The Altruism

How the World Was Made

This is the ancient Filipino account of the creation.

Thousands of years ago there was no land nor sun nor moon nor stars, and the world was only a great sea of water, above which stretched the sky. The water was the kingdom of the god Maguayan, and the sky was ruled by the great god Captan.

Maguayan had a daughter called Lidagat, the sea, and Captan had a son known as Lihangin, the wind. The gods agreed to the marriage of their children, so the sea became the bride of the wind.

Three sons and a daughter were born to them. The sons were called Licalibutan, Liadlao, and Libulan; and the daughter received the name of Lisuga.

Licalibutan had a body of rock and was strong and brave; Liadlao was formed of gold and was always happy; Libulan was made of copper and was weak and timid; and the beautiful Lisuga had a body of pure silver and was sweet and gentle. Their parents were very fond of them, and nothing was wanting to make them happy.

After a time Lihangin died and left the control of the winds to his eldest son Licalibutan. The faithful wife Lidagat soon followed her husband, and the children, now grown up, were left without father or mother. However, their grandfathers, Captan and Maguayan, took care of them and guarded them from all evil.

After a time, Licalibutan, proud of his power over the winds, resolved to gain more power, and asked his brothers to join him in an attack on Captan in the sky above. At first they refused; but when Licalibutan became angry with them, the amiable Liadlao, not wishing to offend his brother, agreed to help. Then together they induced the timid Libulan to join in the plan.

When all was ready the three brothers rushed at the sky, but they could not beat down the gates of steel that guarded the entrance. Then Licalibutan let loose the strongest winds and blew the bars in every direction. The brothers rushed into the opening, but were met by the angry god Captan. So terrible did he look that they turned and ran in terror; but Captan, furious at the destruction of his gates, sent three bolts of lightning after them.

The first struck the copper Libulan and melted him into a ball. The second struck the golden Liadlao, and he too was melted. The third bolt struck Licalibutan, and his rocky body broke into many pieces and fell into the sea. So huge was he that parts of his body stuck out above the water and became what is known as land.

In the meantime the gentle Lisuga had missed her brothers and started to look for them. She went toward the sky, but as she approached the broken gates, Captan, blind with anger, struck her too with lightning, and her silver body broke into thousands of pieces.

Captan then came down from the sky and tore the sea apart, calling on Maguayan to come to him and accusing him of ordering the attack on the sky. Soon Maguayan appeared and answered that he knew nothing of the plot as he had been asleep far down in the sea.

After a time he succeeded in calming the angry Captan. Together they wept at the loss of their grandchildren, especially the gentle and beautiful Lisuga; but with all their power they could not restore the dead to life. However, they gave to each body a beautiful light that will shine forever.

And so it was that golden Liadlao became the sun, and copper Libulan the moon, while the thousands of pieces of silver Lisuga shine as the stars of heaven. To wicked Licalibutan the gods gave no light, but resolved to make his body support a new race of people. So Captan gave Maguayan a seed, and he planted it on the land, which, as you will remember, was part of Licalibutan's huge body.

Soon a bamboo tree grew up, and from the hollow of one of its branches a man and a woman came out. The man's name was Sicalac, and the woman was called Sicabay. They were the parents of the human race. Their first child was a son whom they called Libo; afterwards they had a daughter who was known as Saman. Pandaguan was a younger son and he had a son called Arion.

Pandaguan was very clever and invented a trap to catch fish. The very first thing he caught was a huge shark. When he brought it to land, it looked so great and fierce that he thought it was surely a god, and he at once ordered his people to worship it. Soon all gathered around and began to sing and pray to the shark. Suddenly the sky and sea opened, and the gods came out and ordered Pandaguan to throw the shark back into the sea and to worship none but them.

All were afraid except Pandaguan. He grew very bold and answered that the shark was as big as the gods, and that since he had been able to overpower it he would also be able to conquer the gods. Then Captan, hearing this, struck Pandaguan with a small thunderbolt, for he did not wish to kill him but merely to teach him a lesson. Then he and Maguayan decided to punish these people by scattering them over the earth, so they carried some to one land and some to another. Many children were afterwards born, and thus the earth became inhabited in all parts.

Pandaguan did not die. After lying on the ground for thirty days he regained his strength, but his body was blackened from the lightning, and all his descendants ever since that day have been black.

His first son, Arion, was taken north, but as he had been born before his father's punishment he did not lose his color, and all his people therefore are white.

Libo and Saman were carried south, where the hot sun scorched their bodies and caused all their descendants to be of a brown color.

A son of Saman and a daughter of Sicalac were carried east, where the land at first was so lacking in food that they were compelled to eat clay. On this account their children and their children's children have always been yellow in color.

And so the world came to be made and peopled. The sun and moon shine in the sky, and the beautiful stars light up the night. All over the land, on the body of the envious Licalibutan, the children of' Sicalac and Sicabay have grown great in numbers. May they live forever in peace and brotherly love!

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• Source: John Maurice Miller, Philippine Folklore Stories (Boston: Ginn and Company, 1904), pp. 57-64.

• Preface by John Maurice Miller (or his editor): As these stories are only legends that have been handed down from remote times, the teacher must impress upon the minds of the children that they are myths and are not to be given credence; otherwise the imaginative minds of the native children would accept them as truth, and trouble would be caused that might be hard to remedy. Explain then the fiction and show the children the folly of belief in such fanciful tales. (page 5)

Conkiajgharuna, the Little Rag Girl

Georgia

There was and there was not, there was a miserable peasant. He had a wife and a little daughter. So poor was this peasant that his daughter was called Conkiajgharuna (Little Rag Girl).

Some time passed, and his wife died. He was unhappy before, but now a greater misfortune had befallen him. He grieved and grieved, and at last he said to himself, "I will go and take another wife; she will mind the house, and tend my orphan child." So he arose and took a second wife, but this wife brought with her a daughter of her own. When this woman came into her husband's house and saw his child, she was angry in heart.

She treated Little Rag Girl badly. She petted her own daughter, but scolded her stepdaughter, and tried to get rid of her. Every day she gave her a piece of badly cooked bread, and sent her out to watch the cow, saying, "Here is a loaf; eat of it, give to every wayfarer, and bring the loaf home whole." The girl went, and felt very miserable.

Once she was sitting sadly in the field, and began to weep bitterly. The cow listened, and then opened its mouth, and said, "Why are you weeping? What troubles you?" The girl told her sad tale. The cow said, "In one of my horns is honey, and in the other is butter, which you can take if you want to, so why be unhappy?" The girl took the butter and the honey, and in a short time she grew plump. When the stepmother noticed this she did not know what to do for rage. She rose, and after that every day she gave her a basket of wool with her; this wool was to be spun and brought home in the evening finished. The stepmother wished to tire the girl out with toil, so that she should grow thin and ugly.

Once when Little Rag Girl was tending the cow, it ran away onto a roof. [In some parts of the Caucasus the houses of the peasantry are built in the ground, and it is quite possible to walk onto a roof unwittingly. (Note by Wardrop)] She pursued it, and wished to drive it back to the road, but she dropped her spindle on the roof. Looking inside she saw an old woman seated, and said to her, "Good mother, will you give me my spindle?"

The old dame replied, "I am not able, my child, come and take it yourself." The old woman was a devi.

The girl went in and was lifting up her spindle, when the old dame called out, "Daughter, daughter, come and look at my head a moment. I am almost eaten up."

The girl came and looked at her head. She was filled with horror; all the worms in the earth seemed to be crawling there. The little girl stroked her head and removed some, and then said, "You have a clean head. Why should I look at it?"

This conduct pleased the old woman very much, and she said, "When you leave here, go along such and such a road, and in a certain place you will see three springs -- one white, one black, and one yellow. Pass by the white and black, and put your head in the yellow and rinse it with your hands."

The girl did this. She went on her way, and came to the three springs. She passed by the white and black, and bathed her head with her hands in the yellow fountain. When she looked up she saw that her hair was quite golden, and her hands, too, shone like gold. In the evening, when she went home, her stepmother was filled with fury. After this she sent her own daughter with the cow. Perhaps the same good fortune would visit her!

So Little Rag Girl stayed at home while her stepsister drove out the cow. Once more the cow ran onto the roof. The girl pursued it, and her spindle fell down. She looked in, and seeing the devi woman, called out, "Dog of an old woman! Here! Come and give me my spindle!"

The old woman replied, "I am not able, child, come and take it yourself." When the girl came near, the old woman said, "Come, child, and look at my head."

The girl came and looked at her head, and cried out, "Ugh! What a horrid head you have! You are a disgusting old woman!"

The old woman said, "I thank you, my child; when you go on your way you will see a yellow, a white, and a black spring. Pass by the yellow and the white springs, and rinse your head with your hands in the black one."

The girl did this. She passed by the yellow and white springs, and bathed her head in the black once. When she looked at herself she was black as an African, and on her head there was a horn. She cut it off again and again, but it grew larger and larger.

She went home and complained to her mother, who was almost frenzied, but there was no help for it. Her mother said to herself, "This is all the cow's fault, so it shall be killed."

This cow knew the future. When it learned that it was to be killed, it went to Little Rag Girl and said, "When I am dead, gather my bones together and bury them in the earth. When you are in trouble come to my grave, and cry aloud, 'Bring my steed and my royal robes!'" Little Rag Girl did exactly as the cow had told her. When it was dead she took its bones and buried them in the earth.

After this, some time passed. One holiday the stepmother took her daughter, and they went to church. She placed a trough in front of Little Rag Girl, spread a large measure of millet in the courtyard, and said, "Before we come home from church fill this trough with tears, and gather up this millet, so that not one grain is left." Then they went to church.

Little Rag Girl sat down and began to weep. While she was crying a neighbor came in a said, "Why are you in tears? What is the matter?" The little girl told her tale. The woman brought all the brood hens and chicken, and they picked up every grain of millet, then she put a lump of salt in the trough and poured water over it. "There, child," said she, "there are your tears! Now go and enjoy yourself."

Little Rag Girl then thought of the cow. She went to its grave and called out, "Bring me my steed and my royal robes!" There appeared at once a horse and beautiful clothes. Little Rag Girl put on the garments, mounted the horse, and went to the church.

There all the folk began to stare at her. They were amazed at her grandeur. Her stepsister whispered to her mother when she saw her, "This girl is very much like our Little Rag Girl!"

Her mother smiled scornfully and said, "Who would give that sun darkener such robes?"

Little Rag Girl left the church before anyone else; she changed her clothes in time to appear before her stepmother in rags. On the way home, as she was leaping over a stream, in her haste she let her slipper fall in.

A long time passed. Once when the king's horses were drinking water in this stream, they saw the shining slipper and were so afraid that they would drink no more water. The king was told that there was something shining in the stream, and that the horses were afraid.

The king commanded his divers to find out what it was. They found the golden slipper, and presented it to the king. When he saw it, he commanded his viziers, saying, "Go and seek the owner of this slipper, for I will wed none but her." His viziers sought the maiden, but they could find no one whom the slipper would fit.

Little Rag Girl's mother heard this, adorned her daughter, and placed her on a throne. Then she went and told the king that she had a daughter whose foot he might look at. It was exactly the model for the shoe. She put Little Rag Girl in a corner, with a big basket over her. When the king came into the house he sat down on the basket, in order to try on the slipper.

Little Rag Girl took a needle and pricked the king from under the basket. He jumped up, stinging with pain, and asked the stepmother what she had under the basket. The stepmother replied, "It is only a turkey I have there."

The king sat down on the basket again, and Little Rag Girl again stuck the needle into him. The king jumped up, and cried out, "Lift the basket. I will see underneath!"

The stepmother pleaded with him, saying, "Do not blame me, your majesty, it is only a turkey, and it will run away."

But the king would not listen to her pleas. He lifted the basket up, and Little Rag Girl came forth, and said, "This slipper is mine, and fits me well." She sat down, and the king found that it was indeed a perfect fit. Little Rag Girl became the king's wife, and her shameless stepmother was left with a dry throat.

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• Source: Marjory Wardrop, Georgian Folk Tales (London: David Nutt, 1894), pp. 63-67.

• Wardrop's heroine and the story itself are both named "Conkiajgharuna," which means "the little girl in rags."

• This story combines important motifs from type 480 ("Frau Holle") and type 510A ("Cinderella").

The Story of the Three Genjias

A Tibetan Folktale from Sichuan Province

Once upon a time in a certain place there lived three men who all had the same name -- Genjia. One was the tribal chief, the second a carpenter, and the third the chief's steward.

Genjia the carpenter was married to an exceptionally beautiful woman. Genjia the steward fancied her and dreamt day and night of having her for himself. But she was a very upright woman and would not let him get anywhere near her. Finally, he was driven to find some way of killing the carpenter in order to attain his end.

After a while, the father of Genjia the chief died. The steward saw in this a golden opportunity for eliminating the carpenter. Every day he secretly studied the calligraphy of the Buddhist scriptures and succeeded in reproducing the old-fashioned and esoteric style in which they were written. He then wrote a document in this style and handed it to the chief, saying, "Master, here is a document I came across the other day. I cannot understand a word of it and have brought it here specially for you to decipher."

Genjia the chief was baffled by the writing and passed it on to his secretary in charge of documents. After reading it, the secretary said, "This document claims to be from the old chief. In it he says that he has ascended to heaven and is now serving as an official there, but he doesn't have an official mansion. He asks you, Master, to send him a carpenter -- the most skilled you have -- to direct the construction of such a mansion."

Genjia the chief thought constantly of his father and was most concerned to hear that he had nowhere to lay his head in heaven. He sent for Genjia the carpenter, showed him the document and ordered him to go to heaven at once.

Genjia the carpenter was greatly startled. He dared not refuse, however, and could only plead for time, "How could I disobey your order, Master! But I need some time to prepare. Please allow me seven days. After that time, please hold a Twig Burning Ceremony in the hemp field behind my house to send me off. Then I'll be able to ascend to heaven to build the mansion for the old chief."

Genjia the chief considered this request reasonable and willingly agreed.

When Genjia the carpenter left, he went round making a few investigations. He wanted to find out where the chief had got this idea. He eventually discovered that it had originated in a classical document found by Genjia the steward. He put two and two together and concluded that it must be a sinister plot against him hatched by the steward.

He went home and consulted with his wife. "The most absurd thing has happened. The chief wants me to go and build a mansion in heaven. He must have been tricked into it by Genjia the steward. I did not dare refuse, but asked him to hold a Twig Burning Ceremony behind our house before I go. It would be no use trying to disobey him now. There is only one way for me to get out of this alive. The two of us must dig a tunnel under cover of night leading from the field to our bedroom, and then you can hide me there later. In a year's time I will find some way to get even."

The wife was shocked by this tale. Hatred for the steward filled the very marrow of her bones. She was willing to do anything to save her husband. So every day when night fell, the two of them dug the tunnel in secret. On the seventh day it was completed. They sealed the entrance with a slab of stone and scattered soil on it, so that people wouldn't notice it.

The eighth day came, the day for the carpenter to ascend to heaven. At the head of a retinue of elders and stewards and with a great din of bugles and drums, the chief came to send him off. They made a pile of faggots in the hemp field and asked Genjia the carpenter to sling his tool-kit over his shoulder and carry his bag in one hand. They made him stand in the middle, lit the faggots and watched the smoke rise, "carrying him up to heaven".

Genjia the steward was afraid that as soon as the faggots were lit, the carpenter would spoil everything by crying out in terror. "Come on !" he shouted to the crowd. "Blow your bugles and beat your drums! Laugh and cheer! Genjia the carpenter is on his way to heaven to build a mansion for our old chief. Isn't that a wonderful thing!"

The chief came over to have a look. Genjia the steward pointed gleefully to the rising smoke and said, "Master, you see, there goes his horse. Genjia the carpenter is on his way to heaven."

The chief was delighted.

The moment the faggots were lit and the smoke began rising into the sky, Genjia the carpenter raised the slab and escaped through the tunnel back to his own bedroom.

He confined himself to his house for a whole year. His wife went to great lengths to find milk, butter and other nutritious food for him; and as he did no work, by the end of that year he was plumper and fairer-skinned than ever.

Meanwhile, Genjia the steward tried a thousand and one ways of seducing the carpenter's wife, and she tried a thousand and one ways of avoiding him. He failed completely to attain his goal.

While Genjia the carpenter was hiding at home, he diligently practiced the calligraphy of the Buddhist scriptures. He prepared a document written in the authentic style and kept it on his person. On the first anniversary of his "ascent to heaven" he went and stood on the very spot where he was supposed to have been burned, the same tool-kit on his shoulder and the same bag in his hand. He called out, "How is everybody? I've just got back from heaven."

His wife was the first to come out. She pretended to be extremely surprised and hurried over to report the news to the chief.

The chief was very happy when he heard that Genjia the carpenter was back. He gave him a hero's welcome with bugles and drums, and invited him to stay in his mansion. He wanted to find out how his father was faring in heaven.

On meeting the chief, Genjia the carpenter said in a very serious tone of voice, "When I was constructing the official mansion in heaven, the old chief treated me with exceptional kindness, just as you always do, Master. That's why I'm in such good shape! The mansion is finished, and what a magnificent building it is -- ten times the size of an earthly mansion! Only one thing is lacking: a steward. The old chief misses his old steward dearly. He very much wants the steward to go up to heaven and manage things for him. After a period of time he can come back." This said, he promptly produced the document and showed it to the chief, adding that it was the old chief who had asked him to bring it down.

Genjia the chief read the document and was totally convinced by the whole story. Presently he sent for Genjia the steward and asked him to go and work for the old chief in his newly-built mansion in heaven.

When Genjia the steward saw Genjia the carpenter standing there and looking so well after his "ascent to heaven," and when he heard the vivid description of heaven given by the carpenter, he just didn't know what to think. "Perhaps I really possess some sort of magic power", he thought to himself. "It was my idea for him to go to heaven, and he actually seems to have done so! Perhaps it really is possible to fly to heaven, and the old chief really does have a new mansion there!"

He followed the carpenter's example and asked for seven days to get ready, and a Twig Burning Ceremony to be held in the hemp field behind his house to send him off to heaven. He thought that since Genjia the carpenter could come back, he could too. On the eighth day, as on the previous occasion, Genjia the steward stood in the middle of the faggots with a box on his shoulder and a bag in his hand. As on the previous occasion, there was a great din of bugles and drums, and the chief gave the order to light the faggots and send him off to heaven.

But the outcome this time was somewhat different. One difference was that after everything was over, a pile of charred bones was found among the ashes. Another difference was that the steward never came back. He stayed on in heaven forever to help the old chief run his mansion.

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Source: Favourite Folktales of China, translated by John Minford (Beijing: New World Press, 1983), pp. 87-94. No copyright notice.

The Changelings

Sweden

Every intelligent grandmother knows that the fire must not be allowed to go out in a room where there is a child not yet christened; that the water in which the newborn child is washed should not be thrown out; also, that a needle, or some other article of steel must be attached to its bandages [diapers]. If attention is not paid to these precautions it may happen that the child will be exchanged by the trolls, as once occurred in Bettna many years ago.

A young peasant's wife had given birth to her first child. Her mother, who lived some distance away, was on hand to officiate in the first duties attending its coming, but the evening before the day on which the child should be christened she was obliged to go home for a short time to attend to the wants of her own family, and during her absence the fire was allowed to go out.

No one would have noticed anything unusual, perhaps, if the child had not, during the baptism, cried like a fiend. After some weeks, however, the parents began to observe a change. It became ugly, cried continuously, and was so greedy that it devoured everything that came in its way. The people being poor, they were in great danger of being eaten out of house and home. There could no longer be any doubt that the child was a changeling. Whereupon the husband sought a wise old woman, who, it was said, could instruct the parents what to do to get back their own child.

The mother was directed to build a fire in the bake oven three Thursday evenings in succession, lay the young one upon the bake shovel, then pretend that she was about to throw it into the fire. The advice was followed, and when the woman, the third evening, was in the act of throwing the changeling into the fire, it seemed, a little deformed, evil-eyed woman rushed up with the natural child, threw it in the crib, and requested the return of her child. "For," said she, "I have never treated your child so badly and I have never thought to do it such harm as you now propose doing mine," whereupon she took the unnatural child and vanished through the door.

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Another changeling story, but with less unfortunate consequences, is told in Södermanland.

A resident of Vingåkir, who made frequent trips to Nyköping with loads of flour, was in the habit of halting for the night at the house of a farmer in Verna. One summer night he arrived later than usual, and, as the people were already in bed and asleep, the weather being pleasant, he did not wish to wake anyone, so unhitched his horse from the wagon, hitched him to a haystack, and laid himself under the wagon to sleep.

He had been some time under the wagon, yet awake, when, from under a stone nearby, an ugly, deformed woman, carrying a babe, made her appearance. Looking about her carefully, she laid the child on the stone and went into the house. In a short time she returned, bearing another child; laid it upon the stone, and taking up the first one, returned to the house.

The man observed her actions, and divining their purpose, crept cautiously from his resting place as soon as the woman had disappeared into the house, took the sleeping child and hid it in his coat under the wagon. When the troll returned and found the child gone, she went a third time to the house, for which she returned with the child she had just carried in, whereupon she disappeared under the stone.

The traveler, anxious for the welfare of his little charge, which had in such an extraordinary manner fallen into his hands, could not close his eyes for the rest of the night.

As soon as it dawned he went with his precious burden to the house, where he found the occupants in great consternation over the disappearance of the child, which, as may be presumed, was received with great rejoicing.

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Source: Herman Hofberg, Swedish Fairy Tales, translated by W. H. Myers (Chicago: W. B. Conkey Company, 1893), pp. 176-178.

Danger from Fairies

William Henderson, Notes of the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders

In the southern counties of Scotland children are considered before baptism at the mercy of the fairies, who may carry them off at pleasure or inflict injury upon them. Hence, of course, it is unlucky to take unbaptized children on a journey -- a belief which prevails throughout Northumberland, and indeed in many other parts of the country

Brand mentions this danger (Popular Antiquities, vol. 2, p. 73), and says the Danish women guard their children during this period against evil spirits by placing in the cradle, or over the door, garlic slat, bread, and steel in the form of some sharp instrument. "Something like this," he adds, "obtained in England;" and accordingly I am told that in the West Riding of Yorkshire "a child was kept safe while sleeping by hanging a carving knife from the head of the cradle with the point suspended near the infant's face."

In Germany, the proper things to lay in the cradle are "orant" (which is translated into either horehound or snapdragon), blue marjoram, black cumin, a right shirt sleeve, and a left stocking. The "Nickert" cannot then harm the child.

The modern Greeks dread witchcraft at this period of their children's lives, and are careful not to leave them alone during their first eight days, within which period the Greek Church refuses to baptize them. (Wright's Literature of the Middle Ages, vol. 1, p. 291)

In Scotland the little one's safeguard is held to lie in the juxtaposition of some article of dress belonging to its father. This was experienced by the wife a shepherd near Selkirk. Soon after the birth of her first child, a fine boy, she was lying in bed with her baby by her side, when suddenly she became aware of a confused noise of talking and merry laughter in the "spence," or room. This, in fact, proceeded from the fairies, who were forming a child of wax as a substitute for the baby, which they were planning to steal away. The poor mother suspected as much, so in great alarm she seized her husband's waistcoat, which chanced to be lying at the foot of the bed, and flung it over herself and the child. The fairies set up a loud scream, calling out "Auld Luckie has cheated us o' our bairnie!"

Soon afterwards the woman heard something fall down the lum (or chimney), and looking out she saw a waxen image of her baby, stuck full of pins, lying on the hearth.

When her husband came home he made up a large fire and threw the fairy lump upon it; but, instead of burning, the thing flew up the chimney, and the house instantly resounded with shouts of joy and peals of laughter.

Family affection must have been very strong when any trifle closely connected with the father was deemed a safeguard for the child, a safeguard needed till its baptism shielded it from every evil or malicious sprite.

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Source: William Henderson, Notes of the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders (London: Folk-Lore Society, 1879), pp. 14-15.

The Kintalen Changeling

James MacDougall, Folk Tales and Fairy Lore in Gaelic and English

There was living in Kintalen a woman who had a male-child with neither the growth nor the bloom of other children of his age. From morning to evening he would not cease one minute from crying, and he would eat far more food than was natural for the like of him.

It was harvest, and there was not a person on the farm who could draw a sickle but was out on the reaping field, except the mother of the child. She, too, would have been out were it not for fear that the nasty screaming thing would break his heart crying, if she should leave him in charge of any other person.

It happened that there was at the time a tailor in the house, making clothes. The tailor was a shrewd, observant man, and he was but a short time within until he became suspicious of the lad in the cradle. "You," said he to the woman, "may go to the reaping, and I will take care of the child."

The woman went away. But she had barely taken her feet over the threshold when the withered object she had left behind began shrieking and crying loudly and sorely. The tailor listened to him a good while, keeping his eye on him, till he was sure that he was nothing but a changeling. He now lost patience with him, and cried in a sharp, angry voice: "Stop that music, lad, or I'll put thee on the fire."

The crying ceased for a while, but afterwards it began a second time. "Art thou at it again, piper of the one tune?" said the tailor. "Let me hear that music any more from thee, and I will kill thee with the dirk." When the fairy beheld the frown on the tailor's countenance and the dirk in his hand, he took such a fright that he kept quiet a good while.

The tailor was a cheerful man, and to keep from wearying he began to hum a tune. In the middle of the music the ugly elf raised a loud howl. But, if he did, he was not allowed to go on with his warble but a very short time. The tailor leaped off his work-table, went, dirk in hand, over to the cradle, and said to the fairy: "We have enough of that music, take the right great bagpipes and give us one good tune on them, or else I'll put the dirk in thee."

The fairy sat up in the cradle, took the pipes which he had somewhere about him, and struck up the sweetest music the tailor had ever heard. The reapers heard it on the field, and instantly dropped their sickles and stood listening to the fairy music. At length they left the field, and ran in the direction whence the music came. But before they reached the house the tune had ceased; and they knew not who played it or whence it came.

When the reapers returned home in the evening, and the tailor got the mistress of the house alone, he told her everything that happened while she was at the reaping, and that her child was nothing but a changeling. He then told her to go with him to the Ardsheal side of the bay, and to throw him out in the Loch. She did as was told her, and as soon as the nasty little elf touched the water he became a big grey-haired old man, and swam to the other side of the bay. When he got his foot on dry land, he cried to her that if he had known beforehand what she was going to do he would have made her never think of doing such a thing again.

She returned home and found her own child at the door before her, hale and sound.

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Source: James MacDougall, Folk Tales and Fairy Lore in Gaelic and English, Edinburgh: John Grant, 1910, pp. 148-153 (Gaelic and English on facing pages).

The End of the World

Flanders

Once upon a time an old woman sat spinning in a room at the top of a high tower. Beneath her chair Chaton, her cat, lay peacefully sleeping. All of a sudden the spinning wheel jarred and made a loud creaking sound. Startled out of his sleep, Chaton the Cat rushed out of the room and bolted down the stairs as though a thousand demons were at his heels.

In the yard he passed the house dog who was sitting in front of his kennel.

"Hallo, Chaton!" cried the dog. "Where are you going to in such a hurry?"

"I am fleeing the country," answered Chaton. "I have just heard the sounding of the last trump! The end of the world is at hand!"

"If that is so," said the dog, "I would like to run away too. May I come with you?"

"Certainly," answered Chaton. "Seat yourself on my beautiful curly tail."

So the dog perched himself on the cat s tail, and off they went together. A little farther on they came to the farm gate, and there, perched on the topmost rail, was the cock.

"Whither away, Chaton?" asked the cock. "You seem to be in haste."

"Yes," said Chaton. "I have heard the last trump, which proves that the world is coming to an end, and I want to get safely away before that happens."

"Take me with you, Chaton dear," said the cock.

"By all means," answered the cat. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail beside the dog."

So the cock perched himself on Chaton's tail, and now there were two passengers. Away went the cat even faster than before, so as to make up for lost time, and presently they passed a rabbit who was nibbling the grass in a field.

"Chaton, Chaton," cried the rabbit, "why are you running so quickly?"

"Don't stop me!" answered the cat. "I've heard the last trump! The end of the world is coming!"

"Oh, dear me!" cried the rabbit. "What an unfortunate thing! Don't leave me here, Chaton, for I am afraid to face the end of the world."

"Very well," said Chaton. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the cock, and I'll take you with me."

So the rabbit also perched himself on the cat's tail, and now there were three of them riding there. Off went the cat again, but not so quickly this time, because of the weight on his tail, and before very long he came to a pond by the side of which a goose was standing.

"Now then, now then, what's the hurry?" asked the goose. "If you run so fast you'll overheat your blood and die of a fever."

"It's all very well to scoff," answered the cat, "but you must know that the end of the world is coming. I have heard the last trump sound!"

"My goodness!" said the goose. "This is dreadful! Take me with you, Chaton, and I'll be grateful for ever."

"Very well," said the cat. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the fox and the rabbit."

So the goose also perched herself on the cat's tail, so now there were four passengers, and that made five altogether who were running away to escape the end of the world. All that day the cat kept on running, and towards dusk they came to a forest.

"This seems a good place to rest," said Chaton. "Now then, master cock, fly to the top of a tree and see if you can espy a house in which we can take shelter."

The cock flew to the top of a high tree and from there he saw a number of lights twinkling in the distance. The five fugitives thereupon set off in the direction from which the lights shone, and before long they came to a little village. All the people of the village had left their houses and were gathered together in the square, round a man dressed all in red, with a big red feather in his cap, who was addressing them.

Chaton and his companions pressed close to the edge of the crowd and were just in time to hear these words: "Whoever finds the ring," said the man with the red feather," and places it on the table in my palace tomorrow before dawn, shall have the five bags of gold which hang on my saddle bow." Having said this, the man in red mounted his horse and rode away.

Chaton went up to a little peasant who was standing in the crowd. "Tell me, gossip," said he, "who is the man with the red feather, and what's all this about a ring and five bags of gold?"

"Why," said the peasant, "the man in red is the king of this country. He had a valuable ring which was kept in a tiny wooden case on the table by his bed. This afternoon a magpie flew in through the window, snatched up the case, and bore it away to its nest in the topmost boughs of the walnut tree on the village green. The king wants his ring back again, and will give the five bags of gold to anybody who will recover it for him."

"I see," said Chaton; "and why don't you climb the walnut tree and get the ring?"

"Because I have too much respect for my neck," answered the peasant, "and so has everybody else here. The boughs at the top of the tree where the nest is are so thin and slender that they would not bear the weight of a child, let alone a grown man. Gold is good, but whole limbs are better, that's what I say!"

"And I!"

"And I!" echoed other villagers who had been listening to this conversation.

"In my belief you are quite right," said Chaton seriously. "Let the king risk his own life if he is so anxious to recover his ring."

But afterwards, when he had withdrawn with his companions to the shelter of the wood, he sang a different tune. "My friends," said he, "our fortunes are made! As soon as all is quiet I will climb the tree and get the ring; then you shall sit on my tail again and we'll all go off together to the king's palace and get the bags of gold!"

He danced for joy, and the dog and the cock and the goose and the rabbit danced with him. An hour afterwards the cat climbed the tree and came down safely with the little wooden box. The rabbit gnawed it open with his teeth, and sure enough there was the ring inside it.

"Now," said Chaton, "we will all go to the king's palace, but I am very tired with running all day. I propose that the dog takes a turn at carrying us."

This was agreed. The other four got on to the dog's back and clung there while he ambled off as fast as he could along the road towards the palace. Just before dawn they came to a wide river. Now it was the turn of the goose to work for the common good. She was quite used to the water, and one by one she took the other animals across on her back. Shortly afterwards they arrived at the king's palace, and the cock flew up through the open window of the king's room with the ring in his beak, and placed it on the table by the bed. Then he awoke the king with a loud crow and claimed the reward, which was willingly given.

In great glee at their good fortune the animals went on their way, each with his bag of gold, and every one of them had by this time quite forgotten his fear about the coming of the end of the world. They went on and on until they came to a place where five ways met.

Then Chaton said, "Here we are at the parting of the ways. Let us each choose a road, and part good friends."

At this moment there came along a pig with a knife and fork stuck in his back. In his right ear was salt; in his left ear pepper, and mustard was on his tail, so that everybody who was hungry had only to cut themselves a slice of meat and sit down to feast.

Our friends gladly availed themselves of this good chance, and I who tell you this story would willingly have done the same, but as soon as I went up to the pig, he ran at me with his head down and sent me flying through the air, and through the window of my house, where I fell into the chair in which I am now sitting, finishing this story of the wonderful adventures of Chaton, the dog, the cock, the rabbit, and the goose.

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• Source: Jean de Bosschère, Folk Tales of Flanders (New York: Dodd, Mead, and Company, 1918), pp. 139-46.

• Flanders is a cultural region comprising parts of France, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

The Rats and Their Daughter

Japan

Once near a lonely farmhouse surrounded by rice fields there lived a rat couple. They were highly regarded by their own kind and very prosperous. One day, in addition to their many other children, a little daughter was born to them. She was so dainty with her shiny gray fur, her broad little upright ears, and her glistening eyes, that her parents became quite proud of their little daughter. Day in and day out their only thoughts were how they might prepare a magnificent future for her.

When the little rat came of age, both parents came to the conclusion that only the most powerful being in the entire world should be her husband.

Once they were discussing this matter with a neighbor, and he said, "If you want to give your daughter in marriage to the most powerful being, you must choose the sun as your son-in-law, for without question, no one equals the sun in power.

The rat couple saw that this was true, and without hesitation they made their way to the sun and presented to him their proposal that he should marry their daughter.

The sun replied, "I am much indebted to you that you have come so far, and that you have the kind intention to give me your daughter in marriage, but please tell me just why you have chosen me to be your son-in-law."

The rats said, "We would like to give our daughter in marriage to the most powerful being in the world, and without dispute you are that one. Therefore we have chosen you to be our son-in-law."

Then the sun said, "What you say is not without foundation, but there is a being more powerful than I, and it is he to whom you must give your daughter."

The rats replied, "Can there in truth be someone more powerful than you?"

The sun said, "When I want to shine on the earth, a cloud often comes by and covers me up, and my rays are unable either to penetrate it or to frighten it away. I am powerless against the cloud. Thus you must go to the cloud and make him your son-in-law."

The rats saw that it was so, and they went to the cloud.

After they had presented their proposal to him, the cloud said, "You are in error if you think that I am the most powerful being. I do indeed have the power to cover the sun, but I am powerless against the wind. When he begins to blow, he drives me away and tears me to pieces. There is nothing I can do against him."

So the rats went to the wind and made the proposal to him that he should marry their daughter, whom they wanted to give in marriage to the most powerful being.

But the wind said, "You are in error. I do indeed have the power to drive away the cloud, but I am powerless against the wall that people build to hold me back. I can neither blow through it nor do anything to it. The wall is much more powerful than I."

So the rats again set forth and came to the wall, to whom, in a similar manner, they made their request.

The wall replied, "It is indeed true that I have the power to resist the wind, but there is a rat that is undermining me, boring into me and making holes throughout me, and there is nothing I can do to stop him. I am powerless against the rat. It would be better for you to take the rat for your son-in-law than to choose me!"

This pleased the rats, for they saw that the wall was right. They returned home and married their dear daughter to a handsome young rat.

They never regretted this, for their daughter lived happily and contentedly with a man of her own kind. And the parents, who once had wanted to elevate her so high, shared in her happiness and satisfaction.

---

• Source: David Brauns, "Die Ratten und ihr Töchterlein," Japanische Märchen und Sagen (Leipzig: Verlag von Wilhelm Friedrich, 1885), pp. 85-87. (Links open in new windows.)

• Translated from the German by D. L. Ashliman. © 2008.

• Link to additional Folktales from Japan.

The Dog, the Cat, and the Mouse

Romania

In the beginning there was no enmity between the cat and dog, and they lived on friendly terms together and served their master (Adam) faithfully, each one doing its own work.

But as you know, it is very much better to have a written agreement at the beginning than to have a row afterwards, so they decided to draw up an agreement defining the work which each had to do, and decided that the dog was to do the work outside the house, and the cat the work inside. For greater safety the dog agreed that the cat should take care of the agreement, and the cat put it in the loft.

After a time, the devil, who could not allow peace to last for a long time, must needs set the dog up against the cat; so one day the dog remarked to the cat that he was not fairly treated. He did not see why he should have all the trouble outside the house, to watch for thieves and protect the house and suffer from cold and rain, and only have scraps and bones for food, and sometimes nothing at all, whilst the cat had all the comfort, purring and enjoying herself, and living near the hearth in warmth and safety.

The cat said, "An agreement is an agreement."

The dog replied, "Let me see that agreement."

The cat went quickly up the loft to fetch the agreement, but the agreement, which had been a little greasy, had been nibbled by the mice who were living in the loft, and they went on nibbling away until nothing was left of it but a heap of paper fluff, and as it was as soft as down the mice made their home of it.

When the cat came up and saw what the mice had done, her fury knew no bounds. She pursued them madly, killing as many as she could seize, and running after the others with the intent of catching them.

When she came down the dog asked her for the agreement, and as the cat had not brought it, the dog, taking hold of her, shook her until he got tired of shaking her.

Since that time, whenever a dog meets a cat he asks her for the agreement, and as she cannot show it to him he goes for her. And the cat, knowing what the mice had done to her, runs after them when she sees them.

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• Source: M. Gaster, Rumanian Bird and Beast Stories (London: Folk-Lore Society, 1915), no. 66, pp. 208-209.

• Aarne-Thompson type 200.

The Blood Brothers

Once upon a time a fisherman caught a fish that said to him, "If you will set me free, I will grant you any wish." Now more than anything else, the fisherman wanted to have a child with his wife, so he made this wish, and turned the fish loose.

Before swimming away, the fish said, "Cast your net again, and give your next catch to your wife to eat."

The fisherman did as he was told. His next cast netted him one little fish, which he took home with him. His wife ate the flesh. His dog ate the insides. And his horse ate the bones. Some time later his wife gave birth to twin boys; the dog had a litter of two pups; and the horse foaled with two colts.

The twin boys gave their parents much pleasure, but with time the older brother became restless, and wanted to seek his fortune abroad. He left a bottle of clear white wine with his younger twin, saying, "All will be well with me as long as the wine is white. But if it ever turns red, I will be in need of your help." With that he took leave of his brother and of his parents, mounted the older twin horse, and, accompanied by the older twin dog, set forth into the world.

After a long journey he came to a kingdom that was being ravished by a terrible dragon. The king had promised his daughter's hand in marriage to whatever man succeeded in killing the dragon. The twin tracked the dragon to its lair, then engaged him in battle. The fight was long and hard, but the brave twin finally prevailed, and the dragon lay dead at his feat. As proof that he had killed the beast, he cut out its tongue, then set out for the castle to claim the princess as his reward.

Now the king had a steward who happened to come upon the dead dragon soon after the twin left. He decided to claim the kill for himself, cut off the dragon's head, and took a shortcut to the castle.

The king was delighted to see the dragon's head, and he arranged for the wedding between the steward and the princess to take place immediately. The twin arrived just as the festivities were starting. Seeing that another man was unfairly claiming his prize, he said, "It is a strange dragon that has no tongue."

"Of course the dragon has a tongue," said the steward, opening the dragon's mouth. But the tongue was not there.

"The dragon had a tongue when I killed it," answered the twin, "and here it is." With this he produced the dragon's tongue. The king now saw that the steward had lied, and had him cast into a dark dungeon. The festivities continued, but this time with the twin as hero and bridegroom.

The twin and the princess lived happily for some time, but after a while he became restless again. He announced that he wanted to go hunting in a nearby forest, named the Forest of No Return. His young wife asked him not to go, but his spirit of adventure prevailed.

Soon after entering the Forest of No Return, the twin met an old woman, who, unknown to him, was a wicked witch. "Good day, young sir," she said. He began to return the greeting, but had scarcely opened his mouth when she cast a spell on him, turning him to stone.

Meanwhile, back at the fisherman's cottage, the younger twin examined the bottle of wine every day. Its clear white color let him know that his older brother was well. One day, however, the wine turned blood red, and the younger brother knew that his twin was in need. He took leave of his parents, mounted the younger twin horse, and, accompanied by the younger twin dog, set forth into the world to find his older brother.

After a long journey he came to the kingdom where his twin brother had killed the dragon. Everyone thought that he was their new prince, and he was escorted to the castle with honor.

"I thought that you would never come back from the Forest of No Return," said the princess tenderly. However, to her dismay and surprise, instead of returning her love, that night he laid his sword between them in their bed.

Early the next morning the younger twin set forth for the Forest of No Return. Soon after entering this forest, he met the old witch. "Good day, young sir," she said.

Sensing her evil design, he said not a word, but leaped on her and pinned her to the ground. Holding his sword to her neck, he shouted, "lead me to my brother, or die at once!" The witch, fearing for her life, led the young twin to his petrified brother. She anointed the stone with salve, and he returned to life.

Overjoyed, the two brothers made they way back toward the castle. On their way, each one told the other of his adventures. When it was the younger brother's turn to speak, he told of how the white wine had turned to blood red, how he had found his way to the castle, how he had slept with the princess -- --. He was not able finish his sentence. The older twin, hearing that his brother had slept with his wife, drew his sword and cut off his head.

When the older twin arrived at the castle, he was received by his wife with love. "At last you are yourself!" she said. "Not like the last time you were here, when you put a sword between us in bed."

The older twin now knew that he had unjustly killed his brother. He rushed back to the place where his body lay. Fortunately, he still had some of the witch's salve, and with it he anointed the dead man's wounds, placed the head back on the body, and brought his brother back to life. Together they returned to the castle, where they lived happily ever after.

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• Aarne-Thompson type 303.

• Retold from various sources. This story is told throughout the Indo-European language and folklore area.

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Related links

• Two type 303 tales from the Children's and Household Tales of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm: The Two Brothers (no. 60). The Gold-Children (no. 85).

• D. L. Ashliman's folktexts, a library of folktales, folklore, fairy tales, and mythology.

The Historic Fart

1001 Nights

They recount that in the city of Kaukaban in Yemen there was a man named Abu Hasan of the Fadhli tribe who left the Bedouin life and became a townsman and the wealthiest of merchants. His wife died while both were young, and his friends pressed him to marry again.

Weary of their pressure, Abu Hasan entered into negotiations with the old women who procure matches, and married a woman as beautiful as the moon shining over the sea. To the wedding banquet he invited kith and kin, ulema and fakirs, friends and foes, and all of his acquaintances.

The whole house was thrown open to feasting: There were five different colors of rice, and sherbets of as many more; kid goats stuffed with walnuts, almonds, and pistachios; and a young camel roasted whole. So they ate and drank and made merry.

The bride was displayed in her seven dresses -- and one more -- to the women, who could not take their eyes off her. At last the bridegroom was summoned to the chamber where she sat enthroned. He rose slowly and with dignity from his divan; but in do doing, for he was over full of meat and drink, he let fly a great and terrible fart.

In fear for their lives, all the guests immediately turned to their neighbors and talked aloud, pretending to have heard nothing.

Mortified, Abu Hasan turned away from the bridal chamber and as if to answer a call of nature. He went down to the courtyard, saddled his mare, and rode off, weeping bitterly through the night.

In time he reached Lahej where he found a ship ready to sail for India; so he boarded, arriving ultimately at Calicut on the Malabar coast. Here he met with many Arabs, especially from Hadramaut, who recommended him to the King. This King (who was a Kafir) trusted him and advanced him to the captaincy of his bodyguard. He remained there ten years, in peace and happiness, but finally was overcome with homesickness. His longing to behold his native land was like that of a lover pining for his beloved; and it nearly cost him his life.

Finally he sneaked away without taking leave and made his way to Makalla in Hadramaut. Here he donned the rags of a dervish. Keeping his name and circumstances a secret, he set forth on foot for Kaukaban. He endured a thousand hardships of hunger, thirst, and fatigue; and braved a thousand dangers from lions, snakes, and ghouls.

Drawing near to his old home, he looked down upon it from the hills with brimming eyes, and said to himself, "They might recognize me, so I will wander about the outskirts and listen to what people are saying. May Allah grant that they do not remember what happened."

He listened carefully for seven nights and seven days, until it happened that, as he was sitting at the door of a hut, he heard the voice of a young girl saying, "Mother, tell me what day was I born on, for one of my companions wants to tell my fortune."

The mother answered, "My daughter, you were born on the very night when Abu Hasan farted."

No sooner had the listener heard these words than he rose up from the bench and fled, saying to himself, "Verily my fart has become a date! It will be remembered for ever and ever.

He continued on his way, returning finally to India, where he remained in self exile until he died. May the mercy of Allah be upon him!

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Source: The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night: A Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights Entertainments, translated by Richard F. Burton (Privately printed by the Burton Club, 1885), vol. 5, pp. 135-137. Translation revised by D. L. Ashliman.

The Merchant's Tale

Geoffrey Chaucer

In the town of Pavia in Lombardy there lived a worthy knight by the name of January. Although throughout his long and prosperous life he had partaken often of the fruits of love, he felt no need for marriage until he passed his sixtieth year, when suddenly he was overcome by a violent urge to become a wedded man.

"A young and beautiful wife," he concluded, "would be the fulfillment of my wealth and glory. Obedient, loyal, and untiring, she would attend to my every need in my waning years, and further, she may well present me with an heir."

"Not so!" argued some. "A wife's interest will be more toward your fortune than toward your well being, and further, her unbridled passions may place your honor at risk."

But January listened not to these negative voices, paying heed instead to those who praised the virtues of womanhood and the benefits of marriage. And thus he soon announced to his friends his resolve to find a bride, "But," he asserted, "she must be under twenty years of age, for young veal is tastier than old beef."

His friends tried to dissuade him from this resolve, but to no avail, and at last -- driven onward by unrelenting fantasies -- he found the woman who satisfied his dreams. Although not of high rank, she was young and beautiful, and, in his love-blinded perception, she was also compliant and self-disciplined. Further, like old January himself, she too bore the name of a season: May.

Marriage documents were executed, the holy sacrament of marriage was duly performed, and the priest united January and May as husband and wife.

One wedding guest was particularly moved, a robust young man named Damian, who served as a squire to Knight January. Ravished by May's fresh beauty, the squire fell madly in love with his master's young bride.

No one knows what young May was thinking in her heart as old January -- with his beard of stubble and loose skin shaking about his throat -- labored in the field of love. But Damian's thoughts were not entirely secret. He poured out his soul with pen and ink, then managed to slip the letter into the hand of his beloved May without being seen by the ever-watchful January.

May's only opportunity to read the letter came in that small place where everyone goes alone. There she committed Damian's message to memory, then tore the letter into pieces and threw them into the privy. But one thing is certain. She took no offense at the young squire's forwardness, for as soon as she could steal a few minutes' time, she composed a letter to the young squire, promising him the satisfaction he desired of her as soon as the time and place might present themselves.

In the meantime old January's fortune turned against him, and he lost his sight. The curse of blindness increased the knight's possessiveness and jealousy toward his young wife. Fearing that she might succumb to some temptation under the cover of his darkness, he never let her go out unless he himself had her by the hand. Nevertheless, by using private hand signals and smuggled letters, she communicated her forbidden love to Damian, and invented a plan whereby it might be consummated.

The tryst was to take place in a private garden where January and May often walked together. Following his beloved's plan, Damian let himself into the garden at the appointed time, then hid himself in the branches of a pear tree that grew there. A little later January and May, hand in hand, approached the tree, when May suddenly declared an intense appetite for a pear from the nearby tree.

"Do let me climb the tree and pluck a pear," she begged of her husband. Then recalling his blind jealousy, she added, "You can hold your arms around the tree to make sure that I am alone."

Not wanting to deny her this innocent request, he stooped over and let her step onto his back. Taking hold of a branch, she pulled herself into tree and into the arms of the waiting Damian. Now ladies, please take no offence, but I must tell the story as it actually happened. Damian forthwith lifted her smock and thrust away, with the deceived husband blindly hugging the tree beneath them.

However, this shameful tryst was not entirely unseen. The king and queen of Fairyland saw all, and the king -- horrified at the cuckoldry -- resolved at once to restore the old knight's sight immediately and thus expose his wife's and his squire's faithlessness. "Do that!" replied the fairy king's wife. "But nothing bad will come to the young woman, for I will give her a bold and quick answer that will excuse her and her lover from all guilt."

And thus it happened. As granted by the fairy king, sight miraculously returned to January's aging eyes. But his rejoicing was short lived, for looking up, the first thing he saw was his wife engaged in an act that polite words cannot describe.

"Strumpet!" he called out angrily. "What are you up to?"

Now it was the fairy queen's turn to ply her magic, and -- as promised -- she put a quick response onto the wayward wife's tongue.

"Sir," replied May, "have patience. Don't you see what I have done? I was told that the only cure for your blindness would be for me to struggle with a man upon a tree."

"Struggle?" said he. "It went right in!"

"Oh no!" said she. "You caught a hazy glimpse, my good sir, but your sight is still poor. Things are not as they first appeared to you." Then she continued, "This slander is my reward for helping you to see."

"Never mind!" said he. "Come down. But it did appear to me that Damian was enjoying you with your smock upon his breast."

"Think what you will," said she, "but it was only a false vision following your long blindness."

With that she jumped down from the tree, and January led her happily back home.

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• Source: Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, "The Merchant's Tale." Retold and shortened.

• © 1998 by D. L. Ashliman.

• The tale above combines elements of folktale type 1423 (the enchanted pear tree) with those of type 1419M (a wife convinces her husband that her infidelity has saved him from a curse).

• Link to a Middle English text of The Merchant's Tale. This link will take you to the Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library.

• Chaucer was born about the year 1340 and died in 1400. He began writing The Canterbury Tales in about 1386. The great work remained unfinished.

Filippo Balducci and His Son

Giovanni Boccaccio

When Filippo Balducci lost his wife to death, he resolved to devote himself and his young son to God. Consequently he gave his worldly possessions to charity, then took his little son to the slopes of Mount Asinaio, where they lived together in a cave, completely secluded from the ways and temptations of the world. In this remote sanctuary, Filippo taught his son about God and the saints, protecting him always from distractions and sin.

Only after the boy reached the age of eighteen did the father feel it safe to expose him to the outside world.

"Surely," thought Filippo, "his years of devotion and prayer in this place of solitude will now defend him against the ways of the world." And the two of them, father and son, set off for the city of Florence.

Everything was new and amazing for the son: houses, palaces, churches, horses, and people. Filled with amazement, he asked his father about every unfamiliar thing, and Filippo dutifully provided names and explanations for all that they saw, that is, until they happened upon a party of beautiful young women. The boy, who until now had never beheld such a sight, could not take his eyes from them.

"Do not look at them," warned Filippo.

"But what are they?" asked the son.

"Oh, they are just geese," replied Filippo, wanting to divert the boy's attention from the young women.

"Please, father," begged the boy, "let me have one of those geese. I could put something into its bill.

"No!" exclaimed the father. "Their bills are not where you think they are, and they require special feeding. And furthermore they are evil!"

Poor Filippo now regretted having taken his son from his protective sanctuary, for even as he spoke, he realized that however clever his responses were, they were no match for the boy's natural inclinations.

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• Source: Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron, day 4, introduction. Retold and shortened.

• © 1998 by D. L. Ashliman.

• Link to the entire story, in the Italian language. This link will take you to day 4 of The Decameron. Follow additional links to the introduction. This site (sponsored by the Italian Studies Department at Brown University) includes the entire Decameron in both the original Italian as well as an English translation.

• The Decameron (Il Decamerone) was written between 1350 and 1355.

Sir Buzz

India

Once upon a time a soldier died, leaving a widow and one son. They were dreadfully poor, and at last matters became so bad that they had nothing left in the house to eat.

"Mother," said the son, "give me four shillings, and I will go seek my fortune in the wide world."

"Alas!" answered the mother, "and where am I, who haven't a farthing wherewith to buy bread, to find four shillings?"

"There is that old coat of my father's," returned the lad. "Look in the pocket -- perchance there is something there."

So she looked, and behold! there were six shillings hidden away at the very bottom of the pocket! "More than I bargained for," quoth the lad, laughing. "See, mother, these two shillings are for you. You can live on that till I return; the rest will pay my way until I find my fortune."

So he set off to find his fortune, and on the way lie saw a tigress, licking her paw, and moaning mournfully. He was just about to run away from the terrible creature, when she called to him faintly, saying, "Good lad, if you will take out this thorn for me, I shall be forever grateful."

"Not I!" answered the lad. "Why, if I begin to pull it out, and it pains you, you will kill me with a pat of your paw."

"No, no!" cried the tigress, "I will turn my face to this tree, and when the pain comes I will pat it."

To this the soldier's son agreed; so he pulled out the thorn, and when the pain came the tigress gave the tree such a blow that the trunk split all to pieces. Then she turned towards the soldier's son, and said gratefully, "Take this box as a reward, my son, but do not open it until you have traveled nine miles."

So the soldier's son thanked the tigress, and set off with the box to find his fortune. Now when he had gone five miles, he felt certain that the box weighed more than it had at first, and every step he took it seemed to grow heavier and heavier. He tried to struggle on -- though it was all he could do to carry the box -- until he had gone about eight miles and a quarter, when his patience gave way.

"I believe that tigress was a witch, and is playing off her tricks upon me," he cried, "but I will stand this nonsense no longer. Lie there, you wretched old box! Heaven knows what is in you, and I don't care."

So saying, he flung the box down on the ground. It burst open with the shock, and out stepped a little old man. He was only one span high, but his beard was a span and a quarter long, and trailed upon the ground. The little manikin immediately began to stamp about and scold the lad roundly for letting the box down so violently.

"Upon my word!" quoth the soldier's son, scarcely able to restrain a smile at the ridiculous little figure, " but you are weighty for your size, old gentleman! And what may your name be?"

"Sir Buzz!" snapped the one-span manikin, still stamping about in a great rage.

"Upon my word!" quoth the soldier's son once more, "if you are all the box contained, I am glad I didn't trouble to carry it farther."

"That's not polite," snarled the manikin. "Perhaps if you had carried it the full nine miles you might have found something better; but that's neither here nor there. I'm good enough for you, at any rate, and will serve you faithfully according to my mistress's orders."

"Serve me! Then I wish to goodness you'd serve me with some dinner, for I am mighty hungry! Here are four shillings to pay for it."

No sooner had the soldier's son said this and given the money, than with a whiz! boom! bing! like a big bee, Sir Buzz flew through the air to a confectioner's shop in the nearest town. There he stood, the one-span manikin, with the span and a quarter beard trailing on the ground, just by the big preserving pan, and cried in ever so loud a voice, "Ho! ho! Sir Confectioner, bring me sweets!"

The confectioner looked round the shop, and out of the door, and down the street, but could see no one, for tiny Sir Buzz was quite hidden by the preserving pan. Then the manikin called out louder still, " Ho! ho! Sir Confectioner, bring me sweets! " And when the confectioner looked in vain for his customer, Sir Buzz grew angry, and ran and pinched him on the legs, and kicked him on the foot, saying, " Impudent knave! do you mean to say you can't see me? Why, I was standing by the preserving pan all the time!"

The confectioner apologized humbly, and hurried away to bring out his best sweets for his irritable little customer. Then Sir Buzz chose about a hundredweight of them, and said, "Quick, tie them up in something and give them into my hand; I'll carry them home."

"They will be a good weight, sir," smiled the confectioner.

"What business is that of yours, I should like to know?" snapped Sir Buzz. "Just you do as you're told, and here is your money." So saying he jingled the four shillings in his pocket.

"As you please, sir," replied the man cheerfully, as he tied up the sweets into a huge bundle and placed it on the little manikin's outstretched hand, fully expecting him to sink under the weight; when lo! with a boom! bing! he whizzed off with the money still in his pocket.

He alighted at a corn-chandler's shop, and, standing behind a basket of flour, called out at the top of his voice, "Ho! ho! Sir Chandler, bring me flour!"

And when the corn-chandler looked round the shop, and out of the window, and down the street, without seeing anybody, the one-span manikin, with his beard trailing on the ground, cried again louder than before, "Ho! ho! Sir Chandler, bring me flour!"

Then on receiving no answer, he flew into a violent rage, and ran and bit the unfortunate corn-chandler on the leg, pinched him, and kicked him, saying, "Impudent varlet! Don't pretend you couldn't see me! Why, I was standing close beside you behind that basket!"

So the corn-chandler apologized humbly for his mistake, and asked Sir Buzz how much flour he wanted.

"Two hundredweight," replied the manikin. "Two hundredweight, neither more nor less. Tie it up in a bundle, and I'll take it with me."

"Your honor has a cart or beast of burden with you, doubtless?" said the chandler, "for two hundredweight is a heavy load."

"What's that to you? " shrieked Sir Buzz, stamping his foot, " isn't it enough if I pay for it? " And then he jingled the money in his pocket again. So the corn-chandler tied up the flour in a bundle, and placed it in the manikin's outstretched hand, fully expecting it would crush him, when, with a whiz! Sir Buzz flew off, with the shillings still in his pocket. Boom! bing! boom!

The soldier's son was just wondering what had become of his one-span servant, when, with a whir! the little fellow alighted beside him, and wiping his face with his handkerchief, as if he were dreadfully hot and tired, said thoughtfully, "Now I do hope I've brought enough, but you men have such terrible appetites!"

"More than enough, I should say," laughed the lad, looking at the huge bundles.

Then Sir Buzz cooked the girdle-cakes, and the soldier's son ate three of them and a handful of sweets; but the one-span manikin gobbled up all the rest, saying at each mouthful, "You men have such terrible appetites -- such terrible appetites!"

After that, the soldier's son and his servant Sir Buzz traveled ever so far, until they came to the king's city. Now the king had a daughter called Princess Blossom, who was so lovely, and tender, and slim, and fair, that she only weighed five flowers. Every morning she was weighed in golden scales, and the scale always turned when the fifth flower was put in, neither less nor more.

Now it so happened that the soldier's son by chance caught a glimpse of the lovely, tender, slim, and fair Princess Blossom, and, of course, he fell desperately in love with her. He would neither sleep nor eat his dinner, and did nothing all day long but say to his faithful manikin, "Oh, dearest Sir Buzz! oh, kind Sir Buzz! -- carry me to the Princess Blossom, that I may see and speak to her."

"Carry you!" snapped the little fellow scornfully. "That's a likely story! Why, you're ten times as big as I am. You should carry me!"

Nevertheless, when the soldier's son begged and prayed, growing pale and pining away with thinking of the Princess Blossom, Sir Buzz, who had a kind heart, was moved, and bade the lad sit on his hand. Then with a tremendous boom! bing! boom! they whizzed away and were in the palace in a second. Being nighttime, the Princess was asleep; nevertheless the booming wakened her and she was quite frightened to see a handsome young man kneeling beside her. She began of course to scream, but stopped at once when the soldier's son with the greatest politeness, and in the most elegant of language, begged her not to be alarmed. And after that they talked together about everything delightful, while Sir Buzz stood at the door and did sentry; but he stood a brick up on end first, so that he might not seem to pry upon the young people.

Now when the dawn was just breaking, the soldier's son and Princess Blossom, wearied of talking, fell asleep; whereupon Sir Buzz, being a faithful servant, said to himself, "Now what is to be done? If my master remains here asleep, someone will discover him, and he will be killed as sure as my name is Buzz; but if I wake him, ten to one he will refuse to go."

So without more ado he put his hand under the bed, and bing! boom! carried it into a large garden outside the town. There he set it down in the shade of the biggest tree, and pulling up the next biggest one by the roots, threw it over his shoulder, and marched up and down keeping guard.

Before long the whole town was in a commotion, because the Princess Blossom had been carried off, and all the world and his wife turned out to look for her. By and by the one-eyed chief constable came to the garden gate.

"What do you want here?" cried valiant Sir Buzz, making passes at him with the tree.

The chief constable with his one eye could see nothing save the branches, but he replied sturdily, "I want the Princess Blossom!"

"I'll blossom you! Get out of my garden, will you?" shrieked the one-span manikin, with his one and quarter span beard trailing on the ground; and with that he belabored the constable's pony so hard with the tree that it bolted away, nearly throwing its rider.

The poor man went straight to the king, saying, " Your majesty! I am convinced your majesty's daughter, the Princess Blossom, is in your majesty's garden, just outside the town, as there is a tree there which fights terribly."

Upon this the king summoned all his horses and men, and going to the garden tried to get in; but Sir Buzz behind the tree routed them all, for half were killed, and the rest ran away. The noise of the battle, however, awoke the young couple, and as they were now convinced they could no longer exist apart, they determined to fly together. So when the fight was over, the soldier's son, the Princess Blossom, and Sir Buzz set out to see the world.

Now the soldier's son was so enchanted with his good luck in winning the princess, that he said to Sir Buzz, " My fortune is made already; so I shan't want you anymore, and you can go back to your mistress."

"Pooh!" said Sir Buzz. "Young people always think so; however, have it your own way, 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."

So Sir Buzz boomed off, and the soldier's son and the Princess Blossom lived and traveled together very happily, until at last they lost their way in a forest, and wandered about for some time without any food. When they were nearly starving, a Brahman found them, and hearing their story said, "Alas! you poor children! Come home with me, and I will give you something to eat."

Now had he said, "I will eat you," it would have been much nearer the mark, for he was no Brahman, but a dreadful vampire, who loved to devour handsome young men and slender girls. But, knowing nothing of all this, the couple went home with him quite cheerfully. He was most polite, and when they arrived at his house, said, "Please get ready whatever you want to eat, for I have no cook. Here are my keys; open all my cupboards save the one with the golden key. Meanwhile I will go and gather firewood."

Then the Princess Blossom began to prepare the food, while the soldier's son opened all the cupboards. In them he saw lovely jewels, and dresses, and cups and platters, such bags of gold and silver, that his curiosity got the better of his discretion, and, regardless of the Brahman's warning, he said, "I will see what wonderful thing is hidden in the cupboard with the golden key." So he opened it, and lo! it was full of human skulls, picked quite clean, and beautifully polished. At this dreadful sight the soldier's son flew back to the Princess Blossom, and said, "We are lost! we are lost! This is no Brahman, but a horrid vampire!"

At that moment they heard him at the door, and the princess, who was very brave and kept her wits about her, had barely time to thrust the magic hair into the fire, before the vampire, with sharp teeth and fierce eyes, appeared. But at the selfsame moment a boom! boom! binging noise was heard in the air, coming nearer and nearer. Whereupon the vampire, who knew very well who his enemy was, changed into a heavy rain pouring down in torrents, hoping thus to drown Sir Buzz, but he changed into the storm wind beating back the rain. Then the vampire changed to a dove, but Sir Buzz, pursuing it as a hawk, pressed it so hard that it had barely time to change into a rose, and drop into King Indra's lap as he sat in his celestial court listening to the singing of some dancing girls.

Then Sir Buzz, quick as thought, changed into an old musician, and standing beside the bard who was thrumming the guitar, said, "Brother, you are tired; let me play."

And he played so wonderfully, and sang with such piercing sweetness, that King Indra said, "What shall I give you as a reward? Name what you please, and it shall be yours."

Then Sir Buzz said, " I only ask the rose that is in your Majesty's lap."

"I had rather you asked more, or less," replied king Indra. "It is but a rose, yet it fell from heaven; nevertheless it is yours."

So saying, he threw the rose towards the musician, and lo! the petals fell in a shower on the ground. Sir Buzz went down on his knees and instantly gathered them up; but one petal escaping, changed into a mouse. Whereupon Sir Buzz, with the speed of lightning, turned into a cat, which caught and gobbled up the mouse.

Now all this time the Princess Blossom and the soldier's son, shivering and shaking, were awaiting the issue of the combat in the vampire's hut; when suddenly, with a bing! boom! Sir Buzz arrived victorious, shook his head, and said, "You two had better go home, for you are not fit to take care of yourselves."

Then he gathered together all the jewels and gold in one hand, placed the Princess and the soldier's son in the other, and whizzed away home, to where the poor mother -- who all this time had been living on the two shillings -- was delighted to see them. Then with a louder boom! bing! boom! than usual, Sir Buzz, without even waiting for thanks, whizzed out of sight, and was never seen or heard of again.

But the soldier's son and the Princess Blossom lived happily ever after.

---

Source: Flora Annie Steel, Tales of the Punjab: Told by the People (London and New York: Macmillan and Company, 1894), pp. 1-12.

The Blue Light

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

Once upon a time there was a soldier who had served the king loyally for many long years. When the war was over and the soldier could no longer serve because of the many wounds he had received, the king said to him, "You can go home now. I no longer need you. There will be no more money for you, because wages are only for those who earn them."

Because the soldier did not know how he could earn a living, he sadly walked the whole day long, until he came to a forest in the evening. As darkness fell he saw a light. He approached it and came to a little house, where a witch lived. "Give me a night's shelter and a little to eat and drink," he said to her, "otherwise I will perish."

"Oho!" she answered. "Who gives anything to a runaway soldier? But I will have pity and take you in after all, if you will do what I ask of you."

"What do you want?" asked the soldier.

"For you to dig up my garden tomorrow."

The soldier agreed, and the next day he worked with all his might, but could not finish before evening. "I see," said the witch, "that you can do no more work today. I will take you in for one more night if tomorrow you will cut up and split a stack of wood for me."

The soldier took the entire day to do this, and that evening the witch proposed that he remain a third night. "Tomorrow I have only a small task for you. Behind my house there is a dry well into which my light has fallen. It burns blue and never goes out. I want you to get it for me."

The next day the old woman led him to the well and lowered him down it in a basket. He found the blue light and gave a sign that she should pull him up again. And she did pull him up, but when he was close to the edge, she wanted to take the blue light from him. "No," he said, sensing her evil thoughts, "I shall not give you the light until I am standing on the ground with both feet."

Then the witch became furious, let him fall back into the well, and walked away. The poor soldier fell to the damp floor without being injured. The blue light continued to burn, but how could that help him? He saw that would not be able to escape death. He sadly sat there for a while. Then he happened to reach into his pocket and found his tobacco pipe, which was still half full. "This will be your last pleasure," he thought, pulled it out, lit it with the blue light, and began to smoke.

After the fumes had wafted about the cavern, suddenly there stood before him a little black dwarf, who said, "Master, what do you command?"

"Why should I command you?" replied the bewildered soldier.

"I must do everything that you demand," said the dwarf."

"Good," said the soldier, "then first help me out of this well."

The dwarf took him by the hand and led him through an underground passage, and he did not forget to take the blue light with him. Along the way he showed him the treasures that the witch had collected and hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he could carry. When he was above ground, he said to the dwarf, "Now go and bind the old witch and take her to the judge."

Not long afterward she came riding by on a tomcat as fast as the wind and screaming horribly. And not long after that the dwarf was back. "It is all taken care of," he said. "The witch is hanging on the gallows. Master, what do you command now?"

"Nothing at the moment," answered the soldier. "You can go home, but be ready when I call you."

"It is only necessary," said the dwarf, "for you to light your pipe with the blue light, and I will be with you." With that he disappeared before his very eyes.

The soldier returned to the city from which he had come. He moved into the best inn and had beautiful clothes made for himself. Then he told the innkeeper to furnish his room as luxuriously as possible. When it was finished he summoned the black dwarf and said, "I served the king loyally, but he sent me away to starve. For this I now want revenge."

"What am I to do?" asked the little man.

"Late this evening, when the king's daughter is lying in bed, bring her here to me in her sleep. She shall do maid service for me."

The dwarf said, "That is an easy thing for me, but a dangerous thing for you. If you are found out, it will not go well for you."

At the strike of twelve the door opened, and the dwarf carried the king's daughter in.

"Aha, is that you?" cried the soldier. "Get to work now! Go fetch the broom and sweep the room." When she was finished he called her to his chair, stuck his feet out at her, and said, "Pull off my boots," then threw them in her face, and she had to pick them up and clean them and make them shine. She did everything that he ordered her to do, without resisting, silently, and with half-closed eyes. At the first cock's crow, the dwarf carried her to the royal palace and back to her bed.

The next morning, after the king's daughter had gotten up, she went to her father and told him that she had had an amazing dream. "I was carried away through the streets as fast as lightning and taken to a soldier's room. I had to serve as his maid and wait on him and do common work, sweep the room, and clean his boots. It was only a dream, but still I am as tired as if I had really done it all."

"The dream could have been true," said the king. "I will give you some advice. Fill your pocket with peas, then make a small hole in your pocket. If you are carried away again, they will fall out and leave a track on the street."

As the king was thus speaking, the dwarf was invisibly standing nearby and heard everything.

That night when he once again carried the sleeping princess through the streets, a few peas did indeed fall out of her pocket, but they did not leave a track, because the cunning dwarf had already scattered peas in all the streets. And once again the king's daughter had to do maid service until the cock crowed.

The next morning the king sent his people out to look for the track, but it was to no end, for in all the streets there were poor children gathering peas and saying, "Last night it rained peas."

"We must think of something else," said the king. "Leave your shoes on when you go to bed, and before you return from there, hide one of them. I will be sure to find it."

The black dwarf overheard this proposal, and that evening when the soldier again wanted the king's daughter brought to him, the dwarf advised him against this, saying that he had no way to protect him against such trickery. If the shoe were to be found in his room, it would not go well with him.

"Do what I tell you," replied the soldier, and for a third night the king's daughter had to work like a maid. But before she was carried back, she hid a shoe under the bed.

The next morning the king had the entire city searched for the shoe, and it was found in the soldier's room. The soldier himself, following the little man's request, was already outside the city gate, but they soon overtook him and threw him into prison.

In his haste, he had forgotten to take along his most valuable things: the blue light and the gold. He had only one ducat in his pocket. Standing at the window of his prison and weighted down with chains, he saw one of his comrades walking by. He knocked on the glass, and as he walked by, he said, "Be so good and bring me the little bundle that I left at the inn. I'll give you a ducat for it."

The comrade ran forth and brought back the desired things. As soon as the soldier was alone again, he lit his pipe and summoned the black dwarf. "Have no fear," he said to his master. "Just go where they lead you, and let everything happen, but take the blue light with you."

The next day the soldier was tried, and although he had done nothing wrong, the judge still sentenced him to death. As he was being led out, he asked the king for one last wish.

"What sort of a wish?" asked the king.

"That I might smoke one more pipe on the way."

"You can smoke three," answered the king, "but do not think that I will let you live."

Then the soldier pulled out his pipe and lit it with the blue light. As soon as a few rings of smoke had risen, the dwarf was standing there. He had a cudgel in his hand and said, "What does my master command?"

"Strike the false judges and their henchmen to the ground for me. And don't spare the king either, who has treated me so badly."

Then the dwarf took off like lightning, zip-zap, back and forth, and everyone he even touched with his cudgel fell to the ground and did not dare to move. The king became afraid. He begged for mercy, and in order to save his life, he gave to the soldier his kingdom as well as his daughter for a wife.

---

• Source: Das blaue Licht, Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales), 7th ed. (Berlin, 1857), no. 116.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2008.

• The Grimms' source is not known.

• This tale, in a somewhat simpler version, was introduced to the Grimms' Kinder- und Hausmärchen in 1815 (1st ed., vol. 2, no. 30). Link to this version: Das blaue Licht (1815).

• Link to a file containing only an English translation of the 1857 version: The Blue Light (1857).

• Link to a file containing a side-by-side comparison of the versions of 1815 and 1857: The Blue Light (1815 and 1857).