Title: The legend of Perseus, Volume 3 (of 3)
Andromeda. Medusa.
Author: Edwin Sidney Hartland
Release date: July 7, 2023 [eBook #71141]
Language: English
Original publication: United Kingdom: David Nutt in the Strand, 1896
Credits: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer
A STUDY OF TRADITION IN STORY
CUSTOM AND BELIEF: BY
Edwin Sidney Hartland
F.S.A.
VOL. III.
ANDROMEDA. MEDUSA
Published by David Nutt
in the Strand, London
1896
Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty
TO
DAVID BRYNMÔR JONES, Q.C., M.P.
If any worth be found within these pages,
If any skill, however poor, have traced
Man’s thoughts and purposes down the long ages
Where thought is dim and purpose half-effaced—
To you the opportunity be reckon’d,
To you the worth. You flung the portals wide
Which guard enchanted palaces, and beckon’d
To new adventures life had else denied—
Enchanted palaces, where gods forgotten
Dream through an afternoon of endless years;
Adventures follow’d, far from fields erst foughten,
’Neath wilder heav’ns, aflame with mightier spheres.
Yours be the spoils, then, from that realm of glamour;
At least some gracious memories they will bring,
When husht the forum, husht is party clamour,
And you can listen to their whispering.
This volume contains, in addition to the final instalment of the inquiry sketched at the beginning of the first volume, a Supplementary List of Works referred to in volumes ii. and iii., and the Dedication and General Index for the whole.
Since the publication of the second volume local inquiries have satisfied me that the account of the ceremony at Market Drayton (or rather at Wollerton, near that town), mentioned on p. 292 of the volume in question, is inaccurate. The wine and biscuits were handed to the bearers, but not across the coffin; and the minister merely reprobated in general terms the custom of drinking at funerals.
Corrigenda of a minor character are, in volume i. p. 57, note 1, for 217 read 178, and p. 61, last line but one, for fisherman read merchant; in volume ii. p. 147, note, after letter xxviii. insert to Daines Barrington, and p. 271, note 4, for 68 read 57.
I cannot lay down the pen without reiterating my very inadequate thanks to Mr. Rouse and Mr. Alfred Nutt for the unstinted and invaluable aid I have received in various ways from them: aid which, beginning with the opening chapter, has been continued to the latest pages of this effort to solve the problem of the Legend of Perseus.
Highgarth, Gloucester,
June 1896.
The Rescue of Andromeda in Märchen
Simplest form of the incident—Strong Jack—The Herdsman type—Menial hero in other tales—Punishment of impostors—Attacking the monster from inside—Faithless Sister type—Stolen Sister type—Underworld type—Fearless Johnny type—Helpful Animals—Change of sex—Rescue of youth—Omaha tale—Its European origin—Vira, the Tuscan forest-sprite.
The Rescue of Andromeda in Sagas
Classical stories—Saint George—The Pollard Worm—Cuchulainn and Devorgoil—Susa No and Inada—The Dragon of Deerhurst—Other British legends—Variants in the East and Africa—The Maiden her own deliverer—Christian legends—Chinese tale—Rescue of youth—Maiden rescued from thraldom only—Ragnar Lodbrog.
The Rescue of Andromeda: its Relation to Human Sacrifices
Legends of the slaughter of a monster are widespread—Origin of the conception of the monster—Totemism—Animal gods—The incident of the Rescue a record of the abolition of human sacrifices to animal gods—Examples of such sacrifices in Africa and the East—Relics of the same among the South Sea Islanders, the Greeks and Romans—Tales of dragons inhabiting springs and lakes—Human sacrifices to water in India, America, Europe—Legends pointing to the same practice in various parts of the world—Legends of rescue of human sacrifices to other divinities.
The Medusa-witch in Märchen
The Tzitzinæna—Petrifaction by the witch—Petrifaction on breach of various taboos—Power of the witch’s hair—Játaka containing the incident, its relations with the European tales—Petrifaction for preservation—The witch’s hair.
The Medusa-witch in Saga and Superstition
The witch’s hair—Other examples of the power of a hair—The Magical Fetter—The Magical Word—Power of a curse—Magical effect of an incautious word—The Magical Blow—Petrifaction by divine vengeance—Petrifaction as transformation—The Gorgonian power of petrifying by a look—The Evil Eye.
The Story as a Whole. The Problem of its place of origin. Conclusion
The origin of the story to be sought for among nations who have passed beyond human sacrifices to brutes—The story as a whole confined to certain parts of the Eastern Hemisphere—Differences between classical and modern stories—Relation between them—Traditional selection in classical times—The Helpful Animals—The Gift of Weapons—Cambodian märchen—Modern variants independent of the classical tale—The Impostor and the Tokens—Legend of Saint George—The Deliverer’s Sleep—Result of the inquiry—Bearing of some of the subjects discussed upon matters of Christian controversy—Conclusion.
Table C. The Impostor and the Tokens
Table D. The Deliverer’s Sleep
Supplementary List of Works referred to
We have traced the incidents of the Supernatural Birth and the Life-token throughout the world: the two remaining incidents of the Rescue of Andromeda and the Medusa-witch have a more restricted range. For though traditions of a fight with a monster and of human beings turned to stone, the germs of the incidents in question, are almost universal, yet the special forms evolved from these germs in the Perseus saga seem to be confined to the Eastern Continent, save where immigrant peoples have taken them in modern times to the New World and given them in some rare instances currency there among the aboriginal tribes.
Of these incidents, the first with which we are concerned is that of the Rescue of Andromeda. Its popularity in Europe is hardly exceeded by that of any incident in traditional fiction, while it is known to story-tellers over vast spaces of the Orient and of Africa. The simplest form of the incident is found in a Berber märchen preserved in a manuscript at the Bibliothèque Nationale at Paris, and translated some years ago by M. René Basset. In this tale a youth, whose earlier experiences vividly recall those of Joseph down to his temptation in Potiphar’s house, is more leniently treated than the Hebrew patriarch, being simply expelled from his master’s family. He wanders away and reaches a fountain inhabited by a serpent, which allows no water to be drawn, save in return for the sacrifice of a woman. That day it was the king’s daughter’s turn to be devoured. The youth, finding her at the spring, inquires why she weeps, and undertakes her deliverance. The snake appears to have had more than one head, though how many is not recorded. At all events the hero beat them one after another, as they were stretched forth to seize the prey, until the serpent died. The water was then free to everybody; and when the king inquired whose doing it was, the stranger youth was led before him and frankly owned his exploit. It is hardly necessary to say that he was rewarded with the hand of the young lady he had saved, and was named the king’s vicegerent. The wedding festivities, we are told, lasted seven days.2.1
Sometimes the hero is possessed of extraordinary strength, which enables him to overcome his foe. An example is found on the island of Syra, where a tale is told of an ogre who was in the habit of eating anybody who came in his way. Strong Jack fights and kills him, thus delivering a king’s daughter, whom he marries. But she is afterwards carried off by a monster, a half-man with only one eye, one hand, and one foot. Her husband, strong as he is, attacks the half-man in vain. He cannot be killed, for his external soul consists of two doves in the belly of a certain wild sow. To such a monster the hero falls an easy prey; but he is restored to life, and in due time has his revenge.2.2 In another story, from Agia Anna, the ogre is a female called the Krikeça, who eats a maiden daily. Though already a married man, the hero undertakes the adventure; and the maiden on whose behalf he fights brings him food enough to quell his craving—a difficult task, for these strong heroes are enormous eaters—and so supplies him with a continuance of strength to conquer the Krikeça. The latter begs for life and becomes a converted character.3.1 So, in an Armenian tale from the Land beyond the Forest, does a wild sow who has fallen into the same vicious habit of devouring maidens, and who turns out to be an enchanted youth whom the hero frees from his spell.3.2
These tales are closely allied with a type of which, with one exception, I have not found any variants outside the Celtic and Basque populations of the west of Europe. It may be called The Herdsman type. Lod, the farmer’s son, in an Argyllshire tale, is unusually strong. He takes service as herd with a king; and in the course of his day’s work at different times encounters and puts to death two giants and their mother, bringing home his cattle safe and sound as no herd had done before him. A big giant then comes for the king’s daughter, whom a squint-eyed, red-haired cook undertakes to save, his price being the maiden in marriage. The cook hides behind a stone and covers himself with sea-weed. Lod comes upon the scene and meets the heroine weeping. He comforts her, and lying down with his head on her knee he begs her to relieve him of the vermin. If he fell asleep under the lulling influences of this operation she was to waken him by cutting off the point of his little finger. On the giant’s appearance the princess wakens him. He springs up, draws his club, sweeps off the giant’s three heads and throws them contemptuously at the cook, who takes them and the king’s daughter home, as if he himself were the deliverer. A day is appointed for the wedding; but the heroine identifies Lod as the man, and proves it by the point of his finger, which she produces from her pocket. She marries him accordingly, and the cook is burnt to death.4.1 The same story in effect is given by Campbell as a variant of The Sea Maiden, cited in an earlier chapter.4.2 In Ireland the tale appears as that of The Thirteenth Son of the King of Erin. The king having thirteen sons is advised to give one to fate. The eldest is the one on whom the lot falls. His father dismisses him with the gift of a steed of supernatural fleetness; and he hires himself as cowherd to another king. He slays three giants and takes possession of their castles and wealth, among which are a black, a brown, and a red horse. The king’s daughter is to be devoured by “an urfeist, a great serpent of the sea, a monster which must get a king’s daughter to devour every seven years.” Hundreds and hundreds of kings’ sons and champions were anxious to save her, but were so frightened at the terrible urfeist that they would not go near her when she was conducted to the beach in readiness for her death. The hero rides down on the black horse, clad in the black gear he has found in the first giant’s castle. Dismounting, he lays his head in the maiden’s lap and falls asleep, waiting for the monster. While he slept she took three hairs from his head and hid them in her bosom. With his sword of light he took off the serpent’s head, but it rushed back to its place and grew on again. The serpent, however, declined to fight any more that day. In a twinkle it returned to the sea, saying: “I’ll be here again to-morrow, and swallow the whole world before me as I come.” Undaunted by this threat, the hero appeared on the morrow in the blue dress of the second giant and mounted on his brown horse. He laid his head on the lady’s lap and slept as before; and she, taking out the three hairs, compared them with his head, and said to herself: “You are the man who was here yesterday.” He cut the monster in two, but the halves rushed together and were one as before. “All the champions on earth won’t save her from me to-morrow,” cried the urfeist as he plunged into the sea again. The third day the hero donned the third giant’s dress. It had as many colours as there are in the sky, and his boots were of blue glass. The giant’s housekeeper gave him a brown apple, with instructions to throw it into the serpent’s open mouth. The princess identified him as before; and when the urfeist came up out of the sea, “enormous, terrible to look at, with a mouth big enough to swallow the world, and three sharp swords coming out of it, Sean Ruadh threw the apple into his mouth, and the beast fell helpless on the strand, flattened out and melted away to a dirty jelly on the shore.” The red steed bore the victor away from the maiden, though she tried to cling to him and stay him: she only succeeded in retaining one of his blue-glass boots. Then a proclamation was made for all men to come and try on the boot. Sean Ruadh tried to evade the proof. In vain: by his old blind sage’s advice, the king sent men, twenty at a time, to fetch him; but he bound them twenty in a bundle, and the bundles together. At last the king himself went and, kneeling, prayed him to come; and the boot sprang through the air to him and fitted itself on his foot. The princess was downstairs in a twinkle, and in the arms of Sean Ruadh. He put all the other claimants to death without more ado, and wedded her.6.1 This tale, with unimportant variations, has been found more than once during recent years in the west of Ireland. It has been recovered also in Brittany, where one of the variants takes the following form. A noble maiden disguised as a youth becomes page to the queen of France, who falls in love with her, and, being repulsed, sickens and dies. The page’s real sex is disclosed to the king in consequence of a false accusation affecting one of the maids of honour. The king marries her, and she bears him a son. A strange animal appears, called a murlu, is caught and caged, but released by the king’s son, who is, in consequence, compelled to flee from his father’s wrath. The murlu befriends the youth, and takes him to the palace of the King of Naples, where he is engaged as herd. With the murlu’s aid he satisfactorily performs his duties, and overcomes a giant, whose wealth he obtains. The murlu transforms itself into a magical steed, and helps him to conquer in a two days’ fight the seven-headed serpent to which the king’s daughter was to be sacrificed. The herd cuts out the seven tongues and goes away, leaving the heads on the ground. They are carried off by a charcoal-burner, who professes to be the princess’ deliverer. The king is about to give the maiden in marriage, in spite of her protests, to the pretender, when the herd presents himself and, by means of the seven tongues, proves himself the true victor. The charcoal-burner undergoes the usual penalty of his falsehood; and on the occasion of the hero’s wedding the murlu appears, declares itself the King of France’s first wife, condemned for her sin in attempting the page’s virtue to this transformation. The conditions of her punishment are now fulfilled and her expiation complete.7.1
In one of the Basque variants the mysterious animal is called a Tartaro. The youth is called Petit Yorge, which causes Mr. Webster to suspect that the tale is borrowed from the French; though the identification of Saint George with the slayer of the dragon, not unknown in märchen, and more fully developed, as we shall hereafter see, in the sagas, may suggest a different explanation. He takes service as gardener. With a horse, a handsome dress, and a sword, furnished by the friendly Tartaro, he fights the dragon on behalf of the king, his master’s, youngest daughter. The fight lasts three days. A charcoal-burner is the impostor. As the lady declines to marry him a proclamation is issued for all the young men to ride under a bell, and whoever can carry off on the point of his sword a diamond ring suspended from the bell shall wed her. The hero succeeds and rides away; but as he does so the king hurls his lance at him and wounds him in the leg. He is thus identified, and then produces the serpent’s tongues and forty-two pieces of silk he has cut from the damsel’s dresses.7.2 The other Basque variants are less elaborate, and perhaps represent more nearly the original tale. The hero is the youngest of three sons. In one of the variants, the two elder, sallying forth successively, refuse a morsel of cake to an old woman and are eaten by a bear. The youngest, more charitable, is rewarded by the hag with a magical stick, the touch whereof kills seven bears that attack him, one after the other; and he obtains their palace and riches. He takes service as shepherd, and with his stick slays the seven-headed serpent, cutting out its tongues and also a little piece of silk from each of the seven robes worn by the princess. The usual charcoal-burner takes the heads and claims the reward, but is confuted by means of the tongues and the silk.8.1 In the other variant, the youth on setting forth buys a pack of cards and a formidable mace armed with teeth. He hires himself as cowherd; and when the kine, having broken into the forbidden pastures, as in most of the variants, draw down the wrath of the Tartaro who owns the pastures, the youth challenges the monster to a game of cards. The Tartaro was not unaccustomed to play with his adversaries; and his trick was to drop a card, ask his opponent to pick it up, and kill him while he was politely complying. But now he has met his match. The youth tells him to pick up the card himself. As he stoops for the purpose a blow from the mace puts an end to him. Three Tartaros are thus overcome; and their mansion passes into the possession of the hero. The combat with the triple serpent lasts two days. The victor returns to the Tartaro’s palace, merely taking the seven tongues and the seven pieces of silk, and thus enabling the charcoal-burner to make his false claim. The king in his joy gives a dinner to his friends, to which of course the hero is not invited. The Tartaros owned three olanos, ogre-dogs. One of these is sent by the hero to fetch him a dish from the banquet. This of course leads to his discovery, and to the establishment of his right to the king’s daughter.9.1
The single variant of this type found elsewhere than in Celtic and Basque lands comes from the Odenwald. In it the widowed King of Orange falls in love with the portrait of the daughter of the King of Septentrion, but is daunted by the dangers of the way. His only son, Ferdinand, seeing the portrait, then attempts the adventure. A mannikin directs him to dig at the first crossway, where he will find a can of strength-giving wine and a magical sword and whistle. He slays in fight eight giants, and makes his way to the realm of Septentrion, taking possession, ere he reaches the capital, of a magnificent palace, gaily furnished, having many fine horses in the stable, but void of human inhabitants. Then he enters the king’s service as fowl-herd. Clad in three different suits of armour from his palace, he fights the dragon on three successive days, and cuts off his three heads, disappearing after each combat, so that nobody knows who the princess’ saviour is. In the same armour he takes part in a three days’ tournament for the maiden’s hand. It is necessary to run full tilt with his spear at a ring suspended from a beam, to carry it off, and to hang it up again in returning. He succeeds where all others have failed, and again makes off; but on the third day he is wounded in the leg by one of the king’s men as he escapes. By this token he is recognised; he marries the princess and becomes King of Septentrion. The horses in his palace turn out to be enchanted men, whose spell is dissolved by his success.9.2 This tale seems to bear traces of literary influence; and in any case it is obviously of a less barbarous character than the others. Probably it is not indigenous to Germany, but has been carried thither from the west, and has suffered some change in the transmission. The indications point to a Celtic or Iberian population as the originators of the Herdsman type.
At the same time stories found among other nations represent the hero as a herd or a menial servant. In a Swabian märchen already cited he is a shepherd.10.1 A Norwegian tale, bearing some markedly Norse characteristics, also comprises a similar incident. Here Osborn Boots is the youngest of three brothers, who successively hire themselves to a king. The two elder had been dismissed with three stripes cut out of their backs, and the wounds rubbed with salt or hot embers. Boots shares his food with an old hag he meets on the way, and receives in return an old key, which has the property of showing him, when he looks through the ring, whatever he wishes to see. With the help of this and of his own shrewdness, he drives off a troll from the king’s mill-dam, and on another occasion saves the king’s sheep from him. But one day the king, when hunting, trod by chance upon wild grass and lost his way in the wood. The troll met him and offered to let him go home in consideration of having the first thing the king set eyes on when he got to his own land. The victim proved to be his eldest daughter. A man called Glibtongue accompanied her to the spot where the troll was to meet and fetch her. He turned out to be a coward; and Boots, opportunely appearing, overcame the monster by trickery, but spared his life on condition of his restoring the king’s younger daughter, whom he had stolen before. The maiden thus rescued gives him a ring; but Glibtongue of course takes the credit of the deed, and is to be married to her. The troll then stops the springs, so that there is no water to boil the bridal brose. Boots to the rescue again; and now he is identified by the ring, which is seen glistening in his hair. Glibtongue is thrown into a pit full of snakes; the troll is slain; Boots weds the younger princess, and with her receives half the kingdom.11.1 The hero of a Negro tale from the Bahamas, is a boy who is first a shepherd and then a horse-herd or stable-boy. His master had every year to give one of his daughters in exchange for water. The last daughter he had was about to be thus bartered. Her coachman declined to allow the stable-boy to accompany him when he took the maiden to exchange her, but set him a task instead. The boy performs the task by magical power, obtains horse, carriage, and armour, and follows. By the utterance of a wish he sets two boar-lizards fighting; and while they fight the water is obtained and brought back with the lady. The next day the adventure is repeated, with the variation that it is two cocks which fight. The boy stains his handkerchief red and passes it to the girl. Her father offers her in marriage, with a dowry of two thousand dollars, to any one who can take the stain out of the handkerchief. “All on ’em was tryin’, dey couldn’ git it out. This fellah haxed dem to let ’im try it. Fathe’ told ’im, ‘All right, ’e could try it.’ ’E rolled up ’is sleeve; spread the handke’-chief over ’is harm; then ’e spit on it, taken ’is hand and rubbed over it. The stain went out. Her fathe’ give ’er to ’im to wife, and ’is two thousan’ dollahs. Dat en’s de hold story.”11.2 A Portuguese tale from Brazil begins with the barter by a fisherman of his son, born unknown to him, for a catch of fish. It belongs to the Forbidden Chamber cycle. After flying from the ogre the hero takes service as under-gardener to a king. The youngest princess penetrates his disguise. The king offers his eldest daughter to him who would slay a seven-headed beast which was devastating the realm. The under-gardener performs the feat and takes the tips of the beast’s tongues. As nobody appeared to claim the reward, the king decided to marry all his daughters. The youngest refuses to marry anybody but the under-gardener. The prince who is to marry the eldest claims to have slain the beast, and the bridegroom of the second sister claims another achievement of the hero; but the latter at the wedding-feast puts them to open shame.12.1
There is one characteristic, however, which is common to a vast number of variants belonging to almost every type, and which, in the story from the Odenwald, stands out in full relief. If it be not a savage characteristic, at least it is not in accordance with the etiquette of civilisation in the nineteenth century for the hero to persist in such unaccountable modesty, that, having slain the monster and won the princess, he must be pursued like a criminal flying from justice, and compelled to confess and claim his reward. When at last he is made known, and the impostors, whom his want of gallantry and overload of humility had encouraged, if not instigated, are convicted of their fraud, he indulges in a savage revenge. Burning alive, indeed, is in harmony with a certain kind of civilisation, such as that of Saint Dominic or Bloody Mary; and the punishments the peasantry delight to recount in these tales are an index of their culture. The hero is deterred no more than the most bigoted fanatic by any considerations of humanity, or even of kinship. As a single example of the disregard of kinship, take the story of The King of Al-Yaman and his three Sons, found in some versions of the Arabian Nights. There the king’s youngest son, disliked by his father and despised by his two brethren, picks up a string of pearls and emeralds, and is deprived of it by the elder sons, who pretend themselves to have found it. Their father lays upon them the injunction to bring him the wearer. After they have set out, the youngest goes forth too, and delivers a princess from the scourge of her father’s city, a monstrous lion, to which a maiden is offered by lot every year. He refuses in the usual way to return with her, and is only discovered by means of a proclamation requiring all the men in the city to defile before the palace. He is married to her; but, arising before day, while she is still asleep, he exchanges rings with her and writes upon her hand his name, Aláeddín, his parentage and a request, if she love him truly, to come and seek him at his father’s capital of Al-Hind. He departs, and repeats the adventure, slaying this time an elephant. Afterwards he continues his quest, and succeeds in obtaining the enchanting bird Philomelet, the wearer of the necklace, while its mistress, a princess, is sleeping. He writes his name on the palm of her hand also, and a similar request to seek him at home. As he returns his brothers fall in with him, rob him of the bird, and carry it to their father as their own prize. The three princesses, each with her father and an army, go after him and meet together. They of course reject the two elder brothers as impostors, and Aláeddín is at last vindicated. He then, having put his brothers to shame, falls upon them, and with a single blow of his sword despatches them both; nor is it without difficulty that he is restrained from putting his father to death too. He adds to the number of his wives the princess to whom the bird Philomelet belonged, and lives happy ever after.14.1 The vengeance in the Arab tale, reported from a region where no reminiscences of the auto-da-fé linger, shows to advantage in comparison with the cruelties in which the tales of the peasantry of Christian Europe rejoice. And if the hero spare not his own flesh and blood, it must be remembered that he is only the half-brother of the impostors, and that both he and his mother have suffered great personal wrong at their hands and those of his father. In a variant of the story, cited from the same source in a previous chapter, the hero even intercedes with his father for his brothers’ lives.14.2 Happily in western stories he does not always visit their sins on their heads. In the Shetlandic story, originally from Scandinavia, Assipattle is treated with contempt by his six elder brothers. But he had a fast friend in his only sister, who was taken to court to be the king’s daughter’s maid. The Mester Stoorworm, a terrific sea-monster in which we have a reminiscence of the Midgard Snake, threatened the land. By a mighty sorcerer’s counsel, every Saturday seven damsels were bound upon a rock and delivered to him, to glut his maw and save the kingdom. The only way to get rid of the scourge, the sorcerer declared, was to deliver Gemdelovely, the princess, to be devoured. All the champions who volunteered to save her shrank from the task when they beheld the grisly foe. Assipattle alone had the courage to get a boat and go out to meet the worm, whose horrid length stretched half across the world. He allowed himself to be swallowed, boat and all; and once inside the cavernous throat he “waded and ran, and better ran, till he came to the enormous liver of the monster.” Then he cut a hole in it and placed a live peat, which he had brought for the purpose, in the hole and “blew till he thought his lips would crack.” By and bye “the peat began to flame; the flame caught the oil of the liver, and in a minute there was a stately euse. In troth, I think it gave the Stoorworm a hot harskit.” Hurrying into his boat again, Assipattle was spewed out by the monster’s dying spasms, and thrown high and dry on the land. Of course he married the princess; and the vengeance, without which the story would not be complete, fell not on his brothers for their ill treatment of him, but on the sorcerer, who it turned out was the queen’s lover.15.1
The conquest of the dragon by attacking it from the inside carries us back to Herakles’ deliverance of Hesione. The incident, rare in modern folklore, is also found in a Gipsy tale from Transylvania; but there, as might be anticipated, there is no question of a sea-monster. Radu, a young Gipsy of the Kukuya stock, driven to desperation by his shrewish wife, cleaves her head with a hatchet and flees for his life from his tribal brethren. In the forest he finds a large horse’s head lying under a tree. It bids him creep into its left ear; and he becomes so small as to do it easily. There he lies hidden safely until all pursuit is over, when he creeps out again through the right ear, returning at once to his proper size. He takes the head with him, for it tells him it will protect him; and when he longs for a horse he is met by two cavaliers who direct him to make water into the head, which will immediately change into a steed, red in the morning, white at noon, and black at night. Mounted on this mysterious animal he reaches a town hung with black, because a ninety-nine-headed dragon, living on the Glass Mountain, has carried off the king’s daughter and will eat her on the morrow. The next day, having taken his horse’s advice, he rides at morning, at noon, and at evening once up and down the mountain, daunting the dragon by the belief that he has three champions to contend with. He again rides to the hill, alights, makes water thrice over the steed, and thus changes it back into a horse’s head. Creeping into the left ear, he is swallowed by the serpent. Once in the serpent’s body, he crawls out of the skull, and, tearing off his clothes, he sets fire to them. The dragon bursts; the Glass Mountain disappears; Radu finds himself in the arms of the princess, whom he soon weds; and as it is recorded that he lived with his second wife in joy and happiness, we may indulge the pleasing thought that she lacked the exasperating tongue of the first.16.1
In an earlier chapter I have abstracted a Lithuanian tale where the hero, having taken charge of a sister, is betrayed by her to a robber. This is quite a common incident in Slav märchen, not always found in connection with the Rescue of Andromeda. Another Lithuanian tale presents a brother and sister, turned out of doors by their father for bad conduct, arriving at a robber’s dwelling. Before leaving home, the youth had possessed himself of his father’s magical staff, which paralysed opponents. Aided by this he slays eleven of the twelve robbers, and severely wounds the twelfth. Having thrown their corpses into a Bluebeard’s chamber, already used for a similar purpose by the robbers themselves, he gives the keys of the house to his sister, forbidding her to enter the room where the bodies lie. She naturally disobeys, and is seized by the still living robber and compelled to bring him certain healing plants, which are hanging from the ceiling. The robber makes love to her, not without success, and persuades her to feign illness, and get her brother to procure, first, wolf’s milk, and then lioness’ milk, wherewith the wounded man is completely restored to health. When this is effected he comes forth, attacks the brother and threatens him with death. But in procuring the milk the hero has also won the favour of the she-wolf and lioness, as well as of a hare, for sparing their lives; and they have given him each a whistle to be blown when he is in need of help. He now blows; and immediately the grateful beasts rush to his help, tearing the robber and his paramour to pieces. Setting out with the animals, he comes to a town where the king’s last daughter is about to be given to a nine-headed dragon. His conquest of the dragon follows, and the cutting out of its nine tongues; after which he and his beasts lie down and fall asleep with utter weariness. While he sleeps, the princess puts her ring on his finger. She has hardly done so when some servants of the king, her father, come to the place, kill and bury him, and oblige her to take an oath to recognise their chief as her deliverer and bridegroom. On awaking, the hero’s animals miss their master and disperse, to meet again at the same spot three years later, in accordance with a tryst given them by him before lying down to sleep. The bear smells the corpse; the lion and wolf dig it up; and the hare fetches some leaves of a herb used by two snakes they have seen in combat at an earlier stage of their adventures. With these he restores the hero to life; and they all return to the town, as luck will have it, on the day of the wedding. The hare carries a letter to the princess, who induces her father to invite the stranger to the festivities. There he inquires what token of victory over the dragon the bridegroom had produced; and when the heads are shown him he draws the tongues out of his pocket, fits them into the throats and adds as a proof of his own identity the princess’ ring. The pretender is torn to pieces by oxen, and the hero happily married to the princess.18.1 Variants of the story are well known in Italy. It is found in Brittany and Andalucia, and has even crossed the Atlantic with the Portuguese to Brazil.18.2 None of these need be mentioned now, save a Piedmontese version, which accounts for the hero’s refusal to claim his bride as soon as he has won her, by the excuse that he was in mourning for his sister, slain by his dogs for her treachery, together with her paramour.18.3 In variants from Bohemia and Transylvania, the sister is, after her lover’s death, shut up by her brother for her misconduct, and left when he goes abroad on his travels. When he is married he releases her and takes her to live in the palace. But she sticks in his bed a knife which pierces and kills him. He is brought to life again by his hounds, and his sister receives the reward of her double guilt.19.1 In these two, as well as in a Sienese variant, the dogs are enchanted men who regain their true form after the hero is finally settled in life.
A type of the story found in Italy opens with the search made by a brother for a sister who had been carried off by an ogre. According to the Venetian tale he meets a priest, who bestows on him three dogs, called Rend-iron, Seize-all, and Now’s-the-time-to-help-me. With their assistance he slays the ogre; and then, leaving his sister in possession of the ogre’s palace and magical wand, he sets out for further adventures. The dogs at his command slay the seven-headed beast and bring him the heads. He will not return with the king’s daughter; but cutting out the beast’s tongues he puts them in a box, gives a ring to the lady as a pledge that he will return, and goes back with the good news to his sister. On the way he stops at an inn, and there meets a chimney-sweeper—a new and more modern shape of our old acquaintance, the charcoal-burner. Imprudently he shows the tongues to his new acquaintance, who robs him of them, and boldly claims the princess. The hero, however, gets wind of the wedding, and, breaking into the festivities, demands permission to speak. He cross-examines the bridegroom: “Are you the bridegroom?” “Yes.” “How did you manage to deliver this maiden?” The chimney-sweeper shuffled: “How did I do it? Look, here are the seven tongues!” “I ask you, How did you manage to deliver her? I will have an answer.” “With those three dogs.” “Good! Since you managed to deliver her by the help of those three dogs, in the presence of this noble company call the dogs by their names.” The impostor was confounded, dumb. Then the youth turned to the company and told his story, adding sarcastically: “And this gentleman here is he who stole the box.” The gentleman denied it. Like a trained advocate, the hero calls as a witness the innkeeper, who saw him showing the tongues to the chimney-sweeper, and confronts him with the bridegroom. The king is convinced; and the hero gets permission to do as he likes with his opponent. “Rend-iron, Seize-all, Now’s-the-time-to-help-me, eat him up.” And in the presence of the assembled guests, the chimney-sweeper was eaten up accordingly. The wedding then proceeded with a new bridegroom.20.1
This dramatic solution combines ancient and modern elements in an unexpected and interesting manner. A variant current in Sicily returns to the usual proof of the deliverer’s identity by means of the tongues. He slays the dragon with a magical sword belonging to the giant who has carried off his sister, and heals the wound he and his horse have received in the combat by means of a salve he has extracted from the giant’s head after putting him to death.20.2 In a Georgian tale the hero is not born until after his sister has been carried away by a hundred-headed monster, and her three elder brothers, in attempting to rescue her, have been slain. Their desolate mother is given by a stranger an apple to eat, whence she bears a son called Asphurtzela. He conquers the monster, opens his breast and brings out the dead bodies of his brothers, restoring them to life by means of an enchanted handkerchief, also found in the monster’s breast. On the way home the ungrateful brothers tie him to a tree and leave him; but he succeeds in escaping. He cannot, however, remain at home after their evil conduct. So he sets forth again, and picks up two companions of supernatural power, with whose aid he liberates three fair maidens about to be married to three ogres. One ogre is left. He cozens the hero’s companions, one after the other, out of the food being prepared for their supper. Asphurtzela shoots the ogre and cuts him in two. The head rolls into a hole, wherein they find three lovely maidens. The two companions attempt successively to rescue them, but on letting them down their courage fails and they call out to be drawn up again. Asphurtzela descends and sends up the damsels. His companions close the hole and leave him to his fate. Wandering about in the lower regions he rescues a king’s daughter from a dragon, and sets free the water withheld by the monster. The king offers him presents, which he rejects, only asking to be sent back to his own land of light. Ultimately he finds a dragon attacking a griffin’s nest and shoots it. The griffin in gratitude carries him up to the surface of the earth. But to give her strength for the purpose it is necessary that she should be constantly supplied with food. When the provisions he has taken run short he cuts a piece off his own leg and throws it into her mouth. She restores it to him on arriving at the top, and heals the wound. He finds his two companions about to marry the maidens rescued from the hole and slays them, afterwards wedding the youngest maiden, and giving the two elder ones to his brothers.21.1
Here we find what we may call the Stolen Sister type, combined with another. The Underworld type, as it may be named, is somewhat more fertile in variants. Among Galland’s manuscripts is a tale he obtained from a Christian Maronite of Aleppo, named Hanna—that is, John. It concerns the three sons of the Sultan of Samarcand, who built a house for Rostam, his eldest son, unwittingly just above the underground dwelling of the eldest daughter of the genius Morhagian. The genius destroys it, and, when pursued by the prince, disappears in a well. The sultan then builds a similar house for his second son above the dwelling of Morhagian’s second daughter, with the same result. The house intended for the third son, Badialzaman, is built over the genius’ third daughter’s palace. It is destroyed like the others; but Badialzaman succeeds in wounding the genius thrice ere he reaches the well, and persuades his brothers to join him in pursuing the foe down into the well. Of course Badialzaman is the only one of the three who has the courage to be let down to the bottom. There he is entertained for forty days, first by one and then by another of Morhagian’s beautiful daughters, of whom the youngest is the loveliest. He announces his intention of taking vengeance on their father. Each of them endeavours to dissuade him, but in vain; and the youngest warns him that he has no chance against the genius, who will simply take his head in one hand and his feet in the other and rend him in twain. As she has foretold, so it happens. The pieces, however, are brought to the lady by two of her women; and when she has put them together she revives the hero by applying the Water of Life to his wounds. Having then made him swear to wed her, she teaches him how he may kill her father, by attacking him asleep and giving him one blow—no more—with his own sword, which will be found hanging above his head. The treachery of his brothers in drawing up the three maidens and leaving Badialzaman in the pit, his conquest of the monster, deliverance of the princess and release of the water, and finally his conveyance to the upper world by a grateful rokh whose young he had saved from a serpent, follow the course of the Georgian tale. Before the three maidens were sent up they had reduced their palaces to the size of three balls, which they had put into his care; and by the advice of the youngest he had cut some hair from the tail of Morhagian’s magical steed. A little of the hair had only to be burnt to bring the steed to him. With the help of these things, having taken service with a tailor, he prepares a robe for the youngest maiden on the occasion of her marriage to his brother Rostam, and attending the festival he slays the bridegroom with Morhagian’s sword. Then he disappears; but three months afterwards, when the same damsel is to be married to his second brother, he repeats the performance. Poetical justice is completed by his marriage with the lady; and her sisters are given to two other princes.23.1
The tale is current in Italy, and is widely spread in the Levant. As it is told at Lesbos, the cause of the hero’s descent into the lower world is the robbery every year by a monster of the three golden apples growing on a tree in a king’s garden. The youngest brother succeeds in wounding the thief and tracking him to a pit. He slays the monster and delivers three maidens, whom he sends up to his brothers above. His brothers’ treachery and all the other incidents follow. Here he has to prove against other pretenders that it is he who has put the dragon to death. This he does in the ordinary way by means of his tongues. He rejects the king’s treasures, the half of his kingdom, and even his lovely daughter, and will only accept the provisions necessary for the eagle which is to carry him up to this world again. His father having awarded the youngest maiden to his eldest brother, she demands three dresses representing, one, the heaven with all its stars, another, the earth with all her trees and flowers, and the third, the sea with all the fishes that dwell therein. These, of course, can only be furnished by the hero from three walnuts handed by her to him before parting. When they have been obtained the master-tailor is summoned and compelled to declare whence he got them. The hero is recognised; but his vengeance on his brothers is limited to banishing them from the realm.24.1
In a story of the Avares of the Caucasus the hero is the offspring of a king’s daughter by a bear, and is called Bear’s-Ears from a peculiarity which he owes to his parentage. His companions are not his brothers, but two heroes like himself, of extraordinary strength, who, however, are successively robbed of their food by a dwarf. Bear’s-Ears catches the dwarf, cleaves a plane-tree and fastens him by the beard in the cleft. The dwarf uproots the plane-tree and escapes into a pit. Bear’s-Ears liberates only one princess from the dwarf. The dragon has nine heads; and the hero, cutting off his ears, carries them to the king.24.2 In this tale there seem no impostors. As the Nubians tell it, an ogre obtains the food of the hero and his companions, of whom there are four; and here again only one lady is delivered from the pit. When he is left at the bottom by his treacherous friends, he rescues a king’s daughter from a crocodile that stops the river. Then dipping his fingers in its blood he marks the damsel’s thigh; and this serves as the proof when others claim to have performed the deed of valour.25.1 Among the Vlachs we return to the dwarf; but there is no lady to be rescued from his power. Peter Firitschell, as the hero is called, however, makes friends with a blind old woman, who is captive to certain dragons. He slays the dragons and restores the woman’s sight. He then acquires three Helpful Beasts, a fox, a wolf, and a bear. The monster to whom the princess is to be given has twelve heads, and dwells in a marsh outside the city. Peter lies down to sleep in the maiden’s lap while he is waiting for the monster, and she abstracts one of his twelve arrows. With the rest he shoots off eleven of the monster’s heads, and borrows of her a pin to shoot the twelfth. He cuts out the tongues, and lies down again to sleep. A Gipsy strikes his head off, takes the dragon’s twelve heads and claims the victory. Peter is brought to life again by his faithful animals, and is in time to prevent the Gipsy’s marriage to the king’s daughter. Wallachia being a Christian country, the punishment inflicted on the impostor is merely that of being rolled down a hill in a barrel studded inside with spikes. Peter then weds the lady and remains in the Underworld, where he succeeds in due time to her father’s throne.25.2
Nearly related to the Underworld type is that of Fearless Johnny. A Breton story, obtained by M. Sébillot at Dourdain in the department of Ille et Vilaine, has also lately been given by a contributor to the Rivista delle Tradizioni Popolari Italiane, as coming from Cagliari, so nearly in the same words as to lead to the conclusion that it must have been in very recent years carried directly from Brittany to Sardinia, or vice versâ. It relates that Johnny, being a lad of noted courage, discovers a practical joke played upon him by some of his companions with the object of frightening him by the apparition of a pretended corpse. He then sets out to learn what fear is, and rescues the souls of some robbers who have been hanged, by finding the treasure they have stolen from a church and restoring it to the priest, from whom he will take no reward except his consecrated stole—a magical article of considerable value in the legends of Roman Catholic lands. With this stole he delivers a house from a devil that haunts it, and afterwards kills the dragon, taking its tongues, with which he proves himself the victor. A swallow scratches up a little earth over his face as he lies asleep on the ground weary from his combat; and awaking he cries: “Ah! I did not know till now whether Fear was furred or feathered; now I see that it is feathered.” That was the only time he ever experienced even the beginning of fear; and then he was more than half asleep.26.1
It will have been observed that a common opening of stories which culminate in the incident of the Rescue is the hero’s acquisition of Helpful Animals. Sometimes, as in a tale from Oldenburg, it is the only other incident.26.2 More often it forms part of a larger series of adventures. Occasionally the hero obtains the power of transformation instead of the personal service of the beasts. Thus, in a Norwegian tale he divides a dead horse between a lion, a falcon, and an ant, and in return for the service they confer on him this power. It enables him to get into a princess’ chamber and secretly make love to her; and it stands him in good stead when he goes to fight the dragon. This dragon was a less delicate feeder than some, for he only demanded a tax of pigs, not maidens. The king had promised his daughter to the deliverer; but before the wedding could take place she was stolen by a hill-ogre, whose life was bound up with a grain of sand under the ninth tongue of the ninth head of the slaughtered dragon. Here, again, the power of transformation enables the lad to triumph.27.1
There remain one or two types of a more abnormal kind briefly to mention. A märchen of the Gipsies of Southern Hungary speaks of a dragon which threatened a certain city with destruction, unless in ten years the king’s fair daughter were given to him. In the interval she marries a man who wins the favour of a Keshalyi (a forest-fairy, or Fate) by kindly combing her hair. The Keshalyi’s hairs, as we have already seen, are powerful talismans, identified in Gipsy superstitions with the floating cobwebs of autumn. He obtains one of them, and by this means is able to take from the horns of the moon-king’s black cattle a gold ring, a similar ring from the horns of the sun-king’s white cattle, and one from the horns of the cloud-king’s yellow cattle. These he gives to his bride. Their virtue causes her to give birth successively to three heroes, of whom one is so strong he can throw high into the air a stone which ten horses cannot move, another can by blowing burn everything around him to ashes, and the third can spit balls from his mouth farther and truer than the best guns can carry. When, at the appointed time, the great dragon comes for her, sons like these prove invaluable. Though the very houses shook with the monster’s voice, the youths quickly riddled his skin with balls, buried him beneath great rocks, and burnt him up.28.1
Another Gipsy tale concerns a youth who piped so well for the dancing of a silver-clad river-nymph, daughter of the moon-king, that she gave him a silver sickle and prayed him to come again on the morrow and she would give him yet fairer gifts. But he is late for the tryst, and finds her dead on the ground, heart-broken at his breach of faith; for these ladies’ hearts are very fragile. Her sister appears from the river and curses him, if a man, to become a woman, if a woman, to become a man. She then carries the dead nymph back into the river, and, as it seems, there restores her to life; for immediately afterwards a magnificent black steed stands before the desolate youth (now become a girl) and declares that he is sent by the deceased maiden to bear him where his fortune blossoms. Mounted on the steed, he is borne through the air like lightning to the aid of a king’s daughter, given to a dragon who dwells in a fountain and requires a maid once a year for dinner. He slays the dragon with the sickle; and the king in his joy gives him his daughter to wife. He accepted the lady amid the general excitement, without thinking that he was no longer a man but a woman. This was awkward. The bride complained to her father, who was afraid to attempt his life by direct means. Wherefore he sent him instead to rob the cloud-king of three golden apples which had the property, one of them of making wealthy, another of making lucky, and the third of making healthy. His steed helps him to accomplish the task. But when the monster, half-man, half-dog, that guards the apples, finds that he has been cozened, he flings the curse after the robber: “If a man, become woman; if a woman, become man.” The curse sets matters right again. “I don’t know what has happened, dearest father,” says the bride to the king, “but my husband is a man after all.”29.1 In an Albanian variant the dragon-slayer is born a girl. She kills a lamia to whom the king has given his son, and is rewarded with a magical steed. Later on she wins another king’s daughter in marriage by a feat of athletics, and, as in the last tale, is guilty of the thoughtlessness of taking the bride. Being prescribed a series of tasks by the king with the same object of getting rid of her, she at last is cursed by some serpents with the requisite change of sex.29.2
In this tale it is no longer Andromeda who is rescued, but a young man. The variation is doubtless due to Oriental influence, conveyed through a Mohammedan channel. At least, all the variants of this form with which I am acquainted are of Arab or Indian provenience. In a story from the Panjáb the hero is the younger of two brothers, princes, the elder of whom has eaten a parrot and the other a starling. Now the fate of these birds was that whoever ate the parrot would become a king, and whoever ate the starling a prime minister. The elder brother received his kingdom; but the younger is slain by a snake-demon and afterwards restored to life. Coming into a strange town, he takes shelter with an old woman whose turn it is to provide the victim for an ogre who daily eats a young man, a goat and a wheaten cake. She has no difficulty about the goat and the cake; and the prince volunteers to take the place of the human victim, in order to kill the ogre. He is successful; and then, cutting off the monster’s head, he ties it up in a handkerchief and falls asleep. An impostor in the shape of a scavenger finds him, buries him in a clay-pit and, taking the ogre’s head, claims from the king half the kingdom and his daughter in marriage, as a reward for overcoming the monster. We should expect the end to be the impostor’s conviction and the hero’s wedding. However, the further adventures of the latter result in his obtaining a different wife. With self-denial unusual in polygamous countries, he finds one enough; so he makes the princess over to his brother.30.1 It would seem as though we had here a relic of an earlier form of the tale wherein it is a maiden who is rescued. Another tale, also from the Panjáb, countenances the supposition.30.2 As given in the Siddhi-Kür, on the other hand, there is no reference to a lady. Two dragon-frogs who dwell at the source of a river and can withhold the water, demand every year a human being to eat. The lot falls on the khan himself; and no one but his son will go in his stead. The son is accompanied by a poor man’s son, who is his friend and will not quit his side. They overhear the frogs incautiously talking, after the manner of supernatural beings in fairy tales, and telling one another how they may be subdued. Thus they succeed in ridding the land of the pest; and further, by eating the frogs’ heads, the one acquires the power of spitting gold and the other of spitting emeralds—an endowment which develops the plot in a new direction.31.1 It would be strange if the endless adventures of the favourite Arab hero, Hatim Taï, did not include the incident. Accordingly, we learn that Hatim reaches a village where a giant devours one of the villagers every week. That week the lot has fallen upon the chief’s son. Hatim rescues him from his impending fate by causing a mirror to be prepared and set up in the monster’s path. When the giant beholds his own ugliness he bursts with rage in the most natural but horrible manner. Substantial rewards are offered to the deliverer. He rejects them, however, and goes about his business as if nothing had happened.31.2
A Sanskrit story found in one of the manuscripts of the Twenty-five Tales of a Demon relates that a certain king had had a quarrel with some demons about a lady, whom he had taken to wife, whereas they had intended her for their son. Peace was established on the terms of making over to them daily a human victim. When it came to the turn of the king’s own son he was fortunately rescued by a stranger-prince, named Mahâbala. The demon, who expected a good meal, was overcome and made to swear that he would henceforth protect brahmans and never again set foot in the city. In contrast, however, to the generous Hatim Taï, Mahâbala was dissatisfied with the rewards offered him, and allowed the demon to return to his evil ways. This of course resulted in a fresh application to the deliverer, who made the monster renew his oath. He had no cause for dissatisfaction a second time.32.1
It will have been observed that the stories cited in the present chapter, like those mentioned in the first volume as embodying more complete versions of the Perseus legend, present in the majority of cases the curious incident of the impostor. Concerning this personage I shall have more to say hereafter. We have found him in the story, from Quilimane, of Rombao and Antonyo. He is equally popular among the Omahas and Ponkas of North America, where the tale of the Rescue is so thoroughly domesticated, as to be considered by authorities familiar with the customs and modes of thought of the aborigines as for the most part “of Indian origin.” Two versions have been recorded differing only in details. An outline of one of them will enable the reader to judge of their “Indian origin.” An orphan, we are told, who lives with his grandmother, is possessed of a gun of unerring aim. He exchanges it for a magical sword and two hounds which always find and kill game at their master’s command. The villagers are heard lamenting; and the old woman tells him it is because the water-monster with seven heads has asked for the chief’s daughter, and in case of refusal has threatened to devour the whole tribe. The orphan determines to deliver her. He finds her bound by the stream, unties her and sends her home. With his dogs and sword he overcomes the monster, cuts off his heads and takes the tongues. A black man finds the heads, pretends to be the victor and claims the chief’s daughter in marriage, in accordance with an offer her father has previously made. The maiden denied that he was her deliverer; but the chief decided against her and “they cooked for the marriage.” The orphan became aware by supernatural consciousness of what was going on. He sent one of his dogs to steal one of the best slices of the meat. The dog was pursued, and the orphan discovered. He justifies having sent the dog, for he it is who has killed the water-monster and taken his tongues. On this being reported to the chief he sends for the orphan and confronts him with the black man. After the orphan has told his story, “Come, black man, confess!” he says. “ ‘Hold on! I wish to go outside,’ said the black man. ‘Take hold of him,’ said the orphan. The black man did not tell the truth, therefore they burnt him. And thus, after all, the orphan married the chief’s daughter.”33.1
The most hardened believer in the possibility of the independent origin of folktales having a similar plot will scarcely refuse to admit that this tale at least must have come to the Sioux from a European source—probably through French trappers or missionaries. It may be true, as the translator tells us, that only two words in it (namely, those for gun and sword) are of foreign origin. This is a fact of no importance against the multifarious coincidences of plot and idea with those of the Old World summarised in the present and previous chapters: it is only an additional testimony to the completeness with which the mind of the barbarous Ponka has absorbed the story. When an alien people thus receives and assimilates a tale, it is because the tale is suited to the alien digestion. The mental growth it indicates is the same on the part of the people giving and the people acquiring it. It satisfies the imaginative instincts of both. But though accepted among the traditions of the Cegiha-speaking tribes, the tale of the Rescue has not received that final seal of adoption which identifies the action, or some of the actors, with the mythical history of the race: it has not attained to the dignity of a saga, such as we are about to examine in the next chapter.
In the Ponka and Omaha variants the black man is burnt in accordance with Christian precedents; and this is one of the notes of their European origin. A Tuscan story, linked to the ancient mythology by the use of what seems to be a veritable tree-spirit who has survived in rustic belief to the present day, confers a very different reward on the impostor. A poor but handsome youth goes to cut wood. To him appears Vira, the forest-sprite, and comforts him. If he will do as she tells him he need not despair of making his fortune. She directs him to a district near Benevento, whose king has a daughter. This damsel has been given to a seven-headed ogre to devour; and the king has offered her in marriage to any one who will slay the ogre and bring him his heads. Signore Slaniani has conquered the monster and put his heads on a wagon to carry them to the king. But the reward is not for him. When the wagon was being loaded Vira secretly took the tongues, and she now gives them to the youth. “Carry these tongues to the king, and say that thou didst slay the ogre, and that thou dost wish for his daughter.” The tale is told with snatches of verse, which are some evidence of its antiquity. The youth readily falls into the plot.
“And thus did Vira;
The youth was clad in splendid attire,
He too was very beautiful,
Boldly he went to the king,
Boldly he claimed to have slain,
Single-handed, the ogre,
And asked for the beautiful princess
As a reward for his valour.
‘It may not be,’ said the king;
‘He who slew the monster
Has brought with him its heads,
No better proof can be found.’
‘A better proof is the tongues,’
Answered the youth, undaunted,
‘And I can show all the seven.’ ”
To the amazement of the true victor, who had never let the heads go out of his sight, the tongues are no longer in them.
“Therefore it came to pass
That the poor youth who was favoured
By the help of the fairy
Carried away the reward.
So it often goes in this world—
He who does the hard work
Often misses his pay,
When some one more favoured by fortune
Steps in and secures the prize.
Higher beings than man
Play with us like toys.
The youth was as nothing in this;
All that he won he owed
To the loving spirit Vira.”35.1
A moral amply justified, no doubt, by the Italian peasant’s experience of life.