The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of That Country Part 24

Sharpeye hid the box in his bosom, and crept back to his tree to wait the upshot of the affair. He saw the yellow moth fluttering round the apple-tree at the same time as the day before; but it waited much longer before settling on a branch which bore a large golden apple. Sharpeye immediately slid down from his tree, went up to the golden apple-tree, set a ladder against it, and climbed up carefully, so as not to scare the moth, and set each of his small weavers on separate branches. One spider was a few spans above the moth, a second to the right, and a third to the left, and then Sharpeye drew lines with his finger backwards and forwards round the moth, which sat motionless with raised wings. At sunset the watcher was back in his hiding-place in the tree, from whence he saw to his joy that his three weavers had woven a net round the moth on all sides, from which it could not hope to escape, if the magician possessed the power which he pretended. The man in the tree did his best to keep awake, but nevertheless his eyes closed all at once. How long he slept he knew not, but he was roused up by a great noise. When he looked round, he saw that the soldiers on guard were running about the apple-tree like ants, and shouting, and in the tree sat an old grey-bearded man with a golden apple in his hand in an iron net. Sharpeye jumped hastily from his tree, but before he reached the apple-tree the king himself arrived. He had sprung from his bed at the shouts of the guards, and hurried to see what unusual event was happening in the garden. There sat the thief in the tree, and could not get away. "Most n.o.ble king," said Sharpeye, "you can now go quietly to rest again, and sleep till to-morrow morning, for the thief cannot now escape us. If he was as strong again as he is, he could not break the magic meshes of his cage." The king thanked him, and ordered the greater part of the soldiers to retire to rest also, leaving only a few on guard under the tree. Sharpeye, who had kept watch for two nights and two days, also went away to sleep.

Next morning the magician went to the king's palace. He was glad when he saw the thief in the cage, and would not let him out till the fellow showed himself in his real form. At last he cut off half his beard under his chin, called for a light and began to singe the hairs.[9] Oh, how the bird in the iron cage suffered now! He shrieked pitifully and beat himself with pain, but the magician went on singeing fresh hairs to make the thief manageable. At last he said, "Confess who you are." The fellow answered, "I am the servant of the sorcerer Piirisilla,[10] who sent me here to steal." The magician began again to singe the hairs. "Ow! ow!"

shouted the sorcerer; "give me time and I will confess. I am not the servant, but the sorcerer's son." Again they singed his hairs, when the prisoner yelled out, "I'm the sorcerer Piirisilla himself." "Show yourself in your proper form or I'll singe you again," said the mighty magician. Then the little man in the cage began to expand, and grew in a few minutes to the size of an ordinary man, who could have carried off a golden apple easily. He was taken down from the tree in the cage, and asked where the stolen apples were hidden. He offered to show the place himself, but Sharpeye begged the king not to let the thief out of the cage, or he would become a moth again, and escape. They were obliged to singe his hair many times before he would give up all the stolen property; and at last, when all the golden apples had been recovered, the thief was burned in the cage, and his ashes scattered to the winds.

There was great rejoicing when the three brothers returned home at the end of the term agreed upon. Shortly afterwards, hearing that the daughter of a rich king in the North was destined as the bride of any one who could perform three wonderful feats, they set out to the court of her father.

The first feat was to watch a swift reindeer cow for a whole day, and bring her back to the stable at night; the second to bolt the palace door in the evening; and the third was to shoot an arrow straight through the middle of an apple, which a man, standing on the top of a high hill, held in his mouth by the stalk.

The three brothers were so much alike that as each could accomplish one of the feats only, they decided to personate the same man, which was not difficult, when they trimmed their beards to exactly the same pattern.

Swiftfoot went first to the king, and the princess peeped at him through the crack of the door, and fell in love with him, wis.h.i.+ng she could hobble the reindeer's feet that the handsome man might win her. However, he found that he was easily a match for the reindeer, though she could have run across the world in a single day. In the evening he brought the cow back to her stable, and after supper returned to his brothers.

Next day, Quickhand dressed himself up like his brother, and went to the court, where every one took him for Swiftfoot. The princess again peeped at him, and wished she could drive away the witch from the palace door.

This witch was accustomed to change herself into the iron door bar, and if any one climbed a ladder to close it, she would grasp his hand, and set the folding doors swinging backwards and forwards till morning, while the man swung helpless in her grasp. But Quickhand ordered an iron hand to be made,[11] which he heated red hot, and mounting the ladder, held it out to the witch, and shot the bolt at the moment that she grasped it; and the door remained bolted till the king rose in the morning. Quickhand spent that day with the king, and returned to his brothers in the evening.

Next day, Sharpeye went to the palace, and it was arranged that the shooting feat should come off on the following morning; and the princess declared that she would part with all she possessed to ensure his success. The man who held the apple on the mountain looked no bigger than a crow, and fearing for his own safety, did not hold the apple by the stalk, but in his mouth, thinking that the marksman would be more likely to shoot the arrow at a safe distance from him. But Sharpeye struck the apple precisely in the middle, carrying away a bit of flesh from each cheek of the holder with it.

Sharpeye declined the king's proposal to betroth him to his daughter immediately, and he returned to his brothers, when they rejoiced in their success like children, and then cast lots[12] for the princess.[13] The lot fell to Sharpeye, who married the princess, while his two brothers returned home, when they bought large estates and lived like princes.

The brothers are once spoken of as "Swedes," for what reason does not appear. Another story on similar lines is that of the Swift-footed Princess (Kreutzwald); but here the various feats, including the race against the princess, who will not marry unless she is worsted in a foot-race, are performed by the gifted servants in the train of the prince who seeks her in marriage.

[Footnote 7: The word used means a little girl or a doll; Lowe translates it "doll," which seems to be incorrect in this place.]

[Footnote 8: The G.o.d of Death.]

[Footnote 9: Combings or cuttings of hair are never burned or allowed to be blown about in the air in Esthonia, but carefully buried; otherwise the owner would suffer from violent headache.]

[Footnote 10: This word would have no apparent meaning as a proper name; but Lowe suggests that it might be a corruption of Virgilius, which, though not impossible, seems rather far fetched.]

[Footnote 11: Compare vol. i. p. 176.]

[Footnote 12: Their good faith and absence of envy is as conspicuous as in the case of the sons of Kalev (vol. i. p. 58).]

[Footnote 13: When the five Pandavas, the heroes of the Maha-Bharata, were returning victorious from an expedition during which Arjuna had won the princess Draupadi in a contest with the bow, their mother, hearing them coming, but not knowing what had happened, cried out, "Share equally what you have brought." Upon which it was arranged that she should become the joint wife of the five brother princes.]

THE IDIOT'S LUCK.

We find this form of the story of the despised younger son in the "Strange Tale of an Ox" (Kreutzwald). A dying father leaves an ox to his third son, a simpleton, who goes to sell it, and when pa.s.sing through a wood he hears a noise in a tree, and thinks it is an offer to buy the ox; so he ties it to the tree, and takes a log home with him as security for the money. Not receiving it when he expected, he breaks open the log, and finds a jar of money inside. He afterwards kills a shepherd who tries to cheat him out of it; and it is given out that the shepherd has been carried away by the devil.

THE MAGICIAN'S HEIRS.

(KREUTZWALD.)

The story of the traveller who appropriates the magical properties over which the sons of a dead magician are quarrelling is widely distributed, and frequently occurs as a mere incident in a story; as, for example, in that of Hasan of El Basrah in the _Thousand and One Nights_. In the Esthonian story of the "Dwarf's[14] Quarrel," the articles form the leading _motif_, but mixed up with details curiously resembling some Celtic fairy tales.

A man pa.s.sing through a wood came upon a small clearing, where he found three dwarfs beating, pus.h.i.+ng, kicking, and biting each other, and tearing each other's hair so that it was shocking to see them. They proved to be fighting over an old hat, composed of the parings of finger-nails[15], the wearer of which could see everything taking place in the world, whether near or far; a pair of bast shoes, which would carry the wearer anywhere at a step; and a stick which would demolish everything before it. Each of the dwarfs wanted to take all these articles, to go to a great wedding which was just taking place in Courland. The referee put on the hat, saw the wedding, and told the dwarfs to stand with their backs to him, when he demolished them with the stick, only three drops of water being left where they had been standing. Then he went to the wedding in Courland, where he found a great number of people a.s.sembled, both high and low, for the entertainer was a very rich householder.

As the wearer of the magic hat could see everything hidden as well as obvious, he saw when he lifted his eyes to the crossbeams[16] that there were a vast crowd of little guests both there and on the door-posts, who seemed to be far more numerous than the invited guests. But no one else could see the little people. Presently some of them began to whisper, "Look there; our old uncle's come to the feast too." "No," answered others, "it seems that this stranger has our uncle's hat, shoes, and stick, but uncle himself isn't here." Meantime, covered dishes were brought in for the feast. Then the stranger saw what n.o.body else could perceive, that the good food was abstracted from the dishes with wonderful quickness, and worse put in its place. It went just the same with the jugs and bottles. Then the stranger asked for the master of the house, greeted him politely, and said, "Don't be offended that I have come to the feast as an uninvited stranger." "You are welcome,"

returned the host. "We have plenty to eat and drink, so that we are not inconvenienced by a few uninvited guests." The stranger rejoined, "I can well believe that one or two uninvited guests would make no difference, but if the uninvited guests are far more numerous than those who are invited, the richest host may run short." "I don't understand you," said the host. The stranger gave him the hat, saying, "Put my hat on, and raise your eyes to the crossbeams, and then you'll see them." The host did so, and when he saw the tricks that the little guests were playing with the feast, he turned as pale as death, and cried out with a trembling voice, "Ah! my friend, my heart never dreamed of such guests; and now I've taken off your hat, they've all vanished. How can I ever get rid of them?" The owner of the hat returned, "I will soon rid you of these little guests, if you will ask the invited guests to step out for a short time, closing the doors and windows carefully, and taking care that no c.h.i.n.k or crack in the wall remains unstopped." Although the founder of the feast did not quite understand what he meant, he consented to the stranger's offer, and asked him to get rid of the little nuisances.

In a short time the room was cleared of all the invited guests, the doors, windows, and other openings were carefully closed, and the stranger was left alone with the little guests. Then he began to swing his cudgel towards the crossbeams and corners of the room so vigorously that it was a pleasure to behold. In a few moments the whole mob of little guests was annihilated, and as many drops of water were left on the floor as if it had been raining heavily. Only one auger-hole had been accidentally left unstopped, through which one of the dwarfs slipped out, although the cudgel might still have reached the fugitive.

He fled across the enclosure, bellowing, "Oh, oh, what a calamity! Many a time have I been terrified at the arrows of old father Pikne,[17] but they are nothing to this cudgel!"

When the host had convinced himself, by the aid of the magic hat, that the room was cleared of the dwarfs, he invited the guests to re-enter.

During the feast the omniscient man read the secret thoughts of the wedding-guests, and learned much which the others did not suspect. The bridegroom thought more of the wealth of his father-in-law than of his young wife; and she, who was not altogether faultless, hoped that her husband and her matron's cap would protect her from scandal. It's a great pity that such a hat is no longer to be met with in our times.

[Footnote 14: The Esthonian term is peculiar. "Ox-knee people"--_i.e._, people as tall as an ox's knee.]

[Footnote 15: Compare the _Kalevipoeg_, Cantos 13 and 14.]

[Footnote 16: Compare Croker's Irish story of "Master and Man."]

[Footnote 17: The Thunder-G.o.d.]

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

Stories of the Man in the Moon are generally common. In Esthonia it is generally the Woman in the Moon, as may be seen in the two beautiful legends of Videvik, and of the Maiden at the Vaskjalla Bridge. The short legend which follows these resembles that in the Prose Edda relative to two children carrying a bucket (Jack and Jill?) who were taken to himself by the Moon. The story of the Moon-Painter might have been inserted here; but it seemed to come in more appropriately in another place.

We meet with sons and daughters of the Sun and Moon among the Finns and Lapps, as well as among the Esthonians.

VIDEVIK, KOIT, AND aMARIK[18]

(_Twilight, Dawn, and Evening Twilight_).

The Creator had three diligent servants--two fair and lovely maidens, Videvik and amarik, and the slender youth Koit. They fulfilled his orders and looked after his affairs. One evening at sunset, Videvik, the eldest, came back from ploughing with her oxen, and led them to the river to drink. But maidens are always accustomed to think first of their own bright faces, and so was it with the charming Videvik. She thought no more of the oxen, but stepped to the water's edge and looked down. And behold, her brown eyes and red cheeks looked back upon her from the surface of the stream, and her heart beat with pleasure. But the Moon, whom the Creator had ordered to take the place of the setting sun to enlighten the world, forgot his duty, and hurried down to the earth to the bed of the stream. Here he stayed with Videvik, mouth to mouth and lip to lip.

But while the Moon thus forgot his duty, his light became extinguished, and thick darkness covered the land as he lay on Videvik's heart. And now a great misfortune happened. The wolf, the wild beast of the forest, who could work mischief when no eye could see him, attacked one of Videvik's oxen and tore him to pieces. The nightingale sang loudly through the dark thicket, "Idle maid, idle maid, long is the night.

Black stripes to the yoke, to the yoke! Bring the whip, bring the whip, whip, whip, whip." But Videvik heard nothing. She had forgotten everything but her love.

Early in the morning, when Koit rose from his couch, Videvik awakened at last from her dream of love. When she saw the evil deed that the wolf had wrought, she began to weep bitterly. But the tears of her innocent affliction were not hidden from the Creator. He descended from his heaven to punish the evil-doer and to bring the criminal to justice. He dealt out severe punishment to the wolf, and yoked him high in heaven with the ox, to draw water for ever, driven by the iron rod of the pole-star.[19] But to Videvik he said, "As the Moon has touched thee with the light of his beauty and has wooed thee, I will forgive thee, and if thou lovest him from thy heart, I will not hinder you, and you shall be wedded. But from thee, Videvik, I look for faithful watch and vigilance that the Moon begins his course at the right time, and that deep darkness falls no more on earth at night, when the evil powers can work mischief at their pleasure. Rule over the night, and take care that a happy peace prevails in its course."

Thus the moon received Videvik as his wife. Her friendly countenance still smiles down upon us, and is reflected in the mirror of the brook, where she first enjoyed the love of her consort.