if you have not my blood also
to make a mess of along with that of the birds ;"
and so saying, he began to run away. Grannonia,
who saw all her hopes thrown down, had recourse
to the usual art of women, that is, cunning and
flattery ; and she said to him, " Gossip fox, there
would be some reason for your saving your hide
if I were not under so many obligations to you,
196 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
and if there were no more foxes in the world than
yourself ; but as you know how much I owe you,
and also know that there is no scarcity of the like
of you in these plains, you may rely on my good
faith. So do not act like the cow that kicks down
the pail when she has filled it with milk. You have
done and have done, and now you fail at the best.
Do now stop ; believe me, and come with me to
the city of this king, where you may sell me for a
slave if you will."
The fox, who never dreamed that the quintes-
sence of foxery was to be met with, found himself
out-foxed by a woman. So he agreed to travel on
with Grannonia ; but they had hardly gone fifty
paces, when she lifted up the stick she carried,
and gave him with it such a neat rap, that he
forthwith stretched his legs. She then cut his
throat, and immediately took his blood and poured
it into the little bottle, and never stopped till she
came to Big Valley, where she went straightway
to the royal palace, and sent in to inform the king
that she was come to cure the prince.
The king made her come into his presence, and
he was astonished at seeing a girl undertake to
do what the best physicians in the kingdom had
failed in. However, as 'tis no harm to try, he said
he wished greatly to see the experiment made.
But Grannonia said, " If I make you see the ef-
fect that you desire, you must promise to give
him to me for a husband." The king, who looked
upon his son to be all as one as dead, made answer,
THE SERPENT. 197
" If you give him to me safe and sound, I will
give him to you safe and sound ; for it is no great
matter to give a husband to her who gives me a
son."
So they went to the chamber of the prince, and
scarcely had she anointed him with the blood, when
he found himself just as if nothing had ever ailed
him. Grannonia, when she saw the prince stout
and hearty, told the king he must keep his word;
and the king turned round to his son, and said,
" Son, just now you saw yourself dead, and now
I see you alive, and can hardly believe it. So, as
I have promised this maiden that if she cured you
she should have you for a husband, now that
Heaven has shown you favour, enable me to per-
form my promise by all the love you bear me,
since it is necessary to pay this debt cheerfully."
To these words the prince replied, " Sir, I wish
I had such freedom in my inclinations as to prove
to you the love I have for you. But as I find
myself pledged to another woman, you would not
consent that I should break my faith, nor would
this maiden advise me to do this injury to her
whom I love ; nor indeed is it in my power to
change my sentiments."
Grannonia hearing this, felt a secret pleasure
not to be described at finding herself still fresh
in the memory of the prince ; her whole face be-
came crimson, and she said, " If I should get this
maiden whom you love to resign her claims to
me, would it be agreeable to you ? " " It is im-
198 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
possible," said the prince, " for me ever to drive
from my bosom the lovely image of her whom I
love ; and whether she makes for me a conserve
of her love, or gives me a dose of cassia, I shall
ever be of the one mind, of the one way of think-
ing. I would sooner see myself in danger of losing
my place at the table of life, than play this trick,
or make this exchange."
Grannonia could retain her disguise no longer.
She discovered to him who she was ; for as the
chamber was darkened on account of the wounds
in his head, and as he saw her disguised, he had
not known her ; and the prince, when he recog-
nised her, embraced her with a joy that would
amaze you, telling his father who she was, arid
what he had done and suffered for her. They
then sent to invite her parents, the king and queen
of StarzaLonga, and they celebrated the wedding
with wonderful festivity, making great sport of
the ninny of a fox, and concluding at the last of
the last, that
" Pain doth always a seasoning prove
Unto the joys of constant love."
Such is the mode in which Basile narrated his
tales for the entertainment of the little ones of
Naples. The reader has possibly seen some points
of resemblance between this tale and some French
and German ones, such as the Blue Bird of Ma-
dame D'Aulnoy, and the Singing and Springing
Lark in the collection of MM. Grimm. But the
HINDOO LEGEND. 199
reason for which I have introduced it here, is to
point out a most remarkable coincidence or agree-
ment between it and a legend contained in the sa-
cred books of the Hindoos.
Lieutenant Wilford, in his Essay on Vicrama-
ditya and Sativahana in the Asiatic Researches ! ,
writes thus :
" The third Vicramaditya was the son of Gard-
dabharupa, or the man with the countenance of an
ass. There is a fulsome account of the birth of
this Vicrama in the first section of the Sinhdsana
Drvdrinsdli, called Vicrama Updi* hydna.
" In Gurjjara Mandalam are the Sabharamati
and Mahi rivers ; between them is a forest, in
which resided Tamra-lipta-Reshi, whose daughter
married King Tamra-sena. They had six male
children, and one daughter called Madana-Rec'ha.
The king had two young lads called Deva-Sarma
and Hari-Sarma, whose duty chiefly was to wash
every day the clothes of their master in the waters
of the nearest river. One day as Deva-Sarma
went by himself for that purpose, he heard a voice
saying, { Tell King Tamra-sena to give me his
daughter : should he refuse me, he will repent
it.' The lad, on his return, mentioned the whole
to his master, who would not believe it, and next
day sent Hari-Sarma to the river, who heard the
same voice also, with the threats in case of a re-
1 Vol. ix. p. 147. Calcutta edition.
200 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
fusal. The king was astonished, and going him-
self, heard the voice also. On his return he as-
sembled his council, and after consulting together,
it was agreed that the king should go again, and
ask him who he was. The supposed spirit being
questioned, answered, * I am a Gand'harva (z. e.
heavenly chorister\ who, having incurred Indra's
displeasure, was doomed to assume the shape of
an ass. I was born in that shape in the house of
a Cumbhacara (i. e. potter), in your capital city,
and I am daily roving about in quest of food.'
The king said that he was very willing to give
him his daughter, but that he conceived that such
an union was altogether impossible while he re-
mained in that shape. The Gand'harva said,
* Trouble not yourself about that ; comply with
my request, and it will be well with you.' * If,'
said the king, * you are so powerful, turn the walls
of my city, and those of the houses, into brass,
and let it be done before sunrise tomorrow.'
The Gand'harva agreed to it, and the whole was
completed by the appointed time, and the king of
course gave him his daughter.
" Several learned Pundits," continues Mr. Wil-
ford, "inform me that this Gand'harva's name was
Jayanta, the son of Brahma. When cursed by
Indra, he humbled himself; and Indra, relenting,
allowed him to resume his human shape in the
night-time, telling him that the curse should not
be done away till somebody had burned his ass-
like form.
HINDOO LEGEND. 201
" It is said in the Vicrama Upai'hyana, that the
mother of the damsel spied them once in the night,
and to her great joy found that the Gand'harva
dallied with her daughter in a human shape. Re-
joiced at this discovery, she looked for his ass-like
form, and burned it. Early in the morning the
Gand'harva looked for this body of his, and found
that it had been destroyed. He returned imme-
diately to his wife, informing her of what had hap-
pened ; and that his curse being at an end, he was
obliged to return to heaven and leave her. He
informed her also that she was with child by him,
and that the name of the child should be Vicra-
maditya ; that her maid was with child also, and
that the name of the child should be Bhartri-Hari.
He then left his wife, who resolved to die ; and
ripping up her own belly, she took out the child,
and entrusted it to the care of a Maline (L e. gar-
dener's wife, or flower- woman). * Go,' said she,
1 to some distant place, and there remain con-
cealed, because my father will attempt to destroy
the child.' The Maline went to Ujjayine with the
maid, and from the signal preservation of the child
in that city, it was called also Avanti 1 ."
The country over which the grandfather of
Vicramaditya ruled, is by the author of the work
quoted by Mr. Wilford, said to have been the pre-
sent Gujjerat, and the adjacent districts in the
1 From ava, Sanscrit, ' to preserve'.
202 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
west of India ; and as the year in which Vicra-
maditya is said to have ascended the throne cor-
responds with the year 441 of the Christian sera,
Mr. Wilford is positive that he must have been
Yezdejird, king of Persia, the son of Bahrain,
surnamed Gur, or The Wild Ass, whose amours
with an Indian princess are famous, he says, all
over Persia, as well as India.
"Jayanta," says Mr. Wilford, "the son of
Brahma, incurred the displeasure of Indra, king
of the elevated grounds of Merii, or Turkestan,
and was doomed by him to assume the shape of
an ass in the lower regions. Bahram Gur, or The
Ass, likewise incurred the displeasure of the Kha-
ean, or mortal king of Meru, He ascended the
throne of Persia, and after having overcome his
enemies, he went to India in disguise to the Court
of a powerful prince of that country, who took
particular notice of him, on account of his valour
and personal merits. The Indian prince loaded
him with caresses and honours, and gave him his
daughter with an immense fortune, when he was
recognised by some noblemen who had carried
the usual tribute to Persia. Being thus disco-
vered, he returned to his own country, after an
absence of two years. The Hindoos assert that he
refused to take his wife along with him, and that
in consequence she killed herself. They show to
this day the place where he lived, about one day's
march to the north of Baroach, with the ruins of
HINDOO LEGEND. 203
his palace. In old records this place is called
Gad'hendra Puri, that is, * The town of the lord
of Asses'."
This is what I term pragmatising, or endea-
vouring to extract historic truth out of mythic
legends, as bootless an alchemy as ever was
practised! The history of Bahram Gur 1 , as deli-
vered by Ferdousee, the sole authority, has little
resemblance with the Hindoo legend ; and I am
yet to learn that the heaven of Indra, the god of
thunder, was Turkestan. I do not think that Hin-
doo any more than Grecian mythology, trans-
ferred earth to heaven ; and I could as soon be-
lieve that Jupiter was only king of Crete, as that
Indra was no more than Khacan of Turkestan 2 .
In short, I regard the legend of the transformed
Gand'harva as being a pure fiction, with nothing
in it whatever of reality.
The following legend, related by Mr. Wilford 3
in another place, tends to prove that transforma-
tion into the form of some animal of earth, was a
1 In Ferdousee he is called the Khacan of Cheen. The
Cheen of the Shah-Nameh does not seem to be China : it is
rather some place between it and Persia. I should be in-
clined to assign a Persian origin to the tales of the Thousand
and One Nights, in which the scene is in China, i. e. Cheen.
2 Gur is the Wild Ass, not the Ass. Bahram, says Fer-
dousee, was so named, because one day at the chase he shot
a wild ass and her foal through with the one arrow.
3 Essay on Egypt and the Nile. Asiatic Researches, iii. 403.
See Fairy Mythology, i. pp. 65. 77.
204 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS. * '
usual mode of punishment among the denizens
of the Hindoo heaven.
" Visvadhanva, the son of Cama the god of
Love, and Reti the goddess of Pleasure, was
with his youthful companions hunting one day on
the skirts of Himalaya, when he saw a white ele-
phant of an amazing size, with four tusks, who
was desporting himself with his females. The
prince imagined him to be Airavata, the great ele-
phant of Indra, and ordered a circle to be formed
round him ; but the noble beast broke through
the toils, and the hunters pursued him from
country to country till they came to the burning
sands of Barbara, where his course was so much
impeded, that he assumed his true shape of a
Racshasa (i. e. giant), and began to bellow with
the sound of the large drum called Dunda. The
son of Cama, undismayed, attacked the giant, and
after an obstinate combat, slew him, but was asto-
nished on seeing a beautiful youth rise from the
bleeding body, with the countenance and form of
a Gand'harva, who told him, before he vanished,
that he had been expelled for a time from the hea-
venly mansions, and as a punishment for a great
offence, had been condemned to pass through a
mortal state in the shape of a giant, with a power
to take other forms : that his crime was expiated
by death, but that the prince deserved and would
receive chastisement for molesting an elephant
who was enjoying innocent pleasures. The place
HINDOO LEGEND. 205
where the elephant took the shape of a Racshasa,
and that where he was killed, are holy ; and a
pilgrimage performed to them, with the perform-
ance of certain holy rites, will ever secure the pil-
grims from the dread of giants and evil spirits."
I consider, then, the Gand'harva story to be
a genuine Hindoo production ; and the resem-
blance is so strong between it and the Neapolitan
tale, and extends to such a number of circum-
stances even the gardener's wife being a charac-
ter in both that I am almost inclined to assert
that, one time or other, it made its way to Europe.
207
CHAPTER VI.
JACK THE GIANT-KILLER THE BRAVE TAILORLING
THOR's JOURNEY TO UTGARD AMEEN OF ISFAHAN
AND THE GHOOL THE LION AND THE GOAT THE
LION AND THE ASS.
I PRESUME that few of my readers are unacquaint-
ed with the great and perilous adventures of that
" valiant Gornishman,
Who slew the giant Cormoran,"
the redoubtable Jack the Giant-killer, as he was
justly named from his achievements. I need there-
fore only call to memory the adventure of this
doughty champion with the crafty two-headed
Welsh giant, who thought to rob him of life and
fame by deceit and guile.
It was night when the Giant-killer arrived at
the habitation of this monster, who, affecting great
courtesy, welcomed him, and gave him a good bed
to lie on. Unable to sleep from fatigue, our hero
lay awake ; and he heard his host walking back-
wards and forwards in the next room, and saying
to himself,
" Though here you lodge with me this night,
You shall not see the morning light,
My club shall dash your brains out quite."
He got up, searched about the room, and finding
208 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
a large billet of wood, put it in his place in the
bed, and hid himself in a corner. In the middle
of the night the giant came in, struck the billet
several blows with his club, and then retired,
thinking he had dispatched his guest.
Great was his surprise next morning when Jack
came forth and thanked him for his hospitality.
" How did you sleep ? Did you hear or see any-
thing in the night?" he stammered out. "Oh!
nothing," said Jack quite carelessly ; " a rat, I
believe, gave me three or four slaps with his tail,
and disturbed me a little, but I soon went to sleep
again."
It is needless to tell how Jack again outwitted
this Cambrian giant, and made him rip open his
own belly. My purpose is to show that the arti-
fice related above is not peculiar to our own Giant-
killer, but has been put in practice by the legen-
dary heroes of other countries also. The first
witness whom I shall call up and examine is the
Brave Tailorling 1 (Das tapfere Schneider lem) of
our neighbours the Germans, who, it will appear,
had recourse to it in his dealings with giants.
1 Grimm, Kinder- und Haus-Marchen, i. 104. The En-
glish diminutives ling and kin answer to the lein and chen of
the Germans. Instances of the former, which is the more
common, are duckling, gosling (gooseling), troutling, young-
ling, &c. See a good article on the subject in the Cambridge
Philological Museum, i. p. 679.
TAILED
Tin- little man he then set out,
And he travelled on until
He CHiae to where he a giant saw
Sitting upon a hill.
DRAWN BY W. II. BROOKE, F. S. A., i:\CK \\;:i) ON WOOD JJY C.
PUBLlSliEn EY WHITTAKER AND CO.
THE BRAVE TAILORLING. 209
*
THE BRAVE TAILORLING.
A little tailor chanced one day to kill at a blow
seven flies that were on his bread. In amaze at
his own prowess, he determined that the whole
town should know of it ; so he made himself a
belt, and put on it in large letters, " Seven at a
blow." " Tut, tut," then said he, " what is the
town, the whole world shall know it !" and tak-
ing a cheese and a live bird in a bag with him, he
set out on his travels.
He had not gone far when he came to where a
giant was sitting on the top of a mountain. " Ho,
comrade !" cried he, " you are sitting up there look-
ing abroad into the world, I am going into it, have
you a mind to come with me?" The giant looked
at him, and said, "You are a paltry fellow." "That
may be," said the tailor ; and opening his coat, and
letting the giant see his belt, " There you have it
in writing, what sort of a man I am." The giant,
reading " Seven at a blow," thought at once that
they must be men whom he had slain, so he be-
gan to feel some respect for him. He resolved,
however, to make a trial of him ; so taking a stone
in his hand, and squeezing it till the water began
to trickle from it, " Do that like me," said he to
him, " if you are as strong as you say." " Is that
all ? " said the tailor ; and putting his hand into
his pocket, he pulled out his cheese, and squeezed
it till the whey ran out of it. "Ha!" said he,
" that was a taste better."
210 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
The giant did not know what to say to this
feat, but he resolved to try him again ; so taking
up a stone, and flinging it into the air so high that
it went out of sight, " There, do that, you brat !"
cried he. " 'T was a good cast," said the tailor,
" but the stone will fall to the ground ; I will
fling one that will never come back." So taking
out his bird, he pitched it up into the air, and the
bird flew off gladly, and soon got out of sight.
" Well, comrade, what think you of that?" "You
can throw well," said the giant ; " let us now see
what you can do in the way of carrying a burden."
He led him into the wood, and pointing out a
huge oak-tree that had been felled, said, " Come,
we will carry this out of the wood." " Do you,
then, take the thick end on your shoulder," said
the little man, " and I will carry the boughs and
branches, and that is the heavier end," The giant
took up the trunk ; and the tailor, seating himself
on one of the branches, left him the whole tree
to carry, and himself into the bargain, and kept
whistling away, as if carrying a tree was mere
child's play to him. At last the giant got tired,
and cried out, " Hallo ! I must let the tree go."
The tailor then jumped down, laid hold on the
branches as if he was carrying, and said, " You
are a pretty fellow that can't carry a tree !"
They went on till they came to a cherry-tree,
and the giant catching a hold of the top, where
the best fruit was, pulled it down, and gave the
tailor a hold of it that he might eat too. But the
JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 211
strength of the little man could not contend with
that of the tree, and he was hoisted aloft into the
air. " Hallo ! " shouted the giant, " can you not
hold down a twig ? " " Bah ! " said the tailor,
" what is that to one who has killed seven at a
blow? Don't you see the sportsmen are shooting
in the underwood? and I have jumped over the
tree out of the way : do you now do the same."
The giant tried to leap over the tree, but all in
vain ; he still fell into the branches, and victory
remained once more with the tailor.
" Come now home to our cave," said the giant,
" and spend the night with us." The tailorling
consented, and followed him. The giant showed
him his bed ; but the cunning wight took care not
to go into it, but crept into a corner; and when it
was midnight, the giant came with a huge iron
club, and gave the bed a blow, which went through
it. " I 've settled the grasshopper now," thought
he ; " we shall see no more of him." In the morn-
ing the giants went out to the wood, thinking no
more of the tailor ; when, to their great conster-
nation, they saw him coming forth alive and hearty.
They ran away as hard as ever they could, afraid
lest he should kill them all.
But this stratagem is to be found in a far more
venerable monument than our nursery-tale books.
Among the adventures of the prose Edda of Scan-
dinavia is Thor's Journey to Utgard ; and in it
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the god is illuded in a similar manner. I will re-
late the story at length, for the edification of my
readers, as it is a portion of the mythology and
theology of the ancient North. The language is
my own, but I have faithfully adhered to the ori-
ginal tale l .
I must previously inform the reader, that in
the Scandinavian theology Thor is the god of the
lower heaven, answering to the Jupiter Tonans of
the Latins, and the Indra of India. He is married
to Siff, that is, the summer-earth, clad with herbage
and plants, which in the Edda are called the hair
of Siff; for summer, we know, is the season of
thunder. Thor drives in a chariot drawn by buck-
goats ; his weapon is a short-handled hammer,
called Miolner 2 (crws/zer), which he unceasingly em-
ploys against the frost-giants and other noxious
beings. He has also a belt, which, when on him,
doubles his strength ; and a pair of iron gloves,
which are of great use to him, as Miolner is gene-
rally red-hot. Now to our tale.
THOR'S JOURNEY TO UTGARD.
Thor and Loki 3 once set out in the chariot
drawn by buck-goats for Yotunheim, or Giant-
1 I extract this from an article of mine on Scandinavian
mythology in No. VII. of the Foreign Quarterly Review.
2 Miolner is the thunderbolt.
3 Loki was originally the fire-god : he became a sort of
Eddaic Satan.
THORS JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 213
land. Towards evening they arrived at the house
of a farmer (bonda\ where they took up their quar-
ters for the night. Thor took and killed his goats,
broiled their flesh, and invited his host and his chil-
dren to partake of the feast. When it was ended,
Thor spread the goat- skins on the ground, and de-
sired the children to throw the bones into them l .
The farmer's son Thialfi had broken one of the
bones, to get out the marrow. In the morning
Thor got up and dressed himself, and then, laying
hold of Miolner, swung it over the skins. Im-
mediately the goats stood up, but one of them
limped on the hind leg. The god exclaimed that
the farmer and his family had not dealt fairly with
the bones, for the goat's leg was broken. The far-
mer was terrified to death when he saw Thor draw
down his eyebrows, and grasp the handle of Miol-
ner till his knuckles grew white. He and his chil-
dren sued for grace, offering any terms ; and Thor,
laying aside his anger, accepted Thialfi and his sis-
ter Rosko for his servants, and left his goats there
behind them.
Thor now journeyed on towards Utgard 2 , or Yo-
tunheim, with Loki, Thialfi, and Rosko. They came
to the sea, swam across it, and arrived on the shore
of that country. They then entered a large wood,
1 Something like this is told of a Saint in a clever story
which I have seen in an Irish newspaper.
2 Utgard, i. e. Out-yard, is the region beyond the stream
which was supposed to encompass the earth. It was the abode
of giants, hence named Yotunheim, i. e. Giant-land.
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
through which they travelled the whole day long ;
Thialfi, who was the swiftest, carrying Thor's wal-
let. At the approach of evening they looked about
for a place to sleep in ; and in the dark they found
a great house, the door of which was as wide as the
house itself. They entered it, and went to rest ;
but about midnight there was a great earthquake,
the ground rocked, and the house shook. Thor
called up his companions, and finding a chamber
on the right-hand side, they went into it ; and
Thor, grasping his hammer, sat in the door, while
the others terrified crept in. They heard another
great crash, but they remained quiet till morning ;
when on going out of the house they saw a man,
* who was not little,' sleeping in the wood close
by, and snoring at a prodigious rate. Thor, now
seeing what the noise was which had terrified them
so much during the night, put on his belt, and was
preparing to dash out the sleeper's brains, when
the latter awoke, and on Thor's asking his name,
replied, that it was Skrymir ; adding, that he knew
very well who Thor was ; and then inquiring if
they had taken his glove, stretched out his hand
and picked it up. Thor now saw where it was he
had lodged, and that the house he had been in was
the thumb of the glove. Skrymir proposes that
they should join company, and also join stock ;
which being agreed on, he puts all into one wallet,
which he slings over his shoulder, and sets for-
ward at a huge pace. In the evening he lays him-
self down under an oak to sleep, desiring them to
THOR'S JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 215
open the wallet and make their supper, He be-
gan to snore : Thor tried to open the wallet, but
in vain ; not a single knot could he loosen. In a
rage he caught up his hammer, and hit Skrymir a
blow on the head ; who, waking, asked, was it a
leaf, or what else, had fallen on him, and why they
were not gone to rest. Thor laid himself under
another oak ; and at midnight, hearing Skrymir
snoring, got up and drove his hammer into his
brain ; Skrymir complained that an acorn must
have fallen. A third time Thor struck him on
the cheek, and buried the hammer in it up to the
handle ; Skrymir rubbed his cheek, and inquired
if there were any birds sitting in the tree, as a
feather had fallen.
It being now near morning, Skrymir informs
them that they are not far from the city of Ut-
gard ; and that, big as they thought him, they will
meet with people there with whom he was not to
be compared ; advising them to behave themselves
modestly when there, but rather recommending
them to return. Utgard, he tells them, is to the
east ; his way lies north, to the mountains. They
part, and at mid-day the travellers arrive within
sight of Utgard, built in a great plain, so high,
that to see the top of it they must May their
necks on their back.' The wicket was so great
that Thor could not open it ; and they crept in
through the bars. They approached the palace, and
drawing near the throne, saluted Utgard-Loki,
who, after some time, smiled and said, " 'T is late
216 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
to ask true tidings of a long journey since Oku-
Thor is become a little boy. But thou mayest be
greater than it appears to me. So what arts do
you possess, my lads ? No one can stay here who
is not expert at some art." Loki said that at eat-
ing he would turn his back on no one. Utgard-
Loki replied, that was an art if he could make
good what he said : then calling to a man named
Logi, who was sitting on the bench, he desired
him to come forward and try his strength with
Loki. A large trough full of meat was brought
in, and set on the floor : the champions sat down,
one at each end of it, and ate till they met in the
middle ; but it was found that Loki had picked
the bones, whereas Logi had eaten up his part,
bones and all ; and it was consequently given
against Loki.
Thialfi was now asked in what he excelled : and
when he had replied in running, a lad named Hu-
gin was matched with him. In the first heat,
Hugin, after going round the post, passed Thialfi
on his way to it. Utgard-Loki complimented
Thialfi on his swiftness, but told him he must do
better if he would win. In the second heat, Hugin
won by the length of a bow-shot. According to
modern practice, the race was now at an end ; but
in Giant-land they manage these matters differ-
ently, and a third heat was run, which was won
hollow by Hugin ; for he reached the goal before
Thialfi had gone over half the course.
Utgard-Loki now inquires of Thor what he
JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 217
could do to justify the fame that went abroad
of him. The Thunderer replied, that he would
undertake to drink against any of his people. A
servant was ordered to fetch a drinking-horn,
which Utgard-Loki handed to Thor, observing,
that some of his people could empty it at one
draught, many of them at two, but that no one
took more than three to drain it. The horn was
long, but did not look very large : Thor was
thirsty after his journey, and he thought that one
good pull would be sufficient. He drank till his
breath was gone, when, on looking at the horn, he
found, to his vexation, that the liquor had only
sunk a little below the edge. A second and a
third attempt were equally unsuccessful, and he
gave up. "It is easy to see that your strength
is not great," said Utgard-Loki ; " but will you
try any other game ? " Thor doggedly assented,
leaving the choice to the proposer. " My young
people here frequently amuse themselves with lift-
ing my cat off the ground. I should not, indeed,
think of proposing such a thing to Asa- Thor, were
it not that I saw that he is less of a man than I
thought." Just as he spoke, a big grey tom-cat
leaped out on the floor. Thor put his hand under
him, to raise him up; but the cat curved his back,
and with all Thor's efforts he could only raise one
of his feet off the ground. " Ah ! it 's just as I
expected," said Utgard-Loki ; " the cat is large,
and you are short and little." " Little as I am,"
said Thor, " let any of you come wrestle with
L
218 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
me now I am vexed." Utgard-Loki looked round
him, and said, "I see no one here who would
think he should gain any reputation by wrestling
with you. Call hither the old woman that nursed
me : you may wrestle with her. She has thrown
down many young men, who were, as I think, not
inferior to you." The old dame was tough: Thor
struggled with might and main : the more he
tugged, the firmer she stood. Thor, in a violent
effort, fell on one knee ; and, as night was coming
on, Utgard-Loki put an end to the contest.
Next morning the Aser (gods) set out home-
wards, Utgard-Loki accompanying them out of
the town. On Thor's expressing his fears that they
would think disparagingly of him, his host spake
as follows : " Now that you are out of the town,
I may tell you the truth ; for if I had known that
your strength was so prodigious as it is, you never
should have gone into it. I began to practice illu-
sions on you in the wood, where I first met you.
When you went to open the wallet, it was fastened
with a strong iron bar, and you could not there-
fore loosen it." He then informed him that it was
a rock he had struck in place of his head, in which
he had made three great dints, one of which was
exceedingly deep ; that it was a devouring flame,
in the shape of a man, that ate against Loki ; and
that it was Hugin (Thought) that ran against
Thialfi ; that the smaller end of the horn had
been set in the sea, and when he arrived there he
would see how much its depths were diminished ;
THOR'S JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 219
(and this, says the Edda, is the cause of bays and
shoals;) that the cat was Midgard's snake 1 , and
that they were all terrified when they saw him
raise a part of him off the earth ; finally, the old
woman with whom he wrestled was Old Age,
whom no one ever yet overthrew. Utgard-Loki
prayed Thor never to visit him again. The god,
enraged at those deceptions, raised his hammer
to crush Utgard-Loki, but the illuder was not to
be seen ; the city, too, had vanished like a mist,
and they found themselves alone in an open ex-
tensive plain, and returned to Thrudvang, Thor's
abode, without encountering any further adven-
tures.
Of the antiquity and genuineness of this legend
there can be no doubt ; for in the poem of the
elder Edda, called ^Igir's Banquet, where Loki
is casting in the teeth of the gods and goddesses
their various discreditable adventures, he reminds
z Thor of his having sat gathered up in the thumb
'of a glove, and not being able to undo the thong
of Skrymir's wallet. It is alluded to in the poem
of Harbard's Song ; and appears also to lie at the
foundation of the narrative given by Saxo in his
eighth book of the Voyage of Thorkild Adilfar
in search of Ugarthilok, undertaken at the desire
of Gorm king of Denmark. Thorlacius, who
quotes it at length in his celebrated essay entitled
1 The Snake that lies in the stream which encompasses the
Earth. See the Edda.
L 2
220 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
" Something about Thor and his Hammer," sees
in it a strong confirmation of his opinion of there
having been a set of nature-gods worshiped in
Scandinavia before the arrival of the Asiatics, who
usurped their honours and their names, but who
were unable to eradicate the reverence for them, so
deeply was it implanted in the public mind. He
regards it as the composition of a free-thinker
a species that could not be wanting in the Old
North who, though outwardly complying with
the Odinian religion, secretly adored the powers
of Nature, and composed this legend to show how
feeble the reigning celestial dynasty was in com-
parison with Nature and her powers. There cer-
tainly can be little doubt that ancient Scandinavia
had her e sprits forts ; and the author of the poem
of ^Egir's Banquet, just mentioned, has not inap-
propriately been styled the Northern Lucian : but
I cannot by any means be induced to look upon
the framer of this legend as a depredator of Asa-
Thor. On the contrary, all through it his strength
is represented as enormous ; and the only refuge
of Utgard-Loki against it lay in deception and il-
lusion.
According to Finn Magnussen, this legend de-
notes the struggle between Thor, the hurler of the
thunder, and the Demon of the cold of winter. In
the old Northern calendars, he says, the glove is
the symbol of the commencement of winter, in
which, as thunder is rare in that season, Thor
may be said to go to sleep; the snoring of Skrymir
TUCKS JOURNEY TO UTGARD. 221
is the storm and tempest of winter, on which the
blows of the Thunderer can produce no effect.
The insoluble knots of the wallet are the cold
which closes up the earth, the great bag of food.
Loki and Logi, whose names are nearly the same,
both signifying flame, he would regard with re-
spect to their effects ; taking the former for flame
properly so called, the other for the cold which
'performs the effect of fire.' Thialfi is the wind
of summer; the Thought of Utgard-Loki that of
winter. The disappearance of this latter and his
city, is the departure of winter with its storms, its
fields of snow and fantastic piles of ice, leaving
the grassy verdant plains free and unincumbered.
This explication is tolerably ingenious, and it may
be true ; but I fear it is only an instance of M.
Magnussen's usual babit of attempting to explain
every thing on the physical theory ; and I much
suspect, that if the Scald who framed the legend
were to return to life, he would declare that these
subtle allegories never entered his conception;
and that he only meant to entertain his auditors,
and exalt the mighty Thor.
Such, then, is the venerable mythe of the Edda,
and thus has it been explained. Shall we now say
that our Anglo-Saxon or Danish ancestors brought
it with them to England, and that the incident com-
mon to it and the tale of the Giant-killer was pre-
served by tradition, and adopted by the author of
that story ? Such an assertion would be too hardy,
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
yet it might be true: legends of the Edda are living
in the popular tradition of Scandinavia at this very
day ; and from the tone and circumstances of the
history of the Giant-killer, I think it by no means
unlikely that its date may be anterior to that of
the conquest of Wales by Edward I. It is cer-
tainly older than the time of Elizabeth ; for in
King Lear, Edgar, as Mad Tom, says,
" Child Rowland to the dark tower came ;
His words were still * Fee, faw, and fum !
I smell the blood of a British man' :"
which evidently alludes to this renowned history.
The device, however, is, as we shall see, to be
found in the legendary lore of more distant coun-
tries.
In Sir John Malcolm's most agreeable and in-
structive Sketches of Persia, we meet the follow-
ing highly amusing story, which Sir John says
was related to him by his friend Hajee Hoosein,
at a dreary spot in Persia, named the Valley of the
Angel of Death.
The Hajee informed his companion, that this
was one of the most favourite terrestrial abodes of
Azrael (the Angel of Death), and that here he was
surrounded by Ghools, who are a species of mon-
sters that feed on the carcasses of all the beings
which he deprives of life. "The Ghools," he added,
" are of a hideous form, but they can assume any
shape they please, in order to lure men to their
AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL. 223
destruction ; they can alter their voices for the
same laudable purpose." " The frightful screams
and yells," said the Hajee, " which are often heard
amid these dreaded ravines, are changed for the
softest and most melodious notes : unwary travel-
lers, deluded by the appearance of friends, or cap-
tivated by the forms and charmed by the music of
these demons, are allured from their path, and after
feasting for a few hours on every luxury are con-
signed to destruction."
In conclusion said the Hajee, " These creatures
are the very lowest of the supernatural world ;
and besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and
consequently often imposed upon by artful men ! .
I will recount you a story that is well authenti-
cated, to prove that what I say is just."
AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL.
" You know," said he, " that the natives of Is-
fahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and
acute people upon earth, and often supply the want
of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that
1 The Ghool is plainly the same kind of being as the Oreo
of the Italian, the Ogre of the French popular tales. In the
fifteenth of the Thousand and One Nights, Galland rendered
Ghool by Ogre. I believe I may take the merit of having
been the first to show that the Oreo of Bojardo and Ariosto
is an Ogre (Fairy Mythology, ii. p. 237.). Mr. Douce,
however, has shown me that he also had perceived it. The
description of Charlemagne's porter L'Orco, in the Morgante
Maggiore (C. xxvii. St. 262 264.), strongly tends to confirm
the identity of the French and the Italian monster.
224 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
city was once compelled to travel alone and at
night through this dreadful valley. He was a man
of ready wit, and fond of adventures, and, though
no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which
had brought him through a hundred scrapes and
perils, that would have embarrassed or destroyed
your simple man of valour.
" This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had
heard many stones of Ghools of the Valley of the
Angel of Death, and thought it likely he might
meet one : he prepared, accordingly, by putting an
egg and a lump of salt in his pocket. He had not
gone far amid the rocks we have just passed, when
he heard a voice crying, * Holloa, Ameen Beg Is-
fahanee ! you are going the wrong road ; you will
lose yourself: come this way : I am your friend
Kerreem Beg : I know your father, old Kerbela
Beg, and the street in which you were born.'
Ameen knew well the power the Ghools had of
assuming the shape of any person they chose ; and
he also knew their skill as genealogists, and their
knowledge of towns as well as families : he had,
therefore, little doubt that this was one of those
creatures alluring him to destruction. He however
determined to encounter him, and trust to his art
for his escape.
" ' Stop, my friend, till I come near you,' was
his reply. When Ameen came close to the Ghool,
he said, 'You are not my friend Kerreem, you are
a lying demon ; but you are just the being I de-
sired to meet. I have tried my strength against
AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL. 225
all the men and all the beasts which exist in the
natural world, and I can find nothing that is a
match for me. I came, therefore, to this valley,
in the hope of encountering a Ghool, that I might
prove my prowess upon him.'
" The Ghool, astonished at being addressed in
this manner, looked keenly at him, and said, 'Son
of Adam, you do not appear so strong/ ' Ap-
pearances are deceitful, 5 replied Ameen ; * but I
will give you proof of my strength. There,' said
he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, * this con-
tains a fluid ; try if you can so squeeze it that it
will flow out.' The Ghool took the stone, but after
a short attempt returned it, saying, ' The thing is
impossible.' * Quite easy,' said the Isfahanee,
taking the stone, and placing it in the hand in
which he had before put the egg : * look there ! '
and the astonished Ghool, while he heard what he
took for the breaking of the stone, saw the liquid
run from between Ameen's fingers, and this ap-
parently without any effort.
" Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the
stone upon the ground while he picked up another
of a darker hue. * This,' said he, * I can see, con-
tains salt, as you will find if you can crumble it
between your fingers.' But the Ghool, looking at
it, confessed he had neither knowledge to disco-
ver the qualities, nor strength to break it. * Give
it me,' said his companion impatiently ; and having
put it into the same hand with the piece of salt,
he instantly gave the latter, all crushed, to the
L 5
226 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Ghool, who, seeing it reduced to powder, tasted
it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the
skill and strength of this wonderful man. Neither
was he without alarm lest his strength should be
exerted against himself; and he saw no safety in
resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had
warned him that if he commenced any such un-
fair dealing he would instantly slay him ; for
Ghools, though long-lived, are not immortal.
" Under such circumstances he thought his best
plan was to conciliate the friendship of his new
companion till he found an opportunity of destroy-
ing him.
" * Most wonderful man ! ' he said, ' will you
honour my abode with your presence ? it is quite
at hand : there you will find every refreshment ;
and after a comfortable night's rest you can re-
sume your journey.'
" * I have no objection, friend Ghool, to accept
your offer : but mark me, I am, in the first place,
very passionate, and must not be provoked by any
expressions which are in the least disrespectful ;
and in the second, I am full of penetration, and
can see through your designs as clearly as I saw
into that hard stone in which I discovered salt :
so take care you entertain none that are wicked,
or you shall suffer.'
" The Ghool declared that the ear of his guest
should be pained by no expression to which it did
not befit his dignity to listen ; and he swore by
the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death,
AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL. 227
that he would faithfully respect the rights of hospi-
tality and friendship.
" Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the Ghool
through a number of crooked paths, rugged cliffs,
and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave,
which was dimly lighted. * Here,' said the Ghool,
1 1 dwell; and here my friend will find all he
can want for refreshment and repose.' So saying,
he led him to various apartments, in which was
hoarded every species of grain, and all kinds of
merchandize, plundered from travellers who had
been deluded to this den, and of whose fate
Ameen was too well informed by the bones over
which he now and then stumbled, and by the pu-
trid smell produced by some half-consumed car-
cases.
" * This will be sufficient for your supper, I
hope,' said the Ghool, taking up a large bag of
rice ; * a man of your prowess must have a toler-
able appetite.' * True,' said Ameen ; * but I ate
a sheep, and as much rice as you have there, be-
fore I proceeded on my journey. I am, conse-
quently, not hungry ; but will take a little, lest I
offend your hospitality.' * I must boil it for you,'
said the demon ; you do not eat grain and meat
raw, as we do. Here is a kettle,' said he, taking
up one lying amongst the plundered property : *I
will go and get wood for a fire, while you fetch
water with that,' pointing to a bag made of the
hides of six oxen.
" Ameen waited till he saw his host leave the
228 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
cave for the wood ; and then, with great diffi-
culty, he dragged the enormous bag to the bank
of a dark stream which issued from the rocks at
the other end of the cavern, and after being visible
for a few yards, disappeared underground.
" How shall I, thought Ameen, prevent my
weakness being discovered : this bag I could hard-
ly manage when empty ; when full it would re-
quire twenty strong men to carry it : what shall
I do ? I shall certainly be eaten up by this can-
nibal Ghool, who is now only kept in order by the
impression of my great strength. After some
minutes' reflection, the Isfahanee thought of a
scheme, and began digging a small channel from
the stream towards the place where his supper
was preparing.
" ' What are you doing ? ' vociferated the Ghool,
as he advanced towards him ; * I sent you for water
to boil a little rice, and you have been an hour
about it. Cannot you fill the bag, and bring it
away ? ' ' Certainly I can/ said Ameen : * if I
were content, after all your kindness, to show my
gratitude merely by feats of brute strength, I
could lift your stream, if you had a bag large
enough to hold it ; but here,' said he, pointing to
the channel he had begun, * here is the commence-
ment of a work in which the mind of man is em-
ployed to lessen the labour of his body. This
canal, small as it may appear, will carry a stream
to the other end of the cave, in which I will con-
struct a dam that you can open and shut at plea-
AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL. 229
sure, and thereby save yourself infinite trouble in
fetching water. But pray let me alone till it is
finished :' and he began to dig. * Nonsense !,'
said the Ghool, seizing the bag and filling it ; * I
will carry the water myself; and I advise you to
leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me,
that you may eat your supper and go to sleep ;
you may finish this fine work, if you like it, to-
morrow morning.'
" Ameen congratulated himself on this escape,
and was not slow in taking the advice of his host.
After having eaten heartily of the supper that was
prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the
richest coverlets and pillows, which were taken
from the store-rooms of plundered goods. The
Ghool, whose bed was also in the cave, had no
sooner laid down than he fell into a sound sleep.
The anxiety of Ameen's mind prevented him from
following his example : he rose gently, and having
stuffed a long pillow into the middle of his bed, to
make it appear as if he were still there, he retired
to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the
proceedings of the Ghool. The latter awoke a
short time before daylight, and rising went, with-
out making any noise, towards Ameen's bed, where
not observing the least stir, he was satisfied his
guest was in a deep sleep ; so he took up one of
his walking-sticks, which was in size like the trunk
of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he
supposed to be Ameen's head. He smiled, not to
hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him of
230 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
life ; but to make sure of his work, lie repeated
the blow seven times. He then returned to rest,
but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when
Ameen, who had crept into the bed, raised his
head above the clothes and exclaimed, * Friend
Ghool, what insect could it be that has disturbed
me by its tapping? I counted the flap of its little
wings seven times on the coverlet. These vermin
are very annoying, for though they cannot hurt a
man, they disturb his rest ! '
" The Ghool's dismay, on hearing Ameen speak
at all, was great ; but that was increased to per-
fect fright when he heard him describe seven
blows, any one of which would have felled an ele-
phant, as seven flaps of an insect's wing. There
was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a
man; and he soon afterwards arose, and fled from
the cave, leaving Isfahanee its sole master.
" When Ameen found his host gone, he was at
no loss to conjecture the cause, and immediately
began to survey the treasure with which he was
surrounded, and to contrive means for removing
them to his own home.
" After ex mining the contents of the cave, and
arming himself with a match-lock, which had be-
longed to some victim of the Ghool, he proceeded
to survey the road. He had, however, only gone
a short distance, when he saw the Ghool returning
with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by
a fox. Ameei/s knowledge of the cunning animal
instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived
THE GOAT AND THE LION. 231
his enemy, but his presence of mind did not for-
sake him. ' Take that,' said he to the fox, aiming
a ball at him from his match-lock, and shooting
him through the head ; * take that for your not
performing my orders. That brute,' said he, ' pro-
mised to bring me seven ghools, that I might
chain them and bring them to Isfahan ; and here
he has only brought you, who are already my
slave.' So saying, he advanced towards the Ghool ;
but the latter had already taken to flight, and by
the aid of his club bounded so rapidly over rocks
and precipices, that he was soon out of sight.
" Ameen having marked well the path from the
cavern to the road, went to the nearest town, and
hired camels and mules to remove the property
he had acquired. After making restitution to all
who remained alive to prove their goods, he be-
came, from what was unclaimed, a man of wealth ;
all of which was owing to that wit and art which
ever overcome brute strength and courage."
As a parallel to the latter part of this tale, and
as a proof of his theory of most Persian tales
having been borrowed from the Hindoos, Sir J.
Malcolm relates the following story from the
Pancha Tantra of that people.
THE GOAT AND THE LION.
"The goat took shelter during a storm in the
den of a lion. When he saw no chance of escape,
232 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
he terrified the king of the beasts by boasting of a
celestial origin, and telling him he had been con-
demned, before he could return to Heaven, to eat
ten elephants, ten tigers, and ten lions. He had,
he said, eaten every kind of animal but the lion ;
and saying this, he marched up to the astonished
monster, who fled by a back way from his den.
The lion in his flight met a fox, and described to
him the appearance of the goat (an animal he had
never seen before), his horns, his strange beard,
and, above all, his boasting language. The fox
laughed, and told his majesty how he had been
tricked. They went back together, and met the
goat at the entrance of the den. The latter at
once saw his danger, but his wits did not forsake
him. ' What conduct is this, you scoundrel ? '
said he to the fox ; * I commanded you to get me
ten lions, and here you have only brought me
one.' So saying, he advanced boldly, and the
lion, again frightened by his words and actions,
fled in terror, allowing the goat to return quietly
to his home."
I am very willing to concede that this Hindoo
fable may have been the original of the latter part
of the Persian story. But how, unless by sup-
posing similar incidents to have been invented in
different countries, can we account for the re-
semblance between this last and the Brave Tai-
lorling? But it is curious enough, that most of
the circumstances of all three are to be found in
THE LION AND THE ASS. 233
one of the stories of the Pleasant Nights ! It is
really very amusing to observe these various like-
nesses.
THE LION AND THE ASS 1 .
There was once upon a time a miller in Arca-
dia, a brutal ill-tempered fellow, and he gave his
ass such cruel treatment, that the poor animal
could bear it no longer. So one morning he ran
away from him, with the pack-saddle on his back,
and never stopped till he came to the foot of a
green flowery hill, where he resolved to take up
his quarters for life. He looked round on all sides,
and seeing no danger, mounted the hill boldly,
and began to feed, returning God thanks for his
goodness. But just then a fierce lion came out
of a dark cave, who, beholding the ass, marvelled
at his audacity in coming up on his hill ; never-
theless, not having before seen any such animal,
he was not without apprehension, and lie resolved
to proceed cautiously. As for the ass, his hair
stood on end with fear, and he could not stir from
the spot. The lion plucked up courage, and came
up, and civilly asked him who he was, and what
brought him there. The ass boldly asked him
who he was. " I am the king of all the beasts,"
said the lion, somewhat daunted. " And what is
1 As there is no peculiar merit in the style of Strapa-
rola, I have abridged the story, and related it in my own
words.
234 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
your name ?" said the ass. " They call me Lion.
But what is your name?" " Those who know me
call me Brancalion 1 ," replied the donkey. The
lion became now quite convinced that the ass was
his superior, and he said, " Brancalion, your name
and your words prove you to be stronger and
bolder than I am ; nevertheless, let us give some
proof of what we can do." The ass, stoutly, turned
round to him, and said, " See you this pack-sad-
dle and cross-bow ? if I were to shoot, you would
die with fear." So saying, he made two or three
curvets, and kicked up his heels in such fashion,
breaking the pebbles therewith, that the lion hardly
thought himself safe. However, as evening was at
hand, he asked him home to his cave, telling him
that in the morning he would set three things be-
fore him, and whoever did them best should be
lord of the mountain.
Next morning they set out, and went on till
they came to a broad deep ditch, and the lion
challenged the ass to jump over it. The lion
cleared it with ease ; but the poor donkey made
so awkward an attempt, that he landed with his
belly on a great beam that was in it, and was in
danger of breaking his neck. The lion, having vain-
ly called to him, came down and helped him off;
but when the ass found himself safe, he turned
to and began to abuse the lion for depriving him
of so much pleasure. "What pleasure?" said
1 Brancaleone (from brancare, to seize with the paw, and
teone, lion,) is difficult to translate.
THE LION AND THE ASS. 235
the astonished lion. " I got across the beam on
purpose," said the ass ; " and I was balancing my
self to see which was the heavier, my head or
my tail." " In good truth," said the lion, " you
have a subtle wit. I will molest you no more, for
I see plainly that you are to be lord of the moun-
tain."
They came next to a deep rapid river. " Now,"
said the lion, " friend Brancalion, " let us swim
across." " Content ! " said the ass, " but you must
go first." The lion, who could swim well, was soon
at the other side. He then called to the ass to fol-
low, and seeing there was no remedy, he plunged
in and swam to the middle of the river ; but here
the current was too strong for him, and it whirl-
ed him about at such a rate, that he lost all his
strength and courage. The kind lion was in great
perplexity how to act ; he was afraid that if he
did not go to his aid, he would be drowned ; and
that if he did go, he would kill him for his inter-
ference. At last, however, he plunged in, caught
him by the tail, and dragged him to the shore.
But the donkey, T ,vhen he found himself safe, got
into a towering rage, and lamented his misfortune
in losing such delight. The lion, in an agony of
fear, sought to excuse himself, and timidly asked
what the pleasure was. The ass then shook him-
self, and with the water there fell from him some
small fishes and reptiles which had stuck to him.
" See, you great booby," said he then, " what you
have done. If I had gone to the bottom, I should
236 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
have caught as many fish as would have amazed
you. If you value my friendship, never touch me
again, even if you see me dead, for when I seem
to be dead I am only enjoying myself."
As the sun was now doubling the shadows, they
retired to the cave to rest ; and next morning, at
break of day, the lion proposed that they should
go hunt on different sides, and meet at a certain
time and place, and then he who had killed most
game should be lord of the mountain. This being
agreed on, the lion went into a wood and killed
plenty of animals ; the ass finding the gate of a farm-
yard open, went in, and meeting with a great heap
of oats, fell to, and ate till he was ready to burst ;
and then made his way to the appointed place,
where he lay down on the ground quite unable to
move from the spot. A crow happening to come
to the place, he contrived to catch and kill her ;
and when the lion came back laden with game,
and at his desire gave him an account of his
hunting, the ass mocked him to scorn, telling
him how he, without stirring from the spot, had
gorged himself with game, and had kept that fat
crow for him as a specimen, which he begged he
would take as a mark of his affection.
The lion, having taken the crow and thanked
the ass, went away to hunt again, firmly resolved
never to come back. On his way he met the wolf
in full gallop. " Whither so fast, Gossip Wolf? "
said he. " I am going on affairs of the greatest
importance, so pray do not stop me," replied the
THE LION AND THE ASS. 237
wolf. The lion, knowing the danger into which
he was running, did all in his power to stay him.
" Close at hand," said he, " is Brancalion, a most
cruel animal, who has a cross-bow that makes
such a noise, that it is terrific to hear it ; and he
has, moreover, on his back a strange thing made
of leather, that I fancy serves him for a cuirass ;
his hair is grey, and he does such wonderful
things, as amaze all who come near him." The
wolf by this description knew at once what he
was talking about, and he said, " My lord, be
not afraid ; it is only an ass, the vilest creature
Nature has made, only fit to carry burdens and be
cudgelled. I have eaten many a hundred of them
in my time ; and though I am grey, I am not very
old yet. Come, Sir, and I will let you see the
proof of it." " Go yourself, if you like," said the
lion ; " for my part, I am quite satisfied with what
I have seen already."
The wolf, however, persuaded him ; and the lion
agreed to go back, on condition that they should
tie their two tails together, " that we may not se-
parate," said he, " and one of us be at his mercy."
So they knotted their tails and set forth.
When the ass saw them coming, he was ready
to die with terror, and was just preparing to run
away, when the lion seeing him said, " Gossip !
he is corning, let us fly, or he will put us to death :
I know how furious he is." The wolf, who was
mad to attack him, said, " Wait, I pray you, my
lord, and do not fear, he is only an ass !" But the
238 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
lion, more terrified than ever, scampered away
over hedge and ditch, and brake and thicket ; and
as he was jumping a thick hedge, a strong thorn
put out his left eye ; and thinking that this was
caused by Brancalion's cross-bow, he kept crying
to the wolf, " Did I not tell you so, Gossip ? let
us run, in the devil's name ; he has already shot
out my eye with his cross-bow." And away he
went, dragging the poor wolf over hill and dale,
through woods arid rocks, and briars and bram-
bles. At length, when he had reached, as he
thought, a place of safety, he said to the wolf,
" Gossip ! it is now time for us to untie our tails.
What say you ?" But getting no answer, and find-
ing on examination that the poor wolf was lifeless,
he cried, " Ah, Gossip ! did I not tell you he would
kill you. See what you have got! You have lost
your life, and I my left eye. But patience ! it is
better to lose a part than the whole." So, having
untied his tail, he left the dead wolf, and went and
took up his abode in the wild woods and caverns,
leaving the ass in possession of the hill, where he
lived a long time. And hence it is that the asses
inhabit cultivated places, and the lions the wild
and solitary deserts.
We may ask, Did this fable wander from the
banks of the Indus to those of the Po ? And who
can take on him to assert either the positive or
the negative dogmatically ? The fables of India
certainly made their way very early to Europe,
THE LION AND THE ASS. 239
and the Lion and the Goat may have furnished
some circumstances to the Lion and the Ass ; but
Italian genius might have fallen on the same traits
with that of India. Like so many legends of other
countries, we may observe, that the object of the
Italian fable is to account for the different habits
of different animals.
I have not yet done with the stratagem (a very
simple one, by the way, it is,) of putting an impas-
sible substitute into one's bed. In Perrault's tale
of the Discreet Princess (L'Adroite Princesse), Fi-
netta makes a figure of straw, into which she puts
a bladder of blood, and places it in her bed ; and
the prince, taking it to be her, plunges his sword
into it. In the similar but far better story of
Sapia Liccarda in the Pentamerone, the heroine
forms an image of * sugar and spice and all that 's
nice,' and in like manner lays it in her bed. The
prince comes into the chamber determined to pay
her, now that she is in his power, for all her tricks
(she had one time, for instance, put a big stone
into his bed) : he draws his dagger, and with it
pierces, as he thought, the bosom of Sapia Lic-
carda. Not content with this abundant vengeance,
he would even taste her blood. He put his tongue
to the blade of the dagger, and getting the taste
of the sugar and spice, he repented, and began
bitterly to lament his having slain so srveet a girl.
In his despair he was about to bury the dagger in
240 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
his own heart, when Sapia (who, like Finetta, was
concealed in the chamber,) ran to him and stopped
his hand, telling him that she had only done it to
try him.
So much, then, for tricks upon giants, gods,
ghools, lions, and naughty princes ! Now for one
of the ways to grow rich.
241
CHAPTER VII.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT DANISH LEGENDS ITALIAN
STORIES PERSIAN LEGEND.
RICHARD WHITTINGTON was born in the year 1360.
He followed the business of a mercer in the City
of London, and acquired great opulence. Having
served the office of Sheriff with credit in the year
1394, he was chosen Lord Mayor, and filled that
office not less than three times 1 , namely, in the
years 1398, 1407, and 1420. He was knighted,
it is said, by King Henry V., to whom he lent
large sums of money for his wars in France ; and
he died full of honours, if not of years, in the
year 1425.
" This year," (1406,) says Grafton, "a worthy
citizen of London named Richard Whittington,
mercer, and alderman, was elected mayor of the
said city, and bore that office three times. This
worshipful man so bestowed his goods and sub-
stance to the honour of God, to the relief of the
poor, and to the benefit of the common-weal, that
he hath right well deserved to be registered in
the book of fame. First, he erected one house, or
1 Stow says four times. I find by the table of mayors and
sheriffs in Grafton, that Whittington was both sheriff and
mayor in 1420; and this may have caused Stow's mistake.
M
242 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
church, in London, to be a house of prayer, and
named the same after his own name, \Vhittington
College, and so it remaineth to this day : and in
the said church, beside certain priests and clerks,
he placed a number of poor aged men and women,
and builded for them houses and lodgings, and
allowed unto them wood, coal, cloth, and weekly
money, to their great relief and comfort. This
man also, at his own cost, builded the gate of
London called Newgate 1 , in the year of our Lord
1422, which before was a most ugly and loath-
some prison. He also builded more than half of
St. Bartholomew's Hospital, in West Smithfield
in London. Also he builded, of hard stone, the
beautiful library in the Grey Friars in London,
now called Christ's Hospital, standing in the north
part of the cloister thereof, where in the wall his
arms is graven in stone. He also builded, for the
ease of the mayor of London and his brethren,
and of the worshipful citizens at the solemn
days of their assembly, a chapel adjoining to the
Guildhall ; to the intent they should ever, before
they entered into any of their affairs, first to go
into the chapel, and by prayer to call upon God
for his assistance. And in the end, joining on the
south side of the said chapel, he builded for the
City a library of stone, for the custody of their
1 The figure of Whittington, with his cat in his arms,
carved in stone, was over the archway of the old prison that
went across Newgate Street. It was taken down in the year
1780.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 243
records and other books. He also builded a
great part of the east end of Guildhall, beside
many other good works that I know not. But
among all other I will show unto you one very
notable, which I received credibly by a writing of
his own hand, which also he willed to be fixed as
a scedule to his last will and testament ; the con-
tents whereof was, that he willed and commanded
his executors, as they would answer before God
at the day of the resurrection of all flesh, that if
they found any debtor of his that ought to him
any money, that if he were not in their consciences
well worth three times as much, and also out of
the debt of other men, and well able to pay, that
then they should never demand it, for he clearly
forgave it, and that they should put no man in
suit for any debt due to him. Look upon this,
ye aldermen, for it is a glorious glass 1 1 "
Stow 2 informs us, that Richard Whittington re-
built the parish church of St. Michael in the Royal,
and made a college of St. Spirit and St. Mary, with
an almshouse called God's House or Hospital for
thirteen poor men, who were to pray for the good
estate of Richard Whittington, and of Alice his
wife, their founders ; and for Sir William Whit-
tington, Knt., and Dame Joan his wife ; and for
Hugh Fitz warren and Dame Malde his wife, the
1 Alas, good Master Grafton ! I fear it is a glass in which
but few aldermen have ever dressed themselves.
2 History of London.
M 2
244 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
fathers and mothers of the said Richard Whitting-
ton and Alice his wife ; for King Richard II., and
Thomas of Woodstock, special lords and pro-
moters of the said Whittington, &c.
From this, I think, it very clearly follows that
Sir Richard Whittington never could have been a
poor bare-legged boy l ; for it is here plainly as-
serted that his father was a knight ; and honours,
we know, were not so lavishly and indiscriminately
bestowed in those days as they are in our own,
no great proof, by the way, of the * march of in-
tellect.' Yet in every account of Whittington that
I have seen, he is said to have been born in very
humble circumstances. This erroneous idea has
evidently been owing to the popular legend of him
and his cat ; and it shows how fiction will occa-
sionally drive truth out of her domain.
Such, then, is the real history of this renowned
Lord Mayor ; but tradition, we know, tells a very
different tale : of this I must now notice a few cir-
cumstances.
I need not tell, what every one knows, or should
know, how Dick Whittington, a poor orphan boy,
came up to London from the country, and how a
rich merchant named Fitzwarren took compassion
on him, and put him in the kitchen under his cook ;
or of the cook's ill-treatment of him ; or of how
Miss Alice, his master's daughter, showed him
1 Yet Sir W. Whittington, or whoever was the founder of
the family, may have been such.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 245
much kindness ; or of the miserable life the rats
and mice that swarmed in the garret where he
slept led him, till with a penny he had gotten he
purchased a cat. This is all beside our present
purpose. But Dick's master, Mr. Fitzwarren, was
shortly afterwards sending a ship to sea, and he
gave all his servants permission to send out a
venture in her. Poor Dick had no property on
earth but his cat, and by his master's orders he
fetched her down from his garret, and committed
her to the captain with tears in his eyes ; for he
said he should now be kept awake all night by
the rats and the mice. All laughed at Dick's ven-
ture, but Miss Alice kindly gave him money to
purchase another cat.
The ship was driven to the coast of Barbary ;
and the captain having sent specimens of his cargo
to the king of the country, he and his chief mate
were invited to court, where they were royally
entertained ; but the moment the dishes were set
on the table, rats and mice ran from all sides and
devoured what was on them. The captain was
told that the king would give half his wealth to
be delivered of this torment ; and instantly recol-
lecting poor Dick's cat, he told the king that he
could destroy them. He went down to the ship
and fetched up puss under his arm. The tables
were covered once more, and the usual havoc be-
gan ; when the cat, jumping among the depreda-
tors, made a carnage of them, which amazed all
present, The king, out of gratitude, purchased
246 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the whole ship's cargo, and gave, over and above, a
great quantity of gold for the cat, and the captain
set sail for England.
To whom is the subsequent history of Richard
Whittington unknown ? Who knows not how, du-
ring the absence of the ship, he ran away from the
ill-treatment of the cook, and had gotten as far as
Holloway, when he sat down on the stone which
at this very day is called Whittington's Stone, and
heard Bow bells ring out
" Turn again, Whittington,
Thrice Lord Mayor of London town ! "
And how he married good Miss Alice, and be-
came in reality Lord Mayor of this even then
great city ?
In the whole of this legendary history there
is, as we may see, not one single word of truth
further than this that the maiden name of Lady
Whittington was Fitzwarren. It is really deserv-
ing of attention, as an instance of the manner in
which tradition will falsify history ' ; and it would
be extremely interesting to ascertain the exact
1 Sir James Mackintosh (History of England, i. 56.), when
speaking of the story of King Edgar and the fair Elfrida,
says, " William of Malmsbury relates the incident on the
authority (not to he despised) of a Saxon song." I am loth
to dissent from such high authority ; but my historic expe-
rience assures me that in the great majority of cases the evi-
dence of the popular tale or ballad is to be despised, at least
to be received with very great caution.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 24-7
age of the legend. Neither Grafton, nor Holing-
shed who copies him, says anything of the legen-
dary history of Sir Richard Whittington ; but it
must have been current in the reign of Elizabeth,
for in the first scene of Beaumont and Fletcher's
Knight of the Burning Pestle (about A.D. 1613),
the Citizen says to the Prologue, " Why could not
you be contented as well as others with the Le-
gend of Whittington ? or the Life and Death of
Sir Thomas Gresham, with the Building of the
Royal Exchange ? or the story of Queen Eleanor,
with the Rearing of London Bridge upon Wool-
sacks ? " The word legend in this place would
seem to indicate the story of the Cat 1 ; and we
cannot therefore well assign it a later date than
the sixteenth century.
Cats, we know, fetched a high price in America
when it was first colonised by the Spaniards. Two
cats, we are told, were taken out on speculation
to Cuyaba, where there was a plague of rats, and
they were sold for a pound of gold. Their first
kittens fetched each thirty pieces of eight, the
next generation not more than twenty, and the
price gradually fell as the colony became stocked
with them. The elder Almagro is also said to
have given 600 pieces of eight to the person who
2 Indeed the following note of Weber's seems to prove it.
" This play was probably never printed, but entered on the
Stationers' books Feb. 8, 1604, with the following title : ' The
History of Richard Whittington, of his lowe Byrthe, his great
Fortune, as it was plaied by the Prynce's Servants'."
248 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
presented him with the first cat which was brought
to South America 1 .
On reading this, one might feel disposed to
assign a historical foundation to the legend of
Whittington's Cat ; but, as I shall presently show,
a story of the kind was current in Europe long
before the discovery of the New World, which
may, after the usual fashion, have been transferred
to the Lord Mayor of London, though indeed I
see no reason for denying his legend to be an in-
dependent British fiction.
It is strange what a propensity the vulgar have
for assigning some other cause than industry, fru-
gality and skill, seconded by good fortune (the
usual and surest road, I believe, to wealth), to the
acquisition of riches. I hardly ever knew, in my
own country, an instance of the attainment to opu-
lence by a man who, as the phrase goes, had risen
from nothing, that there was not some extraordi-
nary mode of accounting for it circulating among
the vulgar. The simplest and most usual expla-
nation of the phaenomenon, was to assert that he
had gotten a treasure in some way or other. Thus,
for example, I once knew a man whose original
name had been Halfpenny (when he rose in the
world he refined it to Halpen), and w r ho had
grown rich from the humblest means. I was one
day, when a boy, speaking of him and his success
in the world to our gardener : " Sure, then, you are
1 See the Olio, vol. x. p. 208.
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 249
not such a gomaril (fool), Sir," said he, smiling at
ray simplicity, " as to believe it was by honest in-
dustry he made all his money ? I '11 tell you, Sir,
how ic raley was. You see, he sent one time to
the Castle for a keg of halfpence, and, by the
laws ! what did they send him in mistake but a
keg full of goulden guineas ! And Jemmy, you
see, was 'cute, and he kept his own secret, and by
degrees he thruv, as it might be, in the world, and
become the man he is. That 's the rale truth of it,
for you !" Here then, en passant, we have an in-
stance of the name giving occasion to the legend.
I have assigned this as one of the principal sources
of legends in my Mythology of Greece and Italy,
and abundant instances of it may be found in every
country. Another, given on the same good au-
thority, may not prove devoid of interest.
There was a family of the name of Wolfe living
in our neighbourhood, and I was often assured
that originally they had had long tails that reach-
ed the ground, but that with each generation they
had shortened. " The present man," said the sage
horticultor, "has no tail, at least that I ever could
see ; and I 've hard my father say that the ould
man had only a little short stump, that you 'd
hardly notice as he was walking ; and when he
was riding, it used to go through a hole in the
back of the saddle into a little case that he had
made to hould it in."
People in general have also a wonderful incli-
nation to discover a substratum of historical truth
M 5
250 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
in popular legends ; hence so many tasteless un-
poetic systems of mythology. Whittington's Cat
has not escaped the rationalisers) for I find that
in some popular History of England the story has
been explained, as it is called ; and I have chanced
to take up two or three country newspapers, into
which the explanation had been copied with evi-
dent delight. Sir Richard Whittington was, it
seems, the owner of a ship named the Cat, by his
traffic in which he acquired the greater part of
his wealth. This is just like the old solution of
the tale of Europa and the Bull : the Bull was,
forsooth, a ship, whose sign was a bull ! I am
not, however, quite sure that our worthy mercer
was directly engaged in foreign traffic ; and the
above explanation seems to me to be connected
with that given by Sir Matthew Mite in his Ad-
dress to the Society of Antiquaries ! , the profun-
dity of which amazed that learned body : it per-
haps may have been derived from that of the sa-
pient knight.
" That Whittington lived," said the knight, " no
doubt can be made ; that he was Lord Mayor of
London, is equally true; but as to his Cat, that,
gentlemen, is the Gordian knot to untie. And
here, gentlemen, be it permitted me to define
what a cat is. A cat is a domestic whiskered
four-footed animal, whose employment is catch-
ing of mice : but let puss have been ever so subtle,
1 See Foote's comedy of The Nabob.
DANISH LEGENDS. 251
let puss have been ever so successful, to what
could puss's captures amount? No tanner can
curry the skin of a mouse, no family make a meal
of the meat, consequently no cat could giveWhit-
tington his wealth.
" From whence, then, does this error proceed?
Be that my care to point out. The commerce
this worthy merchant carried on was confined to
our coasts : for this purpose he constructed a
vessel, which from its agility and lightness he
christened a Cat. Now to this our day, Gentle-
men, all our coals from Newcastle are imported
in nothing but cats; from hence it appears, that
it was not the whiskered, four-footed, mouse-
killing cat that was the source of the magistrate's
wealth, but the coasting, sailing, coal-carrying cat,
that, gentlemen, was Whittington's Cat."
M. Thiele, in his Danish Popular Traditions,
a work from which I derived such valuable as-
sistance in the composition of the Fairy Mytho-
logy, relates as follows :
" The house of Katholm (Cat-isle) near Gre-
naae in Jutland, got its name from the following
circumstance. There was a man in Jutland who
had made a good deal of money by improper
means. When he died, he left his property equally
among his three sons. The youngest, when he got
his share, thought to himself, ' What comes with
sin, goes with sorrow ;' and he resolved to submit
22 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
his money to the water-ordeal, thinking that the
ill-got money would sink to the bottom, and what
was honestly acquired swim to the top. He ac-
cordingly cast all his money into the water, and
only one solitary halfpenny ' swam. With this he
bought a cat ; and he went to sea, and visited
foreign parts. At last he chanced to come to a
place where the people were sadly plagued by
an enormous number of rats and mice ; and as
his cat had had kittens by this time, he acquired
great wealth by selling them ; and he came home
to Jutland, and built himself a house, which he
called Katholm."
Again, M. Thiele tells this legend respecting the
Cathedral of Ribe in Jutland.
" There was one time a poor sailor out of Ribe,
who came to a foreign island, whose inhabitants
were grievously plagued with mice. By good
luck he had a cat of his own on board, and the
people of the island gave him so much gold for
it, that he went home as fast as he could to fetch
more cats ; and by this traffic he in a short time
grew so rich, that he had no need of any more.
Some time after, when he was on his death-bed,
he bequeathed a large sum of money for the build-
ing of Ribe Cathedral ; and a proof of this is still
to be seen in a carving over the east door of the
church, representing a cat and four mice. The
door is called Cat-head Door (Kathoved Z)or)."
1 HalvskilUng, more correctly a farthing, for the skilling
is of the size of our halfpenny.
ITALIAN STORIES. 253
In both these cases we may see that it was the
name that gave occasion to the legend. In the
first case, some one wanted to explain why the
place was called Cat-isle. The second was an
attempt to account for the carving of the cat and
mice over the church-door, which was probably
nothing more than a whim of the architect 1 .
Count Lorenzo Magalotti, a Florentine noble-
man, who flourished in the latter half of the seven-
teenth century, and was equally distinguished for
his acquirements in science and in literature, wrote
one time as follows to his friend Ottavio Falco-
" You must know, that at the time our Amerigo
Vespucci discovered the New World, there was in
our city a merchant whose name was Messer An-
saldo degli Ormanni,who, though he was very rich,
being perhaps desirous of doubling his wealth,
freighted a large ship, and began to sell his mer-
chandize in the newly-discovered parts of the
West. And having made two or three good voy-
ages thither, and gained immensely in his dealings,
1 In the moulding of one of the old churches at Glendaloch,
in the county of Wicklow in Ireland, are to be discerned the
figures of a man and a serpent. The tourist is therefore told
a legend of a huge sarpint that used to come out of the lake
and annoy the workmen, till the Saint abated the nuisance.
2 The original will be found in the Lettere Farniliari,
edited by Nardini.
254 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
he determined to return there for the fourth time.
But scarcely had he departed from Cadiz, when a
most furious tempest arose, and he ran for several
days without knowing whither he should go, For-
tune however was so kind to him, that she brought
him to an island named Canary. He had scarcely
anchored, when the king of the island hearing of the
arrival of a vessel, came down to the port with all
his barons ; and having given Messer Ansaldo a
most gracious reception, to let him see how agree-
able his arrival was to him, insisted on taking him
with him to the royal residence. Here, the tables
being spread in the most sumptuous manner, he
sat down along with Messer Ansaldo, who seeing
several of the young men who waited on the king
holding in their hands great long rods, like those
carried by the Penitents, wondered very much ;
but as soon as the dishes were brought up, he saw
at once what was the cause of this mode of attend-
ance ; for
' Xerxes to Greece so many men ne'er led,
Nor were the Myrmidons so numerous,
As those that on them were discovered :'
and, in fact, the mice that came from all sides, and
attacked those delicate meats, were so large and
so numerous, that it was quite wonderful. The
young men then bestirred themselves, and used
their rods vigorously to defend from them the
dish off which the king and Messer Ansaldo were
eating.
" Ansaldo, when he had heard, and in some sort
TALES
F0FHJLA3B FICTIONS.
Again the feast is spread the king
And i
1 qu<
1',
And on the viands fall :
But the cuts juuij) among them suddenly,
And a glorious slaughter is there to see.
DRAWN BY W. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENOIUVED ON WOOD BY G. BAXTER,
PUBLISHED BY WHITl'AKEK AND CO.
ITALIAN STORIES. 255
also seen, that the multitude of these nasty animals
was numberless in that island, and that no way had
ever been discovered of destroying them, endea-
voured, by signs, to let the king know that he
would give him a remedy which would clear the
country completely of such animals. So he ran
down to his vessel, took two remarkably fine cats,
a male and a female, and bringing them to the
king, made the tables be covered once more.
Scarcely had the odour of the victuals begun to
diffuse itself, when the usual procession made its
appearance ; which when the cats saw, they began
to skirmish away so nobly, that in a very short time
they had made a glorious slaughter among them.
The king rejoiced beyond measure at what he saw ;
and wishing to recompense the courtesy of Messer
Ansaldo, ordered several nets of pearls, and abun-
dance of gold and silver and other precious stones,
to be brought to him, and he presented them to
Messer Ansaldo ; who, thinking that he had now
made sufficient profit of his merchandize, without
going to dispose of it in the West, spread his sails
to the wind, and returned home as rich as he need
be.
" He frequently related to his friends his adven-
ture with the king of Canary, which made one of
them, named Giocondo de' Fisanti, resolve to sail
to Canary, and try his fortune there too. Tn order
to do so, he sold a property that he had in Val
d' Elsa, and, with the money it brought him, pur-
chased several jewels, rings, and girdles of great
256 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
value ; and giving out that he was going to the
Holy Land, lest some blame might come on him
for his project, he went to Cadiz, where he em-
barked ; and on his arrival at Canary, he pre-
sented his valuables to the king, making his ac-
count by the rule of ' So much gives so much'. ' If
he gave Messer Ansaldo such enormous presents
for a pair of cats, what will not be the gift that
will be a suitable return for mine ?' But the poer
man deceived himself; for the King of Canary,
highly estimating the present made him by Gio-
condo, thought he could in no way make so'ade-
quate a return as by the gift of a cat ; so having
had a very fine one brought him, the progeny of
those of Messer Ansaldo, he made him a present
of it. Giocondo, thinking it was done out of
mockery, departed, and returned to Florence in
great poverty, cursing the King of Canary, the
mice, and Messer Ansaldo and his cats ; but he
was wrong in doing so, for that worthy king, when
lie gave him the cut, presented him with what was
most highly prized in the island.
" But this is quite enough of the present tale. I
send you a little basket with about twenty lemons
in it, the best that my garden has produced this
year. I know that you will laugh at the smallness
of the gift, so little suited to the greatness of my
mind and of your merit ; but if you recollect Gio-
condo's cat, you will not have a word to say ; for
in giving you a single lemon, I would have you to
know that I give you that which I esteem above all
ITALIAN STORIES. 257
other things ; and this is that delicious fruit which
I go seeking with such care on every branch : and
know, that I would sooner in the middle of July
drink without ice, than miss for one single day in
the year a lemon to squeeze over my wine." &c.
&c. &c.
Count Magalotti loved, like Horace, to tell a
pleasant story on a proper occasion ; and no one
can say that the present story is not well told, It
is, however, no invention of his own, neither is it
a transfer of our English tale, but an old legend,
many years current in Italy, and printed long be-
fore in his own town of Florence.
There was a celebrated character in Tuscany,
in the fifteenth century, who was called Parson
(77 Piovano) Arlotto, distinguished for the excel-
lence of his life and the richness of his humour.
After his death, a collection of his witty sayings
was made and printed ] . Among them is the fol-
lowing.
" A priest, who was somewhat akin to the par-
son, having gone in the Florentine galleys, and
finding in Flanders tennis-balls at a low price,
bought three great casks full of them, without
consulting the parson or any one else. He laid
out all the money he had ; and thinking he had
made a capital hit, told it with great glee to the
1 Facezie, Motti, Buffonerie et Burle del Piovano Arlotto.
In Firenze appresso, i Giunti, 1565.
258 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
parson, who, being a prudent man, would not
blame the thing, since it was done, but told him,
1 that when they should be returned to Florence,
he would tell him the story of the cats of the Ge-
noese merchant. When the galleys returned to
the port of Pisa, the priest began to sell his balls
there ; and then he sold them at Florence, and with
less than half a cask he supplied all the shops for
several years ; and having no hope of getting them
ofFin five-and-twenty years, even though he should
sell them ever so cheap, he went to the parson
Arlotto, lamenting that he had not acted by his
advice. The parson then said to him, ' I will tell
you the story of the cats.'
" There was a lucky Genoese merchant, who,
as he was at sea, was carried by fortune to a very
distant island, where there had never been any
Christian ; and a great king reigned there, who,
when he heard of the ship, wondered much, and
having spoken with the owner one morning, in-
vited him to dinner : and when they sat down to
table, a wand was put into the hands of each, and
of the merchant among the rest, at which he won-
dered greatly ; and when the bread and the other
meats were set on the table, more than a thousand
mice presented themselves with great noise, so that
if they would defend the victuals, it was necessary
to employ the wands.
" The Genoese was astonished at all this, and
he asked whence this great multitude of mice
came. He was told that the whole island was full of
ITALIAN STORIES. 259
them, and that if it were not for that curse, there
would not be a happier realm than it ; for all the
precious things of the world grew there, and were
found there, such as gold, silver, metals of every
kind, wheat, wine, corn of every sort, fruits, wax,
silk, and every good thing that the earth produces ;
but that these animals destroyed everything ; and
it was necessary to keep the bread, the clothes,
and all other things, hung in the air, from those
hooks in the roofs. Then said the merchant, * Your
Majesty has had me to dine with you this morn-
ing, and I will take the liberty to return of myself
tomorrow.' And going back to the ship, he put
next morning a cat in his sleeve, and returned to
the city : and when they sat down at the table
with those same wands in their hands, and the
bread and victuals came, the mice ran in hundreds
as usual ; and then the captain opened his sleeve,
and the cat in an instant jumped among the mice
with such dexterity and ferocity, that in a little
time she killed more than a hundred of them, and
all the rest fled away in terror. The agility and
ferocity of so small an animal appeared a wonder-
ful thing to the king and all the bystanders ; and
he asked particularly where she was bred, what
she fed on, and how long she lived. The captain
told him all, and added, ' Sire, I will present Your
Majesty with two pair of these cats, which, if they
are taken proper care of, will fill the whole king-
dom with cats in a few years.' He sent for them
to the ship, and gave them to the king, who thought
260 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
this a gift which could not be compensated. So
having consulted with his barons, and reckoning
that he had brought the salvation of the whole
kingdom, he gave him, between gold, silver, and
jewels, the value of more than 200,000 ducats.
" The merchant, thus grown rich, returned to
Genoa, where in a few days the fame of his good-
fortune spread, and several thought of trying their
luck by going to that country, though it was such
a way off and the voyage dangerous, and taking
thither the same kind of animals. There was
among them one of a lofty mind, who resolved to
take thither other merchandize than cats, though
he was advised against it by the first ; and he
brought with him to present to the king garments
of brocade, of gold, of silver, furniture for beds,
for horses, and other things, and various sweet-
meats, and presents of great value, to the amount
of more than 10,000 crowns.
" The king joyfully accepted the rich present ;
and after several banquets and caresses, he con-
sulted with his wise men what he should give the
merchant in return. One said one thing, and one
another. The king thought everything else of
little worth ; and being liberal and great-minded,
he resolved to give him part of the most valuable
tilings he had ; and he presented him with one of
those cats, as a thing most precious. The un-
lucky merchant returned to Genoa in very ill-
humour. And so I say to you, that as you would
not act by my advice, you bought, out of thirst of
ITALIAN STORIES. 261
gain, what you did not understand, and you never
will get back one half of your money."
We thus have the story of the cat in Italy about
the time of Whittington ; for Arlotto was born in
1396, and died in 1483 ; and as it is not likely
that he invented it, it was probably a common
story before Whittington was born. In fact, a
story of the kind is to be found a current legend
in the thirteenth century.
In the Chronicle of Albert, abbot of the convent
of St. Mary at Stade, written in that century, and
extending from the Creation to the year 1256,
we read as follows under the year 1175 l .
" At this time the Venetians had a dispute with
the Emperor. Now Venice is a city in the Adri-
atic Sea, an island, not indeed by nature, but
made by art ; and it thus began. King Attila,
besieging Aquilina, put its inhabitants to flight,
who coming to the place where Venice now is,
heaped up there an island, and named it Venice,
a venalitate vel venatione. There dwelt there in
the beginning two fellow-citizens, the one rich, the
other poor. The rich man went to trade, and he
asked his comrade for merchandize. ' I have no-
thing/ said the poor man, ( but two cats.' The
rich man took them with him, and he came by
chance to a land where the whole place was de-
1 Chronicon Albert! Abbatis Stadensis a condito orbe usque
ad auctoris setatem, &c. Helmsestadii, 1687. This was the
first, and I believe the only impression.
262 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
vastated by mice. He sold the cats for a great
deal of money, and having purchased very many
things for his comrade, he brought them to him."
Thus we see that the story was apparently an
old one in Italy in the thirteenth century, and con-
nected with the tradition of the origin of Venice.
Further back I cannot trace it l .
The story however is, as we shall see, not pe-
culiar to Europe. It occupies a place in Persian
history and topography.
" This island, called Kais by the natives, makes
a considerable figure in Persian history, and is par-
ticularly mentioned in the Tarikh al Wasaf, a book
highly esteemed by the Persians. Its history, as
related to me by the Persian ambassador, is found-
ed on a tale which perhaps may remind us of Whit-
tington and his Cat ; for it is stated, that in the
700th year of the Hejira (A.D. 1300), in the town
of Siraf lived an old woman with her three sons,
who, turning out profligates, spent their own pa-
trimony and their mother's fortune, abandoned
her, and went to live at Kais. A little while after,
1 Were it not for the assistance which I have received from
Mr. Douce, this chapter would be far more imperfect than it
is. He furnished me with the references which enabled me
to obtain the two last legends ; and it was he who directed
my attention to the Knight of the Burning Pestle. See above,
p. 247.
PERSIAN LEGEND. 263
a Siraf merchant undertook a trading voyage to
India, and freighted a ship. It was the custom of
those days, that when a man undertook a voyage
to a distant land, each of his friends entrusted to
his care some article of their property, and re-
ceived its produce on his return. The old woman,
who was a friend of the merchant, complained that
her sons had left her so destitute, that, except a
cat, she had nothing to send as an adventure, which
yet she requested him to take.
" On arriving in India, he waited upon the king
of the country, who, having granted him permis-
sion to trade with his subjects, also invited him to
dine. The merchant was surprised to see the
beards of the king and his courtiers encased in
golden tubes, and the more so when he observed
that every man had a stick in his hand. His sur-
prise still increased, when, upon the serving up of
the dishes, he saw swarms of mice sally out from
the wall, and make such an attack upon the vic-
tuals as to require the greatest vigilance of the
guests in keeping them off with their sticks. This
extraordinary scene brought the cat of the old
woman of Siraf into the merchant's mind. When
he dined a second time with the king, he put the
cat under his arm ; and no sooner did the mice
appear, than he let it go ; and to the delight of
the king and his courtiers, hundreds of mice were
laid dead about the floor. The king, of course,
longed to possess so valuable an animal, and the
merchant agreed to give it up, provided an ade-
264 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
quate compensation were made to its real owner.
When the merchant was about his departure, he
was shown a ship finely equipped, laden with all
sorts of merchandize, and which he was told was
to be given to the old woman for her cat. She, of
course, could scarcely yield credit to his tale ; but
when she found that he was in earnest, and that
she was possessed of such vast wealth, she im-
parted her good fortune to her sons, who came
over to her, and after having made merry with the
ready money, embarked with their mother and the
rest of the property, and established themselves at
Kais. Here they traded with great success, until
their name became so famous, that twelve ships,
all at one time, were consigned to them. They
managed, by stratagem, to make away with the
owners of these ships, seized their property, and
commenced pirates. In this new character they
were again successful, and became so powerful
that they braved the king of the country, who
was too weak to destroy them. In the course of
time, indeed, their descendants became the kings
of Kais, and are known in Persian history under
the name of the Beni Kaiser. At length their
power was destroyed by Atta Beg, then king of
Pars ; and since then, their possessions have been
annexed to the Persian dominions V
This legend is also briefly narrated from the
1 Morier, Second Journey through Persia, &c.> p. 31.
PERSIAN LEGEND. 265
Tarikh al Wasaf, by Sir William Ouseley '. Ac-
cording to him, one Keis 2 , the son of a poor
widow at Siraf, embarked for India with his sole
property a cat; and having, by means of her, ac-
quired great riches, as is above related, he went,
with his mother and his brothers, and settled on
the island which he called after his own name.
There are some further discrepancies between
these two accounts. Sir W. Ouseley, for instance,
says that the event occurred in the tenth, Mr. Mo-
rier, in the fourteenth century ; and according to
the former, the Tarikh al Wasaf was composed at
the end of the thirteenth or beginning of the four-
teenth century. I will further observe, that if, as
Mr. Morier states, the power of the Beni Kaiser
was destroyed by the Atta-beg 3 of Fars, the year
of the Hejira 700 cannot be that in which the cat
was taken to India ; for the power of all the Atta-
begs of Persia was destroyed by Hulagu Khan
about the middle of the preceding century.
These, however, are matters of little conse-
quence : what is of importance is, that we have
the legend in Persia before Whittington was born ;
and, as we have seen, its European date in one
1 Travels in various Countries of the East, &c., i. p. 170.
2 Kais and Keis are to be pronounced alike. They are
both attempts at expressing the long diphthongal sound of
our letter i. The usual and proper sound of these two di-
phthongs is as in rain, rein ; and it can be only conventionally
that they have the sound of i in mine.
3 Atta-beg is a title, not a proper name. See my Outlines
of History, p. 252.
N
266 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
instance goes further back than even that of the
Persian legend. What, then, are we to say ? Did
the fiction come from the East? or did it go to the
East ? or was it invented in both the East and the
West ? Let every one judge for himself; my own
opinion is in favour of the last supposition.
I have now brought together more stories of
fortune-making cats than ever were, I believe, col-
lected before : whether they are of any value, or
not, is another question, and one into which I will
not enter. There are, however, persons who think
that time is not absolutely thrown away though
spent in tracing popular fictions to their source.
For such chiefly has this chapter been written.
I will now proceed to treat of higher matters.
" Per correr miglior acqua alza le vele
Omai la navicella del mio ingegno."
267
CHAPTER VIII.
THE EDDA SIGURD ANDBRYNHILDA VOLUND HELGI
HOLGER DANSKE OGIER LE DANOIS TOKO WILLIAM
TELL.
IN the Tunga Norraena (Northern Tongue), or an-
cient language of the North of Europe, are still ex-
isting two collections of mythological narratives of
the actions of the gods and heroes of the Gothic
tribes. These collections are named the Elder and
the Younger Edda. The former, which is in verse,
consists of poems collected in the latter half of the
eleventh century by a man named Saemund, who
was a Christian minister in Iceland, and was named
the Learned (Hm Frode), on account of his great
knowledge, knowledge which among his con-
temporaries and posterity brought him under the
suspicion of being at the least a white wizard. The
purity of his life and manners preserved him from
a worse appellation.
These poems, of whose genuineness there can-
not be the slightest reasonable suspicion, contain
the ideas and opinions of the Pagan Northmen, for
it was only in the beginning of the eleventh cen-
tury that Christianity was established by law in
Iceland. Saemund, who was born in 1054-57 and
who died at the age of seventy-seven, probably
N 2
268 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
made his Collection towards the end of the cen-
tury, when many were living who knew the poems
by heart ; perhaps some had been already written
out, or the wooden tables on which the ancient
Northmen used to inscribe their poems in their
Runic characters were still in existence. At all
events, Saemund's Edda must be regarded as one
of the most curious monuments we possess, and
invaluable for the aid it affords us in ascertaining
the opinions and manners of our forefathers.
The principal personages in the heroic poems
of the Edda are Sigurd and Brynhilda, the artist
Volund, and the two heroes named Helgi. All of
these I am disposed to regard as belonging to the
original fabulous cycle of the North, and as being
to it what the Heroes of Greece and the Pahlu-
wans of Persia are to those of these countries.
In the case of Sigurd it is said, that as he is so
renowned in the romance of Germany under the
name of Siegfried l , the probability is that he has
been transferred from German to Scandinavian fa-
ble. That such may be the case I am far from
denying; but on the other hand, when I consi-
der the general independence of the Northern
mythology, and the decidedly Northern aspect of
several of the circumstances in the history of the
hero, such as his killing of Fafner under the form
of a dragon, and getting possession of his treasure,
1 Perhaps it is also the Anglo-Saxon Siward, the modern
Seward.
SIGURD AND BRYNHILDA. 269
and his first meeting with Brynhilda in the castle
surrounded by fire, where she lay buried in slum-
ber, Odin having pierced her with his sleep-thorn
I am inclined to assert that the legend sprang
up on the soil of Scandinavia l . Possibly we might
go further, and, giving it a most remote antiquity,
pronounce it to be common to the whole Gotho-
Germanic race !
I am led to believe it to be a most ancient le-
gend from the following circumstance. The name
Brynhilda is evidently the same with that of Bru-
nichilda, or Brunehault, the queen so celebrated
in the history of the Merovingian race in France.
Now it is remarkable enough, that Brunehault was
daughter to Athanagild, king of the West-Goths
in Spain ; and it is quite consonant to the general
usage to suppose that she may have been named
after a heroine of popular tradition. This would
make the story of Sigurd and Brynhilda to have
been familiarly known in the sixth century, or
rather to have been brought with them from their
Scandinavian abodes by the Goths at the time of
their migration southwards, and would thus tend
very much to confirm the opinion of its Northern
origin. It may certainly be said that the heroine
was named after the queen, or was given a name
1 Lachman, in an essay on the Lay of the Nibelungs, in a
late number of the Rhenisches Museum, gives an opinion the
same as that in the text. It has pleased me to find my own
opinion thus confirmed. Others may have expressed them-
selves to the same effect, but I am not aware of it
270 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
which was in common use, and that the legend
may thus be a late fiction ; but to any one versed
in tradition and mythology, the preceding suppo-
sition will, I think, appear far more probable.
The history of Volund, the Daedalus of North-
ern mythology, loses itself in a similar manner in
the uncertainty of antiquity. In a dissertation on
this subject which has lately appeared J , it is shown
that not only is he the hero of one of the songs of
Saemund's Edda, and a distinguished character in
the Vilkina Saga, and that his memory still lives
in the North, but that his name and story are to
be found in Anglo-Saxon poetry, and that his skill
as an artist is celebrated in the German and French
romance of the Middle Ages 2 . If the date assigned
in this work to the Latin poem on Walter Prince
of Aquitaine be correct, the name of Volund was fa-
mous in France in the sixth century ; King Alfred
certainly spoke of him in the ninth, in such a man-
1 Veland le Forgeron, par G. B. Depping et F. Michel.
Paris, 1833. M. Michel, whom I have the pleasure of
knowing, though a very young man, has a surprisingly ex-
tensive acquaintance with the French MSS. of the Middle
Ages. His future labours will, I am convinced, be of the ut-
most importance. The chapter of the "Traditions Fran-
Daises" by him in the present work is of great value, and it
proves the wide range of his reading in this department.
2 His French name is Galans, Galant, or Galland ; his
German one, Wieland. It is curious enough that both of these
should be proper names at the present day. Perhaps the
English Wayland, Weyland and Welland, come from the
Weland of the Anglo-Saxons,
VOLUND. 271
ner as shows that his name must have been long
familiar in England 1 . The legend therefore, if
peculiar to the North, must have left it as early
as that of Sigurd and Brynhilda ; but perhaps, as
I have hinted above, these tales were common to
the whole Gotho-Germanic race. The Germans
may not have been in quite so low a degree of
culture as Tacitus represents them ; but even sup-
posing they were, we have testimony to prove that
the people of the Scanic peninsula were much
further advanced in knowledge than we usually
imagine. Indeed their historian Jornandes asserts,
that the philosophy of the Goths fell little short
of that of the Greeks. He means, I think, their
mythic legends, which are perhaps more philoso-
phical than those of Greece. And here I must pro-
test against the assertion of Depping, that Vulcan
and Daedalus have been the originals of Volund.
1 Alfred, in his translation of Boethius' Consolation of
Philosophy, gives for the Ubinuncfidelis ossa Fabricii jacent
of the original, the following paraphrase :
Hwaer sint nu thaes wisan
Welandes ban,
Thaes goldsmithes
The waes geo maerest.
That is : ' Where are now the wise Weland's bones, the
goldsmith's who was the greatest?' Weland is also spoken of
in Beowulf, which is placed in the seventh or eighth century.
We find him again in the metrical romance of ' Horn childe
and maiden Rimnildt.' See Ritson's Ancient English Metrical
Romances, iii. p. 295. The legend of Wayland Smith in
White Horse Vale in Berkshire, is familiar to every reader of
Kenilworth.
272 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
There is certainly a resemblance between him and
Daedalus, particularly in the circumstance of their
both escaping from the kings who detained them
by flying through the air, and I think the Volund
of the Vilkina Saga may have gotten some traits
of Daedalus, for that Saga, which was probably
written in the fifteenth, is by none placed higher
than the thirteenth century. In this Volund, like
Daedalus, makes himself wings, but in the song
of the Edda he, as being an Alf, seems to have
possessed the power of departing whenever he
pleased, and only to have staid to accomplish
his revenge. But I regard the resemblance be-
tween the artists of Grecian and Scandinavian
mythology as one of those casual ones of which I
have given so many instances l . If any legend is
decidedly Gotho-Germanic, I would say it is that
of Volund.
In the French romance called La Fleur des Ba-
1 The only resemblance which Mr. Depping points out
between Vulcan and Volund (why did not the similarity of
name strike him?) is, that they were both artists, and both
lame. He should have noticed what Pytheas of Marseilles,
the earliest voyager to the North, tells us of Lipara and
Strongyla. " Hephaestus," he says, " seems to dwell here,
for the roaring of fire is heard, and it was said of old that
whoever brought thither a price of unwrought iron, would,
on coming next day and laying down the price, get a sword,
or whatever else he wanted." Scholl. Apoll. Rhod. iv. 7G1.
Compare the legend of Wayland Smith in Berkshire. Those
who see transmission everywhere, should say that Pytheas
brought this from Thule, or that it came from Lipara to
Berks.
VOLUND. 273
failles, Doolin de Mayence, the following circum-
stance occurs, which looks as if the knowledge of
Volund's superior nature had been preserved by
tradition. In the Edda, Volund is an Alf, and he is
married to a Valkyria : in the romance, we are told
of the hero's sword Merveilleuse, that it " had
been made in the forge of Galant, and a Fay
sharpened it without falsehood; but Galant did
not make it, for it was one of his apprentices.
And now it behoves us to speak of it : when Doo-
lin's sword was made and ground, and that Ga-
lent's mother had said her prayers over it, she
blessed and charmed it, as being one who was a
worker of enchantment 1 ." Ogier's sword Certain,
or Cortana, by the way, was made by Galant ; as
also were, according to the romances, Joiouse
the sword of Charlemagne, Durendal that of Ro-
land, and Floberge 12 (the Frusberta of the Italians,)
that of Renaud. Several other renowned weapons
came also from his workshop.
1 " . . . . laquelle avoit este faicte en la forge de Galant, et
1'afila une fee sans mentir ; mais Galant ne la fit pas, car ce fut
ling sien aprentis. Et ores maintenant en convient a parler.
Quant Tespee a Doolin fut forgee et esmoulue, et que la mere
a Galant eut dit ses oraisons dessus elle, la seigna et conjura
comme celle qui estoit ouvriere de faer."
2 It is remarkable enough, that the Fay tries the edge of
this sword pretty much in the same manner as Volund does
his in the Vilkina Saga. Volund held a sword in a stream,
and let a large piece of wood float down against it, which it
cut asunder ; the Fay placed the sword, edge downwards, on
a large tripod (trepied), and next morning she found the tri-
pod cut through.
274 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
All that is to the present purpose in the history
of the first Helgi is, that his wife Svava was a
Valkyria, and that both he and she were born
again after their death. The story of the second,
named Hundingsbana, (Hunding's Slayer,} after a
king of that name whom he slew in battle, runs
thus :
Helgi was the son of King Sigmund and the
fair Borghilda. The night he was born the eagles
screamed, the waters of heaven descended, and
the thunder roared around his father's castle. The
Norns l came to appoint his future destiny. Amid
the pealing of the storm they span with vigour
the thread of fate, and bade him be the first among
princes, the best among kings. They unrolled
the golden band, and fastened it in the midst of
the Moon's hall (the sky) ; they stretched the
ends to the east and the west, to mark the bounds
of the king's dominion. One Norn cast a clue to-
wards the north, and bade him evermore to hold
thereby. Raven screamed to raven, as they sat
hungry on the lofty tree, exulting that the friend
of bird and beast of prey was born : the people
rejoiced at the prospect of happy times ; the king
himself left his wars, to bestow gifts on his son :
he named him Helgi, and gave him many lands,
and a sword richly adorned.
1 The Norns answer to the Mcerae, Parcae or Destinies of
Classic mythology.
F0FULAB FITI
Mid the t:-m-,:lt of the fi-ht
And desi-emlins from the sky
(.'me the m-ii.l* of V*11i:ill hi-h,
Through tlie air their coursers ili
Beam-, of light around them fl-uli
\V. 11. BROOKE, P. S. A., IlMIiJ \vr.I) <)V \'
iM-Mi.isnr,!) )5Y w!iirr\Ki:u \M> co.
HELGI. 275
When Helgi had attained his fifteenth year, he
became the leader of hosts. One of his earliest
actions was the slaying of King Hunding, whose
four sons, when they came to seek vengeance for
the death of their father, also fell by the hand of
the young hero, and the race of Hunding became
extinct. During the engagement, a splendid light
came over the field of battle, and amidst it a troop
of maidens (Valkyrias *) appeared, riding through
the air, their heads covered with helmets, their cors-
lets besprinkled with blood, and beams of light
streaming from the heads of their lances, The un-
daunted hero asked the goddesses to accompany
the warriors home ; but one of them, (a mortal
maiden named Sigrun, daughter of King Hogni,)
made answer and said, that they had other things
to employ them than drinking with the breakers
of armour. " My father," said she, " has pro-
mised his maiden to Hodbrodd, the grim son of
Granmar ; but I have answered the proud king as
he deserved. The chief will come in a few nights,
and he will take away the maid, unless you look
to arms."
Helgi sent forthwith his messengers every-
where to collect forces. Having assembled a fleet,
1 There is much obscurity about these beings : they waited
at table on the dwellers of Valhall, and it was also a part of
their office to conduct the souls of those who fell in battle to
that place of bliss. They are sometimes confounded with
the Norns; just as the Grecian Keres, whom they resemble,
are with the Erinnyes.
276 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
he set sail to engage the men of Hodbrodd; but on
the voyage, Ran, the wife of ^Egir the sea-god, and
her daughters, assailed his ships, and attempted
to upset them ; but a light burst over the ships
amid the storm, his protecting Valkyria appeared
coming to his aid, and Sigrun delivered the ves-
sels from the hands of the sea-maidens. In the en-
gagement which ensues at Frekastein, Hodbrodd
and his brothers are slain. The helm-adorned
Valkyrias again descend from heaven, and Sigrun,
the high-flying maid, says
"Happily shall thou, O king! Well beseem
Over the people rule ! Gold-red wings
Branch of Yngva's stem! And the wealthy maid.
And in life be glad, Happy thou
Since thou hast felled Shalt possess
The flight-shunning Hogni's daughter
Prince, who desired And Ringsteda,
The warrior's death. Victory and lands.
Andthee, O king! Now the strife is over!"
Among the slain at Frekastein were Hogni, the
father of Sigrun, and her brother Braga : her other
brother Dag was dismissed, on his oath to main-
tain peace in future with the Ylfings. Helgi dried
the tears of Sigrun, by reminding her that none
could escape his fate ; and he made her his bride.*
She became the mother of sons, but the days of
Helgi were not many. Dag longed to avenge the
death of his father, and he offered a sacrifice to
Odin, who lent him his lance ; and the first time he
met his brother-in-law, he ran him through with
it. He then came to Seva-hill, the abode of Helgi,
HELGI. 277
and informed his sister of her husband's death.
Sigrun, in her grief and despair, reproached him
with his perjury, and gave him her malediction ;
but Dag cast all the blame upon Odin, who had
set strife between kinsmen, and offered her one
half of the lands for herself and her sons.
A stately mound was raised over Helgi ; and
when he came to Valhall, Odin desired him to
rule over all like himself.
As Sigrun's maid was passing one evening by
Helgi's mound, she saw him riding to it with a
number of men in his company. In surprise she
cried out,
" Is it an illusion Whither your horses
I chance to see, Urge ye with spurs ?
Or the twilight of the gods ? Or have the heroes got
Do dead men ride ? Leave to come home ?"
Helgi's ghost replies,
" *T is not an illusion Though we our horses
Thou chancest to see, Urge on with spurs.
Or the twilight of the gods ; Nor have the heroes got
Though us thou behold, Leave to come home."
The maid then went home, and told Sigrun to
go forth if she would see the leader of the people,
for that his mound was open, and he was come
with his wounds all bleeding, and calling for her
to stop the blood. Sigrun instantly set out, and
entered Helgi's mound. She said,
" Now am I as glad When for them they know
At meeting thee Prepared is warm prey,
As the spoil-greedy Or dew-besprinkled
Hawks of Odin ; Day's brows (dawn) they behold.
278
TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
The lifeless king
Kiss I will,
Ere thou cast off
Thy bloody corslet.
Helgi ! thy hair is
Full of rime frost.
The hero's whole body
Dew of battle has bathed.
Hogni's friend hath
His hands water-cold
How shall I, king!
Free thee from this ?"
Helgi's ghost replies,
" Alone thou 'rt cause, Sigrun ! Well should we enjoy
Noblest drink 2 ,
Although life and land
We have lost.
Let no man sing
From Seva-hill,
That Helgi's bathed
In sorrow's dew.
Thou weepest, Gold-decked !
Songs of sorrow,
Although on my breast
Wounds he behold.
Now are concealed
Women in the mound,
Sisters of kings,
With us the dead."
Cruel tears,
Sun-bright South's daughter !
Ere thou goest to sleep.
Each bloody tear
Falls on the king's breast,
Ice-cold, piercing,
Swoln with grief 1 ,
Sigrun then makes a bed in the mound, and
says that she will sleep in the arms of her hero,
as she had done when he was alive. The ghost
replies,
Arms thou sleepest,
White in the mound,
Hogni's daughter !
Though thyself art alive,
Thou king-begotten!"
" Now say I nothing
Will incredible be,
Early or late
At Seva-hill !
Since in the dead man's
The ghost continues,
" 'T is time now to ride
To the reddening road,
To let my pale steed
Tread the air-path.
1 It was perhaps is the belief in the North, that the tears
of their relations caused in this manner pain to the departed.
2 That is, in Valhall.
HOLDER DANSKE. 279
O'er the bridges of heaven 1 Ere the cock of the hall
The sky must T reach, Wake the heroes up.
The hero and his train rode away, and Sigrun
and her maid returned home. Next evening Si-
grun directed her maid to watch at the mound.
At the last glimmer of day -light she repaired thi-
ther herself. Full of impatience, she said,
" Sure now were come, Hope is decaying ;
If come he would, Since the eagles sit
Sigmund's son On the boughs of the ash,
From Odin's hall ; And to dreams' invitation
Of the hero's coming All the people assent."
The maid said,
" Be not so senseless All ghosts are
Alone to go, In the night-time
Skiolding's sister! Stronger, O woman!
To the abode of the dead. Than in bright day."
Sigrun died soon after of care and grief. It is
said, adds our author, that she and Helgi were
born over again, such being the belief of the old
times ; and that he was called Helgi Haddings-
bana, and she Kara, the daughter of Haldan, and
that she was a Valkyria.
The Danish peasantry of the present day relate
many wonderful things of an ancient hero whom
they name Holger Danske, i. e. Danish Holger,
and to whom they ascribe wonderful strength and
1 i. e. Bifrost, the Rainbow.
280 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
dimensions, just as the Greeks described their
Hercules, the Persians their Roostem, the Irish
their Finn Mac Cool, as far exceeding their fellow
inhabitants of earth in these qualities. If, how-
ever, we except the classic Orion, no hero of po-
pular tradition could vie in size with him of Den-
mark, as the following anecdote will prove 1 .
Holger Danske came one time to a town named
Bagsvaer in the isle of Zealand, where being in want
of a new suit of clothes, he sent for twelve tai-
lors to make them. He was so tall that they were
obliged to set ladders to his back and shoulders
to take his measure 2 . They measured and mea-
sured away, but unluckily the man who was on
the top of one of the ladders happened, as he was
cutting a mark in the measure, to give Holger's
ear a clip with the scissors. Holger, without re-
flecting, thinking it was one of those little * beasts
familiar to man' that was biting him, put up his
hand, and crushed the unlucky tailor to death
between his fingers.
It is also said that a witch one time gave him a
pair of spectacles which would enable him to see
through the ground. He lay down at a place not far
from Copenhagen to make a trial of their powers ;
and as he put his face close to the ground, he left
in it the mark of his spectacles, which mark is to
1 For everything respecting Holger I am indebted to the
work of M. Thiele mentioned at p. 251.
This is plainly the well-known incident in the history of
Gulliver applied to Holger Danske.
HOLGER DANSKE. 281
be seen at this very day ; and the size of it proves
what a goodly pair they must have been.
Tradition, I believe, does not say at what time
it was that this mighty hero honoured the isles of
the Baltic with his actual presence ; but in return,
it informs us that Holger, like so many other he-
roes of renown, 'is not dead, but sleepeth.' The
clang of arms, we are told, was frequently heard
under the castle of Cronberg; but in all Denmark
no one could be found hardy enough to penetrate
the subterranean recesses and ascertain the cause.
At length a slave, who had been condemned to
death, was offered his life and a pardon if he
would go down, proceed through the subterra-
nean passage as far as it went, and bring an ac-
count of what he should meet there, He accord-
ingly descended, and went along till he came to
a great iron door, which opened of itself the in-
stant he knocked at it, and he beheld before him
a deep vault. From the roof in the centre hung
a lamp, whose flame was nearly extinct ; and be-
neath was a huge great stone table, around which
sat steel-clad warriors, bowed down over it, each
with his head on his crossed arms. He who was
seated at the head of the board then raised him-
self up. This was Holger Danske. And when
he had lifted his head up from off his arms, the
stone table split throughout, for his beard was
grown into it. " Give me thy hand !" said he to
the intruder. But the slave feared to trust his
hand in the grasp of the ancient warrior, and he
282 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
reached him the end of an iron bar which he had
brought with him. Holger squeezed it so hard,
that the mark of his hand remained in it. He let
it go at last, saying, " Well ! I am glad to find
that there are still men in Denmark."
According to another account, Holger said," Sa-
lute thy lord and king, and tell him that when it
is time we will come of ourselves." Others again
say that his words were, "Tell thy lord that we
shall come when there are no more men in Den-
mark than can stand round the hoop of a barrel."
These, however, are nothing more than the varia-
tions which every popular legend necessarily un-
dergoes, and will give no surprise to any one ac-
quainted with the nature of tradition. Such a
person, too, would expect more places than one
to be regarded as the resting-place of Holger and
his warriors ; and accordingly we find that an-
other tradition assigns a hill called the Havre-
bjerg, about half a mile from the town of Slagelse
in the same island, for his abode ; while a third
places him in a subterranean passage leading from
Sorv to the wood of Antoeor : all, however, are
in the isle of Zealand, to which Holger Danske
seems exclusively to belong.
Who then, it may now be asked, is Holger
Danske ? In my opinion he is no other than the
Helgi of the Edda. The names hardly differ,
and the Scandinavians are conspicuous above all
people for retaining in the popular tradition the
OGIER LE DANOIS. 283
legends of their forefathers. In fact, there are,
or were, tales of gods and heroes preserved by
tradition in the North, whose origin goes back to
a time which we should vainly attempt to assign.
For my part, I see not the impossibility of the
Eddaic and traditional tales of Odin and Thor,
and Frey, and of the heroes and heroines Helgi,
Sigurd, Volund, Brynhilda, and others, being to
the full as ancient as the legends of Grecian my-
thology. But the latter, as I have already ob-
served, were fixed in their present form nearly
2000 years ago ; while the former remained sub-
ject to all the influence of the variation of reli-
gious faith, and of manners and ideas. And, in-
deed, the changes which some of them have un-
dergone are amusing enough l .
But there is another renowned hero besides the
Danish Holger, whom I fancy I can identify with
the Helgi of the Northmen. This is the celebrated
Ogier le Danois of French and Italian romance.
His name, we see at once, corresponds with that of
the Danish champion 2 ; and if any one will main-
1 See the story of Thor going as a bride to the Giant instead
of Freya, given in the article on Scandinavian Mythology in
the Foreign Quarterly Review.
2 We should recollect how apt the French are to reject
the /; thus offol they make/ow; Montalbano is Montauban,
Malagigi is Maugis : from the German Alberich, or Elberich,
they made Oberon. Helgi might thus easily become Ogier.
In the Spanish ballad El Marques de Mantua, Ogier is called
Danes Urgel, a name not far from Helgi and Holger, when
284 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
tain that the hero of romance has been appropri-
ated to themselves by the people of the country
of which he was made a native, I am not pre-
pared to say him nay in very decided terms, for
there are perhaps examples of such a process.
Still, I think, that if I can make it probable that
the Northmen brought with them to their new
seats in Neustria the legends of their ancient hero
Helgi, and that he was adopted into the Carolian
cycle of fable, it will remain at least possible that
Holger Danske and Ogier le Danois are the re-
sult of the same tradition differently modified, and
are to a certain extent independent of each other.
On opening the old French romance of Ogier
le Dannoys *, we read,
" And that night that the child was born, the
damsels of the castle put him in a chamber apart ;
and at the hour of midnight came to the said
chamber where the child was, six fair ladies richly
dressed, which are called Fays ; and they stripped
the child, and one of them, named Glorianda, took
him in her arms ; and when she saw him so large
and so well formed in his limbs, she kissed him
out of great love, saying, * My child, I give thee
a gift in the name of God, to wit, that as long as
we call to mind how I and r take one another's place. I how-
ever lay no stress on this resemblance.
1 Adenez (see above, p. 40.) wrote a poem called Les En-
fauces d' Ogier ; it is in the Harleian Library, No. 4404: the
following circumstances are not in it. There is a longer poem
on Ogier by an older poet, which I have not seen.
OGIER LE DANOIS. 285
thou livest thou shalt be the most hardy knight of
thy time.' * Dame," said another named Pales-
tina, ' the gift thou hast given him is not little ;
and I give him, that as long as he is in life, war
or battle shall fail him not.' Then answered an-
other named Pharamonda, ' Dame, this gift that
thou hast given him is very perilous ; wherefore
I give him, that he shall never be vanquished in
battle.' f And I give him,' said another named
Melior, * that as long as he lives, he shall be fair,
mild and gracious, beyond any other.' The fifth,
named Presina, said, ' I give him, that he shall be
always loved of the ladies, and that he shall be
always happy in love.' And the sixth, named
Morgue (Morgana), said, *I have heard well the
gifts that ye have given to this child, and I will
that he shall never die till he hath been my friend
par amours, and till I keep him at the castle of
Avallon, which is the fairest castle in the world.'
And then the lady kissed him out of great love ;
and then they left the child, and went away ; no
one knew what became of them, and the child re-
mained crying with a loud voice.
The subsequent adventures of Ogier, which are
mostly all military achievements, are not to our
present purpose ; but towards the close of the
romance we are told 1 , that Morgue la Faye re-
solved to remove him to the joys of Avallon,
which was not far from the terrestrial paradise
1 The reader will find this part of the romance given at
length in the Fairy Mythology, vol. i. p. 75. et seq.
286 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
to which Enoch and Elias were carried. Accord-
ingly, as he is returning from Jerusalem, a storm
drives his ship towards the castle of Avallon,
winch was of loadstone, and consequently caused
all the vessels which approached it to be wrecked.
Ogier's bark shares the general fate. The hero
himself however escapes, and, directed by an
angel, enters the castle, where he finds Morgue
la Faye, who tells him who she is, places a ring
on his finger, which restores the hero, who was
now a centenarian, to the beauty and vigour of
thirty; and, leading him into the castle, intro-
duces him to its lord, her brother Arthur. She
moreover sets on his head a crown, which causes
him to forget his former life ; and his days roll away
in endless bliss, amid the songs and dances of the
Fay ladies. To oblige Arthur, Ogier undertakes
to engage Capalus, king of the Luitons (lutms,
mischievous spirits), who constantly annoys the
inmates of Avallon.
Two hundred years had passed away, when
France being endangered by the Paynims, Morgue
resolved to send Ogier to the defence of the Faith.
She took the Lethaean crown off his head, and he
instantly felt a longing to return home. Morgue
gave him a brand *, which he was to preserve with
care, for his life should last as long as it remained
1 This brand is not, I believe, mentioned any more. The
author of the prose romance had evidently the classic story
of Meleager in his mind, which the coming of the Fay ladies
in the beginning probably suggested to him.
OGIER LE DANOIS. 287
unconsumed by fire. She added to her gift a
companion for him, named Benoist, and the cele-
brated steed of Faerie named Papillon. A cloud
then enveloped Ogier and Benoist, and raising
them, carried them away, and set them down at
a fountain near Montpellier l .
Here, then, we have parallels to all the circum-
stances of the Eddaic poems noticed above. The
Norns are at the birth of Helgi, the Fays at that
of Ogier ; Sigrun was a Valkyria, Morgue a Fay ;
Helgi was honoured by Odin, Ogier by Arthur ;
Helgi returned to this world, Ogier did the same.
To this we may add, that Helgi came from Val-
hall on horseback, attended by a train of warriors,
and that Ogier came through the air from Faerie
on the steed Papillon (Butterfly), accompanied by
Benoist. There are martial exercises in Valhall ;
and Ogier has to take the field in Avallon against
Capalus : and finally, the Fay ladies of Avallon
are not unlike the Valkyrias of Valhall.
Am I not, then, justified in asserting the possi-
bility of the Normans having brought the story of
1 According to the romance, Morgue took Ogier back to
Avallon. In the Morgan te Maggiore (c. xxviii. st. 36.) an-
other account seems to be alluded to :
" E del Danese, che ancor vivo sia,
Perche tutto pud far chi fe' Natura,
Dicono alcun, ma non 1' istoria mia ;
E che si truova in certa grotta oscura,
E spesso armato a caval par che stia,
Sicche chi il vede, gli mette paura."
288 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Helgi with them to France in the tenth century,
and of its having been incorporated into the Ca-
rolian cycle of romance, with such alterations as
a change of faith and a change of country made
requisite ? And does not this open a very curious
field of speculation ?
In the learned and ingenious essay which Mr.
Panizzi has prefixed to his beautiful edition of
Bojardo's Orlando Innamorato 1 , will be found
some interesting speculations relative to the Ca^
rolian cycle of heroes. Of Ogier Mr. Panizzi
tells us, that he was called Le Dannoys, according
to some, because he was a native of Denmark ;
according to others, because he conquered that
country ; while a third party said that he was a
Saracen who turned Christian ; and as his family
wrote to him saying Tu es damne, for his change
of faith, the French barons called him in jest Ogier
Damne ; and he himself, to prove his sincerity,
insisted on being named so at his baptism. From
the monk of St. Gall * he informs us that Oggerus,
1 Every lover of Italian literature must feel obliged to
Mr. Panizzi for this re-publication of the actual poem which
Ariosto read and continued. It must sooner or later form a
part of every Italian library. When I add that it is published
by Pickering, every one will know that its external form must
be elegant.
1 The monk of St. Gall (who tells us himself that he had
never been in France,) wrote his work "De Rebus Bellicis
Caroli Magni," in the latter end of the ninth century. His au-
thority was an old soldier named Adalbert, who, as he says,
forced, his information on him when a child. Panizzi, ut supra,
p. 123.
OGIER LE DANOIS. 289
one of the chiefs at the court of Charlemagne,
having incurred that monarch's heavy displeasure,
fled to Desiderius king of Lombardy ; and in the
romance we certainly find that the hero did seek
refuge with that prince, who gave him a castle
named Chasteaufort, in which he singly defended
himself for seven long years against the Emperor
and his powers. Finally, we are told that the
Northmen, who in the years 851 852 ravaged
France, were commanded by Oger le Danois.
From all this Mr. Panizzi concludes, that " there
were two Ogiers, or that the name of the Norman
Ogier, who filled France with terror, was given to
one of those lords who retired into Lombardy, and
were declared rebels by Charlemagne." This is
perhaps not very far from the truth. I think that
we have no reason for doubting the narrative of
the monk of St. Gall, that a nobleman named Og-
gerus fled to Lombardy, though we may not as-
sent to the truth of the assertion, that the inva-
ders of France were actually commanded by Oger
le Danois. We thus have two heroes, one a real
historic character, the other a mythic personage,
whose names nearly correspond, united to form a
hero of romance. I think it not unlikely that the
name Oggerus, i. e. Oger, may have been derived
from Helgi, whose legend, like that of Brynhilda,
may have been brought into France by the Goths
or some other of the Gotho-Germanic tribes.
I am inclined to think that the same has been
the case with another of the Paladins, no less a
o
290 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
person than the famous Roland, or Orlando, the
nephew of Charlemagne. Eginhart l tells us, that
at the defeat of the rear guard of this monarch's
army by the Gascons at Roncesvalles, A.D. 778,
" there were slain, Eghart the seneschal, Ans-
helm count of the palace, and Rutlandus 2 warden
of the British march 3 ." In Charlemagne's Prcecep-
tum E 'vindicator ium of the year 776, he reckons
Rothlandus among his counts. The inscription
on the tomb of Roland at Blaye, in Saintonge, it
is said, styled him Count Palatine. The lying hi-
story of Archbishop Turpin is not to be brought
in evidence ; and the celebrated Breche de Roland,
in the Pyrenees, is only an instance of the princi-
ple of ascribing the works of nature to the super-
human vigour of ancient heroes. On the whole,
however, I think we have little reason to doubt,
that in the time of Charles the Great there was a
person of some note whose latinised name was
Rutlandus or Rothlandus 4 .
On the other side I would observe, that in the
time of Harald Fair-hair, king of Norway, a chief
named Rognavald was Yarl (earl) of the Orkneys,
1 De Vita Carol! Magni. Ultraject. 1711. edit. Schminck.
2 Rotlandus and Hrodlandus are various readings.
3 Limitis is the reading of the best MSS. ; the common
reading is littoris.
4 Orderic Vitalis, as quoted by Panizzi, p. 114, tells us that
a Rotlandus fell in battle against the Normans in the time of
Charles the Bald. The leader of the Dacians (Normans)
was Rollo, according to this historian. Orderic wrote in the
latter half of the eleventh century.
OGIER LE DANOIS. 291
and that from his name was formed Ronald, a
name still used in the Western Isles. On the
death of this Rognavald, one of his sons named
Hrolf, having gotten no share of his father's pos-
sessions, turned pirate ; and it was to this Hrolf,
Rollo or Rou, as he is variously called, that Charles
the Bald ceded, in the year 912, the province of
Neustria. It is by no means unlikely that the
Normans formed from Rognavald, Roland ; and,
uniting the actions of him and his son, made one
hero of the two, on whom, according to the cus-
tom of their country, they composed popular bal-
lads, one of which it may have been that Taillefer
chanted at the battle of Hastings l . I must, at
the same time, confess, that Eginhart's placing his
Rutlandus in the very country occupied by the
Normans, looks a little suspicious ; and I could al-
most fancy an interpolation to give some sanction
1 William of Malmsbury, Alberic Trium Pentium, and
Ralph Higden, when speaking of the battle, merely say,
Cantilena Rollandi inchoata. M. Michel thinks that Wace,
who had read Turpin's romance, added of himself in his
Rou the well-known lines
" De Karlemaine e de Rollant
Et d'Oliver e des vassals
Ki moururent en Renchevals."
He adds: "There would be a want of common sense, me-
thinks, in singing, to excite the courage of an army going into
battle, the defeat of such a hero as Charlemagne." Examen
critique du Roman de Berte aux grands pieds. Paris 1832.
Mr. Douce has long been of opinion that it was a song of
Rollo that was sung. This last objection had occurred to
him also.
292 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS. '
to the narrative of Turpin, and to flatter the va-
nity of the Norman princes. On the whole, I am
disposed to consider Rutlandus to owe his fame,
like Oggerus, to the resemblance between his
name and that of a hero of the victorious Normans.
His name may also have originally come from
Rognavald.
But we have this very name Rognavald again
as Rainaldus, Reginald, Regnault, Renaud, Ri-
naldo; a name which occurs in French history long
before the Normans settled in France. This, how-
ever, presents no difficulty ; Rognavald, or some
name like it, may have been brought in by one of
the ante-Norman tribes, and retained in nearly an
unaltered form. It would be curious enough if
Orlando and Rinaldo were but two forms of the
same name.
I think, by the way, that Mr. Panizzi is wrong in
supposing the present Montauban, situated near
the confluence of the Tarn and the Garonne, to be
the Montauban or Montalbano of the romances, the
abode of Renaud and his family. In the Quatre
Filz Aymon 1 we are told that Regnault and his
brothers built their castle on a hill or rock, close
to the Gironde ; and I know that the ruins of a
castle at the confluence of the Garonne and Dor-
dogne 2 are, by the tradition of the country, said
1 That is, the prose romance. The metrical one was written
in the thirteenth century by Huon de Villeneuve.
2 In the romance, Aymon is called Duke of Dordogne,
which is evidently regarded as a town or territory. Ariosto
TOKO. 293
to be those of their strong-hold. Their suzerain
and great friend, we may observe, was Yon king
of Bordeaux, and it is a long way thence to the
present Montauban.
Ere I take my leave of the North, I will notice
what I regard as an instance of the transference
of a real or fictitious incident from the history of
one country to that of another.
In the tenth book of the History of Denmark,
by Saxo Grammaticus, written in the twelfth cen-
tury, we meet the following narrative, under the
reign of King Harald Bluetooth (Blaatand\ at
the end of the tenth century.
" Nor should what follows be enveloped in si-
ience. Toko, who had been for some time in the
service of the king, had, by the deeds in which he
surpassed his fellow- soldiers, made several ene-
mies of his virtues. One day, when he had drunk
rather much, he boasted to those who were at table
with him, that his skill in archery was such that
he could hit, with the first shot of an arrow, ever
so small an apple set on the top of a wand at a
considerable distance. His detractors hearing
these words, lost no time in conveying them to the
calls Bradamante la Donna di Dordona. His Montalbano
(See Orland. Fur. c. xxxii. st. 50.) is the present Montauban.
Chiaramonte is Clerraont.
294 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
ears of the king. But the wickedness of the prince
speedily transferred the confidence of the father to
the peril of the son, ordering the sweetest pledge
of his life to stand instead of the wand, from whom,
if the utterer of the boast did not strike down the
apple which was placed on him at the first shot of
his arrow, he should with his own head pay the
penalty of his idle boast. The command of the
king urged the soldier to do more than he had
promised, the detracting artifices of others ta-
king advantage of the words he had uttered when
hardly sober.
"When the youth was led forth, Toko care-
fully admonished him to receive the whiz of the
coming arrow as steadily as possible, with atten-
tive ears, and without moving his head, lest by a
slight motion of his body he should frustrate the
experience of his well-tried skill. He made him
also, as a means of diminishing his apprehension,
stand with his back to him, lest he should be ter-
rified at the sight of the arrow. He then drew
three arrows from his quiver, and the first he shot
struck the proposed mark.
Toko then being asked by the king why he had
taken so many arrows out of his quiver, when he
was to make but one trial with the bow, " That
I might avenge on thee," said he, " the error of
the first by the points of the others, lest my inno-
cence might hap to be afflicted and thy injustice
to go unpunished!" By which bold expression,
he showed that the praise of fortitude was due
WILLIAM TELL. 295
to himself, and that the command of the king was
deserving of punishment l ,"
The historian further informs us, that when
Harald's son Sveno rebelled against him, Toko
joined the prince; and that one day when Harald,
during the negotiations for peace, had gone on
some private business into a wood, he was shot
with an arrow by Toko, who was lying in ambush
for him, and he died of the wound.
In the year 1307, among the mountains of Hel-
vetia, an action similar to this of Toko is said to
have been performed; and it has given immor-
tality to the name of William Tell.
Gessler, the insolent Vogt (bailiff or governor)
of the Emperor Albert, of Habsburg in Switzer-
land, set a hat up on a pole, as the symbol of the
Imperial power, and every one who passed was
commanded to uncover his head before it. A
peasant named William Tell dared to leave the
hat unsaluted. By Gessler's command, he was
seized and brought before him ; and as Tell was
known to be a celebrated archer, he was, by way
of punishment, ordered to shoot an apple on the
head of his own son. Finding remonstrance vain,
he submitted ; the apple was placed on the head
of the child, Tell bent his bow, the arrow flew,
and apple and arrow fell together to the ground.
1 The shooting of an apple on the head of his son is also
told of Egill, the brother of Volund, in the Vilkina Saiga. It
was probably taken from Saxo.
296 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
But the Vogt had observed that Tell, ere he shot,
had stuck an arrow in his belt, and he asked the
reason. Tell replied, that such was the custom of
archers. This did not content the Vogt ; he urged
him further, still assuring him of his life in any
case : " Know then," said Tell, " that it was for
thee, in case I had shot my child, and of a surety
I had not missed my mark a second time."
Gessler, terrified and enraged, resolved to con-
fine him in a distant prison. He entered a boat
with Tell and his guards, and embarked on the
lake of the Forest Cantons ( Waldstatten). They
had just passed the celebrated mead of Riitli, (the
Runnymede, may we term it, of Helvetia?) when
the furious wind named the Fohn rushed, howling,
down the ravines of Mount Gothard, and falling
on the lake, tossed its waters up from the very
bottom. The Vogt, in this imminent danger, or-
dered them to take off the fetters of Tell, whose
skill was well known, and commit the helm to his
hand. Tell guided the boat 'till they came close
to the mountain named Axenberg : here, grasping
his bow, he sprang on a ledge of rock, since called
Tell's Ledge, (Tellens Blatteri), and clambered
up the mountain, leaving the Vogt to his fate.
Gessler, however, escaped the storm, and he land-
ed at Kiissnach ; but as he was going through a
narrow pass, Tell, who was lying in wait in the
thicket, shot him dead with an arrow.
There is, as every one mav see, a very strong
WILLIAM TELL. 29?
resemblance in the two narratives. The celebrated
historian J. von Miiller, whom I have chiefly fol-
lowed in what precedes l , says, " It shows little
experience in history to deny one of two events,
because there was another like it in another land
and century. The Danish Toko was unknown to
the Swiss. If ever they came to the Alps, it was
long before his time the second half of the tenth
century. There is no trace of any knowledge of
Northern history : Saxo was first printed at Paris
in 1480." He then proceeds to prove that such a
man as William Tell really lived at that time and
place, and concludes triumphantly, " Of a surety
this hero lived in the year 1307, and performed
at the places where God is thanked for the suc-
cess of his deeds, those exploits against the op-
pressors of the Forest Cantons, through which ad-
vantage accrued to his native land, so that he has
merited the grateful remembrance of posterity."
That William Tell really lived, is what I would
hardly venture to deny : he was probably active
in the cause of liberty, and Gessler may have
fallen by his hand. It is the shooting of the ap-
ple of which I doubt. We have no contemporary
evidence of this exploit ; the oldest testimony with
respect to TelPs very existence, are the 114 per-
sons who in the Diet at Uri, in the year 1388, tes-
tified that they had known him. It does not appear
1 He says nothing, however, of Tell's sticking the arrow in
his belt, or of his answer to the Vogt. Meyer von Knonau
omits the whole tale : Zschokke of course relates it.
o 5
298 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
that they knew anything of his shooting the apple.
On the other hand, though reading was far more
rare in the Middle Ages than it is now, those who
did read, read more than we generally imagine ;
and I see no reason why some Swiss monk, for
example, may not have read the story of Toko
in Saxo Grammaticus, and have transferred it to
William Tell, just as the Romans did with the le-
gends in Herodotus. He knows little of simple un-
educated patriots who supposes that they would
minutely examine into the truth of a legend which
tended to cast glory on the memory of a national
hero.
I am therefore inclined to regard the Danish
legend, be it true or false, as the original. I ob-
serve that in it, the action is motive, as the French
term it. Toko boasted that he could hit with an ar-
row an epple on the top of a wand, and the king
then ordered him to hit it on the head of his son :
but what was to put it into Gessler's thoughts
to make Tell perform the same feat ? Perhaps
it may be said, there was an apple-tree before him
laden with fruit. It would, however, appear that
the affair occurred in the winter. It was on the
night of the Wednesday before Martinmas, in the
November of 1307, that the three-and-thirty brave
men (one of whom William Tell is said to have
been,) met on the mead of Riitli, and swore to
maintain the liberty transmitted to them by their
fathers. According to the historian, Tell's ex-
ploit was performed before the end of that year,
WILLIAM TELL.
so that the Vogt must have sent to a storehouse
for an apple ; and I think even this little circum-
stance militates somewhat against the truth of the
legend 1 . At all events, the just fame of Tell, as
an intrepid patriot, need fear no decay, and is in-
dependent of the apple ; and I am not the one to
condemn the man who, in the absence of positive
law, appealed to that of nature against the tyrant,
and sent from his bow
" the arrow sure as fate
That ascertained the sacred rights of man.' 1
Day after day the critical and enquiring spirit
of the present times is depriving History of her
heroes and their exploits. Those of the early or
mythic ages of Greece are gradually losing their
substance, and dwindling to shadows : the Romu-
lus and Numa of Rome have melted into thin air at
the touch of the potent wand of Niebuhr, and the
same magician has dispelled many a romantic tale
in the early annals of the Eternal City. Nor have
the heroes of later times come off quite scathe-
less ; a writer, for example, of no common learn-
1 It is curious enough that both Tell and Toko are become
heroes of the drama. His 'Wilhelm Tell' is one of the hap-
piest efforts of the greatest dramatic poet of Germany ; and the
Palna-Toke of the Danish poet Oelenschlager is a piece of no
ordinary merit. I know not that Tell's spirit is ever seen
chamois-hunting among the Alps ; but Toko, under the name
of Palne-Jager, is the Wild Huntsman of popular tradition in
the Isle of Funen, his former abode. See Thiele, i. p. 110.
Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland, ii. p. 111.
300 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
ing, sagacity and judgement 1 , has lately deprived
of fame, and nearly of existence, the renowned
Cid Ruy Diaz El Campeador of Spain. Even our
own history has had to surrender much of its ro-
mance. The tale of Richard I. and the minstrel
Blondel, though so firmly rooted that even Sir
James Mackintosh relates it for truth, is, I fear,
a baseless fiction ; and the tragic fate of the fair
Rosamond Clifford, and some other traditions,
seem to rest on no securer foundation. What ha-
vock might not sceptical criticism make among
the deeds of the Wallace and the Bruce of ' auld
Scotland! 1
Is this effect then, which cannot be prevented,
to be deplored ? 1 say no. History ceases to be
useful, and becomes merely entertaining, when
it presents itself in such a romantic form. While
we believe, for instance, that Rome arose in the
manner described by Livy, we can derive no in-
struction, for it is out of the ordinary course of
things : but let us view its origin as deduced by
Niebuhr, from analogy and its institutions and
monuments, and we receive at once an accession
to our knowledge of ancient times, and, what is
always the result of enquiries of this nature, a
further proof that man is at all times and places
1 The author of the excellent History of Spain and Por-
tugal, which forms a part of the Cabinet Cyclopaedia. We
had previously, I may say, no history of the Peninsula in our
language ; we now possess, if not the very best, one of the
best in Europe.
WILLIAM TELL. 301
the same being, actuated by the same passions,
wants, and motives.
Far, however, be from me the wish to see these
national legends banished from history ! I would
not write the history of Rome and leave out the
combat of the Horatii and Curiatii, the valour of
Codes, the flight of Cloelia, and the romantic ge-
nerosity of Porsenna : and were I to be the histo-
rian of Helvetia, Tell still should shoot the apple
in my pages. But I would impress on them the
stamp of legendary, and state the degree of credit
to which they are entitled.
303
CHAPTER IX.
PERUONTO PETER THE FOOL EMELYAN THE FOOL.
CONCLUSION.
IT is interesting to observe the different forms
which the same story will take in different coun-
tries ; how it will be affected by national character
and institutions, and modes of thinking, and those
various circumstances which cause one people to
differ from another. We have already had an op-
portunity of observing something of this kind in
the case of Oriental tales transmitted to Europe ;
but to exhibit the contrast more strongly, I will
relate a tale from the Pentamerone of the lively
and witty Neapolitans, and then give the same
story in the garb in which it has been attired by
the duller and more homely genius of the slaves,
who crouch beneath the sway of the Northern Au-
tocrat and his subordinate despots.
PERUONTO.
A poor woman at Fasoria 1 named Ceccarella
(Fanny) had a son called Peruonto, who was the
1 Mr. Rossetti thinks it should be Casoria, as there is a
village of that name near Naples.
When, as I have told in the Fairy Mythology, (ii. p. 244.)
I had in some measure mastered the difficulties of the dialect,
304 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
most hideous figure, the greatest fool and the most
doltish idiot that Nature had ever created. So
that the heart of his unhappy mother was blacker
than a dish-clout; and a thousand times a day did
she give her hearty curse to all who had a hand
in bringing into the world such a dunderhead, who
was not worth a dog's mess. For the poor wo-
man might scream at him till she burst her throat,
and yet the moon-calf would not stir to do the
slightest hand's turn for her 1 .
At last, after a thousand dinnings at his brain,
and a thousand splittings of his head, and a thou-
sand *I tell you' and *I told you', bawling today
and yelling tomorrow, she got him to go to the
wood for a faggot, saying, " Come now, it is time
for us to get a morsel to eat ; run away for some
sticks, don't lose yourself on the way, and come
back as quick as you can, and we will boil ourselves
some cabbage to keep the life in us."
Away went Peruonto, the blockhead, and he
went just like one that was going to the gallows 2 :
I had an idea of translating the work, and did in fact trans-
late a few of the stories, among the rest, The Serpent. I
found Peruonto too difficult ; but, luckily, Mr. Rossetti is well
acquainted with the Neapolitan dialect, and he has most
kindly given me all the aid I required. The notes which
follow are to be regarded as his.
1 No marditto servitio, literally, ' a cursed service'. The
vulgar Irish have a similar way of speaking ; they would say,
'Bad luck to the pin's worth he 'd do for her! '
2 Comme va chillo che sta mezzo a li confrati : that is, ' among
the friars who attend criminals to the gallows'.
PERUONTO. 305
away he went, and he moved as if he was treading
on eggs, with the gait of a jackdaw, and counting
his steps, going fair and softly, at a snail's gallop,
and making all sorts of zig-zags and circumben-
dibuses on his way to the wood, to come there
after the fashion of the raven. And when he
got to the middle of a plain, through which a
river ran growling and murmuring at the want of
manners in the stones that were stopping his way,
he came upon three lasses, who had made them-
selves a bed of the grass, and a pillow of a flint
stone, and were lying dead-asleep under the blaze
of the Sun, who was shooting his rays down point
blank. When Peruonto saw these poor creatures,
who were made a fountain of water in the midst of
a furnace of fire, he felt pity for them, and with
the axe which he had in his hand he cut some
oak- branches, and made a handsome arbour over
them. In the mean time, the young persons, who
were the daughters of a fairy, awoke, and seeing
the kindness and courtesy of Peruonto, they gave
him a charm, that everything he asked for should
be done.
Peruonto, having performed this good action,
went his ways towards the wood, where he made
up such an enormous faggot that it would require
an engine to drag it ; and seeing that it was all
nonsense for him to think of carrying it on his
back, he got astride on it, and cried, "Oh ! what a
lucky fellow I should be if this faggot would carry
me riding a horseback ! " and the word was hardly
306 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
out of his mouth, when the faggot began to trot
and to gallop like a Bisignanian horse l ; and when
it came in front of the king's palace, it pranced
and capered and curveted in a way that would
amaze you. The ladies, who were standing at
one of the windows, on seeing such a wonderful
sight, ran to call Vastolla, the daughter of the
king ; who, going to the window and observing the
caracoles of a faggot and the bounds of a bundle
of wood, burst out a-laughing, a thing, owing to
a natural melancholy, she never remembered to
have done before. Peruonto raised his head, and
seeing that it was at him they were laughing, said,
" O Vastolla! I wish you were with child! " and so
saying, he struck his heels into the flanks of his
faggot, and in a dashing faggotty gallop he was at
home before many minutes, with such a train of
little boys at his heels, bawling and shouting after
him, that if his mother had not been quick to shut
the door, they would have killed him with rotten
fruit and vegetables.
Meanwhile Vastolla began to feel qualms of the
stomach and a palpitation of the heart, and other
1 The prince of Bisignano (in Apulia, I believe) had a fa-
mous breed of horses. The Poileis or Apulian horses were
celebrated in the Middle Ages. Of the 'hors of brass' Chaucer
says,
"Therewith so horsly and so quik of eye,
As it a gentil Poileis courser were ;
For certes fro his tayl unto his ere
Nature ne art ne coud him not amend
In no degree, as all the peple wend."
TERUONTO. 307
symptoms which convinced her that she was in the
family way. She did all in her power to keep her
condition concealed ; but at length the matter could
no longer be a secret. The king, when he disco-
vered it, was like a bedlamite l ; and he summoned
his council, and said, " Ye know by this time that
the moon of my honour has got horns: ye know
by this time that my daughter has provided me
with matter for having chronicles, or rather cor-
nicles, of my shame written ; so now speak, and
advise me. My own opinion would be, to make
her bring forth her soul before she brought forth
an ill breed. I should be disposed to make her
feel the pangs of death before she felt the pains of
labour ; it would be my humour to put her out of
the world before she sowed any seed."
The councillors, who had in their time consumed
more oil than wine 2 , said, "Of a truth she deserves
to be severely punished ; and the haft of the knife
which should take away her life ought to be made
of the horns that she has placed on your brows.
Nevertheless, if we put her to death now that she
is with child, that audacious scoundrel who, to put
you into a battle of annoyances, has armed both
your left and your right wing 3 ; who, to teach you
1 Facenno cosa delV autro munno, * doing things of the
other world.'
2 That is, had studied much and drunk little.
3 Lo cuorno diritto e lo manco. In the military language
of the Romans, as is well known, the wings were called
cornua.
308 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the policy of Tiberius ! , has set a Cornelius Tacitus
before you ; who, to represent to you a true dream
of infamy, has made you come out through the
gate of horn 2 ; he, we say, will escape through the
broken meshes of the net. Let us wait, then, till
it comes to light, and we learn what was the root
of this disgrace, and then we will think over it, and
resolve with a grain of salt 3 what were best to be
done." This counsel pleased the king; for he saw
that they spoke like sensible prudent men : so he
held his hand, and said, " Let us wait and see the
end of this business."
But, as Heaven would have it, the hour of the
birth came ; and with two or three slight twitches
of pain, that she hardly felt, she brought into
the world two little boys, like two golden ap-
ples. The king, who was also full of pains, sum-
moned his councillors to advise with him; and
he said, " Well, now my daughter is brought to
bed, it is time for us now to follow up the business
by knocking out her brains." " No," said those
wise old men, (and it was all to give Time time,)
let us wait till the little ones grow big enough to
enable us to discover the features of the father."
The king, as he never wrote without having the
ruled-lines of his council, to keep him from writing
crooked, shrugged up his shoulders, but had pa-
1 That is, 'to teach you cruelty.' Observe the allusion to
horns in Cornelius.
2 Alluding to the conclusion of the sixth book of the JSneis.
3 That is, with judgement.
PERUONTO. 309
tience, and waited till the children were seven years
old. He then urged his councillors anew to make
an end of the business; and one of them said,
" Since you have not been able to sift your daugh-
ter, and find out who the false coiner is that has
altered the crown on your image, we will now hunt
out the stain. Order, then, a great banquet to be
prepared, and let every titled man and every gen-
tleman in this city come to it, and let us be on the
watch, and, with our eyes on the pantry, see 1 to
whom the little children shall turn most willingly,
moved thereto by nature ; for beyond doubt that
will be the father, and we will instantly lay hold
on him and secure him."
The king was pleased with this counsel, and he
ordered the banquet to be got ready ; and he in-
vited all the people of rank, and of note, and of
consideration in the place. He made them all be
placed in a row, and pass before the children ; but
they took no more notice of them than Alexander's
bull-dog did of the rabbits ; so that the king was
outrageous, and bit his lips, and though he did not
want for shoes, yet this pump of grief was so tight
for him, that he stamped with his feet on the
ground. But his councillors said to him, " Softly,
softly, Your Majesty ! correct this mistake. Let
us make another banquet tomorrow, but not for
people of condition, but an inferior sort ; maybe,
1 AW erta e coW uocchie sopra lo tagliero. The tagliero is
the chopping-block ; to keep one's eyes upon it, is to watch
the cats, that they run away with nothing.
310 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
as a woman always attaches herself to the worst,
we shall find among the cutlers, and bead-makers,
and comb-sellers, the seed of your anger, which
we have not discovered among the cavaliers."
This reasoning jumped with the humour of the
king, and he ordered a second banquet to be pre-
pared ; to which, on proclamation being made, came
all the riffraff and tag-rag-and-bobtail of the city,
such as scavengers, tinkers, pedlars, penny-boys,
sweeps, beggars, and such-like rabble, who were
all in high glee ; and taking their seats, like noble-
men, at a great long table, they began to gobble
away. Now when Ceccarella heard this proclama-
tion, she began to urge Peruonto to go there too,
and she at last got him to set out for the feeding-
place ; and scarcely had he arrived there, when
those pretty little children got round him, and be-
gan to caress him, and to fawn upon him beyond
the beyonds. The king, who saw this, tore his
beard, seeing that the bean of this cake J , the prize
in this lottery, had fallen to an ugly beast, the very
sight of whom was enough to turn one's stomach ;
who, besides having a velvet head 2 , owls' eyes,
a parrot's nose, a deer's mouth, was bandy- and
bare-legged ; so that, without reading Fioravanti 3 ,
you might see at once what he was. So giving a
1 It is the custom in Italy to make a cake on the Epiphany,
in which a bean is put ; the cake is broken and divided, and
the person who gets the bean is king for the evening. This
is something like our custom of putting the ring in pancakes.
2 Like a blackamoor.
3 A writer on physiognomy,
TAILIES
AND
FFHJ3LAIB
Ah, cruel king! how could 'st thou in
A cask shut up tbjr daughter,
And her two pretty babes, and cast
Them out npon the water !
DRAWN BY W. H. BROOKE, F. S. A., ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY O. BAXTER,
PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER AND CO.
PERUONTO. 311
deep sigh, he said, " What can that dirty jade of
a daughter of mine have seen to make her take a
fancy to this sea-ogre ? What can she have seen
to make her kick up a dance with this hairy-foot ?
Ah, vile false creature ! what metamorphosis is
this ? to make yourself a cow, that you might
make a ram of me ? But what do I wait for ? Is
it till she repents ? Let her suffer what she de-
serves : let her undergo the penalty that will be
decreed by you ; and take her from before my
eyes, for I cannot endure the sight of her."
The councillors then consulted together, and
they resolved that she, as well as the malefactor
and the children, should be shut up in a cask, and
thrown into the sea, so that, without the king's
dirtying his hands with his own blood, they might
all come to an end. They had scarcely given their
sentence, when the cask was brought, and all four
were put into it ; but before they coopered it up,
some of Vastolla's ladies, crying ready to break
their hearts, put into it a parcel of raisins and
dried figs, that she might have wherewithal to
live on for some little time ; and the cask was
then closed up, and carried and flung into the
open sea, along which it went floating as the wind
drove it.
Meanwhile Vastolla, weeping and making two
rivers of her eyes, said to Peruonto, " What a sad
misfortune is this of ours, to have the cradle of
Bacchus for our coffin ! Oh, if I but knew who
it was that changed my body, to have me caged
312 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
in this dungeon ! Alas, alas ! to find myself a
mother without knowing how ! Tell me, tell me,
O cruel man, what incantation was it you made,
and what wand did you employ, to enclose me
thus within the circle of this cask ?" Peruonto,
who had been for some time lending her a chap-
man's ear, at last said, " If you want me to tell
you, do you give me some figs and raisins." Vas-
tolla, to draw something out of him, put into him
a handful both of the one and the other ; and as
soon as he had his gullet full, he told her accu-
rately all that had befallen him with the three
maidens, and then with the faggot, and then with
herself at the window ; which when the poor lady
heard, she took heart, and said to Peruonto, " Bro-
ther of mine! shall we then let our lives run
out in this cask? Why don't you make this vessel
become a fine ship, and go to some good port to
escape this danger?" Peruonto replied, "Give
me raisins and figs if you want me to say it for
you." And Vastolla, to make him open his
throat like a Cornacala gurnet, instantly filled
his throat with figs and raisins, so that at last she
fished the words out of him ; and, lo ! as soon as
Peruonto had said what she desired, the cask was
turned into a ship, with all the rigging necessary
for sailing, and with all the sailors required for
working the vessel ; and then you might see one
pulling at a sheet, another mending the rigging ;
one taking the helm, another setting the sails, an-
other mounting to the round-top ; one crying ' Lar-
PERUONTO. 313
board ! ' and another * Starboard ! ' one sounding the
trumpet, another firing the guns ; one doing one
thing, and one another ; so that Vastolla was in
the ship, and was swimming in a sea of delight.
It being now the hour when the Moon would
play at see-saw with the Sun J , Vastolla said to
Peruonto, " My fine lad, now make the ship be-
come an elegant palace, for we shall then be more
secure. You know it is a common saying, ' Praise
the sea, but keep to the land'." Peruonto replied,
" If you want me to say it for you, do you give
me figs and raisins :" and Vastolla instantly re-
peated the operation; and Peruonto, swallowing
them down, asked what was her pleasure ; and the
ship immediately came to the land, and became a
most beautiful palace, fitted up in the most com-
plete manner, and so full of furniture, and cur-
tains, and hangings, that there was nothing to de-
sire ; so that Vastolla, who a little before would have
given her life for a farthing s , would not change
now with the greatest lady in the world, seeing
herself served and treated like a queen. She then,
to put the seal to all her good fortune, besought
1 A histe e veniste e lo luoco te perdisse. This is the name
of a popular game at Naples. It is played by two, one of
whom goes up, and the other down, alternately. Another
name for it is Scarica a barile.
9 Pe tre cavalle, literally * for three horses'. The Horse is
the arms of Naples, and is impressed on a small piece of money,
worth about one thirtieth of an English penny. The lowest
coin now used at Naples is the piece of sei cavalli', but Mr. Ros-
setti says, that in his youth there were pieces of tre cavalli.
P
314 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
Peruonto to obtain grace to become handsome
and elegant in his manners, that they might live
happy together; for though the proverb says,
t Better is a swinish husband than a royal keeper/
still, if his countenance was changed, she would
consider it the most fortunate thing in the world.
Peruonto replied as usual, " Give me figs and rai-
sins if you want me to say it." Vastolla quickly
removed the stoppage of his speech ; and scarcely
had he spoken the word, when from a dunce he
became a man of sense ; from an ogre, a Narcis-
sus ; from a hideous caricature of humanity, an
elegant gentleman. Vastolla, seeing such a trans-
formation, was near going wild with joy; and
clasping him in her arms, and kissing him, she
sucked the juice of happiness.
Meantime, the king, who from the day that this
calamity befell him had been full up to the very
throat with 'Let-me-alone', was, for amusement,
brought out to hunt by his courtiers ; and night
overtaking them, and seeing a light in the window
of that palace, he sent a servant to see if they
would entertain him ; and he was answered, that
he might not merely break a glass, but even smash
a jug there. So the king went there ; and going
up the stairs, and running through the chambers,
he saw no living being but two little children, who
came about him, crying, " Grandpapa ! grandpapa ! "
The king, amazed, surprised, and astonished, stood
like one that was enchanted ; and sitting down to
rest himself near a table, to his amazement he saw
PERUONTO. 315
invisibly spread on it a Flanders table-cloth, with
various dishes full of roast and boiled meats ; so
that he ate and he drank in reality like a king,
waited on by those beautiful children : and while
he sat at table, a concert of lutes and tambourins
never ceased, the harmony of which penetrated to
the very tips of his fingers and toes. When he
had done eating, a bed appeared, all adorned with
gold ; and having his boots taken off, he went to
rest in it, and all his courtiers did the same, after
having eaten heartily at a hundred other tables,
which were laid out in the other rooms.
When morning came, and the king was about to
depart, he wished to take with him the two little
children. But Vastolla now made her appearance
with her husband, and casting herself at his feet,
asked his pardon, and told him her whole story.
The king, seeing that he had gotten two grand-
sons that were two jewels, and a son-in-law that
was a fay ! , embraced both the one and the other,
and most joyfully carried them with him to the
city ; and he made a great feast, that lasted for
many days, on account of this good luck, confess-
ing, at the top of his voice, that
" Man proposes,
But God disposes."
This story is also to be found in Straparola.
The following is an abridgement of his narrative.
1 Nofato. See above, p. 194. Fairy Mythology, ii. 237, note.
p 2
316 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
PETER THE FOOL.
In the isle of Caprara, in the Ligurian Sea, there
was a poor woman who had a son that was a fool,
and who was named Peter. She lived opposite the
king's palace, and every day Peter went to fish,
and though he never caught anything, he used to
cry, as he came back to his mother, that he was
laden with fish. The king's daughter Luciana,
who was only ten years old, used to look out of
the window, and laugh at him till she was tired,
and the fool would then curse and abuse her. At
length, one day Peter was so lucky as to catch a
tunny-fish, and he was in great rapture, thinking
of the good meal he should have ; but the fish
begged and prayed of him to let him go. He long
besought in vain : at last he promised him as
much fish as he could carry, and also to grant
him anything he asked. The fool's heart was
melted, and he let him go, and the tunny then
bade him get into his boat, and incline it to one
side, that the water might run in. Peter did so ;
and with the water came in so many fishes, that
the boat was near sinking. He took as many as he
could carry, and went home shouting as before.
Luciana laughed at him as usual, and Peter in
a rage ran down to the sea, and called the tunny.
The fish came, and asked what he wanted : he said
that the king's daughter should be with child. It
was done as he desired ; and nothing could equal
PETER THE FOOL. 317
the amazement of the queen when she found her
young daughter in that state. The king, when he
heard it, was going to have her secretly put to
death ; but the queen turned him from it, at least
till the child should be born. The child proved
to be a fine boy, and the king had not the heart
to injure either him or his mother. When the child
was a year old, the king summoned all above four-
teen years of age to the palace. Peter came with
the rest, and was discovered like Peruonto; and
by the advice of the queen, he and the princess
and the child were put into a barrel, with some
bread, wine and figs, and thrown into the sea.
The poor princess, when she could see neither
sun nor moon, was in great affliction ; the child
was crying, and, as she had no milk, she fed it
with the figs. As for Peter, he was laughing, and
eating the bread and wine. When she remon-
strated with him for his indifference, he told her
of the tunny, and at her desire called him, and
bade him do all she wished. She then desired
him to cast the barrel on one of the most agree-
able and safest rocks in her father's kingdom ; to
make Peter the handsomest and wisest man in the
world; and, finally, to build a most splendid palace
on the rock. All was done to her wish. The king
and queen happening to come there shortly after-
wards, as they were going on a voyage of plea-
sure to divert their melancholy, Peter and Luciana
received them as they landed ; but the king and
queen did not know them, they were so altered.
318 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
They were taken into the garden, where there
were three golden apples growing on one of the
trees, and one of these was secretly put into the
king's bosom. The keeper of the garden missing
the apple, informed Luciana, who directed that
every one should be searched. Still the apple was
not found ; and she then required the king to let
himself be examined also ; and as soon as he
opened his bosom the apple fell out. Luciana
began to reproach him for his conduct ; but at
length she told him who she was, and all ended
happily ; for the king brought them home with
him, and in due time Peter became his successor
on the throne.
A small volume of Russian Popular Tales has
lately appeared in Germany *. The translator says
that he has rendered them faithfully from the
broad-sheets and other forms in which they are
to be found on sale in Moscow for the use of the
people. Dr. Jacob Grimm, who (after the German
custom of chaperoning a young author,) has writ-
ten a preface to the volume, describes it, I think
justly, as being in every point of view a valuable
addition to the department of literature to which
it belongs.
What chiefly gives value to these tales is, in my
opinion, their genuine Sclavonic air and manner.
Modes of thought and expression which seem pe-
1 RussiscTie Volksmarchen, Leipzig, 1831.
RUSSIAN POPULAR TALES. 319
culiar to that portion of the human family conti-
nually occur ; and some remarkable coincidences
with the ancient legends of Persia may be ob-
served. Whether these last were derived from that
country, or only indicate a similarity of thought
and idiom between the two neighbouring peoples,
it is not easy to say. Many of the tales appear to
be derived from foreign sources ; but they are as
completely naturalised as those in the Pentame-
rone. The following one, which I regard as being
Italian in its origin, will serve as an example.
None is more thoroughly Russian than that of the
Golden Egg, which Dr. Grimm regards as one of
the best in the collection, and yet it strongly re-
sembles some German stories, and is to be found
entire in Count Caylus's Fairy Tales. The most
curious instance is that of Bova Korolevitch and
the Fair Drushnevna, our own Bevis of Hampton,
the Beuves de Hantone of the French, the Buovo
d'Antona of the Italian romance named 'I Reali
(Kings) di Francia ' ;' from which last I am very
certain it w r as taken : and very curious indeed are
the changes which it has undergone at the hands
of its Muscovite re-maker !
The following is the Russian mode of narrating
the tale of a fool grown wise and rich.
1 It is rather strange that Mr. Ellis should not have known
that Bevis of Hampton and Buovo d'Antona were the same.
According to G. Villani (Panizzi, i. p. 156.), the story of
Buovo was a popular one in Italy in the fourteenth century.
It continues to be so still ; for the ' Reali di Francia' has, I
find, been reprinted in the present century.
320 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
EMELYAN THE FOOL.
In a certain village lived one time a peasant who
had three sons, of whom two were sensible, but
the third was a fool, and his name was Emelyan,
And when the peasant had lived for a long time,
and was grown very old, he called his three sons
to him, and said to them, " My dear children, I
feel that I have not very long to live, so I give
you the house and cattle, which you will divide,
share and share alike, among you. I also leave
you in money a hundred roubles a-piece." Soon
after the old man died, and the sons, after they
had buried him, lived on happy and contented.
Some time after, Emelyan's brothers took it into
their heads to remove to the city, and carry on
trade with the three hundred roubles which their
father had left them. So they said to Emelyan,
" Hark ye, fool ! we are going to the city, and we
will take your hundred roubles with us, and if we
prosper in trade we will buy you a red coat, red
boots, and a red cap. But do you stay at home
here, and when your sisters-in-law (for they were
married) desire you to do anything, do as they
bid you." The fool, who had a great longing for
a red coat, a red cap, and red boots, answered at
once that he would do whatever his sisters-in-law
bid him. So his brothers went off to the city, and
Emelyan stayed at home with his two sisters-in-
law,
One day, when the winter was come, and the
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 321
cold was great, his sisters-in-law told him to go
out and fetch in water ; but Emelyan remained
lying on the stove, and said, " Aye, and who then
are you ?" The sisters-in-law began to scold him,
and said, " How now, fool ! We are what you see.
You see how cold it is, and that it is a man's bu-
siness to go." But he said, " I am lazy." They
again cried out, " How ! you are lazy ? You will
want to eat, and if we have no water we cannot
cook." They then added, " Very well, we will
only tell our husbands not to give him anything,
when they have bought the fine red coat and all
for him ! " The fool heard what they said ; and
as he was very desirous to get the red coat and
cap, he saw that he must go : so he got down
from off the stove, and began to put on his shoes
and stockings, and to dress himself. When he
was drest, he took the buckets and the axe, and
went down to the river, for their village was by
a river. When he came to the river, he began to
cut a hole in the ice, and he cut a huge large one.
He then drew water in the buckets, and setting
them on the ice, he stood by the hole, looking
into the water. And as he was looking, he saw a
large pike swimming about in the open water.
Great a fool as Emelyan was, he felt a wish to
catch this pike : so he stole on cautiously and
softly to the edge of the hole, and making a sud-
den grasp at the pike, he caught him, and pulled
him out of the water; then putting him in his
bosom, he was hurrying home with him, when the
r 5
322 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
pike cried out, " Ho, fool ! why have you caught
me?" He made answer, "To bring you home,
and get my sisters-in-law to dress you." " No,
fool ! do not bring me home, but let me go again
into the water, and I will make a rich man of you."
But the fool would not consent, and was going on
towards home. When the pike saw that the fool
was not for letting him go, he said to him, " Hark
ye, fool ! let me go, and I will do for you every-
thing that you do not like to do yourself; you
will only have to wish, and it shall be done."
When the fool heard this, he was rejoiced beyond
measure ; for as he was uncommonly lazy, he
thought to himself, " If the pike does everything
that I have no mind to do, all will be done with-
out my having any occasion to work." So he said
to the pike, " I will let you go in the water if you
do all you promise." The pike said, " Let me go
first, and then I will keep my promise." But
the fool answered, that he must first perform his
promise, and then he would let him go. When the
pike saw that he would not put him into the water,
he said, " If you wish, as I told you, that I should
do all you desire, you must tell me now what
your desire is." " I wish," said the fool, " that my
buckets should go of themselves from the river
up the hill, (for the village was on a hill,) and
that without spilling any of the water." Then said
the pike, " Remember the words which I now say
unto you, and listen to what they are : At the
pike's command, and at my request, go, buckets !
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 323
of yourselves up the hill." The fool repeated after
him, " At the pike's command, and at my request,
go, buckets ! of yourselves up the hill." And in-
stantly, with the speed of thought, the buckets ran
up the hill. When Emelyan saw this, he was
amazed beyond expression; and he said to the
pike, " But will it always be so ? " " Everything
you desire will be done," replied the pike ; " but
forget not, forget not I say, the words I have
taught you." Emelyan then put the pike into the
water, and followed his buckets home.
The neighbours were all amazed, and said to
one another, " This fool makes the buckets come
of themselves up from the river, and he follows
them himself at his leisure." But Emelyan took
no notice of them, and went on home. The buckets
were by this time in the house, and standing in
their place on the foot-bench, and Emelyan him-
self got up and lay on the stove.
After some time his sisters-in-law said to him
again, " Emelyan, what are you loitering there for ?
Get up, and go cut wood." But the fool said, "Aye!
and you, who are you then ? " " You see," cried
they, " it is now winter, and if you do not go cut
wood you will be frozen." " I am lazy," said the
fool. " What ! you are lazy ? " said the sisters-in-
law. "If you do not go and cleave wood, we will
tell our husbands not to give you the red coat,
or the red cap, or the fine red boots!" The fool,
who longed for the red cap, coat, and boots, saw
that he must cleave the wood ; but as it was bitter
324- TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
cold, and he did not like to come down from off
the stove, he repeated under his breath, as he lay,
the words, " At the pike's command, and at my
request, up, axe ! and hew wood ; and do you, logs !
come of yourselves into the house, and lay your-
selves in the stove." The axe instantly jumped
up, ran out into the yard, and began to cut up the
wood ; and the wood came of itself into the house,
and went and laid itself in the stove. When the
sisters-in-law saw this, they wondered exceedingly
at the ingenuity of the fool ; and as the axe did
of itself the work whenever Emelyan was wanted
to cut up wood, he lived for some time in great
tranquillity with them. At length the wood was
out, and they said to him, " Emelyan, we have no
more wood ; so you must go to the forest and cut
some.*' The fool said, " Aye ! and you, who are
you then ? " The sisters-in-law said, " The wood
is far off, and it is winter, and too cold for us to
go." But the fool said, " I am lazy." " How !
you are lazy ? " said they : " you will be frozen
then ; and besides, we will make our husbands,
when they come home, not give you the red coat,
cap, and boots ! " As the fool longed for the red
clothes, he found that he must go and cut the
wood ; so he got up off the stove, began to put
on his shoes and stockings, and to dress himself;
and when he was drest, he went out into the yard,
pulled the sledge out of the shed, took a rope and
the axe with him, mounted the sledge, and called
out to his sisters-in-law, " Open the gate ! "
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 325
When the sisters-in-law saw that he was for
going off in the sledge without any horses, (for
the fool had not put the horses to it,) they cried
out, " Why, Emelyan ! you have got on the sledge
without yoking the horses ! " But he answered,
that he did not want any horses, only for them to
open the gate. The sisters-in-law threw open the
gate, and the fool, as he sat in the sledge, said, " At
the pike's command, and at my request, away,
sledge! go to the wood." At these words the
sledge galloped out of the yard at such a rate that
the people of the village, when they saw it, were
filled with amazement at Emelyan's riding in the
sledge without horses ; and that with such speed,
that if a pair of horses had been yoked to it, it
would be impossible for them to draw it at any-
thing like the same rate. And as it was neces-
sary for the fool to go through the town in his
way to the wood, he came at full speed to the
town ; but not knowing that he should cry out
" Make way ! " in order that he might not run over
any one, he gave no notice, but rode on. So he
ran over a great number of people ; and though
they ran after him, no one was able to overtake
him and bring him back. Emelyan, having got
clear of the town, came to the wood, and stopped
his sledge. He then got down from the sledge,
and said, " At the pike's command, and at my re-
quest, up, axe ! hew wood ; and you, logs ! lay your-
selves on the sledge, and tie yourselves together."
The fool had scarcely uttered these words, when
326 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
the axe began to cut wood, the logs to lay them-
selves in the sledge, and the rope to tie them
down. When the axe had cut wood enough, he
desired it to cut him a good cudgel ; and when the
axe had done this, he mounted the sledge, and
said, " Up, and away ! At the pike's command,
and at my request, go home, sledge ! " Away, then,
went the sledge at the top of its speed ; and when
he came to the town, where he had hurt so many
people, he found a crowd waiting to catch him ;
and as soon as he got into the town, they laid
hold on him, and began to drag him off his sledge,
and to beat him. When the fool saw how they
were treating him, he said under his breath, " At
the pike's command, and at my request, up, cud-
gel ! and break their legs and arms." Instantly
the cudgel began to lay about it in all directions ;
and when the people were all driven away, he
made his escape, and came to his own village.
The cudgel, having thrashed them all soundly,
rolled to the house after him ; and Emelyan, as
usual, when he got home, mounted up and lay on
the stove.
After Emelyan had left the town, the people
began everywhere to talk, not so much of the num-
ber of persons whom he had injured, as to ex-
press their amazement at his riding in the sledge
without horses ; and from one to another the news
spread till it reached the court, and came even to
the ears of the king. And when the king heard
of it, he felt an extreme desire to see him. So
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 327
he despatched an officer with a party of soldiers
in search of him. The officer whom the king sent
lost no time in leaving the town, and he took the
road that the fool had taken ; and when he came
to the village where Emelyan lived, he summoned
before him the Starosta (i. e. Head-rnan) of the
village, and said to him, " I am sent by the king
to take a certain fool, and bring him before his
majesty." The Starosta instantly showed him the
house where Emelyan lived, and the officer went
into it, and asked where the fool was. Emelyan,
who was lying on the stove, made answer and
said, " What is it you want with me? " " How !
What do I want with you ? Get up this instant
and dress yourself: I must take you to the king."
But Emelyan said, " What to do ? " The officer
became so enraged at the rudeness of his replies,
that he gave him a blow on the cheek. " At the
pike's command, and at my request," said the fool
under his breath, " up, cudgel ! and thrash their
legs and arms." At the word, up sprang the cud-
gel, and began to lay about it on all sides, on offi-
cer and men alike. The officer was forced to go
back to the town as fast as he could ; and when
he came before the king, and told him how the
fool had cudgelled them all round, the king mar-
velled greatly, and would not believe that he had
been able to cudgel them all.
The king then selected a wise man, whom he
directed to bring him the fool by craft, if no-
thing else would do ; and the envoy left the king,
328 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
and went to the village where Emelyan dwelt. He
called the Starosta before him, and said, " I am
sent by the king to take your fool. So do you
send for those with whom he lives." The Sta-
rosta then ran and fetched the sisters-in-law. The
king's messenger asked them what it was the
fool liked, and they answered, " Noble sir, if any
one entreats our fool earnestly to do anything,
he flatly refuses the first and the second time ;
but the third time he does not refuse, but does
what one wants ; for he does not like to be roughly
handled." The king's messenger then dismissed
them, charging them not to tell Emelyan that he
had summoned them before him. He then bought
raisins, baked plums, and grapes, and went to the
fool. When he came into the room, he went up
to the stove, and said, " Emelyan, why are you
lying on the stove ? " and with that he gave him
the raisins, the baked plums, and the grapes, and
said, "Emelyan, we will go together to the king:
I will take you with me." But the fool replied,
" I am very warm here ;" for there was nothing
he was so fond of as heat. The messenger then
began to entreat him. " Be so good, Emelyan !
let us go, you will like the court vastly." "Aye,"
said the fool, "I am lazy." The messenger be-
gan once more to entreat him. "Be so good,
come with me, and the king will get you made a
fine red coat, a red cap, and a pair of red boots."
When the fool heard talk of the red coat, he said,
" Go on before, I will follow you." The mes-
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 329
senger then pressed him no further, but went out
and asked the sisters-in-law if there was any dan-
ger of the fool's deceiving him. They assured him
that there was not, and he went away. The fool,
who still remained lying on the stove, then said
to himself, "How I hate this going to the king!'*
Then, after a few minutes' thought, "At the
pike's command, and at my request," said he,
" up, stove ! and away to the town." Instantly the
wall of the room opened, and the stove moved
out ; and when it had got clear of the yard, it
went at such a rate that there was no overtaking
it ; and it came up with the king's messenger, and
went after him and entered the palace along with
him. When the king saw that the fool was come,
he went forth with all his ministers to see him ;
and when he saw that Emelyan was come, riding
on the stove, he was greatly amazed. But Eme-
lyan still lay where he was, and said nothing.
Then the king asked him why he had killed so
many people when he was going to the wood.
" It was their own fault," said the fool, " why did
they not get out of the way ?"
Just at that moment the king's daughter came
to the window, and looked at the fool ; and Eme-
lyan happening suddenly to look up at the win-
dow where she stood observing him, and seeing
that she was very handsome, he said quite softly
to himself, "At the pike's command, and at my
request, away! let this lovely maiden fall in love
with me!" And scarcely had he spoken the words,
330 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
when the king's daughter was desperately in love
with him. He then said, " At the pike's com-
mand, and at my request, up, and away, stove !
go home!" Immediately the stove left the palace,
went through the town, got home, and set itself
in its old place. And Emelyan lived there for
some time, comfortable and happy.
But it was quite different in the town ; for, at
the word of Emelyan, the king's daughter had
fallen in love ; and she began to implore her father
to give her the fool for a husband. The king was
in a great rage, both with her and the fool ; but
he knew not how he could lay hold on him. His
minister however suggested, that he should, by
way of punishment, for not having succeeded on
the former occasion, send the officer whom he had
sent before, to take him. This advice pleased the
king well, and he had the officer called to him ;
and when he came, the king said, "Hark ye,
friend! I sent you before for the fool, and you
came without him. To punish you, I now send
you for him a second time. If you bring him, you
shall be rewarded ; if you do not bring him, you
shall be punished."
When the officer heard this, he left the king,
and lost no time in going in quest of the fool ; and
when he came to the village, he called for the Sta-
rosta, and said to him, " Here is money for you ;
buy everything necessary for a good dinner to-
morrow. Invite Emelyan, and when he comes,
make him drink till he falls fast asleep." The
EMEI/tfAN THE FOOL. 331
Starosta, knowing that he came from the king,
felt obliged to obey him ; so he bought everything
that was required, and invited the fool. When
Emelyan said he would come, the officer was
greatly rejoiced. So next day the fool came to
dinner, and the Starosta plied him so well with
liquor that he fell fast asleep. As soon as the of-
ficer saw that he was asleep, he laid hold on him,
and ordered the kibitke (a sort of carriage) to be
brought up ; and when it came, they put the fool
into it, and the officer, getting in himself, drove off
to the town, and so to the palace. The minister
informed the king that the officer was come ; and
as soon as he heard it, he ordered a large cask
to be provided without delay, and to be hooped
with strong iron hoops. When the cask was
brought to the king, and he saw that everything
was done as he desired, he ordered his daughter
and the fool to be put into it, and the cask to be
well pitched. When all this was done, the king
ordered the cask to be thrown into the sea, and left
to the mercy of the waves. The king then re-
turned to his palace, and the cask floated along
for some time on the sea. All this time the fool
was fast asleep ; and when he awoke, and saw that
it was quite dark, he said to himself, "Where am
I?" for he thought he was all alone. But the
princess said, " You are in a cask, Emelyan ! and I
am shut up with you in it." " But who are you?"
said the clown. " I am the king's daughter," said
she. And then she told him why she had been
332 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
shut up there with him. She then besought him
to deliver himself and her out of the cask ; but the
fool said, "I am very warm here, too." " Grant
me the favour, said the princess ; have pity on my
tears, and deliver me out of this cask." Why
not?" said Emelyan, "I am lazy." The princess
began once more to entreat him ; "Grant me the
favour, Emelyan ! deliver me out of this cask,
and let me not die !" The fool was moved by her
tears and her entreaties, and he said, "Well, I
will do this for you." He then said, softly, "At
the pike's command, and at my request, cast us,
O sea! on the shore, where we may dwell on a
dry place, only let us be near our own country ;
and do thou, cask ! fall to pieces of thyself on the
dry place."
Scarcely had the fool spoken the words, when
the waves began to roll, and the cask was thrown
up on a dry place and fell to pieces of itself. Eme-
lyan got up, and went with the princess about
the place where they were cast. And the fool
saw that they were in a very handsome island,
where there was a great abundance of trees, with
all kinds of fruit upon them. When the princess
saw all this, she was greatly rejoiced at their being
on such an island, and she said, " But, Emelyan !
where shall we live ? There is not even a nook
here." "You want too much," said the fool.
" Grant me the favour," said the princess, " let
there be, if nothing more, a little cottage, in which
we may shelter us from the rain;" for the princess
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 333
knew he could do everything he wished. But the
fool said, " I am lazy." She began again to urge
him, and Emelyan overcome by her entreaties was
obliged to do as she desired.
He went away from her, and said, "At the
pike's command, and at my request, let me have,
in the middle of this island, a finer castle than
the king's, and let a crystal bridge lead from my
castle to the royal palace ; and let there be people
of all conditions in the court!" The words were
scarcely spoken, when there appeared a splen-
did castle, with a crystal bridge. The fool went
with the princess into the castle, and saw that the
apartments were all magnificently furnished, and
that there was a number of men there, such as
footmen, and all kinds of officers, who waited for
the fool's commands. When he saw that all these
men were like meja, and that he alone was ugly
and stupid, he wished to be better. So he said,
" At the pike's command, and at my request,
away ! let me become such a youth that I shall
have no equal, and let me be extremely wise !"
He scarce had spoken, when he became so hand-
some and so wise that all were amazed.
Emelyan then sent one of his servants to the
king, to invite him and all his ministers. The
servant went along the crystal bridge which the
fool had made ; and when he came to the court,
the ministers brought him before the king, and
Emelyan's messenger said, " Please your majesty,
I am sent by my master to ask you to dinner."
334 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
The king asked him who his master was ; but he
answered, " Please your majesty, I can tell you
nothing about my master, (for the fool had or-
dered him not to tell who he was), but if you come
to dine with him he will inform you himself."
The king, who was curious to know who it was
that had sent to invite him, told the messenger
that he would go without fail.
The servant went away ; and when he got home,
the king and his ministers set out along the cry-
stal bridge to visit the fool ; and when they ar-
rived at the castle, Emelyan came forth to meet
the king, took him by the white hands, kissed him
on the sugar- mouth 1 , led him into his castle, and
made him sit behind the oak-tables with fine dia-
pered table-cloths, at sugar-meats and honey-
drinks. The king and his ministers ate and drank
and made themselves merry. When they got up
from table and retired, the fool said to the king,
" Does your majesty know who I am? " As Eme-
lyan was now drest in fine clothes, and was very
handsome in the face, it was not possible to re-
cognise him. So the king said that he did not
know him. Then, said the fool, "Does not your
majesty recollect how a fool came on a stove to
your court, and how you fastened him up in a
pitched cask with your daughter, and cast them
into the sea ? Know me then now, for I am that
Emelyan." When the king saw him thus before
him, he was greatly terrified, and knew not what
1 These expressions are peculiar to the Sclavonic dialects.
EMELYAN THE FOOL. 335
to do. But the fool went to the king's daughter
and brought her out to him ; and when the king
saw his daughter, he was greatly rejoiced, and said,
" I have been very unjust towards you ; so I give
you my daughter to wife." The fool hearing this,
humbly thanked the king ; and when Emelyan had
prepared everything for the wedding, it was cele-
brated with great magnificence, and the following
day the fool gave a feast to the ministers and the
common people. There were barrels of wine set
forth ; and when all these festivities were at an
end, the king wanted to give up his kingdom to
him, but he had no mind to take it. So the king
went back to his kingdom, and the fool remained
in his castle and lived happily.
I leave to the reader the task of comparing
these three forms of the very same tale, and of
observing the resemblances and the differences
which they present. My labours have now reached
the limit assigned them, else I might go on point-
ing out likenesses, either accidental or copied, to
be found in the literature and legends of various
countries. Thus, for example, I could show that
the amusing Taming -of- the-Shrew story of Sadek
Beg, so well told in the Sketches of Persia, is to
be found in El Conde Lucanor, a Spanish work
written early in the fourteenth century ; and, cu-
rious enough, the actors in this last are Moors!
I might then proceed to inquire whether this story
came originally from the East to Spain, or was in-
336 TALES AND POPULAR FICTIONS.
vented in the West, and then conveyed via Syria
to Persia. But I must stop, lest weariness should
creep over my readers, and they should begin to
think my prattle tedious.
Courteous reader! We are now about to part :
after having been companions for some time, along
the same road. To beguile the tediousness of the
way, I have been giving you, as it were, a Per-
sonal Narrative of a voyage which I once made to
the land of Fiction, and of the discoveries I chanced
to make while there. I have, therefore, had oc-
casion to speak now and then of my own impres-
sions and adventures, and if they have not amused,
I hope they have not displeased you. We are ar-
rived, I find, at the point where my road separates
from yours : you will, probably, continue on the
present one, and I trust will soon fall in with some
more agreeable companion than I have been: that
to the right, which I own looks rather thorny and
rugged, is mine. Adieu ! I wish you a most plea-
sant journey.
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
THE popular legends of Germany, and some other
countries, having been collected and published
within the present century, a rich harvest of le-
gendary lore lay ready. I had the good fortune to
be the first to gather it ] ; and my Fairy Mythology
will therefore probably remain for some time a
kind of text-book on the subject. As the present
may be said to be a companion to that Work, I
venture here to make some additions to it ; but I
put them in such a form as to be independent.
Tt was only by degrees that I arrived at what
I believe to be the true origin of the word Fairy,
and my notions of it are scattered through the
Fairy Mythology. I will, therefore, now give my
perfect theory.
There can be no doubt that our word Fairy is
the French J "eerie, which originally signified illu-
sion, and is derived from fee. I therefore reject,
1 A selection of stories from the Kinder- und Hausmarcheq
of MM. Grimm, with illustrative, critical, and antiquarian
notes, appeared in 1825, under the title of German Popular
Stories. The translator was, I believe, Mr. Edgar Taylor.
There is a wide difference, I must observe, between popular
legends, and stories ; the former are objects of actual belief,
the latter are only regarded as sources of amusement.
340 APPENDIX.
with full conviction, all the etymons (such as that
from Peri) which go on the supposition of fairy
being the original name. The Italian fata, Proven-
cal /acto, French fae,faee,fee, are, beyond ques-
tion, the words first used to designate the being
whom we call Fairy. Of these words, I regard the
Latin fatum as the root. In a coin of Diocletian
the Destinies are, I know, named Fatce, and this
might seem to give a ready origin of the Italian
and Provei^al names ; but there is so little re-
semblance between the Parcae and the Fairies of
romance, that I cannot adopt it. My opinion is,
that, as from the Latin gratus came the Italian
verb aggradare, and the French agreer, so from
fatum came affatare, fatare, (Ital.) andfaer,feer,
(Fr.), signifying to enchant ; and that fato, fata,
fae, faee, fee, are participles of these verbs. I
believe there is not a single passage in the old
French romances, in which these last words occur,
where they may not be taken participially ; such
are, les chevaliers faes, les dames faees, and the
continually recurring phrase elle sembloit (or res-
sembloit) fee. La fee is, therefore, lafemmefee,
and unefee is une femme fee.
The Italian/ato is, in the romantic poems, al-
ways employed as a substantive ; but it is well
known that a number of substantives in all lan-
guages are in reality adjectives or participles, and
in the Pentamerone/ata andfatata are evidently
employed as equivalents. I therefore regard fata
as nothing more than/atata, contracted after the
APPENDIX. 341
usual rule of the Italian language 1 , and esteem
una fata to signify merely una donna fatata. I
will now show what was understood by unefemme
fee and una donna fatata.
In the romance of Lancelot du Lac we are told,
that " all those (women) were called Fays (fees)
who had to do with enchantments and charms, and
knew the power and the virtue of words, of stones,
and of herbs ; by which they were kept in youth
and in beauty, and in great riches." This defi-
nition will, I think, include all the Fees, without
exception, that we meet in the old French ro-
mances. It will also, I apprehend, apply to the
Italian Fata. In the Pentamerone, Fata and Maga
are synonymous, and fata is also equivalent to
1 I cannot help suspecting that this rule of the Italian
language, (i. e. throwing the syllable at out of participles of
verbs in -are ; e.g. from adornato making adorno, from guas-
tato, guasto) has ben derived from the Latin. I think the
following words have the appearance of having lost at or sim-
ple a. In the verb poto -are the participle is potus (potatus?) ;
aptus is rather, I think, a contraction of aptatus than the
participle ofapo, obs. We have paratus and.partus,juvatus and
jutus, fricatus andfrictus, secatus and sectus, inseratus and
insertus (Virg. Mn. iii. 152.), necatus and nectus, crematus
and cremus, creatus and cretus, truncatus and truncus, pul-
satus and pulsus, quassatus and quassus, lavatus lautus and
lotus, viduatus and viduus, orbatus and orbus ; to which per-
haps may be added, cavatua and cavus, nudatus and nudus.
Some of these may be explained on other principles, but I
think my theory (and I have not met it anywhere else) is
not altogether devoid of some show of vraisemblance.
343 APPENDIX.
fatata ; in Ariosto we cannot easily distinguish
between the Fata Alcina and the Maga Melissa.
This poet says of Medea 1 ,
E perche per virtu d'erbe e d'incanti
Delle Fate una, ed immortal fatt' era ;
which exactly agrees with the above definition of
a Fee. She renewed her youth, he says, by means
of a bath, which she had made by enchantment;
and every eighth day she was turned into a ser-
pent, a transformation to which, according to the
same poet, all the Fate were subject. In another
place 2 he makes a Fata say,
Nascemmo ad un punto che d' ogn' altro male
Siamo capaci fuor che della morte :
which looks as if he regarded them as a distinct
species, like the Peris of the East ; and he else-
where 3 says,
Queste ch'or Fate, e dagli antichi foro
Gia dette Ninfe, e Dee con piu bel nome.
Bojardo 4 also calls the Naides Fate. From all
this, however, I would only infer, that the ideas
of these poets on the subject were a little con-
fused. T am inclined to think that the Italians
1 I Cinque Canti, c. ii. st. 106.
2 Orl. Fur. c. xliii. st. 98. 3 I Cinque Canti, c. i. st. 9.
4 Orl. Innam. lib. iii. c. vii. st. 7. Under the word Fata, in
the Vocabolario della Crusca, I find the following passage
from an Italian translation of Guido dalle Colonne's History
of the Trojan War, which was probably made in the fifteenth
century : Costei fu Iddea, o figliola di Dea, ovvero una di
fjuelle che la gente cliiamafate.
APPENDIX. 343
derived their knowledge of these beings from the
French romances, and that therefore the descrip-
tion given in these romances is the true one, and
the fata or fee was only a woman skilled in magic.
There is some difficulty about the Provencal
Fada. I am not sufficiently versed in this dialect
to be able to say, whether it contracts its partici-
ples like the Italian, or not ; and Gervase of Til-
bury would seem to make the Fadas a distinct
species l . He classes them with Pans and Silvans,
i. e. wood-spirits, and calls them phantoms or
evil spirits (larvae). He says, that those who en-
joyed their love, died if they married other wo-
men, or even if they withdrew themselves from
their embraces or revealed the secret. This is like
what is told of the classic Nymphs ; but nearly
the same ill effects were the result of desertion of
the Fees. I therefore leave my readers to think
as they please of the Fada,
The following account of the Fay Oriande, in
the romance of ' Maugis d'Aygremont et de Vi-
vian son Frere,' may be added to those in the
Fairy Mythology, and will also serve to confirm
the preceding hypothesis respecting the Fees.
When, in this romance, Tapinel and the female
slave had stolen the two children of Duke Bevis
of Aygremont, the former sold the child which he
had taken to the wife of Sorgalant, whose name
1 Apud Leibnitz, Scriptores Rerum Brunsvicarum, i. 989.
344 APPENDIX.
was Esclarmonde, and who was about fifteen years
of age, and was plus belle et plus blanche qu'une
fee 1 . The slave having laid herself to rest under
a white-thorn (aubespine), was devoured by a lion
and a leopard, who killed one another in their
dispute for the infant. " And the babe lay under
the thorn, and cried loudly, during which it came
it came to pass that Oriande la Fee, who abode at
Rosefleur with four other fays, came straight to
this thorn ; for every time she passed by there she
used to repose under that white- thorn. She got
down . . . and hearing the child cry, she came that
way and looked at him, and said, ' By the God in
whom we believe, this child here is lying badly
(mal gist), and this shall be his name * ; and from
that time he was always called Maugis."
Oriande la Fee brought the child home with her
and her damsels ; and having examined him, and
found, by a precious ring that was in his ear, that
he was of noble lineage, " she prayed our Lord
that he would be pleased of his grace to make
known his origin (nation)" When she had finished
her prayer, she sent for her nephew Espiet, "who
was a dwarf, and was not more than three feet
high, and had his hair yellow as fine gold, and
looked like a child of seven years; but he was
more than a hundred: and he was one of the
falsest knaves in the world, and knew every kind
of enchantment." Espiet informed her whose
child he was ; and Oriande, having prayed to our
1 That is, than unefemmefee. See above, p. 340.
APPENDIX. 34-0
Lord to preserve the child, took him with her to
her castle of Rosefleur, where she had him bap-
tized and named Maugis. She and her damsels
reared him with great tenderness ; and when he
was old enough she put him under the care of her
brother Baudris, "who knew all the arts of magic
and necromancy, and was of the age of a hundred
years;" and he taught what he knew to Maugis.
When Maugis was grown a man, the Fay Ori-
ande clad him in arms, and he became her ami ;
and she loved him de si grand amour qu'elle doute
fort qu'il ne se departe d'avecques elle.
Maugis shortly afterwards achieved the adven-
ture of gaining the enchanted horse Bayard, in
the isle of Boucaut. Of Bayard it is said, when
Maugis spoke to him, Bayard estoitfeye, si en*
tendoit aussi bien Maugis comme s'il (Bayard)
eust parle. On his return from the island, Mau-
gis conquers and slays the Saracen Admiral An-
thenor, who had come to win the lands and castle
of Oriande, and gains the sword Flamberge, (Flo-
berge) which, together with Bayard, he afterwards
gave to his cousin Renaud.
Everything here, we may perceive, tends strong-
ly to confirm my theory. Oriande is only a woman ;
her brother and nephew are enchanters, and she
may therefore be fairly regarded as such herself.
No character is more prominent in Fairy lore
Q5
346 APPENDIX.
than the little king Oberon, who figures so in the
romance of Huon de Bordeaux. I think I have
proved Oberon to be the Elberich of German ro-
mance : I have now a word or two to say of Sir
Huon himself.
There are two romances, both said to be written
by Huon de Villeneuve, in the thirteenth century ;
the one is the well-known * Quatre Filz Aymon',
the other, 'Hullin de Bordeaux/ The hero of
this last is, in the poetic romance, also called Hue
and Huon, and he is duke or prince of Bordeaux or
Guienne. In the former, we meet with Yon, king
of Bordeaux ; and it appears to me that they may
both be only forms of the same name : at all
events, t feel quite sure that one or other of them
is one of the heroes of Bojarclo and Ariosto. His
Italian name is Ivone \ and he makes no great
figure in their poems*
In the metrical romance of Sir Launfal, it is
said of Dame Tryamour, that she was " the kinges
daughter of Oliroun," (Olyron,) and that
" Her father was king of Faerie,
Of occient far and nigh,
A man of mickle might."
I have supposed ( occient' to be equivalent to * Oc-
cident,' and to denote the West. When I was in
1 That Ivone was duke of Guienne is clear, from I Cinque
Canti, c. v. st. 42. Bojardo (lib. i. canto iv. st. 46.) calls him
' Lo He Ivone', which is precisely the 'Roi Yon' of the Quatre
Filz Aytiion.
APPENDIX. 347
the neighbourhood of Bayonne, in the year 1831,
a woman, pointing to the Bay of Biscay, told me
it was called la Mer d'Occient ; but whether oc-
cient be Occident or ocean, I could not ascertain.
It is worthy of notice, that an English poet should
use a Gascon appellation, which did not occur in
the French poems he was imitating.
The examples of the identification of the Fairies
with the Nymphs, given in the Fairy Mythology,
are not quite conclusive : the following, however,
will be found to be so.
Ovid (Met. iv. 304.) says of Salmacis,
" Solaque Na'iadum celeri non nota Dianae :"
which Golding (in 1567) renders thus,
" Of all the water-fairies she alonely was unknown
To swift Diana."
Again (Met. ix. 337. ), he says of Dryope, that
she came to the lake
" Nymphis latura coronas."
" The cause of coming there
Was to the fairies of the lake fresh garlands for to bear."
It thus is clear that in the sixteenth century Fairy
and Nymph were equivalent.
Golding also employs Elfe for Nymph. Thus
Ovid (Met. iii. 364.) says of the nymph Echo,
" Ilia deam longo prudens sermone tenebat."
This is rendered by,
" This elfe would with her tattling talk detain her by the way."
348 APPENDIX.
Of Envy, (ii. 772.) Golding says, " Anon the
elfe arose."
The definition of a Fay, given above from Lan-
celot du Lac, belongs to the Lady of the Lake.
Drayton makes her also an elfe, and a denizen of
Faerie : for, speaking of Merlin, (Poly-Olbion,
song iv.) he says,
" For while it was in hand, by loving of an elf,
For all his wondrous skill was cozened of himself:
For walking with his Fay, her to the rock he brought,
In which he oft before his nigromancy wrought.
And going in thereat, his magics to have shown,
She stopt the cavern's mouth with an enchanted stone,
Whose cunning strongly crossed, amazed while he did
stand,
She captive him conveyed unto the Fairy-land."
A few lines before he had said of Arthur,
" The feasts that underground the Faery did him make,
And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake."
Sufficient instances have, I think, now been
given of the confusion of the Elves and Fays in
the sixteenth century.
In the derivation which I have given of the Per-
sian Peri, from Feroher, I find I have been anti-
cipated by some Continental scholars. I am, how-
ever, not by any means certain of its correctness;
for the name Parysatis, i. e. Parizade, (Pari-born,)
was in use at the time that the worship of Ormuzd
APPENDIX. 349
was in full vigour ; and there are, I believe, some
reasons for supposing, that in the Light religion
the Peris were distinct from the Ferohers.
The Peris are very rarely spoken of in the Shah-
Nameh ; they merely occur with the birds and
beasts among the subjects of the first Iranian
monarchs. The fullest account of them and the
Deevs will be found in that wildest of all romances,
The Adventures of Hatim Tai, translated from
the Persian by Mr. Duncan Forbes. I regret that
the translator should have employed the terms Fai-
ries and Demons, instead of Peris and Deevs, as
it is productive of some little confusion. This,
however, is a mere trifle ; and the inquirer after
the opinions of the modern Persians respecting
Deevs and Peris will here meet all he can desire.
Mr. Forbes gives, in a note, the proper idea of
the Mountain Kaf, the fabulous abode of these
beings. The Persians, like the Greeks and Scan-
dinavians, believed the earth to be flat and circu-
lar, and surrounded by water. Round the edge
of the disk, answering, we may say, to the bul-
warks of a ship, ran a mountainous circle 2000
English miles high, according to one authority ;
and this is Kaf, the abode of Deevs and Peris. Its
base is washed by the sea, and some say that it is
formed of emeralds. As Hatim made more than
one visit to Kaf, a very accurate knowledge of it
may be derived from the narrative of his adven-
tures.
350 APPENDIX.
The following are curious instances of English
superstition in the twelfth century.
" Another wonderful thing," says Ralph of
Coggeshall 1 9 " happened in Suffolk, at St. Mary's
of the Wolf-pits. A boy and his sister were found
by the inhabitants of that place near the mouth of
a pit which is there, who had the form of all their
limbs like to those of other men, but they dif-
fered in the colour of their skin from all the people
of our habitable world ; for the whole surface of
their skin was tinged of a green colour. No one
could understand their speech. When they were
brought as curiosities to the house of a certain
knight, Sir Richard de Calne, at Wikes, they wept
bitterly. Bread and other victuals were set be-
fore them, but they would touch none of them,
though they were tormented by great hunger, as
the girl afterwards acknowledged. At length,
when some beans just cut, with their stalks, were
brought into the house, they made signs, with
great avidity, that they should be given to them.
When they were brought, they opened the stalks
instead of the pods, thinking the beans were in the
hollow of them. But not finding them there, they
began to weep anew. When those who were pre-
sent saw this, they opened the pods, and showed
1 As quoted by Picart in his Notes on William of Newbury.
I could not find it in the Collection of Histories, &c. by Mar-
tene and Durand, the only place where, to my knowledge,
this chronicler's works are printed.
APPENDIX* Sol
them the naked beans. They fed on these with
great delight, and for a long time tasted no other
food. The boy, however, was always languid and
depressed, and he died within a short time. The
girl enjoyed continual good health; and becoming
accustomed to various kinds of food, lost com-
pletely that green colour, and gradually recovered
the sanguine habit of her entire body. She was af-
terwards regenerated by the laver of holy baptism,
and lived for many years in the service of that
knight, (as I have frequently heard from him and
his family,) and was rather loose and wanton in
her conduct. Being frequently asked about the
people of her country, she asserted that the inha-
bitants, and all they had in that country, were of
a green colour ; and that they saw no sun, but en-
joyed a degree of light like what is after sun-set.
Being asked how she came into this country with
the aforesaid boy, she replied, that as they were
following their flocks, they came to a certain ca-
vern, on entering which they heard a delightful
sound of bells ; ravished by whose sweetness, they
went for a long time wandering on through the
cavern, until they came to its mouth. When they
came out of it, they were struck senseless by the
excessive light of the sun, and the unusual tem-
perature of the air ; and they thus lay for a long
time. Being terrified by the noise of those who
came on them, they wished to fly, but they could
not find the entrance of the cavern before they
were caught."
352 APPENDIX.
This story is also told by William of Newbury ',
who places it in the reign of King Stephen. He
says he long hesitated to believe it, but was at
length overcome by the weight of evidence. Ac-
cording to him, the place where the children ap-
peared was about four or five miles from Bury
St. Edmund's ; they came in harvest-time out of
the Wolf- pits ; they both lost their green hue, and
were baptized, and learned English. The boy,
who was the younger, died ; but the girl married a
man at Lenna, and lived many years. They said
their country was called St. Martin's land, as that
Saint was chiefly worshiped there ; that the peo-
ple were Christians, and had churches ; that the
sun did not rise there, but that there was a bright
country which could be seen from theirs, being
divided from it by a very broad river.
In the next chapter of his history, William of
Newbury relates as follows :
" In the province of the Deiri( Yorkshire), not far
from my birth-place, a wonderful thing occurred,
which I have known from my boyhood. There
is a town a few miles distant from the Eastern Sea,
near which are those celebrated waters commonly
called Gipse .... A peasant of this town went once
to see a friend who lived in the next town, and it
was late at night when he was coming back, not
very sober; when lo ! from the adjoining barrow,
1 Guilielmi Neubrigensis Historia sive Chronica Rerum
Anglicarum. Oxon. 1719, lib. i. c. 27.
APPENDIX. 353
which I have often seen, and which is not much
over a quarter of a mile from the town, he heard
the voices of people singing, and, as it were, joy-
fully feasting. He wondered who they could be
that were breaking in that place, by their merri-
ment, the silence of the dead night, and he wished
to examine into the matter more closely. Seeing
a door open in the side of the barrow, he went up
to it, and looked in; and there he beheld a large
and luminous house, full of people, women as well
as men, who were reclining as at a solemn ban-
quet. One of the attendants, seeing him standing
at the door, offered him a cup. He took it, but
would not drink ; and pouring out the contents,
kept the vessel. A great tumult arose at the ban-
quet on account of his taking away the cup, and
all the guests pursued him ; but he escaped by
the fleetness of the beast he rode, and got into
the town with his booty. Finally, this vessel of
unknown material, of unusual colour, and of ex-
traordinary form, was presented to Henry the El-
der l , king of the English, as a valuable gift, and
was then given to the queen's brother David, king
of the Scots, and was kept for several years in the
treasury of Scotland ; and a few years ago (as I
have heard from good authority) it was given by
William king of the Scots to Henry II., who
wished to see it."
1 A cup obtained in a similar way was, according to Ger-
rase of Tilbury, presented to this prince by the Earl of Glou-
cester. See Fairy Mythology, vol. ii. p. 106.
354 APPENDIX.
The scene of this legend is the very country
in which the Danes settled; and it is exactly the
same as some of the legends current at the pre-
sent day among the Danish peasantry. It is really
extraordinary to observe the manner in which po-
pular traditions and superstitions will thus exist
for centuries.
THE END.
Printed by RICHARD TAYLOR, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street.
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
In Two Volumes Foolscap Octavo, with 12 Plates and 32 Wood-Cuts
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THE FAIRY MYTHOLOGY,
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COUNTRIES.
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Slaves ; and of the Africans and Jews ; with all which the author, with incredible
labour and extent of investigation, has made himself familiar. We are of opinion
that this work will take its place as a text-book for fairy lore. The illustrations
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with scenes of the most grotesque and playful and fanciful kind." New Monthly
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have for many a day had the pleasure of perusing It must form part of the
library of every lover of poetical antiquities and every general scholar, we had
almost said, of every reader for mere amusement." Athena-urn.
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
In One large Volume Octavo, with 12 Plates from the Antique,
etched on Steel by W. H. Brooke, F.A.S., Price 18s. in cloth,
THE MYTHOLOGY OF ANCIENT GREECE
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We recommend it as a work of a most meritorious and useful character, com-
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