An Argyllshire story runs as follows:—A sea-maiden appears at the side of a fisherman’s boat one day, and gives him three grains for his wife, three for the dog, three for the mare, and three to be planted behind the house, promising him three sons, three puppies, three colts, and three trees which will be his sons’ life-token. In return, one of the sons is to be hers at three years of age. This period is afterwards extended first to seven, and then to fourteen years. The eldest son, who apparently is the promised one, gets a smith to forge a sword for him, and goes out upon his horse, with his dog by his side, to seek his fortune. The carcase of a sheep lay beside the road, and a great dog, a falcon and an otter were disputing over it. He divided it between these animals to their satisfaction, and each of them promised him in reward assistance in the time of need. Going onward until he reached a king’s house, he took service as a cowherd; and while in this situation he slew two giants, who owned green pastures, and fed the herd upon their meadows. Now there was in the loch a great three-headed she-beast to which some one was thrown every year; and it happened that year that the lot fell on the king’s daughter. Her suitor, “a great general of arms,” undertook to rescue her; but when he saw “this terror of a beast” stirring far off in the midst of the loch, he took fright and slunk away. In this emergency the hero appeared; the damsel put a ring on his finger; he fought the beast and cut one of her heads off. She retired for the night beneath the waters of the loch. The deliverer sent the maiden home with the beast’s head over her shoulder, but refused to accompany her. On the way she met the general, who threatened to kill her unless she would say it was he who had cut off the monster’s head. The next day the beast returned, and a second head was struck off. On the third day the hero struck off the third head and slew the beast. But each day he ungallantly allowed the princess to go home alone; the general met her as on the first day, and got the credit for the achievement. When it came to the point of marriage, however, she refused point-blank to marry any one but him who could take the heads off the withy on which the hero had strung them, without cutting it. Of course the cowherd alone succeeded. He also produced the ring, and two earrings beside, which the lady averred she had given to the man who took the heads off the beast. What became of the general is not stated: the cowherd married the king’s daughter. His adventures were now fairly begun: they were far from being at an end. Another, “a more wonderfully terrible,” beast came out of the loch and tore him away from his bride. By the advice of a smith (smiths are often men of more than ordinary powers and wisdom, in fairy tales) the lady spread all her jewellery out on the strand, on the spot where her husband had been captured. The bait took: in exchange for this finery the beast gave up the man. Encouraged, probably, by success, the beast, shortly after, seized the princess. Again it is the old smith who gives advice. The beast was only to be killed in one way. Her soul was in an egg, in the mouth of a trout, inside a hoodie, which was inside a white-footed hind that dwelt on an island in the midst of the loch. If the egg were broken, the beast would die. The hero invoked the help of the great dog, the falcon and the otter. The great dog caught the hind. A hoodie sprang out of her, and the falcon brought it to earth. A trout leaped out of the hoodie into the water, and the otter brought the trout to land. The egg fell out of the trout’s mouth, and the hero put his foot on it. He made the beast give up his wife, and then broke the egg. After that the hero and his wife were walking one day, and he noticed a little castle beside the loch in a wood. On inquiry, his wife warned him that no one who went thither had ever returned to tell the tale. He goes to see who dwells there; and the crone who meets him draws “the Slachdan druidhach on him, on the back of his head, and at once—there he fell.” His tree accordingly withers; his next brother sets out to find his corpse, and shares his fate. The third brother is beforehand with the hag, and after a terrible tussle slays her with the “Slachdan druidhach.” Then with the same weapon he strikes his brothers’ corpses, and they rise to their feet. The three take the spoil and come back rejoicing.38.1
This long and not very coherent story gains a little in unity in a variant by the identification of the second and “more wonderfully terrible beast” with the sea-maiden to whom the hero had been promised ere his birth. Omitting this episode and that of the giants, we have the ordinary plot of the King of the Fishes with little change, beyond the substitution of the sea-maiden for the wizard-fish. The alteration does not affect the substance of the tale, for it matters little whether the food which results in the birth of the twin heroes be the flesh of the King of the Fishes, or some other gift of supernatural power.
The opening of the North German tale of The Two Similar Brothers approaches that of The Sea-Maiden, while it also recalls one of the great stories of The Arabian Nights. A fisherman, casting his net into a pool, brings up, instead of fish, a little urn covered with a lid. On his opening the urn, a thick red cloud curls up from within; and before he is aware of it a big burly fellow appears in the midst of the cloud and begs to be put back into the vase. “How can I put you back,” asks the fisherman, “when you are so big and the vase so little?” But the apparition prevails on him to try, promising in reward not merely a good catch of fishes, but also a casket which he must divide into six parts, whereof one is to be given to his wife, one to his horse, one to his dog, and the remaining three are to be buried under the eaves of his dwelling; but he is to beware of looking into the casket before he gets home. Thereupon the fisherman lays hands upon the apparition, finds him as collapsible as a modern travelling-bag, and soon succeeds in fastening down this fairy Jack-in-the-box once more. Flinging the vase again into the water, he cast his net, and was rewarded as the apparition had promised. Before a year had passed, the fisherman’s wife had borne twin boys so much alike as to be indistinguishable. Two foals and two puppies were also added to the household; and under the eaves up-sprouted two swords, two pistols and two guns. The twins set out together. They obtained the usual helpful animals—in this case, two young bears, wolves and lions. Parting at a crossway, one of them sticks his knife into a tree; and it is agreed that they will meet there again in a year’s time. Whichever of them comes first is to examine the blade of the knife: if it be rusted, that will be a token that his brother is dead. The dragon in this tale has no fewer than fourteen heads, and is beside reinforced by fourteen giants, to whom he belongs. The hero, of course, kills them all; and the rest of the story follows the ordinary course.40.1
In the Pentameron the magical food is a sea-dragon’s heart, which must be cooked by a pure maiden. A king who wants offspring is advised by a beggar to get this powerful medicine. When it is brought to him he gives it to a pretty maid of honour to cook. No sooner has she put it on the fire than it begins to emit a pitch-black smoke so powerful in its effects that not merely the condition of the queen who tastes the heart, but that of the maiden who cooks it, as well as of every article of furniture in the room where it is cooked, becomes interesting. The old four-post bedstead gives birth to a cradle, the chest to a little chest, the settle to a little settle, the table to a little table: nay, the very night-commode brings forth a tiny night-commode so charming and pretty that one could have kissed it! At the end of four days the queen and her maiden bear each a son, who grow up fast friends. The queen’s jealousy, however, causes Canneloro, the maid’s son, to leave his friend. Before departing, in a final interview with Fonzo, the queen’s son, he flings his dagger on the ground, and a spring starts forth, which he declares will run clear so long as his life is clear and serene. Not satisfied with this, he sticks his sword in the earth, and there sprouts a bilberry bush from the soil as a further token. But whereas the magical elements in the opening scenes are thus grotesquely exaggerated, the central portion of the story is tamed down to a commonplace tournament, at which Canneloro wins a king’s daughter. This treatment has for its purpose to throw into relief the episode of the Medusa-witch. As the Enchanted Hind, the witch gives her name to the story. Pursuing this animal, Canneloro is met by a snowstorm, and takes refuge in a cave, where he kindles a fire. The hind he has been following appears at the door of the cave, and asks leave to come in and warm herself. To calm her fears the hero binds his dogs, his horse and his sword. The hind then changes into an ogre, who throws Canneloro into a pit, whence he is of course rescued by Fonzo.41.1
That Basile took some liberties with the story might thus be suspected from internal evidence. How slight those liberties really were has been proved by the discovery of an almost exact parallel as a folktale in the Basilicata. Even the hero’s name is preserved as Cannelora. His life-tokens are a jet of water and a myrtle. He is directed at a crossway by two gardeners whose quarrel he has reconciled; and he rescues a fairy under guise of a serpent from some boys who are persecuting it and have already cut off its tail. The Medusa-witch is a golden-horned snake. The storm is a tempest of thunder and lightning, from which he takes refuge in a cavern. The snake becomes a giant and imprisons the hero, exactly as in Basile’s version. Delivered by Emilio, as the queen’s son is here called, together with the giant’s other prisoners, he weds the fairy, who provides wives also for Emilio and the rest.41.2
In a Pisan tale of the same collection we are brought back to the talking fish of the typical story. The life-token is a bone tied to a beam in the kitchen: it sweats blood when anything untoward happens to either of the fisherman’s three sons. The dragon is a fairy in the shape of a cloud that carries away a girl every year. The lot having fallen on the king’s daughter, the cloud sucks her blood through her finger, and, when she faints, carries her away. The hero, having previously obtained from three grateful animals, a lion, an eagle and an ant, the power of transforming himself into their shapes, sets out after the cloud, in the form of an eagle. The fairy-cloud could only be slain by hitting her on the forehead with an egg, which was in the body of a seven-headed tigress. The hero accomplishes this, and weds the princess. The Medusa-witch is a supernatural mist. Penetrating this, the hero is invited to play a game with some ladies. He loses, and is, with his horse and dog, turned into marble.42.1 In a Tuscan variant, imperfectly recollected by the teller, the fish is an eel with two heads and two tails; the boys are twins; the tails, planted in the garden, yield two swords; and the heads, given to the bitch, produce puppies; the life-token is a cornel-tree planted by the hero before leaving home. The hero’s brother, arriving in search of him, finds that he is imprisoned with his horse and dog in an enchanted castle, leaves him to his fate, and, being precisely like the unhappy prisoner in appearance, he takes possession of the princess his wife. This chivalrous conduct, however, is perhaps to be imputed rather to the teller’s defective memory than to the original sin of the younger brother.42.2
When the childless fisherman, in a Lettish tale, catches a certain pike, the latter gets its freedom by giving two fishes in its stead, both of which the fisher’s wife is to eat. The two boys thereafter born set out on their adventures together, and part at a cross-road, leaving as their life-token a knife sticking in an oak. The one who goes to the right spares to shoot five animals in succession, and out of gratitude they follow him. With their help he wins a princess from demons who haunt a castle; and by virtue of his victory over them he becomes king. The other brother is, for our purpose, the hero. Going to the left, he obtains similar animals, which conquer the nine-headed devil to whom a princess is to be given. The princess’ coachman is the impostor; and the Medusa-witch is the mother of the nine-headed devil, who lures and petrifies the hero in revenge. He is rescued at last by his brother.43.1
A Gipsy tale from Hungary attributes the Supernatural Birth to the mother’s having drunk from the two breasts of an urme, or fairy, who also suckled at the same time the dog and mare, and dropped milk into two holes in the earth. Each of the two boys had a golden star on his forehead; and from the earth sprang two oaks, the twins’ life-tokens. The hero’s horse and dog assist him in winning his bride by the performance of three tasks, the third of which is the lady’s deliverance from the enchanted form of a dragon watching three golden apples. Her father then sends him to hunt for the wedding-feast, and he meets the Medusa-witch. His younger brother delivers him, with his animals, from the enchantment by means of the golden apples; and by the same means the witch is destroyed. In the fit of jealousy often found in stories of this type, the hero subsequently kills his deliverer, who is, after explanations, restored to life with a magical plant.43.2
In two Russian tales the Medusa-witch incident precedes that of the Rescue of Andromeda. One of these calls for no special mention. But in the other—from Great Russia—the two heroes are the sons of the king’s granddaughter and her maid, born in consequence of their eating fish. The Medusa-witch is the Baba Yaga, who finds the youth sleeping on her meadow, and, giving him a hair, directs him to tie three knots in it and blow, whereupon he is, with his horse, turned to stone. His brother, having rescued him, passes on to the fight with the dragon. The life-token is a knife which runs with sweat.44.1
A Sanskrit tale departs more widely from the type than any of the foregoing. In The Ocean of the Streams of Story, a work of the end of the eleventh or the beginning of the twelfth century of our era, Somadeva relates that a childless king sacrificed to the goddess Durgá, and did penance, to obtain a son. The goddess appeared to him in a dream, giving him two heavenly fruits, one for each of his two wives. But one of the wives, not satisfied with the prospect of one son, ate both fruits, and in due time gave birth to twins. The other wife nursed vengeance in her heart; and when the two princes attained manhood, and were sent on a warlike expedition, she forged a despatch in the king’s name to the chiefs in the camp, commanding them to put both princes to death. Their maternal grandfather, however, was with the army in his capacity of royal minister. He found means to escape with them, but died of the hardships of the road; and his two grandsons made their way to the shrine of Durgá in the Vindhya Hills, where they underwent a course of fasting and asceticism to propitiate her. Pleased with their austerities, she appeared in a dream to Indívarasena, the elder brother, and presented him with a magical sword. Armed with this, he forced an entrance into the palace of the king of the Rákshasas, or ogres, and found the mighty monarch sitting on his throne, “having a mouth terrible with tusks, with a lovely woman at his left hand, and a virgin of heavenly beauty on his right hand.” Indívarasena challenged the ogre to fight, but found it useless to cut off his head, for as often as he cut it off it grew again, until he took a hint from the virgin, who made him a sign to cut the head in two after smiting it off. The treacherous virgin turned out to be the Rákshasa’s sister. She had fallen in love at first sight with the valorous youth, and on his victory immediately offered herself in marriage to him. This conduct is not uncommon in Somadeva’s amusing work, and is always eagerly responded to by the lucky (and polygamous) heroes. Indívarasena was no exception. He married her on the spot, and lived happily with her for some time. By virtue of his magical sword he obtained everything he wished for. In this way he got a flying chariot, and sent his brother in it to bear tidings of him to his parents. Meanwhile the other lady, who was the widow of the Rákshasa, attracted Indívarasena’s attention. His wife naturally grew jealous, and in a fit of pique flung his magical sword into the fire. She hardly expected the consequence. The sword was dimmed by the fire, and her husband lay senseless on the ground. Warned by a dream at that instant, his brother returned; and on hearing the miserable woman’s confession he thought he ought not to kill her, on account of her repentance; so he prepared to cut off his own head. However logical and proper this alternative may have been, the goddess interfered. He heard a voice arresting him, declaring that Durgá had struck his brother senseless—not, of course, for flirting, but for not taking enough care of the divine sword—and directing him to propitiate her. When he complied, the sword lost its stain, and his brother regained consciousness. By a revelation as convenient as those of Mohammed, the hero then learned that both ladies had been his wives in a former existence, and therefore it was quite right for him to have both now. So they were all happy ever after—especially Indívarasena.46.1
Here we have the Supernatural Birth, the Dragon-slaying, and the Medusa-witch, though the two latter are somewhat disguised. For the Life-token a miraculous dream is substituted. And the whole is overlaid by the practices and beliefs of the revived Hinduism paramount in India after the expulsion of Buddhism.
We have now surveyed the stories of the Danae type and those of the King of the Fishes type. There remain a large number of variants wherein one or more of the incidents are wanting. Some of these have already been mentioned. Where, as in many stories of the Danae type, the hero is not duplicated, the Life-token is not found. A few stories, however, approximate to the King of the Fishes type, but want the Life-token. We may, perhaps, class these together as The Mermaid type, from a variant of Campbell’s Argyllshire tale, told him by an aged man in South Uist, which lays the scene in the Isle of Skye. The eldest of three sons is promised to the mermaid; and when, at the age of eighteen, he learns this, he wisely sets out for a place where there is no salt water. He divides equitably the carcase of an old horse between a lion, a wolf and a falcon, who are disputing over it, and receives in return the power to transform himself into either of their forms at pleasure, or (for Mr. Campbell was uncertain which) the promise of their help at need. By this means, when acting as a king’s herd, he overcomes three giants and a giantess, and obtains three enchanted flying horses, three splendid dresses and a washing-basin and silver comb, on using which he would become the most beautiful man in the world. He fights the “draygan” from the sea on three successive days, and rescues the king’s daughter. The latter afterwards recognises him by a scratch that she had made on his forehead, as he lay with his head in her lap the third day, waiting for the dragon. They are married, but their happiness is of no great length; for the lady longs for dulse, and as he goes to seek it the mermaid catches and swallows him. But mermaids are susceptible to music; so by playing on the harp the hero’s wife succeeds in inducing the creature to bring up her husband, who in the form of a falcon flies to shore. The mermaid then takes the wife instead. A soothsayer informs him that the mermaid’s soul is an egg, inside a goose, inside a ram, inside a hurtful bull that dwells in a certain glen. With the help of the Grateful Animals he succeeds in recovering his wife and slaying the mermaid.48.1
Here, after the beginning, the hero’s brothers drop out of the story. The more complex Lithuanian tale of Strong Hans and Strong Peter retains both twins. An angel brings to a childless queen a golden fish; and a witch brings her a silver fish. She eats both and bears twins, the elder with golden hair and a golden star on his forehead, the younger with the like in silver. In their nurses’ absence they are suckled, the one by a lioness and the other by a she-bear. Two snakes, deputed by the witch to kill Hans, the golden twin, are taken by him one in each hand, though he is only a few weeks old, and strangled. The witch, later on, sends a monster to kill him; but an angel meets him, and bids him bathe in a certain brook and then anoint his body with an ointment, which he gives him. This renders Hans invulnerable, and enables him to overcome the monster. The brothers then set out together, and part at a crossway. Hans encounters a twelve-headed dragon, and slays him in the same manner as Herakles did the Hydra, dipping subsequently his arrows in the poisonous blood. He thus rescues the princess; but before allowing him to marry her, her father imposes other Herculean tasks upon him—among them, the slaughter of the Nemean lion, the capture of the stag of Mount Mænalus (here a horse, captured by wounding his foot), and the theft of the apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. The way to the apple-tree (here called the Tree of Health and Life), we are told, lay through Hell; and incidentally Hans overthrew both Cerberus and the Devil. To his astonishment, he found his brother Peter bound to a rock in the place of torture, together with his wife. He freed them both, and sent them back to earth. On bringing the apples to the king, Hans was at last permitted to wed his daughter. The story then turns to Peter, to explain how he and his wife had had the misfortune to get into Hell. It appears that Peter’s first adventure after quitting his brother was that of Theseus overcoming the Minotaur. It naturally ended in his marrying the king’s daughter and becoming ruler. Various neighbouring peoples, however, made war on him—among them, the Amazons, described as a tribe of women whose hands were swords. Against this foe he invoked the Devil, and gave his wife in return for help. But ere long, repenting of the bargain, he descended into Hell to fetch her back. He had reckoned without his host: the Devil was too strong for him; and it was only by his brother’s intervention that he and his wife were delivered.50.1
In a Sicilian tale, a dethroned king catches a golden fish, which desires to be cut into eight pieces, two to be given to his wife, two to his horse, two to his dog, and two to be buried in the garden. The two latter pieces shoot up into magical swords. The twins set out together and afterwards part. One of them wins in a tournament the daughter of the king who had dethroned his father. This recalls Basile’s Neapolitan tale; but, unlike that, there is no stress laid on the episode of the Medusa-witch. On the contrary, it is presented as a mere ordinary hunt at which the hero is detained for three days, while his brother comes to the city and is mistaken for him.50.2 In the stories previously given of this type the same episode is hardly, if at all, to be recognised.
Another type, wanting the Dragon-slaughter, contains the Life-token. The best-known story of this type is Grimm’s tale of The Gold Children. There the life-token is a golden lily which grows up with each of the twins. Disguised in bear-skins, the hero wins the love of a beautiful village-maiden. After his marriage he goes to hunt and chases a stag. The stag disappears; and he finds himself standing before a hut inhabited by a witch, who petrifies him for threatening her obstreperous dog. His brother compels the witch to restore him to life.50.3
As told in Flanders, the talking fish directs the fisher to cut it into three pieces, one for himself, one for his wife, and the third to be buried in the garden. Three boys of marvellous beauty are the result; and digging, in accordance with the fish’s instructions, where he had buried the third piece, the fisherman finds three swords, three pistols, and three flageolets of stone. The eldest son, going to seek his fortune, reaches a magnificent palace, where one of the king’s daughters, looking out of window, falls over head and ears in love with him. Against her advice he goes to visit a palace of crystal, inside whose glittering walls whosoever put his foot was changed into a pillar of salt. Seeking in vain for the entrance, he meets an old witch, who opens the door by her magical wand, and invites him to enter. Before doing so, he puts his flageolet to his lips to warn his brothers; for the instrument’s property was that wherever in the world its owner played on it his brothers would hear, and would know where to find him. Then he enters, and, like thousands before him, is changed into a black stone. The second brother, on hearing the pipe, set out to seek his brother; and he too was changed into a pillar of salt. The youngest draws his sword and pistol upon the witch, and compels her to disenchant her victims. Then, on opening the door, hundreds and hundreds of men and women pour forth, with one voice thanking heaven and their courageous deliverer. The three brothers marry the king’s daughters with banging of bells and clanging of cannon.51.1
This type is found not only in Germany and Flanders, but also among the southern branches of the Slavonic race, as well as in Greece, in northern Italy, and in Brittany. Two more examples, however, must suffice. The Mantuan version follows that of Grimm in its opening, where the Father of the Fishes, as he is here called, repeatedly enriches the fisherman before the latter’s wife insists on knowing the secret of his wealth, and seeing the fish. The boys, as in the Flemish tale, are three in number; and the life-token is the fish’s blood preserved in three vases. The first of the brothers, going to liberate a king’s daughter who is enslaved by an ogre in an enchanted palace, is touched by a witch with a magical berry and turned to stone. The second brother meets the same fate. They are both delivered, together with the princess, by the youngest, who restores them to life by anointing them with the fish’s blood. The maiden is the reward of the youngest brother’s heroism.52.1 In the Breton story the fisher’s wife is already pregnant, and has a fancy for eating fish. The large fish caught by her husband gives directions for the wife to eat its flesh, the mare to drink the water wherein it has been washed, and the dog to eat its entrails and lungs. The life-token is a laurel, into whose trunk a knife is to be stuck daily by the twin-brother (there are but two) left at home: if blood follow, the absent one is dead. Being hired as groom, the first brother is married by his master’s daughter. He notices that the windows on one side of the castle are always closed; and on asking why, his wife tells him that there is a yard on that side full of venomous reptiles. He goes that way, and is entertained by the Medusa-witch, who pushes him upon an enormous wheel covered with razors, where he is hacked to pieces. He is revenged by his brother upon the witch, at whose death a princess transformed into a vixen resumes her human shape, and aids her deliverer in putting the bits of his brother’s body together and reviving him with the Water of Life.53.1
A Bosnian märchen presents us with a type wherein only the Supernatural Birth and the Medusa-witch are preserved. A pilgrim gives an apple to a childless man. His wife is to eat it, the peel is to be divided between the mare and the bitch, and the seeds are to be planted in the garden. The elder twin, with his horse and dog, and his lance of apple-wood, swims across the sea, and in doing so becomes gilt. He marries a king’s daughter, and pursues a stag with golden horns, which leads him to a tower. There he gambles with a lady for the stag; but, losing, he is thrown into her dungeon, whence he is rescued by his brother, who wins him back and weds the lady. The elder’s jealousy, however, is aroused on the way home; and he draws his sword against the younger, but is prevented from doing him any harm, and at his return recognises how groundless his passion has been.53.2 In a Portuguese variant it does not end quite so innocently; for when the elder learned that his wife had mistaken the younger for her husband, he put him to death from which there was no revival.53.3 The Bosnian version differs also in its opening from the other variants, all of which refer the supernatural birth to a fish, or eel. This type is found in Sicily and in Germany, as well as in the Balkan and Iberian peninsulas. It may be called, from the Portuguese variant just cited, The Tower of Babylon type.
A type more interesting, because more various in its evolution, is that which comprises only the Life-token and the Medusa-witch. It is usually associated with Galland’s tale of The Two Sisters who envied their Cadette, where it appears as an episode. In the Wortley Montagu Codex, at Oxford, it is found as a separate tale, and has been thence translated by Sir Richard Burton. The eldest of three brothers, it tells us, determines to procure a certain little nightingale which transmews to stone all who come to it. Before starting, he takes his seal-ring from his finger and gives it to his next brother as his life-token: it will squeeze his finger if a mishap occur. The bird’s habit was to cry out to its would-be captor, and, if he replied, to take a pinch of dust and, scattering it upon him, turn him to stone. The third brother only is successful in holding his tongue and catching the bird. By sprinkling another material upon his unfortunate predecessors, they are disenchanted, and among them his elder brothers. The latter fling him into a well, that they may take the credit of the exploit; but he escapes by means of a ring he has obtained from the bird, and vindicates his claim.54.1
Another variant is found in the Tirol as a pendant to a story of an innocent persecuted wife. The elder brother exhibits a dancing bear to the king of Babylon, who is so delighted with it that he bestows his daughter on the exhibitor, and names him viceroy. The viceroy goes to hunt with his bear in the forest. He is overtaken by a tempest, and kindles a fire to warm himself. The Medusa-witch conquers him by the usual wiles. His brother is his deliverer, and happily there is no jealousy. The life-token is a knife stuck in a tree and becoming rusty when a misfortune befalls either of the brothers.54.2
A tale from Normandy leads us back to the fisherman. He catches the King of the Fishes, who recommends that, after frying, its bones be buried in the garden. A treasure would be found at the spot indicated; from its head three faithful dogs would spring for his three sons, and three rose-trees would grow from the earth—his son’s life-tokens. The eldest son, having married a rich wife, sees the castle of the Medusa-witch, and falls a victim to her. When the youngest, by his dog’s help, destroys her, the second and third brothers wed two of the loveliest ladies, who are disenchanted by her death.55.1 A Milanese variant omits all the marriages, and gives as the life-token a handkerchief, which is besmirched with blood when its owner is bewitched.55.2
The Scottish märchen of The Red Etin represents the three youths as the sons of two widows. The two sons of one of the widows depart successively with their mother’s malison. The life-token is a knife which will become rusty, as in the Tirolese variant. The Medusa-witch is the Red Etin of Ireland. He puts three questions, and petrifies him who is unable to answer them. Moreover, he holds in captivity King Malcolm’s daughter. The third youth gets his mother’s blessing and half a cake by way of provisions for his journey; the others had got whole cakes, though small ones, thanks to their carelessness in drawing water to make them. He meets an old woman, to whom he gives a piece of his bannock, and receives in return the solution of the three questions, as well as a magical wand enabling him to quell the dreadful beasts he encounters. When the questions are answered the monster’s power is gone. The youth hews off his three heads, delivers King Malcolm’s daughter, and disenchants his two friends.56.1 The relation between this tale and that of Œdipus need not be pointed out.
The Tirolese tale of The Knife-grinder’s Sons will afford us the next type. Two brothers catch a bird on whose head is inscribed the words: “Whosoever roasts and eats my head will find every day a bagful of gold.” Their father, reading this, intends to eat the head; but the two boys steal the bird when it is cooked; and the elder eats the body, and the younger the head. They wander out together, and part at a giant oak-tree. The life-token is a knife stuck in the tree. Hans, the elder, by sparing the lives of a fox, a wolf and a bear, gets them as followers. With their help he slays the seven-headed dragon and rescues the king’s daughter. She meets him in the chapel whence the dragon was to fetch her, and gives him a ring, a chain, and a silk neckerchief. Too weary with the contest to accompany her back to her father, he lies down to rest, and is found and put to death by her father’s servant, who cuts off the dragon’s heads and compels the maiden to identify him as the dragon-slayer. The faithful animals, however, find the Herb of Life, and revive their master. The false servant is torn to pieces by the animals, and Hans is recognised by the princess as her true deliverer. We may note that he had cut out and preserved the dragon’s tongues, but they are not referred to in the recognition scene. On retiring with his bride, he sees a magical roebuck, and at once pursues it, thus falling into the hands of the Medusa-witch. He is delivered by the younger brother; but the two brothers, quarrelling for the bride, are drowned in crossing a river on the way back.57.1
In this type only the Supernatural Birth is wanting. The story is found in almost identical terms elsewhere in the Tirol and other German lands. In a version preserved by Pröhle, one of the two brothers is lucky, the other unlucky. The unlucky one goes to an inn, whose hostess is a witch and strangles him and his dog. The lucky one delivers the princess from the seven-headed dragon, and then goes in search of his brother. He comes to the inn, and is attacked at night by twelve witches, of whom he slays eleven, but spares the twelfth. She turns out to be the hostess. He forces her to bring his brother to life again by means of some magical ointment, a portion whereof she also gives him in case of any other misfortune to the luckless brother. Both brothers then go to the town. The king’s servant has possessed himself of the dragon’s tongues, and is about to be married to the princess as her saviour. This catastrophe is happily prevented by the assistance of the dog and the production of the princess’ kerchief given to the dragon-slayer after the fight. One day, while hunting, the lucky brother is seized with jealousy of the unlucky one, whom he has left at the palace with his wife. He suddenly goes home and finds his brother gazing at her. Deeming this confirmation strong as Holy Writ, he draws his sword and hews the unlucky brother to pieces, thus finding occasion for the use of the ointment thoughtfully provided by the witch; for he soon discovers how groundless his suspicions have been.57.2 This variant distinguishes between the victim of the Medusa-witch and the dragon-slayer, disconnects the hero’s jealousy from the Medusa-witch incident, and, like the Scandinavian tale cited in a previous chapter, gives the impostor the dragon’s tongues. Moreover, it contains a mere relic of the Life-token; for the brothers on parting agree to obtain tidings of one another through their two dogs. These dogs, with the heroes’ horses and spears, have grown up from seed sown by their father in a small plot of ground. It is probable that both this variant and that cited in the preceding paragraph have been derived by degradation from some version, or versions, of The King of the Fishes, or the Danae, type.
The Slavs of various parts of Russia are familiar with the type now under consideration. In a Lettish tale the brothers steal and eat the bird after having sold it. They then flee together. Coming to a crossway, they find an old man who gives them each a horse, dog, whip and bottle. The bottle is the life-token: its contents turn red if the owner’s brother die. The dragon is a serpent with thrice nine heads. The hero is enticed to the Medusa-witch’s hut by a roebuck.58.1 A soldier’s two sons, in a story given by Afanasief, receive from an old man wonderful horses and swords. The life-token is not detailed in the abstract of the story before me. One brother weds a king’s daughter. The other delivers another king’s daughter from a dragon, and marries her. He follows a stag, whose tracks he loses, and, after shooting a pair of ducks, comes to a deserted castle. There he meets the Medusa-witch, in the shape of a fair maiden, who changes into a lioness and swallows him. His brother compels her to cast him up and bring him to life again with Living-and-Healing-Water. She then changes back into a maiden and begs forgiveness. They weakly pardon her. Afterwards each of them is met by a beggar, who, being transformed into a lion, tears him to pieces. These lions are the Medusa-witch’s brothers.59.1 A Lithuanian tale speaks of three brothers and a sister. The brothers, sparing a wolf, boar, fox, lion, hare and bear, receive a whelp apiece. Parting from one another, each of them chooses a birch-tree and strikes it with his axe: the mark will run with milk or blood, according as he is alive or dead. The eldest brother takes charge of the sister, by whom he is betrayed to a robber. He subdues the robber with the assistance of his beasts, nails his sister by hands and feet to the wall of the robber’s castle, and leaves her. After slaying a nine-headed dragon and rescuing the princess, the latter takes him into her carriage; but on the way to her house he is put to death by the coachman and lackey. His lion catches a crow and compels it to bring the Water of Life to restore him. He is recognised by means of the ring and handkerchief the princess has given him, and marries her. Going hunting, he falls at night into the power of the Medusa-witch, whom he finds in the shape of an old woman at a fire. The youngest brother first attempts his rescue, and afterwards the second, who is successful.59.2
The incident of the sister’s treachery, which forms part of the Lithuanian tale, is found in several Slav versions. In a Swedish tale from north-western Finland the sister plays a different part. She has been carried off by a dragon. The brothers are twins. Their father, a fisherman, had caught a pike, which had bequeathed its eyes as the life-tokens, to turn black when the heroes were in mortal peril. The elder brother goes into the world, visiting on the way his sister, from whom he receives a sword. He saves the king’s only daughter from a sea-troll, and marries her. The Medusa-witch dwells on a floating island, which the youth must needs explore. Since his rescue by the younger brother, and the slaughter of the witch, the island is no longer visible.60.1 The fish reappears in a Sicilian tale, though in a different capacity. There it is caught by the brothers, who are fishermen. It is a voparedda, a poor kind of fish; and its life is spared in consequence of its piteous appeals. In return, it furnishes the brothers with horses, clothing, armour, swords and money; and they ride forth to seek adventures. The life-token is a cut in a fig-tree, which flows with milk or blood. The elder youth is the dragon-slayer. A slave is the impostor who claims the reward of the victory. The worm’s seven tongues in the lady’s handkerchief prove his treachery and the hero’s right. One evening after his marriage the hero goes out to see a bright light upon a certain mountain, and falls a victim to the Medusa-witch. On his way to rescue him the younger is met by Saint Joseph, who advises him how to accomplish his task. The incident of the rescued man’s jealous fury follows.60.2
The Kabyles are tribes of Libyan stock, inhabiting the mountains of Algeria. They have a tale of two brothers, sons of a man by different wives. One of the wives is dead; and the other so persecutes the dead woman’s son that he determines to go away. Before doing so, he plants a fig-tree as his life-token. He slays a seven-headed serpent which dwelt in a fountain and withheld the water. The king’s daughter in this case is not a sacrifice to the snake: she is simply charged with the duty of bringing it food. She gives the food to the hero after the slaughter; and, taking one of his sandals, she returns and reports the event to her father. He calls a public assembly, in order to try the sandal on the men. The hero dresses in rags, and lames his horse, his falcon and his hound. Consequently, he is at first passed by in contempt; but he cannot escape the trial. The ascetic instincts of the heroes of these tales are remarkable: they will do anything to escape recognition and marriage. In the present case, when the sandal is fitted to his foot, the king generously says to the dragon-slayer: “I will give you my daughter gratis: become king, and I will be your minister.” This is an offer the masculine Cinderella cannot refuse. The Medusa-witch is an ogress, whose domain he invades with his horse, hound and falcon. She binds the animals with hairs, and then eats them and their master. The younger brother and his animals avenge him. He watches two tarantulas fighting; the one kills the other, and brings it to life again by pressing the juice of a herb under its nose. The younger brother takes the hint, and thus revives the hero and his beasts.61.1
Two Italian variants omit the Life-token. As Basile tells the tale, there are two brothers, sons of a Neapolitan merchant. The elder, playing with the king’s son, wounds him and has to flee the country. He passes the night at a deserted house, and by his courage frees it from three ghosts and acquires a treasure, which, however, he leaves to the lord of a neighbouring tower, and goes on his way with horse and hound. His next feat is to deliver a fairy from a band of robbers, from whom her honour was in danger. The Dragon-slaughter follows. He takes the seven tongues and goes to an inn, allowing the king’s daughter to return alone to her father. His want of gallantry results, as usual, in the pretensions of an impostor, who possesses himself of the dragon’s heads, and is about to be married to the princess, when the hero puts in his claim. The morning after the wedding he goes to the house of a lovely maiden, seen from his window. She is, of course, the Medusa-witch. He is rescued by his brother, and afterwards kills the latter in an access of jealousy. On finding out his mistake, he restores him by means of a herb which he has seen the dragon use, during the fight, to mend his own heads when struck off.62.1 The other variant is a folktale recently collected in Tuscany. It is much less elaborate, and reads like a half-forgotten narrative. Here are three brothers born at a single birth. Each of them owns a horse and dog which came into the world at the same time. The first, seeking adventures, meets an old woman in the mountains, and asks for a steel that he may light a fire, for it is cold. She replies by transforming his horse, his dog and himself into salt. The second brother is dealt with in the same manner. The third, instead of asking for a steel, threatens the witch with death unless she revive his brothers. By way of recompense, he takes his two elder brothers’ animals, and goes further. With the aid of his dogs he saves the king’s daughter from a seven-headed lion. He takes the tongues; but a charcoal-burner takes the heads, and pretends to be the deliverer. On the hero’s vindicating his right, he marries the lady, and the charcoal-burner is condemned to the fire.63.1
From the remaining types the Medusa-witch is absent, and from the first of them the Life-token also. Traces of the witch’s influence, however, are found in some of the stories. Such a story is that of The Enchanted Twins, of which we have two versions, almost exactly alike, from different parts of Sicily. It seems properly to belong to the Albanian colonists settled in the island for the last four or five hundred years. A king, childless and dethroned, catches a fine red fish, which gives him the accustomed directions. In this case it is to be cut, according to one version into four, or according to the other into eight, pieces, which are to be equally distributed to the fisherman’s wife, his bitch, his mare, and for burial in the garden. Two boys, two colts and two puppies are born, and, according to one version, two magical swords grow up in the garden. The twins set out together, but part. One of them wins, in a tournament, the daughter of the king, who has dethroned his father. After his marriage he goes hunting. While absent, his brother comes to the town, and is mistaken for him as in most of the foregoing types, but puts the customary sword between himself and his sister-in-law when he goes to bed. The dragon-slayer, returning, is about to kill his wife from jealousy, but is happily informed of the facts in time.63.2
An African variant, told, presumably at Blantyre, on Lake Nyassa, to the Rev. Duff Macdonald of the Church of Scotland Mission, by a native of Quilimane, speaks of a fisherman who caught a large fish. The fish gave him millet and some of its own flesh, and spoke to him, directing him to cause his wife to eat the flesh alone, while he ate the millet. Compliance with these instructions was followed by the birth of two sons, who were called Rombao and Antonyo, with their two dogs, two spears and two guns. The explanation, however, of the origin of the dogs and weapons has been forgotten. The boys became hunters, not hesitating to kill whoever opposed them and to take possession of his land and other property. There was a whale which owned a certain water, and the chief of that country gave his daughter to buy water from the whale. But Rombao slew the whale, thus saving the maiden, and cut out its tongue, which he providently salted and preserved. The credit of the exploit is claimed by the captain of a band of soldiers, commissioned by the chief to ascertain why the whale had not sent the usual wind as a token that the girl had been eaten. The chief accordingly gives the captain his daughter in marriage. When, however, the marriage-feast is ready, and the people assembled, the lady is unwilling. Rombao, who has made it his business to be present, interferes at the critical moment with the inquiry why she is to wed the captain, and is told it is because he has killed the whale. “But where,” he asks, “is the whale’s tongue?” The head, of course, has been produced in evidence of the captain’s brag; but the incident is omitted by the narrator. The tongue cannot be found until Rombao triumphantly produces it, and proves that he, not the captain, is entitled to the victor’s honours. He marries the maiden, while the captain and his men, who aided and abetted his falsehood, are put to death.65.1 This variant contains manifest traces of weathering, which may point to a foreign, perhaps a Portuguese, provenience. The atmosphere and most of the details, however, are purely native. The husband and wife eating apart, the hunting and filibustering proceedings of the twins, the scarcity of water, the salting of the monster’s tongue (which, I think, never occurs in an European variant), and the wedding customs, are among the indications of the complete assimilation of the story by the native mind. The only details distinctly traceable to Portuguese influence, paramount on the Quilimane coast, are the names Rombao and Antonyo, and the guns—neither of them essential to the story.
In an Abruzzian version the fisherman has but one son, born after his wife has consumed broth made of the magical fish. The bitch, having eaten the head, brings forth a puppy, and the mare, having eaten the flesh, a foal. Swords sprout up in the garden where the bones have been buried. The boy, grown to manhood, fights a seven-headed dragon and rescues the princess who was to have been its prey; and the story ends with his confutation of the fraudulent charcoal-burner in the ordinary way.65.2
Three Swabian variants substitute the Life-token for the Supernatural Birth. Two of them, almost exactly the same, display, so far as they go, some similarity to the Argyllshire tale mentioned in a previous chapter. Three brothers depart on their travels together. At the first finger-post they separate, each of them sticking his staff into the post until he return, so that either, coming back to the place, would know whether the others had gone home. Hans, the hero, takes service with a nobleman as a shepherd, and is cautioned never to go into the forest; for three giants dwell there, and they will kill him. One Sunday he goes into the forest and finds a castle. Entering it, he meets with no one until he gets to the last room of the top story, where is an enchanted princess. She gives him a pipe, by blowing into which he can make all things dance that hear him. He afterwards drives the sheep repeatedly into the forest, to feed on the excellent pasture there. At length the giants catch him on successive days; but Hans blows in his pipe and sets them dancing, and then takes the opportunity to kill them. He cuts out their tongues and eyes, which he wraps in his handkerchief. The princess whom he thus frees asks him to marry her and become king; but he excuses himself at present on the ground that his time of service is not up. After a while, the maiden’s father, being tired of waiting, issues a proclamation for her deliverer. The nobleman, to whom Hans has foolishly confided his victory, sends his own son to court, with the bodies of the giants, to claim the reward. Hans, however, by means of the tongues and eyes, easily convicts him of falsehood. But before permitting Hans to marry the princess, the king requires him to win at the sport of running at the ring. The giants’ servants in the castle furnish him with horse and splendid clothes, and instruct him in the game, so that he wins. But the king, under pretence of sending him to a monastery to learn, shuts him in an enchanted castle, haunted by thirteen devils. Hans with his pipe dances the devils to death, and the king can no longer withhold the promised reward of the princess’ hand and the kingdom. After some years, Hans makes up his mind to go home, whither his brothers have preceded him. So he puts on his old shepherd-clothing, and is despised by his brothers, one of whom has become a general, and the other a merchant. He endures all their indignities for some six weeks, until his consort, wearying of his absence, comes to look for him. He still pretends stupidity, and does all sorts of foolish things; but she recognises him through it all, and induces him to resume his royal garb, to the confusion of his father and brothers, who have been ill-using him.67.1
Here the Life-token has dwindled into a mere token of the brothers’ having returned home, and all its magic is lost. The remaining variant presents no special points of interest, save that it too is obviously in a state of decay. There are three brothers who depart together. The life-token is a sword stuck in a fir-tree, to become spotted with rust if its owner die. The hero obtains helpful animals (a bear, a wolf and a lion) in the old familiar manner. The dragon is seven-headed; the coachman is the impostor, and is found out by the want of the tongues. What became of the hero’s brothers nobody knows.67.2
Finally, there is a type, not very common, which includes only the three incidents of the Supernatural Birth, the Life-token, and the Dragon-slaying. The Portuguese legend of Saint George may be taken as the typical form. The saint is represented as one of the twin sons of a fisherman who caught the same fish three days successively. The first two days it had begged for life; but the third day it directed that it should be cut into six pieces, two for the fisherman’s wife, two for his mare, and two to be buried behind his garden-gate. From the last-mentioned pieces two lances grow. Saint George and his brother start on their adventures together, but soon part, the saint giving his brother a branch of basil-gentle, and saying: “When it withers, come in search of me, because I shall then be in danger.” George rescues the princess from the dragon; and her father desires to make him general and give him the maiden in marriage. At this critical moment his brother perceives the branch withering, and hurries off to find him. The difficulty is that George, by virtue of vows he has taken, cannot marry. His brother comes in time to accommodate his tender conscience, by taking the lady himself and leaving George the honours of canonisation.68.1 In a story from Lorraine a different turn is given to the characters of the two younger brothers, but one which indicates a close relation with the Portuguese legend: they are the impostors who pretend to have slain the dragon. Here the fisherman catches the Queen of the Fishes repeatedly, until his wife insists on eating her majesty. The fish requests that some of its bones be placed under the bitch, some under the mare, and the rest under a rose-tree in the garden. Three puppies are found under the bitch, three foals under the mare, and three boys beneath the rose-tree. The life-tokens are the roses on the tree, one of which falls when misfortune happens to either of the brothers. The first brother takes all three dogs; and, with their help, in a three days’ conflict he quells the seven-headed beast and delivers the princess. She thereupon invites him to come home with her; but he prefers to return to his father’s house, carrying the beast’s heads. The king issues a proclamation for him. The youngest brother personates him; but the heads he brings turn out to be of wood, with which the real victor has deceived him. The king throws him into prison, and condemns him to be hanged the next day. His rose falls from the tree. The next brother goes to rescue him; and the king condemns him to the like punishment. His rose falls. The real victor then takes the seven heads and the seven tongues to the castle. For his sake his brothers are spared. He weds the princess, and they wed two of her maids of honour.69.1
The mention of the seven tongues, as it were by accident, is a reminiscence of what I hold to be the ancient and typical form of the Imposture-episode. A similar survival occurs in another tale from Lorraine, wherein the dragon and the Medusa-witch are confounded together. In this tale there are likewise three brothers, sons of a fisherman who had given three drops of blood of a certain big fish to his wife, three to his mare, and three to his bitch, and had preserved three in a glass as the life-token. The eldest brother, seeking adventures, enters the castle of a seven-headed witch, and is forthwith changed into a toad. The blood at home boils in the glass; and the second brother sets out, only to meet with the same reverse. The third brother conquers the witch with the assistance of a charcoal-burner, and cuts out her tongues. Now, he who slew the witch, and brought her tongues in proof, would have the castle and marry the king’s daughter. The charcoal-burner bethinks himself of his folly in not taking the tongues. To secure them, he kills the youth; and, exhibiting them to the king, he succeeds in obtaining the princess.70.1 Charcoal-burners are the favourite villains of the Perseus märchen; but it is rarely they are successful. Nor, indeed, is it often that the folktale descends to a style of art worthy of Miss Braddon.
We have found the story of Perseus to consist of three leading trains of incident, namely, the Supernatural Birth, the Quest of the Gorgon’s Head, and the Rescue of Andromeda. In a large number of modern variants, however, the hero is duplicated, or even tripled. This introduces a fresh element, that of the Life-token. And in nearly all the modern European variants the Quest of the Gorgon’s Head undergoes a modification, and suffers a displacement to the end of the narrative. Other incidents are of course frequently mixed up with these, or even substituted for one or other of them. But, speaking broadly, the tale may be taken to consist essentially of the four elements I have named, which I now propose to examine separately.
The first in order is the Supernatural Birth. Stories of supernatural birth may be said to have a currency as wide as the world. Heroes of extraordinary achievement or extraordinary qualities were necessarily of extraordinary birth. The wonder or the veneration they inspired seemed to demand that their entrance upon life, and their departure from it, should correspond with the impression left by their total career. Tales of supernatural birth are accordingly so numerous that it is hopeless to give an adequate account of them here. The utmost that can be done is to lay before the reader a few of the most interesting and important examples analogous to those we have been considering in previous chapters.
If we examine stories of the Danae type, or The King of the Fishes type, we find that when, as usually in the former case, a maiden is the hero’s mother, only one child is born of her. It is sufficiently remarkable for a virgin to bring forth one child. But when, as in the greater number of variants of the latter type, a married woman is the mother, the prodigy must be placed beyond doubt by a double or threefold birth, and often by its repetition upon other animals who partake of the impregnating influence. This influence is generally conveyed in food. The peoples among whom the stories originated were either savages, or in a stage of civilisation but little advanced beyond that of savagery. They credited every marvel because they knew little of the properties of nature. Of the organisation of their own bodies they entertained the most rudimentary notions. Whether from an analogy between the normal act of impregnation and that of eating and drinking, or because they had learned that at least one mode of operating effectively on the organism, for purposes alike of injury and healing, was by drugs taken through the mouth, this was the favourite method of supernatural impregnation. In the stories we have already considered, fish or fruit has been the kind of food oftenest employed. Similar incidents are very numerous outside the Perseus group.
Among Slavonic nations, the agency of a fish, even in the special form in which it appears in the story of The King of the Fishes, is not uncommon as an opening to other tales. Several are cited by Leskien and Brugman in the notes to their Litauische Märchen; and of them we may mention one or two. A Serbo-Croatian tale exhibits an eel cut into four pieces, of which the woman, the mare and the bitch eat one each and bear twins; the remaining piece, being buried, grows up into two golden swords. In a tale from the seaboard of Croatia a fisherman cuts a fish into three, giving a part each to his wife, the mare and the bitch, and hanging the scales in the chimney. The latter are forgotten in the sequel; but twins are born to the woman and the animals. A king in a Czech tale causes two fish with golden and silver fins to be caught. He eats one and his consort the other, with the result that she bears two boys, one with a golden, the other with a silver, star on his forehead. One of Afanasief’s Russian tales relates how a beggar advised a king to assemble boys and girls of seven years old, and let the maidens spin and the boys in one night knit together a net with which a carp having golden fins is to be caught for the queen to eat. The dog, however, gets the intestines, and the three mares the water wherein the fish has been washed; while the cookmaid gnaws the bones. Queen, cook and dog bear each a son named Ivan, of whom the dog’s son is the strongest; and he makes a successful raid underground on the realm of the monsters. The mares bear a foal each. A childless king, in another of Afanasief’s tales, builds a bridge over a pathless swamp; and when it is finished he sends a servant to hide and listen to the remarks of the wayfarers. Two beggars approach. The one praises the king; the other says: “One ought to wish him posterity.” And he goes on to prescribe a silken draw-net knit by night before cock-crow. This, if let down into the sea, would catch a golden fish; and the queen, eating thereof, would bear a son. A Polish tale represents a Gipsy woman as counselling a noble, but barren, lady to catch a fish full of roe in the sea, and to eat the roe at sunset at full-moontide. Her chambermaid, however, tastes it also, and, like her mistress, bears a son.74.1 In Bohemia the tale is related of a childless monarch, who issues a proclamation offering a reward to any one who will find means whereby he may obtain an heir. An old woman presents herself and offers her help, on condition of being maintained until her death in honour in the royal palace. Her terms being accepted, she hastens to the brook which flows through the royal gardens and draws forth a gold-fish and a silver-fish. When these are cooked the queen eats the gold-fish and the beldam the silver-fish. The former bears a son on whose forehead beams a golden star, and the latter a son similarly adorned with a star of silver.74.2
The population of Eastern Pomerania is probably in the main Slavonic. There the people tell of a queen to whom a beggar-woman brought two fishes to be eaten by herself; nobody else was to taste them. The cat, however, stole one; and she and the queen bore a son apiece.74.3 Outside the Slavonic populations, the incident in this form does not seem a favourite in Europe. But we find in Iceland a story of an earl’s wife, to whom three women in blue mantles appear in a dream, and command her to go to a stream at hand, and, laying herself down, to drink of it and try to get into her mouth a certain trout she will see there, when she will at once conceive. These women are doubtless Norns, for they appear again at the birth and pronounce the fate of the daughter who is born to the lady in consequence.75.1
Among the Eskimo it is also a woman who provides the fish. She meets the husband, and from her bag produces two small dried fishes, a male and a female. His wife is to eat the former if a son be desired, the latter if a daughter. As he does not want a daughter, he himself eats the female fish, with the wholly unexpected result that he himself gives birth to the daughter.75.2
Two curious tales are recorded from Annam. One of them, thought by M. Landes, who collected it, to be of Chinese provenience, speaks of a childless man who determined to eat an enormous eel known to inhabit a certain river-confluence. To him a bonze comes and begs him to spare it. When he cannot prevail, the holy man asks for food ere he retires. He is given the usual vegetables, cooked according to Buddhist ritual for this purpose without salt or seasoning, and then goes away. The other man catches the eel by poisoning the water; and when it is cooked the food offered to the bonze is found in its stomach: hence it is known that the bonze was no other than a manifestation of the eel. After the man has eaten the eel, his wife becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son, who ultimately proves the ruin of his parents. In short, he is no other than the eel, who thus avenges itself on its murderer.75.3 Here we find expressly asserted the identity of the progeny with the mysterious fish, a subject whereto I shall have to return in a future chapter. The other Annamite story is a variant of the well-known group of The Lucky Fool. A lazy man was once lying on a raft when a fish leaped upon it. The man caught the fish, scraped off its scales; and, being too slothful to rise and wash it in the water, he rinsed it in his own urine, and threw it on the raft to dry. It is, however, carried off by a raven into the king’s daughter’s garden. Her maids bring it to her; and when it is cooked she eats it, and immediately becomes pregnant. In due time she gives birth to a son; and the king summons all the men of his kingdom that he may choose a husband for her. The lazy man floats his raft to the front of the palace. The princess’ son sees him from the palace-roof, and hails him as his father. Believing in this wise child, the king sends for the lazy man to his presence, and gives him the princess in marriage.76.1 Such was the reward of laziness.
In India the ordinary mode of supernatural conception is by the eating of fruit. A few examples will suffice. I have in a previous chapter related Somadeva’s tale of Indívarasena and his brother, who were born in consequence of their mother’s eating two heavenly fruits. The Kathá-sarit-Ságara, or Ocean of the Streams of Story, contains other narratives to the same effect. Concerning the birth of the famous hero Vikramáditya, it tells us that Siva appeared to his mother in a dream and gave her a fruit.76.2 Another childless queen, after propitiating Siva, receives a fruit in a dream from “a certain man with matted locks,” no doubt a fakir.76.3 In modern folklore Siva appears in the garb of a jogí, or fakir, to a childless king and hands him four fruits, which the queen is to eat the following Sunday before sunrise, and she will then bear four sons, who will be exceedingly clever and good.77.1 Elsewhere we are told of a rajah, who has seven wives, but no offspring. He is given by a fakir a stick, with instructions to knock down seven mangoes from a certain tree and, catching them as they fall, to take them home to his seven wives. Six of the wives eat the seven mangoes; and the seventh wife is reduced to eating one of the mango-stones thrown away by the other wives. All seven give birth to sons; but the son of the seventh is born in monkey-form. He is, of course, the hero, his brothers playing the same part towards him as those of Joseph, or those of Khodadad in the Arabian Nights.77.2 A barren woman in another tale goes to Mahadeo, or Siva. He meets with her in his customary disguise as a fakir, and gives her a mango, whereof she and two other women, who desire the same boon but have been deterred from reaching the god by the dangers of the way, are to eat. She is blessed with a son, and the other women with a daughter each.77.3 Mangoes, indeed, seem the usual prescription in Indian folktales.
Other fruits are not wanting. A fakir gives to a monarch who is without issue one hundred and sixty lichí fruits, which resemble plums—one for each of his wives.77.4 Barleycorns are given by another holy man for the same pious purpose.77.5 The Adventures of Kâmrûp, a literary romance in Hindustani, tells of a king who had no children. He is presented by a fakir with a fruit of srî, or prosperity. It is eaten by his queen; and she and six other ladies who taste it add to the population on the same day.78.1 The youngest of seven brothers, in a Santali story, plants a certain vegetable which bears a fruit. He measures its growth daily, until it becomes a span long and then remains stationary. He warns his sisters-in-law: “Do not eat my fruit, for whoever does so will give birth to a child only one span long.” The temptation is too great for one of them. She plucks the fruit and eats it; and though she, in common with the other sisters-in-law, positively denies the theft, she is found out in due time by the advent of a baby one span long—a Santali Tom Thumb.78.2