Chapter II: Mythological (4)

The rest of the story is very similar to that of "Norka," which has already been given, only instead of the beast of that name we have the Baba Yaga, whom Ivan finds asleep, with a magic sword at her head. Following the advice of her daughters, three fair maidens whom he meets in her palace, Ivan does not attempt to touch the magic sword while she sleeps. But he awakes her gently, and offers her two golden apples on a silver dish. She lifts her head and opens her mouth, whereupon he seizes the sword and cuts her head off. As is usual in the stories of this class, his comrades, after hoisting the maidens aloft, cut the cord and let him fall back into the abyss. But he escapes, and eventually "he slays all the three heroes, and flings their bodies on the plain for wild beasts to devour." This Skazka is one of the many versions of a widespread tale, which tells how the youngest of a party, usually consisting of three persons, overcomes some supernatural foe, generally a dwarf, who had been more than a match for his companions. The most important of these versions is the Lithuanian story of the carpenter who overcomes a Laume--a being in many respects akin to the Baba Yaga--who has proved too strong for his comrades, Perkun and the Devil.[174]

The practice of cutting strips from an enemy's back is frequently referred to in the Skazkas--much more frequently than in the German and Norse stories. It is not often that such strips are turned to good account, but in the Skazka with which we have just been dealing, Ivan finding the rope by which he is being lowered into the abyss too short, ties to the end of it the three strips he has cut from the Baba Yaga's back, and so makes it sufficiently long. They are often exacted as the penalty of losing a wager, as well in the Skazkas as elsewhere.[175] In a West-Slavonian story about a wager of this kind, the winner cuts off the loser's nose.[176] In the Gaelic stories it is not an uncommon incident for a man to have "a strip of skin cut off him from his crown to his sole."[177]

The Baba Yaga generally kills people in order to eat them. Her house is fenced about with the bones of the men whose flesh she has devoured; in one story she offers a human arm, by way of a meal, to a girl who visits her. But she is also represented in one of the stories[178] as petrifying her victims. This trait connects her with Medusa, and the three sister Baba Yagas with the three Gorgones. The Russian Gorgo's method of petrifaction is singular. In the story referred to, Ivan Devich (Ivan the servant-maid's son) meets a Baba Yaga, who plucks one of her hairs, gives it to him, and says, "Tie three knots and then blow." He does so, and both he and his horse turn into stone. The Baba Yaga places them in her mortar, pounds them to bits, and buries their remains under a stone. A little later comes Ivan Devich's comrade, Prince Ivan. Him also the Yaga attempts to destroy, but he feigns ignorance, and persuades her to show him how to tie knots and to blow. The result is that she becomes petrified herself. Prince Ivan puts her in her own mortar, and proceeds to pound her therein, until she tells him where the fragments of his comrade are, and what he must do to restore them to life.

The Baba Yaga usually lives by herself, but sometimes she appears in the character of the house-mother. One of the Skazkas[179] relates how a certain old couple, who had no children, were advised to get a number of eggs from the village--one from each house--and to place them under a sitting hen. From the forty-one eggs thus obtained and treated are born as many boys, all but one of whom develop into strong men, but the forty-first long remains a poor weak creature, a kind of "Hop-o'-my-thumb." They all set forth to seek brides, and eventually marry the forty-one daughters of a Baba Yaga. On the wedding night she intends to kill her sons-in-law; but they, acting on the advice of him who had been the weakling of their party, but who has become a mighty hero, exchange clothes with their brides before "lying down to sleep." Accordingly the Baba Yaga's "trusty servants" cut off the heads of her daughters instead of those of her sons-in-law. Those youths arise, stick the heads of their brides on iron spikes all round the house, and gallop away. When the Baba Yaga awakes in the morning, looks out of the window, and sees her daughters' heads on their spikes, she flies into a passion, calls for "her burning shield," sets off in pursuit of her sons-in-law, and "begins burning up everything on all four sides with her shield." A magic, bridge-creating kerchief, however, enables the fugitives to escape from their irritated mother-in-law.

In one story[180] the heroine is ordered to swing the cradle in which reposes a Baba Yaga's infant son, whom she is ordered to address in terms of respect when she sings him lullabies; in others she is told to wash a Baba Yaga's many children, whose appearance is usually unprepossessing. One girl, for instance, is ordered by a Baba Yaga to heat the bath, but the fuel given her for the purpose turns out to be dead men's bones. Having got over this difficulty, thanks to the advice of a sparrow which tells her where to look for wood, she is sent to fetch water in a sieve. Again the sparrow comes to her rescue telling her to line the sieve with clay. Then she is told to wait upon the Baba Yaga's children in the bath-room. She enters it, and presently in come "worms, frogs, rats, and all sorts of insects." These, which are the Baba Yaga's children, she soaps over and otherwise treats in the approved Russian-bath style, and afterwards she does as much for their mother. The Baba Yaga is highly pleased, calls for a "samovar" (or urn), and invites her young bath-woman to drink tea with her. And finally she sends her home with a blue coffer, which turns out to be full of money. This present excites the cupidity of her stepmother, who sends her own daughter to the Baba Yaga's, hoping that she will bring back a similar treasure. The Baba Yaga gives the same orders as before to the new-comer, but that conceited young person fails to carry them out. She cannot make the bones burn, nor the sieve hold water, but when the sparrow offers its advice she only boxes its ears. And when the "rats, frogs, and all manner of vermin," enter the bath-room, "she crushed half of them to death," says the story; "the rest ran home, and complained about her to their mother." And so the Baba Yaga, when she dismisses her, gives her a red coffer instead of a blue one. Out of it, when it is opened, issues fire, which consumes both her and her mother.[181]

Similar to this story in many of its features as well as in its catastrophe is one of the most spirited and dramatic of all the Skazkas, that of--

VASILISSA THE FAIR.[182]

In a certain kingdom there lived a merchant. Twelve years
did he live as a married man, but he had only one child, Vasilissa
the Fair. When her mother died, the girl was eight years
old. And on her deathbed the merchant's wife called her little
daughter to her, took out from under the bed-clothes a doll,
gave it to her, and said, "Listen, Vasilissa, dear; remember
and obey these last words of mine. I am going to die. And
now, together with my parental blessing, I bequeath to you this
doll. Keep it always by you, and never show it to anybody; and
whenever any misfortune comes upon you, give the doll food,
and ask its advice. When it has fed, it will tell you a cure for
your troubles." Then the mother kissed her child and died.

After his wife's death, the merchant mourned for her a befitting
time, and then began to consider about marrying again. He
was a man of means. It wasn't a question with him of girls (with
dowries); more than all others, a certain widow took his fancy.
She was middle-aged, and had a couple of daughters of her own
just about the same age as Vasilissa. She must needs be both
a good housekeeper and an experienced mother.

Well, the merchant married the widow, but he had deceived
himself, for he did not find in her a kind mother for his
Vasilissa. Vasilissa was the prettiest girl[183] in all the
village; but her stepmother and stepsisters were jealous of her
beauty, and tormented her with every possible sort of toil, in
order that she might grow thin from over-work, and be tanned by
the sun and the wind. Her life was made a burden to her! Vasilissa
bore everything with resignation, and every day grew plumper and
prettier, while the stepmother and her daughters lost flesh and
fell off in appearance from the effects of their own spite,
notwithstanding that they always sat with folded hands like fine
ladies.

But how did that come about? Why, it was her doll that
helped Vasilissa. If it hadn't been for it, however could the
girl have got through all her work? And therefore it was that
Vasilissa would never eat all her share of a meal, but always
kept the most delicate morsel for her doll; and at night, when
all were at rest, she would shut herself up in the narrow chamber[184]
in which she slept, and feast her doll, saying[185] the while:

"There, dolly, feed; help me in my need! I live in my
father's house, but never know what pleasure is; my evil stepmother
tries to drive me out of the white world; teach me how
to keep alive, and what I ought to do."

Then the doll would eat, and afterwards give her advice, and
comfort her in her sorrow, and next day it would do all Vasilissa's
work for her. She had only to take her ease in a shady place
and pluck flowers, and yet all her work was done in good time;
the beds were weeded, and the pails were filled, and the cabbages
were watered, and the stove was heated. Moreover, the
doll showed Vasilissa herbs which prevented her from getting
sunburnt. Happily did she and her doll live together.

Several years went by. Vasilissa grew up and became old
enough to be married.[186] All the marriageable young men in the
town sent to make an offer to Vasilissa; at her stepmother's
daughters not a soul would so much as look. Her stepmother
grew even more savage than before, and replied to every
suitor--

"We won't let the younger marry before her elders."

And after the suitors had been packed off, she used to beat
Vasilissa by way of wreaking her spite.

Well, it happened one day that the merchant had to go
away from home on business for a long time. Thereupon the
stepmother went to live in another house; and near that house
was a dense forest, and in a clearing in that forest there stood
a hut,[187] and in the hut there lived a Baba Yaga. She never let
any one come near her dwelling, and she ate up people like so
many chickens.

Having moved into the new abode, the merchant's wife kept
sending her hated Vasilissa into the forest on one pretence or
another. But the girl always got home safe and sound; the
doll used to show her the way, and never let her go near the
Baba Yaga's dwelling.

The autumn season arrived. One evening the stepmother
gave out their work to the three girls; one she set to lace-making,
another to knitting socks, and the third, Vasilissa, to weaving;
and each of them had her allotted amount to do. By-and-by
she put out the lights in the house, leaving only one candle
alight where the girls were working, and then she went to bed.
The girls worked and worked. Presently the candle wanted
snuffing; one of the stepdaughters took the snuffers, as if she
were going to clear the wick, but instead of doing so, in obedience
to her mother's orders, she snuffed the candle out, pretending
to do so by accident.

"What shall we do now?" said the girls. "There isn't a
spark of fire in the house, and our tasks are not yet done. We
must go to the Baba Yaga's for a light!"

"My pins give me light enough," said the one who was making
lace. "I shan't go."

"And I shan't go, either," said the one who was knitting
socks. "My knitting-needles give me light enough."

"Vasilissa, you must go for the light," they both cried out
together; "be off to the Baba Yaga's!"

And they pushed Vasilissa out of the room.

Vasilissa went into her little closet, set before the doll a supper
which she had provided beforehand, and said:

"Now, dolly, feed, and listen to my need! I'm sent to the
Baba Yaga's for a light. The Baba Yaga will eat me!"

The doll fed, and its eyes began to glow just like a couple of
candles.

"Never fear, Vasilissa dear!" it said. "Go where you're
sent. Only take care to keep me always by you. As long as I'm
with you, no harm will come to you at the Baba Yaga's."

So Vasilissa got ready, put her doll in her pocket, crossed
herself, and went out into the thick forest.

As she walks she trembles. Suddenly a horseman gallops
by. He is white, and he is dressed in white, under him is a white
horse, and the trappings of the horse are white--and the day
begins to break.

She goes a little further, and a second rider gallops by. He
is red, dressed in red, and sitting on a red horse--and the sun
rises.

Vasilissa went on walking all night and all next day. It was
only towards the evening that she reached the clearing on which
stood the dwelling of the Baba Yaga. The fence around it was
made of dead men's bones; on the top of the fence were stuck
human skulls with eyes in them; instead of uprights at the gates
were men's legs; instead of bolts were arms; instead of a lock
was a mouth with sharp teeth.

Vasilissa was frightened out of her wits, and stood still as if
rooted to the ground.

Suddenly there rode past another horseman. He was black,
dressed all in black, and on a black horse. He galloped up to
the Baba Yaga's gate and disappeared, just as if he had sunk
through the ground--and night fell. But the darkness did not
last long. The eyes of all the skulls on the fence began to shine
and the whole clearing became as bright as if it had been midday.
Vasilissa shuddered with fear, but stopped where she was,
not knowing which way to run.

Soon there was heard in the forest a terrible roar. The trees
cracked, the dry leaves rustled; out of the forest came the Baba
Yaga, riding in a mortar, urging it on with a pestle, sweeping
away her traces with a broom. Up she drove to the gate, stopped
short, and, snuffing the air around her, cried:--

"Faugh! Faugh! I smell Russian flesh![188] Who's there?"

Vasilissa went up to the hag in a terrible fright, bowed low
before her, and said:--

"It's me, granny. My stepsisters have sent me to you for a
light."

"Very good," said the Baba Yaga; "I know them. If you'll
stop awhile with me first, and do some work for me, I'll give you
a light. But if you won't, I'll eat you!"

Then she turned to the gates, and cried:--

"Ho, thou firm fence of mine, be thou divided! And ye, wide
gates of mine, do ye fly open!"

The gates opened, and the Baba Yaga drove in, whistling as
she went, and after her followed Vasilissa; and then everything
shut to again. When they entered the sitting-room, the Baba
Yaga stretched herself out at full length, and said to Vasilissa:

"Fetch out what there is in the oven; I'm hungry."

Vasilissa lighted a splinter[189] at one of the skulls which were
on the fence, and began fetching meat from the oven and setting
it before the Baba Yaga; and meat enough had been provided
for a dozen people. Then she fetched from the cellar kvass,
mead, beer, and wine. The hag ate up everything, drank up
everything. All she left for Vasilissa was a few scraps--a crust
of bread and a morsel of sucking-pig. Then the Baba Yaga lay
down to sleep, saying:--

"When I go out to-morrow morning, mind you cleanse the
courtyard, sweep the room, cook the dinner, and get the linen
ready. Then go to the corn-bin, take out four quarters of wheat,
and clear it of other seed.[190] And mind you have it all done--if
you don't, I shall eat you!"

After giving these orders the Baba Yaga began to snore. But
Vasilissa set the remnants of the hag's supper before her doll,
burst into tears, and said:--

"Now, dolly, feed, listen to my need! The Baba Yaga has
set me a heavy task, and threatens to eat me if I don't do it all.
Do help me!"

The doll replied:

"Never fear, Vasilissa the Fair! Sup, say your prayers, and
go to bed. The morning is wiser than the evening!"

Vasilissa awoke very early, but the Baba Yaga was already up.
She looked out of the window. The light in the skull's eyes was
going out. All of a sudden there appeared the white horseman,
and all was light. The Baba Yaga went out into the courtyard and
whistled--before her appeared a mortar with a pestle and a broom.
The red horseman appeared--the sun rose. The Baba Yaga
seated herself in the mortar, and drove out of the courtyard,
shooting herself along with the pestle, sweeping away her traces
with the broom.

Vasilissa was left alone, so she examined the Baba Yaga's
house, wondered at the abundance there was in everything, and
remained lost in thought as to which work she ought to take to
first. She looked up; all her work was done already. The doll
had cleared the wheat to the very last grain.

"Ah, my preserver!" cried Vasilissa, "you've saved me
from danger!"

"All you've got to do now is to cook the dinner," answered
the doll, slipping into Vasilissa's pocket. "Cook away, in God's
name, and then take some rest for your health's sake!"

Towards evening Vasilissa got the table ready, and awaited
the Baba Yaga. It began to grow dusky; the black rider appeared
for a moment at the gate, and all grew dark. Only the
eyes of the skulls sent forth their light. The trees began to
crack, the leaves began to rustle, up drove the Baba Yaga.
Vasilissa went out to meet her.

"Is everything done?" asks the Yaga.

"Please to look for yourself, granny!" says Vasilissa.

The Baba Yaga examined everything, was vexed that there
was nothing to be angry about, and said:

"Well, well! very good!"

Afterwards she cried:

"My trusty servants, zealous friends, grind this my wheat!"

There appeared three pairs of hands, which gathered up the
wheat, and carried it out of sight. The Baba Yaga supped, went
to bed, and again gave her orders to Vasilissa:

"Do just the same to-morrow as to-day; only besides that take
out of the bin the poppy seed that is there, and clean the earth
off it grain by grain. Some one or other, you see, has mixed a
lot of earth with it out of spite." Having said this, the hag turned
to the wall and began to snore, and Vasilissa took to feeding her
doll. The doll fed, and then said to her what it had said the
day before:

"Pray to God, and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the
evening. All shall be done, Vasilissa dear!"

The next morning the Baba Yaga again drove out of the courtyard
in her mortar, and Vasilissa and her doll immediately did
all the work. The hag returned, looked at everything, and cried,
"My trusty servants, zealous friends, press forth oil from the
poppy seed!"

Three pairs of hands appeared, gathered up the poppy seed,
and bore it out of sight. The Baba Yaga sat down to dinner.
She ate, but Vasilissa stood silently by.

"Why don't you speak to me?" said the Baba Yaga; "there
you stand like a dumb creature!"

"I didn't dare," answered Vasilissa; "but if you give me
leave, I should like to ask you about something."

"Ask away; only it isn't every question that brings good.
'Get much to know, and old soon you'll grow.'"

"I only want to ask you, granny, about something I saw. As
I was coming here, I was passed by one riding on a white horse;
he was white himself, and dressed in white. Who was he?"

"That was my bright Day!" answered the Baba Yaga.

"Afterwards there passed me another rider, on a red horse;
red himself, and all in red clothes. Who was he?"

"That was my red Sun!"[191] answered the Baba Yaga.

"And who may be the black rider, granny, who passed by
me just at your gate?"

"That was my dark Night; they are all trusty servants of
mine."

Vasilissa thought of the three pairs of hands, but held her
peace.

"Why don't you go on asking?" said the Baba Yaga.

"That's enough for me, granny. You said yourself, 'Get
too much to know, old you'll grow!'"

"It's just as well," said the Baba Yaga, "that you've only
asked about what you saw out of doors, not indoors! In my house
I hate having dirt carried out of doors;[192] and as to over-inquisitive
people--well, I eat them. Now I'll ask you something.
How is it you manage to do the work I set you to do?"

"My mother's blessing assists me," replied Vasilissa.

"Eh! eh! what's that? Get along out of my house, you
bless'd daughter. I don't want bless'd people."

She dragged Vasilissa out of the room, pushed her outside
the gates, took one of the skulls with blazing eyes from the
fence, stuck it on a stick, gave it to her and said:

"Lay hold of that. It's a light you can take to your stepsisters.
That's what they sent you here for, I believe."

Home went Vasilissa at a run, lit by the skull, which went out
only at the approach of the dawn; and at last, on the evening
of the second day, she reached home. When she came to the
gate, she was going to throw away the skull.

"Surely," thinks she, "they can't be still in want of a light
at home." But suddenly a hollow voice issued from the skull,
saying:

"Throw me not away. Carry me to your stepmother!"

She looked at her stepmother's house, and not seeing a light
in a single window, she determined to take the skull in there
with her. For the first time in her life she was cordially received
by her stepmother and stepsisters, who told her that from the
moment she went away they hadn't had a spark of fire in the
house. They couldn't strike a light themselves anyhow, and
whenever they brought one in from a neighbor's, it went out as
soon as it came into the room.

"Perhaps your light will keep in!" said the stepmother. So
they carried the skull into the sitting-room. But the eyes of the
skull so glared at the stepmother and her daughters--shot forth
such flames! They would fain have hidden themselves, but run
where they would, everywhere did the eyes follow after them.
By the morning they were utterly burnt to cinders. Only Vasilissa
was none the worse.[193]

[Next morning Vasilissa "buried the skull," locked up
the house and took up her quarters in a neighboring
town. After a time she began to work. Her doll made
her a glorious loom, and by the end of the winter she
had weaved a quantity of linen so fine that it might
be passed like thread through the eye of a needle. In
the spring, after it had been bleached, Vasilissa made
a present of it to the old woman with whom she lodged.
The crone presented it to the king, who ordered it to
be made into shirts. But no seamstress could be found
to make them up, until the linen was entrusted to
Vasilissa. When a dozen shirts were ready, Vasilissa
sent them to the king, and as soon as her carrier had
started, "she washed herself, and combed her hair, and
dressed herself, and sat down at the window." Before
long there arrived a messenger demanding her instant
appearance at court. And "when she appeared before the
royal eyes," the king fell desperately in love with
her.

"No; my beauty!" said he, "never will I part with
thee; thou shalt be my wife." So he married her; and
by-and-by her father returned, and took up his abode
with her. "And Vasilissa took the old woman into her
service, and as for the doll--to the end of her life
she always carried it in her pocket."]

The puppet which plays so important a part in this story is worthy of a special examination. It is called in the original a _Kukla_ (dim. _Kukolka_), a word designating any sort of puppet or other figure representing either man or beast. In a Little-Russian variant[194] of one of those numerous stories, current in all lands, which commence with the escape of the heroine from an incestuous union, a priest insists on marrying his daughter. She goes to her mother's grave and weeps there. Her dead mother "comes out from her grave," and tells her what to do. The girl obtains from her father a rough dress of pig's skin, and two sets of gorgeous apparel; the former she herself assumes, in the latter she dresses up three _Kuklui_, which in this instance were probably mere blocks of wood. Then she takes her place in the midst of the dressed-up forms, which cry, one after the other, "Open, O moist earth, that the fair maiden may enter within thee!" The earth opens, and all four sink into it.

This introduction is almost identical with that prefixed to the German story of "Allerleirauh,"[195] except in so far as the puppets are concerned.

Sometimes it is a brother, instead of a father, from whom the heroine is forced to flee. Thus in the story of _Kniaz Danila Govorila_,[196] Prince Daniel the Talker is bent upon marrying his sister, pleading the excuse so often given in stories on this theme, namely, that she is the only maiden whose finger will fit the magic ring which is to indicate to him his destined wife. While she is weeping "like a river," some old women of the mendicant-pilgrim class come to her rescue, telling her to make four _Kukolki_, or small puppets, and to place one of them in each corner of her room. She does as they tell her. The wedding day arrives, the marriage service is performed in the church, and then the bride hastens back to the room. When she is called for--says the story--the puppets in the four corners begin to coo.[197]

"Kuku! Prince Danila!

"Kuku! Govorila.

"Kuku! He wants to marry,

"Kuku! His own sister.

"Kuku! Split open, O Earth!

"Kuku! Sister, disappear!"

The earth opens, and the girl slowly sinks into it. Twice again the puppets sing their song, and at the end of its third performance, the earth closes over the head of the rescued bride. Presently in rushes the irritated bridegroom. "No bride is to be seen; only in the corners sit the puppets singing away to themselves." He flies into a passion, seizes a hatchet, chops off their heads, and flings them into the fire.[198]

In another version of the same story[199] a son is ordered by his parents to marry his sister after their death. They die, and he tells her to get ready to be married. But she has prepared three puppets, and when she goes into her room to dress for the wedding, she says to them:

"O Kukolki, (cry) Kuku!"

The first asks, "Why?"

The second replies, "Because the brother his sister takes."

The third says, "Split open, O Earth! disappear, O sister!"

All this is said three times, and then the earth opens, and the girl sinks "into that world."

In two other Russian versions of the same story, the sister escapes by natural means. In the first[200] she runs away and hides in the hollow of an oak. In the second[201] she persuades a fisherman to convey her across a sea or lake. In a Polish version[202] the sister obtains a magic car, which sinks underground with her, while the spot on which she has spat replies to every summons which is addressed to her.[203]

Before taking leave of the Baba Yaga, we may glance at a malevolent monster, who seems to be her male counterpart. He appears, however, to be known in South Russia only. Here is an outline of the contents of the solitary story in which he is mentioned. There were two old folks with whom lived two orphan grandchildren, charming little girls. One day the youngest child was sent to drive the sparrows away from her grandfather's pease. While she was thus engaged the forest began to roar, and out from it came Verlioka, "of vast stature, one-eyed, crook-nosed, bristly-headed, with tangled beard and moustaches half an ell long, and with a wooden boot on his one foot, supporting himself on a crutch, and giving vent to a terrible laughter." And Verlioka caught sight of the little girl and immediately killed her with his crutch. And afterwards he killed her sister also, and then the old grandmother. The grandfather, however, managed to escape with his life, and afterwards, with the help of a drake and other aiders, he wreaked his vengeance on the murderous Verlioka.[204]

We will now turn to another female embodiment of evil, frequently mentioned in the Skazkas--the Witch.[205] She so closely resembles the Baba Yaga both in disposition and in behavior, that most of the remarks which have been made about that wild being apply to her also. In many cases, indeed, we find that one version of a story will allot to a Baba Yaga the part which in another version is played by a Witch. The name which she bears--that of _Vyed'ma_--is a misnomer; it properly belongs either to the "wise woman," or prophetess, of old times, or to her modern representative, the woman to whom Russian superstition attributes the faculties and functions ascribed in olden days by most of our jurisprudents, in more recent times by a few of our rustics, to our own witch. The supernatural being who, in folk-tales, sways the elements and preys upon mankind, is most inadequately designated by such names as _Vyed'ma_, _Hexe_, or _Witch_, suggestive as those now homely terms are of merely human, though diabolically intensified malevolence. Far more in keeping with the vastness of her powers, and the vagueness of her outline, are the titles of Baba Yaga, Lamia, Striga, Troll-Wife, Ogress, or Dragoness, under which she figures in various lands. And therefore it is in her capacity of Baba Yaga, rather than in that of _Vyed'ma_, that we desire to study the behavior of the Russian equivalent for the terrible female form which figures in the Anglo-Saxon poem as the Mother of Grendel.

From among the numerous stories relating to the _Vyed'ma_ we may select the following, which bears her name.

THE WITCH.[206]

There once lived an old couple who had one son called
Ivashko;[207] no one can tell how fond they were of him!

Well, one day, Ivashko said to his father and mother:

"I'll go out fishing if you'll let me."

"What are you thinking about! you're still very small; suppose
you get drowned, what good will there be in that?"

"No, no, I shan't get drowned. I'll catch you some fish;
do let me go!"

So his mother put a white shirt on him, tied a red girdle round
him, and let him go. Out in a boat he sat and said:

Canoe, canoe, float a little farther,
Canoe, canoe, float a little farther!

Then the canoe floated on farther and farther, and Ivashko began to
fish. When some little time had passed by, the old woman hobbled down
to the river side and called to her son:

Ivashechko, Ivashechko, my boy,
Float up, float up, unto the waterside;
I bring thee food and drink.

And Ivashko said:

Canoe, canoe, float to the waterside;
That is my mother calling me.

The boat floated to the shore: the woman took the fish, gave her boy
food and drink, changed his shirt for him and his girdle, and sent him
back to his fishing. Again he sat in his boat and said:

Canoe, canoe, float a little farther,
Canoe, canoe, float a little farther.

Then the canoe floated on farther and farther, and Ivashko began to
fish. After a little time had passed by, the old man also hobbled down
to the bank and called to his son:

Ivashechko, Ivashechko, my boy,
Float up, float up, unto the waterside;
I bring thee food and drink.

And Ivashko replied:

Canoe, canoe, float to the waterside;
That is my father calling me.

The canoe floated to the shore. The old man took the fish, gave his
boy food and drink, changed his shirt for him and his girdle, and sent
him back to his fishing.

Now a certain witch[208] had heard what Ivashko's parents had cried
aloud to him, and she longed to get hold of the boy. So she went down
to the bank and cried with a hoarse voice:

Ivashechko, Ivashechko, my boy,
Float up, float up, unto the waterside;
I bring thee food and drink.

Ivashko perceived that the voice was not his mother's, but was that of
a witch, and he sang:

Canoe, canoe, float a little farther,
Canoe, canoe, float a little farther;
That is not my mother, but a witch who calls me.

The witch saw that she must call Ivashko with just such a voice as
his mother had.

So she hastened to a smith and said to him:

"Smith, smith! make me just such a thin little voice as Ivashko's
mother has: if you don't, I'll eat you." So the smith forged her a
little voice just like Ivashko's mother's. Then the witch went down by
night to the shore and sang:

Ivashechko, Ivashechko, my boy,
Float up, float up, unto the waterside;
I bring thee food and drink.

Ivashko came, and she took the fish, and seized the boy and carried
him home with her. When she arrived she said to her daughter
Alenka,[209] "Heat the stove as hot as you can, and bake Ivashko well,
while I go and collect my friends for the feast." So Alenka heated the
stove hot, ever so hot, and said to Ivashko,

"Come here and sit on this shovel!"

"I'm still very young and foolish," answered Ivashko: "I haven't yet
quite got my wits about me. Please teach me how one ought to sit on a
shovel."

"Very good," said Alenka; "it won't take long to teach you."

But the moment she sat down on the shovel, Ivashko instantly pitched
her into the oven, slammed to the iron plate in front of it, ran out
of the hut, shut the door, and hurriedly climbed up ever so high an
oak-tree [which stood close by].

Presently the witch arrived with her guests and knocked at the door of
the hut. But nobody opened it for her.

"Ah! that cursed Alenka!" she cried. "No doubt she's gone off
somewhere to amuse herself." Then she slipped in through the window,
opened the door, and let in her guests. They all sat down to table,
and the witch opened the oven, took out Alenka's baked body, and
served it up. They all ate their fill and drank their fill, and then
they went out into the courtyard and began rolling about on the grass.

"I turn about, I roll about, having fed on Ivashko's flesh," cried
the witch. "I turn about, I roll about, having fed on Ivashko's
flesh."

But Ivashko called out to her from the top of the oak:

"Turn about, roll about, having fed on Alenka's flesh!"

"Did I hear something?" said the witch. "No it was only the noise of
the leaves." Again the witch began:

"I turn about, I roll about, having fed on Ivashko's flesh!"

And Ivashko repeated:

"Turn about, roll about, having fed on Alenka's flesh!"

Then the witch looked up and saw Ivashko, and immediately rushed at
the oak on which Ivashko was seated, and began to gnaw away at it. And
she gnawed, and gnawed, and gnawed, until at last she smashed two
front teeth. Then she ran to a forge, and when she reached it she
cried, "Smith, smith! make me some iron teeth; if you don't I'll eat
you!"

So the smith forged her two iron teeth.

The witch returned and began gnawing the oak again.

She gnawed, and gnawed, and was just on the point of gnawing it
through, when Ivashko jumped out of it into another tree which stood
beside it. The oak that the witch had gnawed through fell down to the
ground; but then she saw that Ivashko was sitting up in another tree,
so she gnashed her teeth with spite and set to work afresh, to gnaw
that tree also. She gnawed, and gnawed, and gnawed--broke two lower
teeth, and ran off to the forge.

"Smith, smith!" she cried when she got there, "make me some iron
teeth; if you don't I'll eat you!"

The smith forged two more iron teeth for her. She went back again, and
once more began to gnaw the oak.

Ivashko didn't know what he was to do now. He looked out, and saw that
swans and geese[210] were flying by, so he called to them imploringly:

Oh, my swans and geese,
Take me on your pinions,
Bear me to my father and my mother,
To the cottage of my father and my mother,
There to eat, and drink, and live in comfort.

"Let those in the centre carry you," said the birds.

Ivashko waited; a second flock flew past, and he again cried
imploringly:

Oh, my swans and geese!
Take me on your pinions,
Bear me to my father and my mother,
To the cottage of my father and my mother,
There to eat, and drink, and live in comfort.

"Let those in the rear carry you!" said the birds.

Again Ivashko waited. A third flock came flying up, and he cried:

Oh, my swans and geese!
Take me on your pinions,
Bear me to my father and my mother,
To the cottage of my father and my mother,
There to eat, and drink, and live in comfort.

And those swans and geese took hold of him and carried him back, flew
up to the cottage, and dropped him in the upper room.

Early the next morning his mother set to work to bake pancakes, baked
them, and all of a sudden fell to thinking about her boy. "Where is my
Ivashko?" she cried; "would that I could see him, were it only in a
dream!"

Then his father said, "I dreamed that swans and geese had brought our
Ivashko home on their wings."

And when she had finished baking the pancakes, she said, "Now, then,
old man, let's divide the cakes: there's for you, father! there's for
me! There's for you, father! there's for me."

"And none for me?" called out Ivashko.

"There's for you, father!" went on the old woman, "there's for me."

"And none for me!" [repeated the boy.]

"Why, old man," said the wife, "go and see whatever that is up there."

The father climbed into the upper room and there he found Ivashko.
The old people were delighted, and asked their boy about everything
that had happened. And after that he and they lived on happily
together.

[That part of this story which relates to the baking
and eating of the witch's daughter is well known in
many lands. It is found in the German "Haensel und
Grethel" (Grimm. _KM._ No. 15, and iii. p. 25, where a
number of parallels are mentioned); in the Norse
"Askelad" (Asbjoernsen and Moe, No. 1. Dasent, "Boots
and the Troll," No. 32), where a Troll's daughter is
baked; and "Smoerbuk" (Asb. and Moe, No. 52. Dasent,
"Buttercup," No. 18), in which the victim is daughter
of a "Haugkjoerring," another name for a Troll-wife;
in the Servian story of "The Stepmother," &c. (Vuk
Karajich, No. 35, pp. 174-5) in which two _Chivuti_,
or Jews, are tricked into eating their baked mother;
in the Modern Greek stories (Hahn, No. 3 and ii. p.
181), in which the hero bakes (1) a _Drakaena_, while
her husband, the _Drakos_, is at church, (2) a
_Lamiopula_, during the absence of the _Lamia_, her
mother; and in the Albanian story of "Augenhuendin"
(Hahn, No. 95), in which the heroine gets rid in a
similar manner of Maro, the daughter of that four eyed
+sykieneza+. (See note, ii, 309.) Afanasief also refers
(i. p. 121) to Haltrich, No. 37, and Haupt and
Schmaler, ii. pp. 172-4. He also mentions a similar
tale about a giantess existing among the Baltic
Kashoubes. See also the end of the song of Tardanak,
showing how he killed "the Seven Headed Jelbegen,"
Radloff, i. p. 31.]

A variant of this story (from the Chernigof Government)[211] begins by telling how two old people were childless for a long time. At last the husband went into the forest, felled wood, and made a cradle. Into this his wife laid one of the logs he had cut, and began swinging it, crooning the while a rune beginning

Swing, blockie dear, swing.

After a little time "behold! the block already had legs. The old woman rejoiced greatly and began singing anew, and went on singing until the block became a babe." In this variant the boy rows a silver boat with a golden oar; in another South Russian variant[212] the boat is golden, the oar of silver. In a White-Russian variant quoted by Afanasief (i. p. 118), the place of the witch's daughter is filled by her son, who had been in the habit of alluring to her den by gifts of toys, and there devouring, the children from the adjacent villages. Buslaef's "Historical Essays," (i. pp. 313-321) contain a valuable investigation of Kulish's version of this story, which he compares with the romance of "The Knight of the Swan."

In another of the variants of this story[213] Ivanushka is the son of a Baruinya or Lady, and he is carried off in a whirlwind by a Baba Yaga. His three sisters go to look for him, and each of them in turn finds out where he is and attempts to carry him off, after sending the Baba Yaga to sleep and smearing her eyelids with pitch. But the two elder sisters are caught on their way home by the Baba Yaga, and terribly scratched and torn. The youngest sister, however, succeeds in rescuing her brother, having taken the precaution of propitiating with butter the cat Jeremiah, "who was telling the boy stories and singing him songs." When the Baba Yaga awakes, she tells Jeremiah to scratch her eyes open, but he refuses, reminding her that, long as he has lived under her roof, she has never in any way regaled him, whereas the "fair maiden" had no sooner arrived than she treated him to butter. In another variant[214] the bereaved mother sends three servant-maids in search of her boy. Two of them get torn to pieces; the third succeeds in saving Ivanushka from the Baba Yaga, who is so vexed that she pinches her butter-bribed cat to death for not having awakened her when the rescue took place. A comparison of these three stories is sufficient to show how closely connected are the Witch and the Baba Yaga, how readily the name of either of the two may be transferred to the other.

But there is one class of stories in which the _Vyed'ma_ is represented as differing from the Baba Yaga, in so far as she is the offspring of parents who are not in any way supernatural or inhuman. Without any apparent cause for her abnormal conduct, the daughter of an ordinary royal house will suddenly begin to destroy and devour all living things which fall in her way--her strength developing as rapidly as her appetite. Of such a nature--to be accounted for only on the supposition that an evil spirit has taken up its abode in a human body[215]--is the witch who appears in the somewhat incomprehensible story that follows.

THE WITCH AND THE SUN'S SISTER.[216]

In a certain far-off country there once lived a king and queen.
And they had an only son, Prince Ivan, who was dumb from
his birth. One day, when he was twelve years old, he went into
the stable to see a groom who was a great friend of his.

That groom always used to tell him tales [_skazki_], and on
this occasion Prince Ivan went to him expecting to hear some
stories [_skazochki_], but that wasn't what he heard.

"Prince Ivan!" said the groom, "your mother will soon
have a daughter, and you a sister. She will be a terrible witch,
and she will eat up her father, and her mother, and all their subjects.
So go and ask your father for the best horse he has--as
if you wanted a gallop--and then, if you want to be out of harm's
way, ride away whithersoever your eyes guide you."

Prince Ivan ran off to his father and, for the first time in his
life, began speaking to him.

At that the king was so delighted that he never thought of
asking what he wanted a good steed for, but immediately ordered
the very best horse he had in his stud to be saddled for the
prince.

Prince Ivan mounted, and rode off without caring where he
went.[217] Long, long did he ride.

At length he came to where two old women were sewing
and he begged them to let him live with them. But they said:

"Gladly would we do so, Prince Ivan, only we have now
but a short time to live. As soon as we have broken that trunkful
of needles, and used up that trunkful of thread, that instant
will death arrive!"

Prince Ivan burst into tears and rode on. Long, long did
he ride. At length he came to where the giant Vertodub was,[218]
and he besought him, saying:

"Take me to live with you."

"Gladly would I have taken you, Prince Ivan!" replied the
giant, "but now I have very little longer to live. As soon as I
have pulled up all these trees by the roots, instantly will come
my death!"

More bitterly still did the prince weep as he rode farther and
farther on. By-and-by he came to where the giant Vertogor
was, and made the same request to him, but he replied:

"Gladly would I have taken you, Prince Ivan! but I myself
have very little longer to live. I am set here, you know, to
level mountains. The moment I have settled matters with these
you see remaining, then will my death come!"

Prince Ivan burst into a flood of bitter tears, and rode on
still farther. Long, long did he ride. At last he came to the
dwelling of the Sun's Sister. She received him into her house,
gave him food and drink, and treated him just as if he had been
her own son.

The prince now led an easy life. But it was all no use; he
couldn't help being miserable. He longed so to know what was
going on at home.

He often went to the top of a high mountain, and thence
gazed at the palace in which he used to live, and he could see
that it was all eaten away; nothing but the bare walls remained!
Then he would sigh and weep. Once when he returned after
he had been thus looking and crying, the Sun's Sister asked
him:

"What makes your eyes so red to-day, Prince Ivan?"[219]

"The wind has been blowing in them," said he.

The same thing happened a second time. Then the Sun's
Sister ordered the wind to stop blowing. Again a third time
did Prince Ivan come back with a blubbered face. This time
there was no help for it; he had to confess everything, and then
he took to entreating the Sun's Sister to let him go, that he
might satisfy himself about his old home. She would not let
him go, but he went on urgently entreating.

So at last he persuaded her, and she let him go away to
find out about his home. But first she provided him for the
journey with a brush, a comb, and two youth-giving apples.
However old any one might be, let him eat one of these apples,
he would grow young again in an instant.

Well, Prince Ivan came to where Vertogor was. There was
only just one mountain left! He took his brush and cast it
down on the open plain. Immediately there rose out of the
earth, goodness knows whence,[220] high, ever so high mountains,
their peaks touching the sky. And the number of them was
such that there were more than the eye could see![221] Vertogor
rejoiced greatly and blithely recommenced his work.

After a time Prince Ivan came to where Vertodub was, and
found that there were only three trees remaining there. So he
took the comb and flung it on the open plain. Immediately from
somewhere or other there came a sound of trees,[222] and forth from
the ground arose dense oak forests! each stem more huge than
the other! Vertodub was delighted, thanked the Prince, and
set to work uprooting the ancient oaks.

By-and-by Prince Ivan reached the old women, and gave
each of them an apple. They ate them, and straightway became
young again. So they gave him a handkerchief; you only had
to wave it, and behind you lay a whole lake! At last Prince
Ivan arrived at home. Out came running his sister to meet him,
caressed him fondly.

"Sit thee down, my brother!" she said, "play a tune on the
lute while I go and get dinner ready."

The Prince sat down and strummed away on the lute [_gusli_].

Then there crept a mouse out of a hole, and said to him in a
human voice:

"Save yourself, Prince. Run away quick! your sister has
gone to sharpen her teeth."

Prince Ivan fled from the room, jumped on his horse, and
galloped away back. Meantime the mouse kept running over
the strings of the lute. They twanged, and the sister never
guessed that her brother was off. When she had sharpened
her teeth she burst into the room. Lo and behold! not a soul
was there, nothing but the mouse bolting into its hole! The
witch waxed wroth, ground her teeth like anything, and set off
in pursuit.

Prince Ivan heard a loud noise and looked back. There was
his sister chasing him. So he waved his handkerchief, and a
deep lake lay behind him. While the witch was swimming across
the water, Prince Ivan got a long way ahead. But on she came
faster than ever; and now she was close at hand! Vertodub
guessed that the Prince was trying to escape from his sister.
So he began tearing up oaks and strewing them across the road.
A regular mountain did he pile up! there was no passing by for
the witch! So she set to work to clear the way. She gnawed,
and gnawed, and at length contrived by hard work to bore her
way through; but by this time Prince Ivan was far ahead.

On she dashed in pursuit, chased and chased. Just a little
more, and it would be impossible for him to escape! But Vertogor
spied the witch, laid hold of the very highest of all the mountains,
pitched it down all of a heap on the road, and flung
another mountain right on top of it. While the witch was
climbing and clambering, Prince Ivan rode and rode, and found
himself a long way ahead. At last the witch got across the
mountain, and once more set off in pursuit of her brother. By-and-by
she caught sight of him, and exclaimed:

"You sha'n't get away from me this time!" And now she is
close, now she is just going to catch him!

At that very moment Prince Ivan dashed up to the abode of
the Sun's Sister and cried:

"Sun, Sun! open the window!"

The Sun's Sister opened the window, and the Prince bounded
through it, horse and all.