The Grateful Dead Part 6

The three other variants with the simple theme are all folk-tales of recent gathering. The first of them is Jewish, [38] which runs as follows: The son of a rich merchant of Jerusalem sets off after his father's death to see the world. At Stamboul he finds hanging in chains the body of a Jew, which the Sultan has commanded to be left there until his co-religionists shall have repaid the sum that the man is suspected of having stolen from his royal master. The hero pays this sum, and has the corpse buried. Later during a storm at sea he is saved by a stone on which he is brought to land, whence he is carried by an eagle back to Jerusalem. There a white-clad man appears to him, explaining that he is the ghost of the dead, and that he has already appeared as stone and eagle. The spirit further promises the hero a reward for his good deed in the present and in the future life.

The second variant is the Annamite tale. Two poor students were friends. One died and was buried by the other, whose fidelity was such that he remained three years by the tomb. He dreamed that his friend came to him and said that he should gain the t.i.tle of trang nguyen. So he built a chapel by the tomb, where the dead friend often appeared to him. When the king heard of his loyalty, he was praised and rewarded with a t.i.tle. After his death the two friends appeared to their son and daughter, bidding them marry. [39]

The third story is Servian VI. An uncle of Adam, who honoured G.o.d and the "Vile," [40] was so good a man that G.o.d came to him in human form one day. After a battle between the good and evil in the world, the latter would not bury the slain. The Vile told Tuegut that this would not do, so he hitched up his wagon and carried the slain to their graves. Then G.o.d came to earth, told him to put all he possessed in his wagon, and carried him on a cloud to heaven, where he was made the constellation now called Driver Tuegut's Heavenly Wagon.

Of these three tales the Annamite does not fulfil the usual condition that the dead man shall be a stranger to the one who does the good action. Together with Simonides, all of them vary widely in the reward given the hero. In Simonides he is warned against embarkation, and thus saved from shipwreck; in the Jewish he is actually rescued from a storm-tossed vessel by the ghost, which masquerades as a rock and an eagle, and afterward promises him further rewards here and hereafter; in the Annamite he is provided with earthly glory; and in Servian VI. he becomes a part of the galaxy of heaven. Only the underlying idea is the same,--that the burial of the dead is a pious act and a sacred duty, which will meet a fitting reward. [41] This belief is so widespread and ancient that it is not difficult to surmise how stories inculcating the duty might have grown up independently in many lands. At the same time, the very diversity of reward in these simple tales allies them to one or another of the compound types, which, though multiform and widespread, are yet unmistakably the offspring of a single parent form, or better, of a chance union between two motives. [42] Thus Simonides and Jewish recall the combination of The Grateful Dead with The Ransomed Woman, since they have the hero rescued from drowning by the ghost, and they suggest one point of union between the two themes. It therefore seems best to include them in our list, not only for the sake of completeness, but because they point to the reason which sometime and somewhere gave rise to a more developed form of the motive,--to the marchen as we shall study it. A consideration of these basal principles can be undertaken, however, only after the story theme in its various ramifications and modifications has been thoroughly discussed.

The probability that The Grateful Dead once existed in a simple, uncompounded form, which became the parent on one side of the more important combined types, is strengthened by the minor compounds in which it is found. How can the correspondences of detail seen in a considerable number of different compounds, as far as they run parallel, be otherwise explained? Surely it is more reasonable to believe in the existence of such a parent form than to suppose that an originally complicated form was hacked and hewn asunder to produce new compounds. This will become clearer, I hope, as we proceed.

In Greek, a boy was sold to a pasha, who betrothed him to his daughter. Because of the mother's objections, however, he was sent away as a shepherd, while the girl was promised to another pasha's son. The hero fed his flock under the shelter of the castle, and was summoned by the maiden, who gave him her betrothal ring in a beaker, though pretending not to know him. The next day she asked her parents to let the two suitors go into the world with a thousand piasters apiece, and see which came back with the most money. So they were sent forth. The pasha's son remained in a city enjoying his money, while the shepherd went on till he met an old man, to whom he told his story. The man gave him a thousand piasters more, and told him to buy an ape in a town hard by. He succeeded in doing this, and brought the ape back to the old man, who cut it in pieces, much to the youth's disgust, and made eye-salve of the brain. With this he sent the hero away after exacting a promise of half of what was obtained. The youth won a thousand piasters by curing the blind, and later a great sum, besides thirty ships, by healing a very rich man. With this wealth he returned to the old man, and with him to the city where the pasha's son had sojourned. The latter agreed to let the shepherd's seal be burned on his arm in return for the payment of his debts; but, while the hero and the old man sailed home, he rode fast by land with the story that his rival was dead. The shepherd arrived at home just in time for his rival's wedding, and at the end of it showed the bride her ring. She recognized her lover, called her parents, and, after the hero had told his story and proved it by the seal on his rival's arm, married him. That night the old man knocked on the door of their chamber, and demanded that the bride be divided. According to his promise, the hero prepared to cut her in twain, when the intruder said that he wished only to test his fidelity, explaining that he was G.o.d, Who had taken him under His protection because his father had sold him in order to keep the lamp burning in honour of his saint.

In this variant the elements of The Grateful Dead have been merged with a story about how a young man of low birth won a princess by overcoming another suitor in spite of the treachery of the latter. As I have met with but one example of this, from Lesbos, [43] I will summarize it briefly. A princess becomes enamoured of the son of her father's gardener, and refuses to marry the son of the first minister. So the two suitors are sent out to a far country with the understanding that the one who returns first shall have the princess. On the way the gardener's son helps an old beggar-woman, whom his rival has spurned, and is told by her how to cure a sick king (by boiling him and sprinkling him with a certain powder). For this service the youth obtains a ring of bronze, which has the virtue of giving whatever its possessor desires. By means of this he gets a wonderful ship, and sails to the city where the minister's son, through extravagance, has fallen into poverty. He provides him with a wretched ship, in which to return home, on condition that he may mark him with his ring. The minister's son reaches home in his crazy vessel, and is about to marry the princess, when the hero appears on his beautiful ship of gold, exposes his rival, and weds the lady. The remainder of the story, which tells how the magical ring was lost and afterward recovered, does not concern us. It will be seen that Greek has preserved only the later part of The Grateful Dead at all clearly, though that combination with a tale of the type of the Lesbian narrative has actually taken place is evident from the part which the helper plays. He not only obtains a promise of division, but calls for its fulfilment. His first appearance is, however, quite unmotivated, while the old woman of the Lesbian story serves the purpose, according to a common formula, of showing the hero's kindness in contrast to his rival's hard heart. The point common to the two tales, which led to their combination, is without doubt this helping friend.

In Servian V. a youth on a journey pays his all to rescue a debtor from hanging. By his new-found friend the youth is led to the wondrous Vilaberg, where he is left with the admonition that he must not speak. He disobeys, and is made dumb and blind by an enchantress; but he is cured by the man whom he rescued, who plays on a pipe and gives him a healing draught. So he dwells for some years in the mountain with one of the ladies as his wife, but afterward goes home, though every summer he returns to his friends in the Vilaberg.

Here we have our theme combined with a form of The Swan-Maiden, [44] which occurs in only one other case, as far as I am able to discover. The reason for the combination is not far to seek. The latter part of the tale represents the reward of the rescuer by the rescued. That the benefit does not take the form of actual burial need not disturb us. The man was at least far gone towards death, and he was a debtor--a trait found in about two-thirds of the variants known to me. Moreover, the supernatural character of the comrade is indicated by the adventure into which he leads the youth. The tale has been partly rationalised, that is all.

Esthonian I. [45] shows a different combination, which is unique as far as I know. In a gorge not far from the village of Arukala (near Wesenberg) a howling was heard every night for years. Finally a bold man went by night to the place and found the skeleton of a murdered king, which told him that it had howled thus for a hundred years because it had not been buried with holy rites. The next day the man took the bones to a priest, and, while burying them, discovered an enormous treasure.

As Schiefner said, [46] when he first printed the story, it recalls the Grimms' Der singende Knochen, [47] which in turn is a compound of The Water of Life, with the idea of murder discovered by means of a dead man's bones. The Esthonian tale has, however, only the latter circ.u.mstance, combined with a simple form of The Grateful Dead. The hero's reward is immediate--he finds gold in the earth while digging the grave; and the ghost does not appear. The variant is thus of no great significance.

The group of tales that must next be considered furnishes rather more important evidence as to the development of the theme. It is a compound of The Grateful Dead with the motive which we may call The Spendthrift Knight. As far as I know, the type is purely mediaeval. The group includes Richars, Lion de Bourges, Dianese, Old Swedish, Rittertriuwe, and Sir Amadas.

The plot of Richars, as far as it concerns us, runs thus: Richars, in the pursuit of knightly exercises, wastes all his father's property as lord of Mangorie. When he hears that the King of Montorgueil has promised the hand of his daughter to the victor in a tourney, he is sad at the thought of his inability to engage. Through the generosity of a provost, however, he is enabled to set out with a horse, three attendants, and a supply of gold. At the city of Osteriche he spends part of his money in giving a great feast. In the roof of the house where he stays he is astonished to see a corpse lying on two beams, and he learns that it is the body of a knight, who died owing the householder three thousand pounds. Richars gives everything he has, even to his armour, to secure the release and burial of the dead man. He then proceeds to the tourney on a poor horse that his host gives him, and quite alone, since his attendants have deserted him. On the way he is joined by a White Knight, who offers him help in the tourney and places at his disposal his n.o.ble steed. Richars wins the tourney and obtains the hand of the Princess Rose. He now offers the White Knight his choice of the lady or the property. The stranger, however, refuses any division, explains that he is the ghost of the indebted knight, and disappears. [48]

Lion de Bourges runs thus: Lion, son of Duke Harpin de Bourges, was found by a knight in a lion's den and reared as his son. When he grew up, he wasted his foster-father's property in chivalry. Finally, he heard that King Henry of Sicily had promised the hand of his daughter to the knight who should win a tourney that he had established. So Lion started for the court, and on the way ransomed the body of a knight, which he found hanging in the smoke, on account of unpaid debts. At Montluisant the hero won the favour of the Princess Florentine, and, before the tourney, obtained from a White Knight the charger which he still lacked, on condition of sharing his winnings, the princess excepted. With the help of this knight Lion was victorious and obtained the princess. He was then asked by his helper to give up either the lady or the whole kingdom, and did not hesitate to do the latter. At this, the stranger explained that he was the ghost of the ransomed knight and disappeared, though he afterwards returned to a.s.sist the hero at need.

According to Dianese, [49] the knight of that name has wasted his substance. When he hears that the King of Chornualglia (Cornwall) has promised his daughter and half of his kingdom to the knight who wins the tourney that he has called, Dianese gets his friends to fit him out and sets forth. On the way he pa.s.ses through a town where the traffic is diverted from the main street because of a corpse which has long been lying on a bier before a church. He learns that it is the body of a knight, who cannot be buried till his creditors have been paid. At the cost of everything he possesses, save his horse, the hero satisfies the creditors and has the knight buried. When he has gone on two miles, he is joined by a merchant, who promises him money, horses, and weapons if he will give in return half of what he wins in the tourney. Dianese agrees, is fitted out anew, and succeeds in overcoming all comers in the contest. Thus he obtains the hand of the princess and half the kingdom. With his bride, the merchant, and his followers he starts for home; but, when they are only a day's journey from their destination, he is required by the merchant to fulfil his promise--to choose between his bride as one half, his possessions as the other. Dianese takes the lady and rides on. Soon, however, he is joined by the merchant, who praises his faithfulness, gives up the treasures, explains that he is the ghost of the debtor knight, and disappears.

In Old Swedish [50] the daughter and heiress of the King of France promises to marry whatever knight is victor in a tourney which she announces. Pippin, the Duke of Lorraine, hears of this and sets out for France. At the end of his first day's journey he finds lodging at the house of a widow, who is lamenting because her husband, once in good circ.u.mstances, has died so poor that she cannot bury him properly. Pippin takes pity on her, and pays for the man's funeral. On his further journey he falls in with a man on a n.o.ble steed, who gives him the horse on condition of receiving half of whatever he shall win. Unthinkingly Pippin agrees and wins the tourney with the help of the horse. After he has married the princess, he is asked by the helper to fulfil his promise. He offers at first half, then the whole of his kingdom, in order to keep his bride, and is finally told by the man that he is the ghost of the dead, while the horse was an angel of G.o.d.

Rittertriuwe is of the same romantic character. When Graf Willekin von Montabour had spent his substance in chivalrous exercises, he learned that a beautiful and rich maiden had promised her hand to the knight, who should win a tourney, which she had established. Thereupon he set forth and came to the place announced for the combats. There he found lodging in the house of a man, who would only receive him if he would promise to pay the debts of a dead man, whose body lay unburied in the dung of a horse-stall. [51] Willekin was moved by this story and paid seventy marks, almost all his money, to ransom the corpse and give it suitable burial. He then had to borrow from his host in order to indulge in his customary generosity. On the morning of the jousting he obtained from a stranger knight a fine horse on condition of dividing everything that he won. He succeeded in the tourney above all the other contestants, and so wedded the maiden. On the second night after the marriage the stranger entered his room and demanded a share in his marital rights. After he had offered instead to give all his possessions, the hero started from the room in tears, when the stranger called him back and explained that he was the ghost of the dead, then disappeared.

A brief summary of Sir Amadas, [52] the last of the six variants, must now be given. Amadas finds himself financially embarra.s.sed, and sets forth for seven years of errantry with only forty pounds in hand. This he pays to release and bury the body of a merchant who has died in debt. When thus reduced to absolute penury, Amadas meets a White Knight, who tells him that he will aid him on condition of receiving half the gains. The hero finds a rich wreck on the seacoast, and so with new apparel goes to the court, where he wins wealth in a tourney and the princess's heart at a feast. After he marries her and has a son born to him, the White Knight reappears and demands that the accepted conditions be complied with. Hesitatingly Amadas prepares to divide first his wife and afterwards his son, but he is stayed by the stranger, who explains that he is the ghost of the dead merchant. So Amadas is at last released from misfortune and lives in happiness.

In all six of these stories we have a knight, who sets out to win a tourney in which the victor's prize is to be the hand of a princess. In all of them save Old Swedish he is represented as being impoverished by previous extravagance, in Richars, Lion de Bourges, and Rittertriuwe it being expressly stated that he had wasted his fortune by over-indulgence in his pa.s.sion for jousting. On his way to the place appointed for the contest the hero pays for the burial [53] of a man whose corpse is held for debt. [54] He goes on and is approached either before (Richars, Lion de Bourges, Dianese, Old Swedish, and Sir Amadas) or after (Rittertriuwe) he reaches the lists by a man, who provides him with a horse, by the aid of which he wins the tourney and the princess. In Dianese the hero is a merchant, in Old Swedish his estate is not mentioned, but in the other four variants he appears as a knight (a white knight in Richars, Lion de Bourges, and Sir Amadas). In Dianese the hero is also provided with armour; in Richars and Lion de Bourges he is a.s.sisted in his jousting by the White Knight; and in Sir Amadas he finds a wreck on the coast from which he obtains all things needful. In Richars we find the somewhat inept conclusion that the hero asks his friendly helper whether he will take the princess or the property [55] as his share. The latter responds that he wishes only his horse, explains who he is, and vanishes. In all the other variants, however, the condition is made that the hero divide whatever he shall gain. [56]

With reference to Richars and Lion de Bourges, Wilhelmi's careful discussion [57] has made it clear that, though they agree in many points as against all the other related versions, not only in respect to The Grateful Dead, but to the further course of a complicated narrative, neither one could have been taken from the other. The difference in the matter of the division between Richars and all the other variants he neglects, though it strengthens his position. Back of Richars and Lion de Bourges, earlier than the thirteenth century, there must have existed a literary work which was their common source. This hypothetical French romance may be considered as the foundation of the whole group which we are discussing.

Since Old Swedish agrees with most of the other variants with regard to the division, and furthermore with Rittertriuwe, in stating that the hero offered all his property in order to keep his wife, there seems to be no doubt that it belongs to this particular group, despite the fact that it says nothing about the hero's poverty. The connection is not improbable on the score of chronology, if we suppose that the source of Richars and Lion de Bourges, or some similar tale, found its way into the North by translation in the first half of the thirteenth century, a time when translations into Icelandic at any rate were made in great numbers. Indeed, the names Pippin, Lorraine, etc., immediately suggest a French source; and the story is not really a legend at all, though it appears in a legendary, but a narrative quite in the style of the romans d'adventure.

With reference to Sir Amadas, two points of special interest appear. The hero is provided the wherewithal for his successful courtship by means of a wreck to which he is directed by the White Knight; and he is required to divide his child as well as his wife with his helper. These peculiarities, together with the different opening, make it improbable that Richars, as preserved, was the direct source of the romance, though its author may have known some text either of that romance, or of Lion de Bourges. It seems more likely, however, that the source of Sir Amadas was rather the common original of both those versions. In the present state of the evidence it is impossible to do more than to show, as I have attempted to do, that the fourteenth-century Sir Amadas is a member of the little group under discussion.

The proposed division of the son is peculiarly important in that it connects the group with the stories in which The Grateful Dead is compounded with the theme of Amis and Amiloun. Indeed, the general relationship of The Spendthrift Knight to that theme must be considered in a later chapter [58] after more important compounds have been discussed. It will be noted that the group just considered is purely literary and purely mediaeval. Though it has representatives in Italy, Germany, Sweden, and England, it is to all intents and purposes French in source and character. Five of its members are the only variants treated in this chapter where the question of dividing the hero's prize is brought up. The group thus stands by itself, and may be considered as an ent.i.ty when we come to a discussion of the larger matters of relationship.

A solitary folk-tale now demands attention--my Breton II. The Grateful Dead in a simple form is here combined with a story told of Gregory the Great, [59] as Luzel, to whom the tale was recounted by a Breton peasant, indeed briefly noted. [60] The Breton tale runs as follows: A rich lord and lady had no children. While the lady was praying to St. Peter in a chapel that was being repaired, she fell a victim to a young painter, and had by him a son, who was named after St. Peter. When the boy was twelve years of age, he carried St. Peter across a stream one day, while his shepherd companion carried Christ. The companion died soon after. Pierre then set forth to visit his patron in Paradise. On his way he stopped overnight at the house of an old woman, whose husband lay unburied because there was no money to pay the priest. Pierre gave all his money for the interment, and went on. When he came to the sea, a naked man, who said that he was the dead, carried him across to a point near the gates of Paradise. There he found Peter, and was shown the glories of heaven by the Saviour, as well as Purgatory and h.e.l.l. In the last he saw a chair reserved for his mother, but by his entreaties induced the Lord to grant her a release on condition of doing penance himself for her. So he was told to put on a spiked girdle, to throw the key of it into the sea, and not to take it off till the key should be found. After donning this instrument Pierre was carried by the ghost back to his own land, where he lived on alms--first on the public ways, and later, without discovering himself, in his father's castle. During his father's absence he was killed at the command of his mother, but was dug up alive by his father and treated with respect. One day at a feast he found the key in the head of a fish. When the girdle was opened, he died, and his soul was borne to heaven by angels.

Two Danish variants present a curious but not inexplicable combination of The Grateful Dead with Puss in Boots, as was noted by Kohler. [61]

Danish I. relates how a youth pays three marks, which is his all, to bury the body of a dead man, for whose interment the priest has demanded payment in advance. He is then joined by another youth, who is the ghost of the dead, and goes to a certain city. There, by giving himself out as a prince at the advice of his companion, who provides him with proper trappings, he wins the hand of a princess. In Danish II. an old soldier pays his last three marks to prevent three creditors from digging up a corpse. He is joined by a pale stranger, who takes him in a leaden ship to a land where he marries a princess, who is fated to marry no one save a man who comes in this way. The stranger secures, by a lying ruse, a troll's castle for the hero, and, after explaining that he is the ghost of the buried debtor, disappears.

The traces of the Puss in Boots motive [62] are, I think, sufficiently clear, especially in the first of the two variants, since the point of that familiar tale is certainly that the hero marries a woman of high estate by making himself out as of equal rank, substantiating his statements by a succession of clever ruses. That the grateful dead enables him to fulfil the required conditions is an introduction that could easily replace the ordinary one, especially since a helper of some sort is necessary to the story. Just what the relation of these two variants is to other Puss in Boots stories does not here concern us. From the side of The Grateful Dead, however, it is possible to see how the combination--found only in two folk-tales from a single country, it will be observed--may have arisen. The benefits bestowed on the hero show an essential likeness to those found in a widespread compound type to be studied in a later chapter, [63] where the thankful dead helps his friend to obtain a wife by the performance of some feat. Since the combination now in consideration seems to be confined to the region about Denmark, while mediaeval and modern examples of the other are found in many lands, it may be regarded as a mere variation on the better-known compound type, produced by the similarity of the two endings. Yet it has to be treated separately, because it involves an independent theme.

An echo of the simple theme of The Grateful Dead is found in two English plays--Ma.s.singer's Fatal Dowry and Rowe's Fair Penitent. In the former young Charolais goes to prison to release his father's body from the clutch of creditors, who wish to keep it unburied for vengeance. [64] He is rescued by Rochfort, who pays the debts and gives him his daughter in marriage. The intrigues of love and vengeance that follow do not concern us. In Rowe's play, which was based on Ma.s.singer's, this part has been curtailed to a few slight references. Altamont gives himself as ransom for his father's body to the greedy creditors, who will not allow burial to take place. He is rewarded by the care and bounty of Sciolto, who becomes a second father to him.

Stephens was certainly right in connecting [65] the story in The Fatal Dowry with The Grateful Dead, though it is only a fragment and lacks some of the most essential features of the complete theme. The ghost, indeed, does not appear at all, but the part played by Rochfort may be regarded as a greatly sophisticated reminiscence of that trait, especially since he not only rescues the hero, but provides him with a wife. The echo of the theme is too vague for us to distinguish the form in which it was found by Ma.s.singer, though I think that we should not go far wrong in supposing that he had in mind some narrative, either popular or literary, nearly approaching the compound type treated in chapter vi. below. As one of the comparatively few traces that the motive has left in England this double dramatic use is not without interest. [66]

CHAPTER IV.

THE GRATEFUL DEAD AND THE POISON MAIDEN.

One of the most prevalent types of The Grateful Dead is that in which it has combined with The Poison Maiden, a theme almost world-wide in distribution and application. From the time of Benfey and Stephens [67] the connection between the two themes has been regarded as vital. Though Hippe recognized that the stories were perhaps originally independent, [68] he took the compound as his point of departure and derived all other forms from it. As will be seen in the course of our study, such a filiation is exceedingly improbable, if the essential features of The Grateful Dead and The Poison Maiden be closely examined. Hippe went wrong, I should say, in failing to differentiate between what traits belong to the former and what to the latter theme.

As a matter of fact, The Poison Maiden exists in a cycle of its own. Any doubt about this and any necessity of studying the theme in detail here is removed by the valuable monograph of Wilhelm Hertz, Die Sage vom Giftmadchen, [69] in which the literature of the subject has been marshalled with masterly skill. Starting with the stories of how a maiden, who had been fed with snake-poison, was sent to Alexander the Great from India by an enemy, and how the plot to kill the emperor through her embraces was foiled by the cunning of Aristotle, [70]

Hertz shows [71] that the central idea of the tale is the belief that a man could be killed by s.e.xual connection with a woman who had been nourished on poison. In most of the variants, to be sure, it is the bite of the woman that is venomous, while in others it is her glance or her breath; but these are natural modifications. Without following the study into details, the important fact to remember is that there has existed from early times a tale relating how a man was saved by a watchful friend on his bridal night from a maiden whose embraces were certain death. [72] With this in mind we can safely proceed to a consideration of the variants of The Grateful Dead which have similar features.

Twenty-four of the stories in my list fall into this category, viz.: Tobit, Armenian, Gypsy, Siberian, Russian I., II., III., and IV., Servian II., III., and IV., Bulgarian, Esthonian II., Finnish, Rumanian I., Irish I., II., and III., Breton I., Danish III., Norwegian II., Simrock X., Harz I., Jack the Giant Killer, and Old Wives' Tale. All but three of them [73] are folk-tales, a fact that considerably simplifies the discussion.

According to the apocryphal story, Tobit buries by night the dead who lie in the street. He is thrown into prison, and later becomes blind and poverty-stricken. He sends his son Tobias to his brother Gabael for the return of a loan. The youth is accompanied by the angel Raphael in disguise, who calls himself Azarias. On the journey Tobias catches a fish and preserves the heart, liver, and gall at the bidding of his companion. When they arrive at their journey's end, the angel, as go-between, asks Gabael's daughter Sara in wedlock for Tobias, though seven men have died while consummating their marriage with her. By burning the heart and liver of the fish at the command of the angel, and by prayer, Tobias escapes; for the demon Asmodeus is driven out of the maiden and bound by Raphael. With his bride and companion Tobias goes home, where he cures Tobit's blindness by means of the gall of the fish. After being offered half of the wealth that he has brought the family, Raphael explains his ident.i.ty and disappears.

This variant is peculiar in that the father does the good action, while the son is chiefly rewarded. Indeed, it is the son whose life is saved from the possessed woman whom he marries. Moreover, the grateful dead is replaced by an angel, who indeed commends Tobit for his good deed, but is certainly a subst.i.tute for the ghost. Obviously Tobit with such peculiarities as these cannot be regarded as the general source of the widespread folk-tale. At the same time we must not forget that it has been, perhaps, the best-loved story in the Apocrypha, [74] and that its influence on details of the narrative may be looked for almost anywhere in Christendom.

In the Armenian story from Transcaucasia [75] a man finds a corpse hanging in a tree and being beaten by his late creditors. The man pays the debt and buries the body. Some years later he becomes poor. A rich man offers him in marriage his daughter, with whom five bridegrooms have already met death on the wedding night. While thinking over the proposition, he is approached by a man who offers to become his servant for half of his future possessions, and counsels him to marry the woman. On the night of the marriage the servant stands with a sword in the chamber, cuts off the head of a serpent that comes from the bride's mouth, and pulls out its body. Later he asks for his share of his master's gains. When he is about to split the woman through the middle, a second snake glides from her mouth. The servant then says that he is the ghost of the corpse long ago rescued, and disappears. Here the story appears in a very normal form, except that the hero is not taking a journey at the time of his kind deed, and that he waits several years for his reward. Moreover, the second snake appears to be due to reduplication.

In Gypsy a youth gives his last twelve piasters for the release of a corpse, which is being maltreated by Jews. The ghost of the dead man follows him and promises to get him a bride if he will share her with him. The youth consents and marries a woman whose five bridegrooms have died on the wedding night. The companion keeps watch in the chamber and cuts off the head of a dragon that comes from the bride's mouth. Later he demands his half of the woman, and takes a sword to cut her asunder, when she screams and disgorges the dragon's body. The ghost then explains the situation and disappears. [76]

With the Siberian variant some very important modifications enter. A soldier buys a picture of the Saviour from a peasant and maltreats it. A merchant's son then buys it out of reverence and takes it to his mother. Later he helps an old man on a raft and goes with him to market. There he meets the daughter of a priest and, by the advice of his friend, marries her. When the old man strikes her with a whip, she splits open, and the devil comes out. She is put together again by the mysterious companion, and accompanies them home, where the old man asks for a division of the gains they have made together. Again he divides the woman. After she has been burned, she is found living and purified. Then the old man says that he is G.o.d and departs.

This tale, found among the Turkish race of southern Siberia, has transformed the opening incident altogether. For the burial of the corpse it subst.i.tutes a good deed, which is entirely different from the original trait. Yet it is evident that we have to do with The Grateful Dead, after all, since the divine image is rescued from senseless contumely and G.o.d himself appears in the role of the thankful ghost. It is evident also that the theme is combined with The Poison Maiden. Though we do not hear of any misadventures of other men with the priest's daughter, the marvels which attend her purification indicate the danger in which the hero stood.

Russian I. is likewise peculiar in several respects. The younger of two brothers angers his parents by going to the wars without their permission. He is killed. Later he appears to his brother, asking him to implore pardon of their mother, whose anger prevents him from resting quietly in his grave. The elder brother thus succeeds in giving peace to the ghost. Later, when he marries a merchant's daughter, whose first two husbands have been killed by a dragon on the wedding night, he is saved by the ghost of the dead, which keeps watch in the chamber with a sword and kills the nine-headed dragon.

This tale stands almost alone [77] in giving the two chief characters personal relations, since it is nearly always a total stranger whom the hero benefits. That actual burial of the dead does not come in question is not so remarkable, as various changes have been made in this trait. One story, [78] indeed, which otherwise has no likeness, similarly makes the dead man uneasy in his grave. The beginning of Russian I. has thus suffered considerable modification. The ending is also different from the normal type in that the division of the property and the woman has entirely disappeared.

Russian II. has also some peculiarities, though none which is difficult to explain. A youth named Hans receives three hundred rubles from his uncle, who has taken his inheritance, and goes into the world. In another province he ransoms with his whole stock of money an unbeliever, who is being bled by the people. He has the poor man baptised, but is not able to save his life, so sorely has he been wounded. The people, however, pay for proper burial. Hans goes on and is joined by an angel, who proposes that he take him as uncle and divide with him whatever they get while in one another's company. They come to a city where the king proposes that Hans marry his daughter, and to this the hero agrees at his companion's advice, despite the protests of the citizens, who say that the princess has already strangled six bridegrooms. On the wedding night the uncle keeps watch, and slays a dragon which is approaching to kill the young man. After two months the pair set out for home with the uncle. On the way they are saved by the old man from robbers, and get a store of gold. When they arrive at the place where the uncle first appeared, he calls for a fulfilment of their agreement, and saws the bride asunder. Young dragons come out of her; but, when she has been washed and sprinkled with water, she is made whole. The angel thereupon parts with the couple.

For the burial of the dead we have in this tale the interesting subst.i.tution of an unsuccessful attempt of the hero to save a man's life by paying his entire inheritance as ransom. That the man dies and is buried shows how the change probably arose. Strangely enough, as in the case of Tobit, an angel appears in the role of the grateful dead, and, even more oddly, takes the form of the hero's uncle, who gave him the money with which he set forth on his journey. The recurrence of the angel in this and in one other variant [79] inclines me to the belief that the essential feature of the reward in the original story was that it came from heaven. The remainder of Russian II. has no characteristic unusual in the tales where the woman is actually divided to get rid of the snakes or dragons.

In Russian III. [80] the youngest of three brothers rescues a swimming coffin from the sea and takes it on his ship. From the coffin comes a man clothed in a white shirt, who enters the service of his rescuer, and helps him win a beautiful princess as wife. A six-headed dragon has. .h.i.therto killed all her bridegrooms on the wedding night, but it is overcome by the hero through his obedience to the advice of his servant. The latter cleanses the bride's body of the dragon brood and goes away. Here the opening has been modified, though not beyond recognition, since the rescued man is clearly enough the grateful dead.

Russian IV., taken like the preceding from a folk-book, differs from that in only minor points, though the ampler form in which I have found it makes it of more importance. The three sons of a czar go out in separate ships to see the world. The youngest, named Sila, rescues a swimming coffin, which his brothers have not heeded, and buries it on sh.o.r.e. There he leaves his companions, and goes on alone till joined by a man dressed in a shroud, who says that he is the rescued corpse and proposes that Sila win a certain Princess Truda as wife by his aid. The hero is dismayed when he sees the walls of her city decorated with the heads of countless former suitors, but he is told by his servant not to fear. On the bridal night he is counselled to keep silence, and, when his wife presses her hand on his breast, to beat her, as she is in league with a six-headed dragon. Sila obeys, the dragon appears, and the servant cuts off two of its heads. Two more heads are cut off on the second night, and the remaining two on the third. The bride is not completely cleansed, however, till the end of a year, when the servant cuts her in two, burns the evil things that emerge from her body, and sprinkles her with living water to make her well again. He then disappears.