Chapter VI: Polish-Gypsy Stories (1)

NO. 45.—TALE OF A FOOLISH BROTHER AND OF A WONDERFUL BUSH

There was once a poor peasant who had three sons, two of them wise and one foolish. One day the king gave a feast, to which everybody was invited, rich and poor. These two wise brothers set out for the feast like the rest, leaving the poor fool at home, crouching over the stove. He thereupon besought his mother to allow him to go after his brothers. But the mother answered, ‘Fool that thou art! thy brothers go thither to tell tales, whilst thou, thou knowest nothing. What then couldst thou tell?’ Still the fool continues to beg his mother to let him go, but still she refuses. ‘Very well! if thou wilt not let me go there, with the help of God I shall know what to do.’

Well, one day the king contrived a certain tower. He then placed his daughter on the second story, and issued a proclamation that whoever should kiss his daughter there should have her in marriage. Well, various princes and nobles hastened to the place; not one of them could reach her. The king then decreed that the peasants were to come. This order reached the house where dwelt the peasant who had three sons, two wise and one foolish. The two wise brothers arose and set out. The fool feigned to go in search of water, but he went to a bush and struck it three times with a stick. Whereupon a fairy appeared, who demanded, ‘What wouldst thou?’ ‘I wish to have a horse of silver, garments of silver, and a sum of money.’

After he had received all these things, he set out on his way. Whom should he happen to overtake on the road but his two wise brothers.

‘Whither are you going?’ he asked of them.

‘We are going to a king’s palace—his who has contrived this tower, upon the second story of which he has placed his daughter; and he has proclaimed that whoever kisses her shall become her husband.’

The fool got off his horse, cut himself a cudgel, and began to beat his two brothers; finally he gave them each three ducats. The two brothers did not recognise him, and so he went on by himself, unknown. When he had come to the king’s palace all the great lords looked with admiration at this prince, mounted on a silver steed, and clad in garments of silver. He leapt up with a great spring towards the princess, and almost got near enough to kiss her. He fell back again, and then, with the help of the good God, he took his departure. These noblemen then asked of one another, ‘What is the meaning of this? He had scarcely arrived when he all but succeeded in kissing the princess.’

The fool then returned home, and went to the bush, and struck it thrice. The fairy again appeared, and asked of him, ‘What is thy will?’ He commanded her to hide his horse and his clothes. He took his buckets filled with water and went back into the house.

‘Where hast thou been?’ asked his mother of him.

‘Mother, I have been outside, and I stripped myself, and (pardon me for saying so) I have been hunting lice in my shirt.’

‘That is well,’ said his mother, and she gave him some food.

On the return of the two wise brothers their mother desired them to tell her what they had seen.

‘Mother, we saw there a prince mounted on a silver steed, and himself clad in silver. He had overtaken us by the way, and asked us whither we were going. We told him the truth, that we were going to the palace of the king who had contrived this tower, on the second story of which he had placed his daughter, decreeing that whosoever should get near enough to give her a kiss should marry her. The prince dismounted, cut himself a cudgel, and gave us a sound beating, and then gave us each three ducats.’

The mother was very well pleased to get this money; for she was poor, and she could now buy herself something to eat.

Next day these two brothers again set out. The mother cried to her foolish son, ‘Go and fetch me some water.’ He went out to get the water, laid down his pails beside the well, and went to the bush; he struck it thrice, and the fairy appeared to him. ‘What is thy will?’

‘I wish to have a horse of gold and golden garments.’

The fairy brought him a horse of gold, golden garments, and a sum of money. Off he set, and once more he overtook his brothers on the road. This time he did not dismount, but, cudgel in hand, he charged upon his brothers, beat them severely, and gave them ten ducats apiece. He then betook himself to the king. The nobles gazed admiringly on him, seated on his horse of gold, himself attired in a golden garb. With a single bound he reached the second story, and gave the princess a kiss. Well, they wished to detain him, but he sprang away, and fled like the wind, with the help of the good God. He came back to his bush, out of which the fairy issued, and asked him, ‘What wilt thou?’

‘Hide my horse and my clothes.’

He dressed himself in his wretched clothes, and went into the house again.

‘Where hast thou been?’ asked his mother.

‘I have been sitting in the sun, and (excuse me for saying it) I have been hunting lice in my shirt.’

She answered nothing, but gave him some food. He went and squatted down behind the stove in idiot fashion. The two wise brothers arrived. Their mother saw how severely they had been beaten, and she asked them, ‘Who has mauled you so terribly?’

‘It was that prince, mother.’

‘And why have you not laid a complaint against him before the king?’

‘But he gave us ten ducats apiece.’

‘I will not send you any more to the king,’ said the mother to them.

‘Mother, they have posted sentinels all over the town to arrest him, the prince; for he has already kissed the king’s daughter, after doing which he took to flight. Then the sentinels were posted. We are certain to catch this prince.’

The fool then said to them, ‘How will you be able to seize him, since evidently he knows a trick or two?’

‘Thou art a fool,’ said the two wise brothers to him; ‘we are bound to capture him.’

‘Capture away, with the help of the good God,’ replied the fool.

Three days later the two wise brothers set out, leaving the fool cowering behind the stove.

‘Go and fetch some wood,’ called his mother to him.

He roused himself and went, with the good God. He came to the bush, and struck it three times. The fairy issued out of it and asked, ‘What dost thou demand?’

‘I demand a horse of diamonds, garments of diamonds, and some money.’

He arrayed himself and set out. He overtook his two brothers, but this time he did not beat them; only he gave them each twenty ducats. He reached the king’s city, and the nobles tried to seize him. He sprang up on to the second story, and for the second time he kissed the princess, who gave him her gold ring. Well, they wished to take him, but he said to them, ‘If you had all the wit in the world you could not catch me.’ But they were determined to seize him. He fled away like the wind. He came to the bush; he struck it thrice; the fairy issued from it and came to him, and took his horse and his clothes. He gathered some wood, and returned to the house; his mother is pleased with him and says, ‘There, now! that is how thou shouldst always behave’; and she gave him something to eat. He went and crouched behind the stove. His two brothers arrived; the mother questioned them.

‘Mother,’ they answered, ‘this prince could not be taken.’

‘And has he not given you a beating?’

‘No, mother; on the contrary, he gave us each twenty ducats more.’

‘To-morrow,’ said the mother, ‘you shall not go there again.’

And the two brothers answered, ‘No, we will go there no more.’

Aha! so much the better.

This king gave yet another feast, and he decreed that ‘All the princes, as many as there shall be of them, shall come to my palace so that my daughter may identify her husband among them.’ This feast lasted four days, but the husband of the princess was not there. What did this king do? He ordained a third feast for beggars and poor country-folk, and he decreed that ‘Every one come, be he blind or halt, let him not be ashamed, but come.’ This feast lasted for a week, but the husband of the princess was not there. What then did the king do? He sent his servants with the order to go from house to house, and to bring to him the man upon whom should be found the princess’s ring. ‘Be he blind or halt, let him be brought to me,’ said the king.

Well, the servants went from house to house for a week, and all who were found in each house they called together, in order to make the search. At last they came to this same house in which dwelt the fool. As soon as the fool saw them he went and lay down upon the stove. In came the king’s servants, gathered the people of the house together, and asked the fool, ‘What art thou doing there?’

‘What does that matter to you?’ replied the fool.

And his mother said to them, ‘Sirs, he is a fool.’

‘No matter,’ said they, ‘fool or blind, we gather together all whom we see, for so the king has commanded us.’

They make the fool come down from the stove; they look; the gold ring is on his finger.

‘So, then, it is thou that art so clever.’

‘It is I.’

He made ready and set out with them. He had nothing upon him, this fool, but a miserable shirt and a cloak all tattered and torn. He came to the king, to whom the servants said, ‘Sire, we bring him to you.’

‘Is this really he?’

‘The very man.’

They show the ring.

‘Well, this is he.’

The king commanded that sumptuous garments be made for him as quickly as possible. In these clothes he presented a very comely appearance. The king is well pleased; the wedding comes off; and they live happily, with the help of the good God.

Some time after, another king declared war against this one: ‘Since thou hast not given thy daughter in marriage to my son, I will make war against thee.’ But this king, the fool’s father-in-law, had two sons. The fool also made preparations, and went to the war. His two brothers-in-law went in advance; the fool set out after them. He took a short cut, and, having placed himself on their line of march he sat down on the edge of a pond, and amused himself hunting frogs. These two wise brothers-in-law came up.

‘Just look at him, see what he is doing; he is not thinking of the war, but only amusing himself hunting frogs.’

These two brothers went on, and this fool mounted his horse, and went to his bush; he struck it thrice, and the fairy appeared before him.

‘What demandest thou?’

‘I demand a magnificent horse and a sabre with which I may be able to exterminate the entire army, and some of the most beautiful clothes.’

He speedily dressed himself; he girded on this sabre; he mounted his horse, and set forth with the help of God. Having overtaken these two brothers-in-law by the way, he asked them, ‘Whither are you bound?’

‘We are going to the war.’

‘So am I; let us all three go together.’

He reached the field of battle; he cut all his enemies to pieces; not a single one of them escaped.

He returned home, this fool, with his horse and all the rest; he hid his horse and his sabre and all the rest, so that nobody would know anything of them. These two brothers arrived after the fool had returned. The king asked them, ‘Were you at the war, my children?’

‘Yes, father, we were there, but thy son-in-law was not there.’

‘And what was he about?’

‘He! he was amusing himself hunting frogs; but a prince came and cut the whole army to pieces; not a soul of them has escaped.’

Then the king reproached his daughter thus: ‘What, then, hast thou done to marry a husband who amuses himself catching frogs?’

‘Is the fault mine, father? Even as God has given him to me, so will I keep him.’

The next day those two sons of the king did not go to the war, but the king himself went there with his son-in-law. But the fool mounted his horse the quickest and set out first; the king came after, not knowing where his son-in-law had gone. The king arrived at the war, and found that his son-in-law had already cut to pieces the whole of the enemy’s army. And therefore the other king said to this one that henceforth he would no more war against him. They shook hands with each other, these two kings. The fool was wounded in his great toe. His father-in-law noticed it, he tore his own handkerchief and dressed the wounded foot; and this handkerchief was marked with the king’s name. The fool got home quickest, before his father-in-law; he pulled off his boots and lay down to sleep, for his foot pained him. The king came home, and his sons asked him, ‘Father, was our brother-in-law at the war?’

‘No, I saw nothing of him, he was not there; but a prince was there who has exterminated the whole army. Then this king and I shook hands in token that never more should there be war between us.’

Then his daughter said, ‘My husband has my father’s handkerchief round his foot.’

The king bounded forth; he looked at the handkerchief: it is his! it bears his name.

‘So, then, it is thou who art so clever?’

‘Yes, father, it is I.’

The king is very joyful; so are his sons and the queen, and the wife of this fool—all are filled with joy. Well, they made the wedding over again, and they lived together with the help of the good, golden God.

Cf. Ralston’s ‘Princess Helena the Fair’ (Afanasief, from Kursk
Government), pp. 256–9; and Dasent’s ‘Princess on the Glass Hill’
(Pop. Tales from the Norse), pp. 89–103. The latter half, however,
closely resembles the latter half of Dasent’s ‘The Widow’s Son’
(ib. pp. 400–404), as also that of Gonzenbach’s Sicilian story,
‘Von Paperarello,’ No. 67 (ii. 67), whose opening suggests our No.
9, ‘The Mother’s Chastisement.’ Matthew Wood’s Welsh-Gypsy story,
‘The Dragon’ (No. 61), offers analogies. There Jack gets (1) black
horse and black clothes, (2) white horse and white clothes, (3) red
horse and red clothes. The Polish-Gypsy story is strikingly
identical with ‘The Monkey Prince’ in Maive Stokes’s Indian Fairy
Tales, No. 10, p. 41.

NO. 46.—TALE OF A GIRL WHO WAS SOLD TO THE DEVIL, AND OF HER BROTHER

Once upon a time there lived a countryman and his old wife; he had three daughters, but he was very poor. One day he and his young daughter went into the forest to gather mushrooms. And there he met with a great lord. The old peasant bared his head, and, frightened at the sight of the nobleman, said apologetically, ‘I am not chopping your honour’s wood with my hatchet, I am only gathering what is lying on the ground.’

‘I would willingly give thee all this forest,’ replies the nobleman; and he then asks the peasant if that is his wife who is with him.

‘No, my lord, she is my daughter.’

‘Wilt thou sell her to me?’

‘Pray, my lord, do not mock and laugh at my daughter, since none but a great lady is a fitting match for your lordship.’

‘That matters little to thee; all thou hast to do is to sell her to me.’

As the peasant did not name the price he asked for her, the nobleman give him two handfuls of ducats. The peasant, quite enraptured, grasped the money, but instead of going home to his wife, he went to a Jew’s. He asked the Jew to give him something to eat and drink, but the Jew refused, being certain that he had no money to pay him with; however, as soon as the peasant had shown him the large sum that he had, the delighted Jew seated him at the table and gave him food and drink. He made the old peasant drunk, and stole away all his money. The peasant went home to his wife. She asked him where had he left his daughter?

‘Wife, I have placed her in service with a great lord.’

The wife asked him if he had brought anything to her. He replied that he was himself hungry, but that this nobleman had said to him that he had taken one daughter, and that he would take the two others as well. His wife bade him take them away. He went away with these two daughters, and one of them he sold to another lord. This one gave him a hatful of money. Then the peasant said to his remaining daughter, ‘Wait for me here in the forest; I will bring thee something to eat and drink; do not stray from here.’ He went to the same Jew that had robbed him of his money. This Jew again stole from him the money he had received from the other lord. The peasant returned to his daughter, and brought her some bread, which she ate with delight. There came a third nobleman, who purchased this third girl.

‘Do not go to the Jew,’ said this lord to the peasant, ‘but go straight home to thy wife, and hand over thy money to her, so that she may take charge of it; else this Jew will rob thee once more.’

The peasant went home to his wife, who was very glad.

This great lord spoke thus to him: ‘There is in a forest a beautiful castle covered with silver. Go to the town, buy some fine horses and harness, engage some peasants to work, and rest thou thyself; make the peasants do the work.’

He got into a carriage; he took his peasants; and they set out with the help of God. They came, by a magnificent road, smooth as glass, into a great forest. They met a beggar, who asked this great lord (this peasant, once poor, now grown rich) where his daughters were.

Soon after these peasants discover that they are clean bewildered; they find themselves surrounded by deep ravines and insurmountable obstacles, so that they cannot get out, for they have lost their way.

There came an old beggar who asked them, ‘Why do you tarry here? Why are you not getting on?’

‘Alas!’ they answered, ‘we cannot get out of this; we had a beautiful road, but we have lost it.’

‘Whip up your horses a bit,’ said the old man, ‘perhaps they will go on.’

A lad touched up the horses, and all of a sudden the peasants see a magnificent road before them. They wish to thank this beggar, but he has vanished. The peasants fall to weeping, for, say they to themselves, ‘This was no beggar; more likely was it the good God himself.’ They reach the castle; the peasant is in ecstasies with it. The peasants work for him, and he and his wife take their ease.

Ten years rolled by. Once he had three daughters, whom he had already forgotten. ‘The good God,’ said he, ‘gave me three daughters, but I have never yet had a son.’

One day the good God so ordered it that this peasant woman was brought to bed. She was delivered (pray excuse me) of a boy. This boy grew exceedingly; he was already three years old; he was very intelligent. When he was twelve years old his father put him to school. He was an apt scholar: he knew German, and could read anything.

One day this boy, having returned home, asked his father, ‘How do you do, father?’ His mother gave him some food, and sent him to bed. Next day he got up, and went to school. Two little boys who passed along said the one to the other, ‘There goes the little boy whose father sold his daughters to the devils.’ The boy reached the school filled with anger; he wrote his task quickly, for he could not calm his angry feelings. He went home to his father as quickly as possible; he took two pistols, and called on his father to come to him. As soon as his father came into the room, the boy locked the door on them both.

‘Now, father, tell me the truth; had I ever any sisters? If you do not confess the truth to me, I will fire one of these pistols at you and the other at myself.’

The father answered, ‘You had three sisters, my child, but I have sold them to I know not whom.’

He sent his father to the town, and bade him, ‘Buy for me, father, an apple weighing one pound.’

The father came back home, and gave the apple to his son. The latter was delighted with it, and he made preparations for going out into the world. He embraced his father and mother. ‘The good God be with you,’ he said to them, ‘for it may be I shall never see you more; perchance I may perish.’

He came to a field, where he saw two boys fighting terribly. The father of these two boys had, when dying, left to the one a cloak and to the other a saddle. The little boy went up to these boys and asked them, ‘What are you fighting about?’

‘Excuse us, my lord,’ replied the younger, ‘our parents are dead; they have left to one of us a cloak and to the other a saddle; my elder brother wants to take both cloak and saddle, and not to give me anything.’

This little nobleman said to them, ‘Come now, I will put you right. Here is an apple which I will throw far out into this field; and whichever of you gets it first shall have both of these things.’

He flung away the apple, and while the boys were running to get it, this little nobleman purloined both cloak and saddle. He resumed his journey, and went away, with the help of God. He came to a field, he stopped, he examined the cloak he had just stolen, and to the saddle he cried, ‘Bear me away to where my youngest sister lives.’ The saddle took hold of him, lifted him into the air, and carried him to the dwelling of his youngest sister. He cried to his youngest sister, ‘Let me in, sister.’

Her answer was, ‘Twenty years have I been here, and have never seen anybody all that time; and you—you will break my slumber.’

‘Sister, if you do not believe I am your brother, here is a handkerchief which will prove that I am.’

His sister read thereon the names of her father, her mother, and her brother. Then she let him enter, and fainted away. ‘Where am I to hide you now, brother? for if my husband comes he will devour you.’

‘Have no fear on my account,’ he replied, ‘I have a cloak which renders me invisible whenever I wear it.’

Her husband came home; she served some food to him; and then, employing a little artifice, ‘Husband,’ she said, ‘I dreamt that I had a brother.’

‘Very good.’

‘If he were to come here, you would not harm him, would you, husband?’

‘What harm should I do to him? I would give him something to eat and to drink.’

At this she called out, ‘Brother, let my husband see you.’

The young lad’s brother-in-law saw him, and was greatly pleased with his appearance; he gave him food and something to drink. He went out and called his brothers. They, well satisfied with the state of things, entered, along with the boy’s two other sisters. The latter were brimming over with delight. A lovely lady also came, who enchanted him.

‘Is this young lady married?’ he asked his sister.

‘No,’ she replied, ‘she has no husband; you can marry her if you like.’

They fell in love with each other; they were married.

Ten years they lived there. At last this youth said to his sister, ‘I must return home to my father; perchance he is dead by now.’

He got up next morning; his brother-in-law gave him large sums of gold and silver.

They drew near to the house, he and his wife. Not far from this house was a small wood through which they had to pass, and in it they noticed a beautiful wand.

‘Let us take this wand,’ said his wife to him, ‘it is very pretty; we will plant it at home.’

He obeyed her, and took the wand. He reached the house; the father was very happy that his son was now married.

Five years passed away. The good God gave them a son. He went to the town to invite the godfathers. After the christening they came back from church; they ate, they drank, and at last everybody went away; he remained alone with his wife. One day he went to the town. When he came home, he saw that his wife was no longer there, and that the sapling also had disappeared. (It was no sapling, but a demon.) He began to lament.

‘Why do you lament?’ asked his father.

‘Do not anger me, father,’ he said, ‘for I am going out into the world.’

He got ready for the road; he set out. He came into a great forest. As it was beginning to rain, he took shelter under an oak; and in that very oak his wife was concealed. He slept for a little while; then he heard a child weeping.

‘Who is this that is crying?’ he asked of his wife.

‘It is your child.’

And he recognised her and cried, ‘Wife, hearken to what I am going to say to you. Ask this dragon of yours where it is that he hides the key of his house.’

‘Very well,’ she assented.

The dragon came home; she flung her arms round his neck and said to him, ‘Husband, tell me truly, where is the key of our house?’

‘What good would it do you if I told you?’ he replied. ‘Well, then, listen. In a certain forest there is a great cask; inside this cask there is a cow; in this cow there is a calf; in this calf a goose; in this goose a duck; in this duck an egg; and it is inside this egg that the key is to be found.’

‘Very good; that is one secret I know.’

She then asked him wherein lay his strength.

The dragon owned this to his wife: ‘When I am dressed as a lord, I cannot be killed; neither could any one kill me when I am dressed as a king; but it is only at the moment I am putting on my boots that I can be killed.’

‘Very good; now I know both these secrets.’

He smelt at his feather, and all his three brothers-in-law appeared beside him. They lay in wait till the moment when the dragon was drawing on his boots, and then they slew him. They betook themselves to that forest, they smashed the cask, they killed the cow that was inside it, they killed the goose that was inside the calf, then the duck that was inside the goose; they broke open the egg, and out of it they drew the key. He took this key, he came back to where his wife was, he opened the oak, and he let his wife out.

‘Now, my brothers-in-law, the good God be with you. As for me, I am setting out to follow my way of happiness; now I shall no more encounter any evil thing.’

He returned with his wife to his father’s house. His father was very glad to see him come back with his wife; he gave them something to eat and drink, and he said to his son, ‘Hearken to me now, my child. We are old now, I and my wife; thou must stay beside me.’

And he answered him, ‘It is well, my father; if thou sendest me not away, I will dwell with thee.’

This story of the prig of a little nobleman—a blend of George
Washington and little Lord Fauntleroy—is somewhat incoherent, and
presents a good many obvious lacunæ. Thus Kopernicki remarks, ‘the
narrator had omitted to mention the feather in the fourth paragraph
from the end. In many Polish and Russniak tales one meets with a
bird’s feather or a horse-hair possessing the magical power of
making anybody immediately appear. One has only to burn this
feather a little, and then to smell it. In this Gypsy tale,
therefore, the hero’s brothers-in-law had evidently given him such
a feather at the time of his departure. But the narrator had
forgotten to mention this though he remembered the feather when he
reached that point at which the hero had need of it to summon his
brothers-in-law to kill the dragon.’ Such a feather, however, is by
no means exclusively Slavonic; it occurs in our Roumanian-Gypsy
story (No. 10, p. 38), and in a Turkish-Gypsy one (Paspati, p.
523): ‘He gave the old man a feather, and he said to the old man,
“Take it and carry it to your daughter, and if she puts it in the
fire I will come.”’ Cf. too, Hahn, i. 93; Carnoy and Nicolaides’
Traditions de L’Asie Mineure (1889), p. 140; Legrand’s Contes Grecs
(1881), pp. 69, 71, 72, 73 (hero burns bee’s wing with a cigar),
89; and the Arabian Nights (‘Conclusion of the Story of the Ladies
of Baghdad’):—‘She gave me a lock of her hair, and said, “When thou
desirest my presence, burn a few of these hairs, and I will be with
thee quickly.”’ Precisely the same idea occurs frequently in F. A.
Steel’s Wide-awake Stories from the Panjab and Kashmir: e.g. ‘Only
take this hair out of my beard; and if you should get into trouble,
just burn it in the fire. I’ll come to your aid’ (p. 13; cf. also
pp. 32, 34, 413–14, and Knowles’s Folk-tales of Kashmir, pp. 3,
12).

I can offer no exact variant of this story, but many analogies
suggest themselves, e.g. in No. 5, ‘The Three Princesses and the
Unclean Spirit,’ in No. 44, ‘The Three Dragons,’ and in ‘The
Weaver’s Son and the Giant of the White Hill’ (Curtin’s Myths and
Folklore of Ireland, p. 64), where also one gets the wool, fin, and
feather. For the invisible cloak, cf. Clouston, i. 72, etc. In
Maive Stokes’s Indian Fairy Tales, No. 22, p. 156, the hero finds
four fakirs quarrelling for the possession of a travelling bed, a
Fortunatus bag, a water-supplying stone bowl, and a stick and rope
that bind and lay on. He shoots four arrows, and whilst the fakirs
are searching for the fourth one, decamps with these objects (so,
too, Knowles’s Folk-tales of Kashmir, p. 87). An invisible cap
occurs in F. A. Steel’s Wide-awake Stories, p. 37.

NO. 47.—THE BRIGANDS AND THE MILLER’S DAUGHTER

There was once a miller who had a beautiful daughter. Noble lords paid their court to her, but she cared not for them. She was wooed by high officials, but neither to them did she listen. At length three brigands, disguised as noblemen, came to the miller’s house. They ordered something to eat and drink. The miller, being invited to the repast, drank willingly, but his daughter would not take anything, for she despised them. These three brigands returned to their leader, and said to him, ‘What shall we do with this girl? She cares for nobody; she refuses to eat and drink.’

Then twelve of them set out for the miller’s. It was Sunday. The miller was from home; he had gone to a baptism. The daughter was all alone in the house. The brigands arrived. They made a hole in the store-room by which to enter. Having heard them doing this, she took a sword and placed herself beside the hole made by the brigands. She was, however, very much frightened. One of the brigands came and thrust his head half through the hole. She took the sword; she cut off the brigand’s head, and drew him into the store-room. Another brigand essayed to enter; she cut off his head and drew him inside. The ten other brigands asked their two comrades what they were about.

‘They are helping me to carry away the money here, which I am not able to lift alone.’ [103]

Then a third brigand came forward; the girl cut off his head and pulled him in. A fourth came, and his head too was cut off, and his body drawn in. The fifth brigand endeavoured to enter; she killed him in the same way, and, having cut off his head, dragged him inside.

‘What are all of you about there?’ asked the seven brigands who remained outside.

To whom the girl answered, ‘They are helping me to carry off the bacon, which I am not able to carry myself, there is such a lot of it. If you do not believe me, see, here is a bit—taste it.’

They ate of this bacon; they were delighted with it. The sixth brigand thrust himself forward; she killed him also; she cut off his head and drew him inside. The seventh followed; he was killed in the same way; she cut off his head and drew him in. The eighth went there; she killed him like the others, and drew him in and cut off his head. The ninth advanced; him she killed in like fashion, pulled him in and cut off his head. The tenth tried to enter; she killed him also, drew him in and cut off his head. The two remaining brigands were astounded, and said to each other, ‘Hallo! there are ten of them there, and they are not sufficient for this money.’ The eleventh came forward; he also was killed; she drew him inside and cut off his head. The twelfth one at last hesitates. ‘What is going on there?’ He pushed his head in a little way, and the girl cut off a piece of his skin.

‘Ah! you are as cunning as that, are you? So, then you have killed my brothers.’

This brigand betook himself home. [104]

Leaving this brigand in the meantime, let us pass to the dead ones.

The miller’s daughter went to bed. Her father got up next day. She said to him, ‘Father, twelve brigands have been here. They meant to carry me away last night, but I armed myself with your sword, and killed the whole twelve [sic] of them.’

The miller did not believe her.

‘If you don’t believe me, father, I will show you them.’

‘Very well, show them to me.’

She led him to the store-room, where the miller saw the lot of decapitated brigands. He went to the town, and told the peasants and great lords what had happened. ‘My daughter has just slain twelve brigands. If you do not believe me, come with me.’

They went with the miller. He conducted them to the store-room. These noblemen, seeing so many decapitated brigands, spoke thus to the miller, ‘Tell us truly, now, who was it killed them?’

‘My daughter,’ answered he.

‘Was it you who killed these brigands?’ they asked his daughter.

‘It was I.’

‘And why did you do so?’

‘Because they wanted to carry me off.’

‘What did you kill them with?’

‘With my father’s sword.’

‘That was well done.’

They gave her three bushels of ducats. These brigands were buried.

Ten years have already passed away. One time twelve brigands, disguised as lords, came to this miller’s house, he being unaware who they were.

‘Will you give me your daughter in marriage?’ one of them asked him.

‘Why not?’ he made answer, ‘all the more willingly because she has pined for a great lord.’

This was the very brigand from whose head she had cut a piece of skin. But the miller’s daughter did not recognise him, and she consented to marry him. This girl begged her father to give her three bushels of oats. She got into the carriage with these noblemen, and went off with them. Hardly had they got a league from the house when she took one handful after another of the oats and cast them on the road: this was to mark her route, and in order to recognise afterwards the way by which she had gone. She went on sowing these oats till they came to the forest where the brigands lived. She scattered the whole quantity.

Having got home, they made her come down out of the carriage. They went into the room with her. She sat down, and saw no one there but a solitary old peasant woman.

‘Do you recognise me?’ this brigand asked her.

‘No,’ she replied, ‘I do not recognise you at all.’

He showed her the part of his head where a piece of the skin had been cut off by her. It was only then that she recognised him. She was greatly alarmed at the sight of this brigand in the guise of a nobleman.

‘Keep quite calm,’ he said to her, ‘we are going to cut some stripes from your back.’ [105]

‘Very well,’ she replied, ‘if I have deserved it, chop me up into little bits.’

He leads her into a room, which she sees is full of money. They pass into another, and this is full of linen clothes. They enter the third, and there she sees a block and a great number of peasants hanging from pegs all round the walls. All that she saw there caused her heart to grow faint as though she were passing to the other world. The brigand led her back, and intrusted her to the old woman, to whom he said, ‘Guard her, that she flee nowhere, while we go a-hunting. We shall not return till nightfall; then we shall cut some stripes from her back.’

‘Very well,’ said the old dame.

This old woman began to lament for her. ‘Why have you come here?’ she said to her. ‘They will cut off stripes from your back, and I shall be forced to look on. But listen to me. Go to draw water; take off your clothes and place them on the well; leave the pail there and take to flight.’

Well, she went out and fled. She came to a great forest. The dogs of the house, having smelt that she was away, began seeking for her. The old woman set herself to scold the dogs, crying out to them, ‘Where were you, then, when this girl went to fetch water?’

The dogs ran out of doors; they see that she is there beside the well; they return to the house reassured.

Let us now leave the dogs, and return to the girl.

The girl travelled for about seven leagues along the road which she had marked by scattering the oats. Towards night-time the brigands returned home; they asked the old woman where the girl is, where is she gone to?

That brigand calls her, ‘Why do you not return?’

She gives him no response.

He armed himself with his sword, this brigand; he approached what he thought was the girl standing erect, and struck a blow on the iron standard of the well. He at once returned to the house, and told his comrades what had happened. They all rushed forth in pursuit.

Well, then, she perceived these brigands following on her track. Fortunately a peasant was passing with a wagon-load of straw. [106] She implored the peasant, ‘For the love of God, hide me in one of those large bundles of straw, and I will give you a peck of money.’

‘I would willingly hide you,’ he answered, ‘only I am afraid that these brigands would do me harm.’

‘Fear nothing, only hide me.’

He concealed her in a large sheaf; he placed it on the wagon; and he sat down upon it.

The brigands came up and called out to the peasant, ‘What are you carrying there?’

‘A load of straw, gentlemen.’

They searched through the straw, but they did not examine the large bundle on which the peasant was sitting. The brigands turned back.

The peasant came to the house of the miller, whose daughter this was, and said to him, ‘Look, I bring your daughter back to you.’

On seeing that his daughter was naked the miller fainted away.

The girl dressed herself, and said to her father, ‘Do not be alarmed, father. Look you, those were no noblemen but brigands. I know,’ she added, ‘where they live.’

The miller went to get soldiers and gendarmes. These took his daughter with them.

‘Do you know where they live?’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Will you show us where it is?’

‘I will show you where.’

She went with them into that large forest. They saw a beautiful stone palace. Three of them went in; they saw that there were a hundred brigands.

‘What shall we do now with these brigands?’

‘We will kill them,’ replied the soldiers.

They shot the whole lot of them; not one remained alive except the old peasant woman. Her too they would have killed, but the girl begged them, ‘Do not kill her, for it was she who saved my life.’

They enter one room, they see it is full of money. They pass into the other room, and it is full of linen clothes. They go into the third, and there they find a great number of peasants suspended from pegs along the walls. All that they found there they carried away—gold, silver, and sums of money. Then they set fire to the palace and burned it down. They returned home; and the miller’s daughter took the old peasant woman with her and kept her till her death, because she had saved her life.

One night she was reminded in a dream that she had not yet recompensed the peasant who had hidden her in the straw. So next day she sent a boy to fetch this peasant. The boy went to the peasant’s house, and said to him, ‘Come to the miller’s daughter, who is asking for you.’

The peasant dressed himself, and went to the miller’s house. He entered. He stopped on the threshold and saluted the good God. [107]

‘You remember hiding me in the straw, my good man?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well, I have never given you anything,’ she said to him.

She went to the store-room, and brought four quarts of silver money to him. This poor peasant, quite delighted, accepted the money and took it in his hand. The miller’s daughter gave him something to eat and drink; and then he took his leave and went home with the good God.

We have two other Gypsy versions of this story—one from Hungary
(Dr. Friedrich Müller), and the other from North Wales (Matthew
Wood, ‘Laula’). The Hungarian opens:—‘Somewhere was, somewhere was
not, [108] in the Seventy-seventh Land in a village a Hungarian;’
and may thereafter be summarised:—Of his three daughters two get
married. The third at last has a sweetheart, who always comes to
see her after midnight. Once she follows him to a cave in the
forest, from which twelve robbers come out. She enters, comes on
corpses, and hides behind cask. A lady is brought in; her hand is
chopped off; the girl possesses herself of it and escapes home. The
wedding is fixed. She tells soldiers, but not her father. At the
wedding she relates a dream: ‘And, ye gentlemen, think not that I
was really there, for I saw it merely in a dream.’ Soldiers come in
just as she draws the hand from her bosom and flings it on the
table. After which the story drifts off into a version of the
Roumanian-Gypsy tale of ‘The Vampire’ (No. 5), a version summarised
on p. 19.

The following epitome of ‘Laula’ is by Mr. Sampson:—Three young
ladies live at a castle. A gentleman comes to visit them daily.
They know not who he is or where he lives. He asks the youngest to
accompany him home. She goes with him, eats, drinks, and returns.
She asks his coachman his master’s name, ‘Laula.’ She thinks it a
pretty name; her elder sister a bad one. Next evening she goes
again. They eat, drink, and play cards. He leaves the room, and
returns with a phial of blood. ‘Is your blood as red as this?’ She
pretends that he is jesting; but he cuts off her finger, opens the
window, and throws it to the big dog, afterwards killing her. The
tale goes on, ‘Who got the finger? The elder sister got it’; and it
then explains how she had followed the pair by the track of the
horse’s feet, pacified the dog, and caught the finger (with ring
on) thrown to him. She desires her father to issue invitations to a
dinner. Every one comes and has to tell a tale or sing a song. On
Laula’s plate is placed nothing but this finger. When the elder
sister tells her tale, he grows uneasy, and says he must go
outside. He twice interrupts thus, but is restrained by the other
gentlemen. She gives him away, and at the old father’s suggestion
he is placed in a barrel filled with grease and burnt to death. [On
which it is just worth noting that Lawlor was a Gypsy name in
1540.—MacRitchie’s Scottish Gypsies under the Stewarts (1894), pp.
37–39.]

Of non-Gypsy variants may be cited Grimm’s No. 40, ‘The Robber
Bridegroom’; and Cosquin’s ‘La Fille du Meunier’ (another miller’s
daughter), i. 178. In England we have ‘The Story of Mr. Fox’
(Halliwell’s Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, 1849, p. 47, and
Jacobs’s English Fairy Tales, pp. 148, 247), and ‘The Girl who got
up the Tree’ (Addy’s Household Tales, 1895, p. 10). Shakespeare
refers to the story in Much Ado about Nothing, I. i. 146.
‘Bopoluchi’ in F. A. Steel’s Indian Wide-awake Stories, pp. 73–8,
should also be compared.

NO. 48.—TALE OF A WISE YOUNG JEW AND A GOLDEN HEN

There was once a rich nobleman who had lived with his wife for ten years without having any children. One time he dreamt that he would have a very warlike son. Another time he dreamt again that a Jewess was going to be confined on the same day as his lady. (This was true!) Next morning this lord arose and said to his wife, ‘Wife, I dreamt that we are going to have a child.’

‘That may really come to pass,’ she answered.

He further told her of the Jewess; he said she would be brought to bed at the very same hour as her ladyship.

The good God ordained that she should be delivered of a child; the good God gave them a son. The boy’s father was very joyful, as were also the mother and that Jewess, who was brought to bed at the very same hour as this lady.

The nobleman said to his wife, ‘My lady, we must go to this Jewess, in order that our child may be brought up with hers.’

‘Very well, husband.’

They brought thither the Jewess, and she made her home there, near this nobleman’s dwelling.

He begins to grow up, this son of the nobleman. He is very wise; yet the son of the Jewess is still wiser. He is now ten years old, and is eager to go to school; he learns there to perfection. His father and mother are filled with delight.

Once the Jewish boy said to the lord’s son, ‘Look here, now, why not request your father to have some beautiful baths made for you in the fields?’

The nobleman’s son approached his father, kissed his hand, as also his mother’s. ‘Father,’ said he, ‘I beg that you will build me some fine baths in the fields.’

Who should it happen to be that set themselves to this work? Two old retainers. They had seen in a town some time before a very beautiful princess. Well, what have they gone and done, these two servitors? They have caused the portrait of this princess to be painted on the walls of the baths. These two servants came back and announced to their lord, ‘We have done everything we were ordered to do.’

‘Very good. How much now do you ask for it?’

‘We shall be satisfied with whatever your grace deigns to give us.’

The nobleman gave them four thousand florins. They accorded to their lord their best thanks. Then the Jew boy called to the nobleman’s son, ‘Come, the baths are now built, let us see what there is to be seen.’

Thither they went, but this young Jew was always wiser than the nobleman’s son. They entered the first hall, where they saw painted upon the walls various kinds of birds, wolves; all which delighted the son of the lord. Then all by himself he enters the other apartment, and what does he behold there? The portrait of this lovely princess painted on one of the walls. He gazes at the likeness of the princess, and is so greatly enchanted with it that he swoons away. The young Jew sees him (swoon); he revives him with vinegar; and he asks the nobleman’s son, ‘What is the matter with you?’

‘O brother, if I do not have this princess to wife I shall kill myself.’

‘Hush, for the love of God,’ replied the young Jew; ‘do not cry so loud. For you shall perhaps have her indeed, only not so soon as you wish.’

He returned home very sick, this nobleman’s son.

‘What ails him?’ asks his father; but the young Jew was ashamed to own what had happened. Orders were given to fetch doctors with all speed; various remedies are administered; but he has nothing the matter with him, for he is quite well, only withering away for the sake of this princess.

‘What’s to be done with him?’ this lord asks himself. He sends the mother to question her son, that he may reveal to her what it is that has happened.

The mother comes to him. ‘What is the matter, my child? Don’t be ashamed to tell me everything.’

‘Ah, mother,’ he answered, ‘even though I were to tell you all, you would not be able to give me any advice.’

‘On the contrary, my son, I will give you very good advice.’

Then he said to her, ‘Mother, I have seen the likeness of a beautiful princess in these fine baths; if I do not have her to wife I shall kill myself.’

The mother hears this with delight. ‘That is well, my son. In the meantime, where am I to find her?’

But the Jew lad said to the nobleman, ‘My lord, I will go with him to seek the princess. I make myself answerable for his person, and if any harm befalls him, punish me.’

‘Very well, then; get ready, and set out with the help of God.’

They set out, and on the further side of a large town the young Jew saw a beautiful wand on the road and a little key beside it.

‘I shall dismount and pick up that wand,’ said he.

But the nobleman’s son said to him, ‘What good will that wand do you? You can buy yourself a fine sword in any town.’

But the young Jew replied, ‘I don’t want a sword; I wish to take that wand.’

Well, he got down from his horse; he picked up this wand and the little key. He got into the saddle again, and they went on their way with the help of God. They came to a great forest, where night surprised them. They saw a light shining in this forest.

‘See,’ said the lord’s son, ‘there’s a light shining over yonder.’

They came up to this light; they went into the room; there was no one within. There they see a beautiful bed, but unoccupied. They see that there is food for them. There is a golden goblet on the side next to the nobleman’s son; and beside the young Jew there is a goblet of silver. The nobleman’s son would have seated himself beside the silver goblet, but the young Jew said to him, ‘Listen to me, brother. You are the son of a wealthy sire, and I am a poor man’s son; your place therefore is beside the goblet of gold, and I will seat myself beside the silver goblet.’