Roumanian Fairy Tales
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Various >> Roumanian Fairy Tales
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14 ROUMANIAN FAIRY TALES
_COLLECTED_
BY
MITE KREMNITZ.
_ADAPTED AND ARRANGED_
BY
J. M. PERCIVAL
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1885
COPYRIGHT, 1885,
BY
HENRY HOLT & CO.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
This collection contains translations of Roumanian tales which,
however, comprise but a small portion of the inexhaustible treasure
that exists in the nation. The originals are scattered throughout
Roumanian literature. The finest collection is Herr P. Ispirescu's,
from which the stories numbered in the contents 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12,
13, and 17 in the present volume have been selected. No. 11 is taken
from Herr T. M. Arsenie's small collection; the others have been drawn
from the columns of the periodical _Convorbiri Literare_. Of these
Nos. 5 and 14 are by the pen of Herr J. Creanga, No. 9 is the work of
Herr Miron Pompilin, while Nos. 1, 3, 7, 16 and 18 are by Herr
Slavice, who wrote No. 15 specially for this volume, in the Roumanian
language, just as it was related to him by the peasants.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
1. STAN BOLOVAN
2. THE WONDERFUL BIRD
3. THE TWINS WITH THE GOLDEN STAR
4. YOUTH WITHOUT AGE AND LIFE WITHOUT DEATH
5. THE LITTLE PURSE WITH TWO HALF-PENNIES
6. MOGARZEA AND HIS SON
7. CUNNING ILEANE
8. THE PRINCESS AND THE FISHERMAN
9. LITTLE WILD-ROSE
10. THE VOICE OF DEATH
11. THE OLD WOMAN AND THE OLD MAN
12. THE PEA EMPEROR
13. THE MORNING STAR AND THE EVENING STAR
14. THE TWO STEP-SISTERS
15. THE POOR BOY
16. MOTHER'S DARLING JACK
17. TELLERCHEN
18. THE FAIRY AURORA
* * * * *
Stan Bolovan.
Once upon a time, something happened. If it hadn't happened, it
wouldn't be told.
At the edge of the village, where the peasants' oxen break through the
hedges and the neighbors' hogs wallow in the ground under the fences,
there once stood a house. In this house lived a man, and the man had a
wife; but the wife grieved all day long.
"What troubles you, dear wife, that you sit there drooping like a
frost-bitten bud in the sunlight?" her husband asked one day. "You
have all you need. So be cheerful, like other folks."
"Let me alone, and ask no more questions!" replied the wife, and
became still more melancholy than before.
Her husband questioned her the second time, and received the same
reply. But, when he asked again, she answered more fully.
"Dear me," she said, "why do you trouble your head about it? If you
know, you'll be just sorrowful as I am. It's better for me not to tell
you."
But, to this, people will never agree. If you tell a person he must
sit still, he is more anxious to move than ever. Stan was now
determined to know what was in his wife's mind.
"If you are determined to hear, I'll tell you," said the wife.
"There's no luck in the house, husband,--there's no luck in the
house!"
"Isn't the cow a good one? Are not the fruit-trees and bee-hives full?
Are not the fields fertile?" asked Stan. "You talk nonsense, if you
complain of any thing."
"But, husband, we have no children."
Stan understood; and, when a man realizes such a thing, it isn't well.
From this time, a sorrowful man and a sorrowful woman lived in the
house on the edge of the village. And they were sorrowful because the
Lord had given them no children. When the wife saw her husband sad,
she grew still more melancholy; and the more melancholy she was, the
greater his grief became.
This continued for a long time.
They had masses repeated and prayers read in all the churches. They
questioned all the witches, but God's gift did not come.
One day, two travelers arrived at Stan's house, and were joyfully
received and entertained with the best food he had. They were angels
in disguise; and, perceiving that Stan and his wife were good people,
one of them, while throwing his knapsack over his shoulder to continue
his journey, asked his host what he most desired, and said that any
three of his wishes should be fulfilled.
"Give me children," replied Stan.
"What else shall I give you?"
"Children, sir, give me children!"
"Take care," said the angel, "or there will be too many of them. Have
you enough to support them?"
"Never mind that, sir,--only give them to me!"
The travelers departed; but Stan accompanied them as far as the
high-road, that they might not lose their way among the fields and
woods.
When Stan reached home again, he found the house, yard, and garden
filled with children, in all not less than a hundred. Not one was
larger than the other; but each was more quarrelsome, bolder, more
mischievous and noisier than the rest. And, in some way, God made Stan
feel and know that they all belonged to him and were his.
"Good gracious! What a lot of them!" he cried, standing in the midst
of the throng.
"But not too many, husband," replied his wife, bringing a little flock
with her.
Then followed days which can only be experienced by a man who has a
hundred children. The house and village echoed with shouts of "father"
and "mother," and the world was full of happiness.
But taking care of children isn't so simple a matter. Many pleasures
come with many troubles, and many troubles with many joys. When, after
a few days, the children began to shout, "Father, I'm hungry!" Stan
began to scratch his head. There did not seem to him to be too many
children, for God's gift is good, however large it may be; but his
barns were too small, the cow was growing thin, and the fields did
not produce enough.
"I'll tell you what, wife," said Stan one day, "it seems to me that
there isn't much harmony in our affairs. As God was good enough to
give us so many children, He ought to have filled the measure of His
goodness, and sent us food for them, too."
"Search for it, husband," the wife answered. "Who knows where it may
be concealed? The Lord never does a thing by halves."
Stan went out into the wide world to find God's gift. He was firmly
resolved to return home laden with food.
Aha! The road of the hungry is always a long one. A man doesn't earn
food for a hundred greedy children in a trice. Stan wandered on, on,
on, till he had fairly run himself off his feet. When he had thus
arrived nearly at the end of the world, where what is mixes with what
is not, he saw in the distance, in the middle of a field which lay
spread out as flat as a cake, a sheep-fold. By it stood seven
shepherds, and in the shadow within lay a flock of sheep.
"Lord, help me," said Stan, and went up to the fold to see whether, by
patience and discretion, he might not find some employment there. But
he soon discovered that there was not much more hope here than in the
other places whither he had journeyed. This was the state of affairs:
every night, at precisely twelve o'clock, a furious dragon came and
took from the herd a ram, a sheep, and a lamb, three animals in all.
He also carried milk enough for seventy-seven lambkins to the old
she-dragon, that she might bathe in it and grow young. The shepherds
were very angry about it, and complained bitterly. So Stan saw that he
was not likely to return home from here richly laden with food for his
children.
But there is no spur more powerful than for a man to see his children
starving. An idea entered Stan's head, and he said boldly, "What would
you give me, if I released you from the greedy dragon?"
"One of each three rams shall be yours, one-third of the sheep, and
one-third of the lambs," replied the shepherds.
"Agreed," said Stan; yet he felt rather anxious, lest he might find it
too hard to drive the flock home alone.
But there was no hurry about that. It was some time before midnight.
And besides, to tell the truth, Stan did not exactly know how he was
to get rid of the dragon. "The Lord will send me some clever plan," he
said to himself, and then counted the flock again to see how many
animals he would have.
Just at midnight, when day and night, weary of strife, for a moment
stood still, Stan felt that he was about to see something he had never
beheld before. It was something that can not be described. It is a
horrible thing to have a dragon come. It seemed as if the monster was
hurling huge rocks at the trees, and thus forcing a way through
primeval forests. Even Stan felt that he should be wise to take the
quickest way off, and enter into no quarrel with a dragon. Ah! but his
children at home were starving.
"I'll kill you or you shall kill me!" Stan said to himself, and
remained where he was, close by the sheep-fold.
"Stop!" he cried, when he saw the dragon near the fold; and he shouted
as though he was a person of importance.
"H'm," said the dragon: "where did you come from, that you screech at
me so?"
"I am Stan Bolovan, who at night devours rocks and by day grazes on
the trees of the primeval forests; and if you touch the flock, I'll
cut a cross on your back, and bathe you in holy water."
When the dragon heard these words, he stopped in the midst of his
career; for he saw that he had found his match.
"But you must first fight with me," replied the dragon, hesitatingly.
"_I_ fight with you?" cried Stan. "Beware of the words that have
escaped your lips. My breath is stronger than your whole body." Then,
taking from his knapsack a piece of white cheese, he showed it to the
dragon. "Do you see this stone?" he said. "Pick one up from the bank
of yonder stream, and we'll try our strength."
The dragon took a stone from the shore of the brook.
"Can you squeeze buttermilk out of the stone?" asked Stan.
The dragon crushed the stone in his hand, so that he crumbled it into
powder. But he squeezed no buttermilk from it.
"It can't be done," he said rather angrily.
"I'll show you whether it can be done," replied Stan, and then
squeezed the soft cheese in his hand, till the buttermilk trickled
down between his fingers.
When the dragon saw this, he began to look about him to find the
shortest road to run away; but Stan placed himself before the forest.
"Let us have a little reckoning about what you have taken from the
fold," he said. "Nothing is given away here."
The poor dragon would have taken flight, if he hadn't been afraid that
Stan might blow behind him, and bury him under the trees in the
forest. So he stood still, like a person who doesn't know what else to
do.
"Listen!" he said, after a while. "I see that you are a useful man. My
mother has long been looking for a servant like you, but has not been
able to find one. Enter our service. The year has three days, and each
day's wages is seven sacks of ducats!"
Three times seven sacks of ducats! A fine business! That was just what
Stan needed. "And," he thought, "if I've outwitted the dragon, I can
probably get the better of his mother!" So he didn't waste many words
about the matter, but set off with the monster. A long, rough road;
but still it was too short, since it led to a bad end. It seemed to
Stan as if he had arrived almost before he started.
The old she-dragon, old as Time itself, was waiting for them. She had
made a fire under the huge caldron, in which she meant to boil the
milk and mix it with the blood of a lamb and the marrow from its
bones, that the liquid might have healing power. Stan saw her eyes
glistening in the darkness when they were still three gun-shots off.
But, when they reached the spot and the she-dragon perceived that her
son had brought her nothing, she was very angry. This she-dragon was
by no means lovable. She had a wrinkled face, open jaws, tangled hair,
sunken eyes, parched lips, and a breath reeking with the smell of
onions.
"Stay here," said the dragon. "I'll go and make arrangements with my
mother."
Stan would willingly have stood still further off, but he had no
choice now that he had once entered upon this evil business. So he let
the dragon go on.
"Listen, mother!" said the dragon, when he had entered the house.
"I've brought you a man to get rid of. He's a terrible fellow, who
eats pieces of rock and squeezes buttermilk out of stones." Then he
told her what had happened.
"Just leave him to me," she said, after hearing the whole story. "No
man ever slipped through _my_ fingers."
So the matter remained as it had first been settled. Stan Bolovan
became the servant of this monster and his mother. A terrible fix! I
really don't know what will come of it.
The next day, the she-dragon gave him his task. They were to give a
signal to the dragon world with a club sheathed in seven thicknesses
of iron. The dragon raised the club and hurled it three miles, then he
set off with Stan, that he might also throw it three miles, or, if
possible, further still. When Stan reached the club, he began to look
at it rather anxiously. He saw that he and all his children together
could not even lift it from the ground.
"Why are you standing there?" asked the dragon.
"Why, you see, it's such a handsome club. I'm sorry," replied Stan.
"Sorry? Why?" inquired the dragon.
"Because," answered Stan, "I'm afraid you'll never see it again in
your whole life, if I throw it; for I know my own strength."
"Don't fear. Just throw it," replied the dragon.
"If you really mean it, we'll first go and get provisions enough to
last three days; for we shall have to travel at least three days, if
not longer, to get it."
These words frightened the dragon, but he did not yet believe that it
would be so bad as Stan said. So they went home for the provisions,
though he wasn't at all pleased with the idea of having Stan serve his
year in merely going after the club. When they got back again to it,
Stan sat down on the bag of provisions and became absorbed in staring
at the moon.
"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.
"Only waiting for the moon to sail by."
"Why?"
"Don't you see that the moon is directly in my way?" said Stan. "Or do
you want me to fling the club into the moon?"
The dragon now began to be seriously anxious. It was a club that had
descended to him from his ancestors, and he wouldn't have liked to
lose it in the moon.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "Don't throw the club. I'll do it
myself."
"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan. "Only wait till the moon
passes by."
Then a long conversation followed; for Stan would not consent to have
the dragon throw the club again, except on the promise of seven sacks
of ducats.
"Oh, dear! mother, he's a tremendously strong man," said the dragon.
"I could scarcely prevent him from throwing the club into the moon."
The she-dragon began to be anxious, too. Just think of it! Would it be
a joke to have a person able to throw any thing into the moon? She was
a she-dragon of true dragon blood, however, and the next day had
thought of a still harder task.
"Bring some water," she said early in the morning, and gave each
twelve buffalo skins, ordering them to fill them by evening, and fetch
them all home at once.
They went to the well; and, before one could wink, the dragon had
filled the twelve skins, and was in the act of carrying them back.
Stan was tired, he had scarcely been able to drag the empty skins
along. A chill ran through his veins, when he thought of the full
ones. What do you suppose he did? He pulled a worn-out knife blade
from his belt, and began to scratch the earth around the well with it.
"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.
"I'm not a blockhead, that I should go to the labor of filling the
skins with water," replied Stan.
"But how will you carry the water to the house, then?"
"How? Just as you see," said Stan. "I'm going to take the well, you
goose!"
The dragon stood with his mouth wide-open in amazement. He wouldn't
have had this done on any account, for the well was one that had
belonged to his ancestors.
"I'll tell you," he said anxiously, "let me carry your skins home,
too."
"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan, digging on around the
well.
Now, another long discussion followed; and this time, too, the dragon
could only persuade Stan by promising him seven sacks of ducats.
On the third day, that is the last one, the she-dragon sent them into
the forest for wood.
Before one could count three, the dragon tore up more trees than Stan
had ever seen before in his whole life, and piled them up together.
But Stan began to examine the trees, chose the very finest, climbed up
into one and tied its top with a wild grape-vine to the next. So,
without saying a word, he continued to fasten one splendid tree to
another.
"What are you doing there?" asked the dragon.
"You see what I am doing," replied Stan, working quietly on.
"Why are you tying the trees together?"
"Why, to save myself unnecessary work in pulling them up one by one,"
said Stan.
"But how are you going to carry them home?"
"I shall take the whole forest, you goose! Can't you understand that?"
said Stan, continuing to fasten them together.
The dragon now felt as if he wanted to take to his heels, and never
stop until he reached home.
But he was afraid that he should suddenly find Stan pulling the whole
forest down on his head.
This time, as it was the end of the year's service, it seemed as if
the discussion would never cease. Stan did not want to listen at all,
but had set his mind upon flinging the forest on his back at any rate.
"I'll tell you what," said the dragon, trembling with fear, "your
wages shall be seven times seven sacks of ducats. Content yourself
with that."
"Well, be it so, as I see you are a good fellow," replied Stan, and
agreed that the dragon should carry the wood for him.
The year was now over. Stan was anxious only about one things--how he
was to drag so many ducats home.
In the evening, the dragon and his mother sat talking together in
their room; but Stan listened in the entry.
"Woe betide us!" said the dragon: "this fellow upsets us terribly.
Give him money, even more than he has, only let us get rid of him."
Ah, yes! but the she-dragon cared for money.
"Let me tell you one thing," she said: "you must kill this man
to-night."
"I am afraid of him, mother," he answered in terror.
"Have no fear," replied his mother. "When you see that he is asleep,
take your club and strike him in the middle of the forehead."
So it was agreed. Ah, yes! but Stan always had a bright idea at the
right time. When he saw that the dragon and his mother had put out the
light, he took the pig's trough, and laid it bottom upward in his
place, covered it carefully with a shaggy coat, and lay down himself
under the bed, where he began to snore like a person who is sound
asleep.
The dragon went out softly, approached the bed, raised his club, and
struck one blow on the spot where Stan's head ought to have been. The
trough sounded hollow, Stan groaned, and the dragon tiptoed back
again.
Stan then crept out from under the bed, cleaned it, and lay down, but
was wise enough not to close an eye all night long.
The dragon and his mother were rigid with amazement when they saw Stan
come in the next morning as sound as an egg.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning; but how did you sleep last night?"
"Very well," replied Stan. "Only I dreamed that a flea bit me just
here on the forehead, and it seems as if it still pained me."
"Just listen to that, mother!" cried the dragon. "Did you hear? He
talks about a flea, and I hit him with my club!"
This was too much for the she-dragon. She perceived that it isn't
worth while to argue with such people. So they hastened to fill his
sacks, in order to get rid of him as quickly as possible. But poor
Stan now began to perspire. When he stood beside the bags, he trembled
like an aspen leaf, because he was unable to lift even one of them
from the ground. So he stood staring at them.
"Why are you standing there?" asked the dragon.
"H'm! I'm waiting," replied Stan, "because I would rather stay with
you another year. I'm ashamed to have any body see me carry away so
little at one time. I'm afraid people will say, 'Look at Stan Bolovan,
who in one year has grown as weak as a dragon.'"
Now, it was the two dragons' turn to be frightened.
They vainly told him that they would give him seven--nay, three times
seven or even seven times seven--sacks of ducats, if he would only go
away.
"I'll tell you what," said Stan, at last. "As I see you don't want to
keep me, I won't force you to do so. Have it your own way. I'll go.
But, that I need not be ashamed before the people, you must carry this
treasure home for me."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the dragon picked up
the sacks and set off with Stan.
Short and smooth, yet always too long, is the road that leads home.
But, when Stan found himself close to his house, and heard his
children's shouts, he began to walk slower. It seemed too near; for he
was afraid that, if the dragon knew where he lived, he might come to
take away the treasure. Only he was puzzled to find any way of
carrying his money home alone.
"I really don't know what to do," he said, turning to the dragon. "I
have a hundred hungry children, and fear you may fare badly among
them, because they are very fond of fighting. But just behave
sensibly, and I'll protect you as well as I can."
A hundred children! That's no joke! The dragon--though a dragon of
dragon race--let the bags fall in his fright. But, from sheer terror,
he picked them up again. Yet his fear did not gain the mastery till
they entered the court-yard. When the hungry children saw their father
coming with the loaded dragon, they rushed toward him, each one with a
knife in the right hand and a fork in the left. Then they all began to
whet the knives on the forks, shrieking at the top of their lungs, "We
want dragon meat!"
This was enough to scare Satan himself. The dragon threw down the
sacks, and then took to flight, so frightened that since that time he
has never dared to come back to the world.
The Wonderful Bird.
Once upon a time, something happened. If it had not happened, it would
not be told.
There was a good, pious emperor, who had three sons. Among many other
benefits bestowed upon the inhabitants of his empire he built a
church, about which marvelous stories were told, for he adorned it
with gold, precious stones and every thing the workmen of that country
regarded as beautiful and valuable. Within and in front of this church
were numbers of marble columns, and it was supplied with the finest
paintings, silver chandeliers, huge silver lamps, and the rarest
books. The more the emperor rejoiced in its beauty, the more sorrowful
he felt that he could not finish it, for the steeple continually fell
down.
"How is it that this sacred church can not be completed?" he asked. "I
have spent all my property and it is not yet done." So he ordered a
proclamation to be sent throughout the empire, stating that any
architect who could finish the church steeple would receive great
gifts and honors. Besides this, a second proclamation was issued,
commanding prayers to be read and services held in all the churches,
that God might take pity on him and send him a good architect. The
third night the monarch dreamed that if any one would fetch the
wonderful bird from the other shore and put its nest in the steeple,
the church could be finished. He told this dream to his sons, and they
vied with each other in offering to set out and devote themselves to
their imperial father's service.
The emperor replied: "I see, my sons, that you all desire to fulfill
your duty to God, but you can't all three go at once. My oldest son
shall set out first, if he does not succeed, the second one, and so on
until the Lord takes pity upon us."
The younger sons silently submitted; the oldest one made his
preparations for the journey. He traveled as best he could, and when
he had passed the frontiers of his father's empire, found himself in a
beautiful grove. After lighting a fire he stood waiting until his food
was cooked. Suddenly he saw a fox, which begged him to tie up his
hound, give it a bit of bread and a glass of wine, and let it rest by
his fire. Instead of granting the request the prince released the
hound, which instantly pursued the animal, whereupon the fox, by a
magic spell, transformed the emperor's son into a block of stone.
When the sovereign saw that his oldest son did not return, he listened
to the entreaties of his second son, and gave him permission to set
forth to find the wonderful bird. After making his preparations and
taking some provisions with him, this prince also departed. On the
spot where his brother had been turned to stone, the same thing
happened to him, because he also refused the fox's entreaties, and
tried to catch it, to get its skin.
The emperor grew very thoughtful, when after a long time his sons
failed to return, either with or without the wonderful bird.
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