Note 33 — INTRODUCTION (continued 2)

It is hard to conceive how stories told by Welsh Gypsies should have been derived from West Highland folk-tales; of the alternative notion that the West Highland folk-tales may have originally been derived from Gypsies we get one pretty strong confirmation—the identity of Campbell’s ‘Knight of Riddles’ (No. 22) and the Turkish-Gypsy story of ‘The Riddle’ (No. 3). Reinhold Köhler, in Orient und Occident, ii. 320, failed to find in all Europe’s folklore any parallel to the latter, the essential, half of the Gaelic story; but the knight’s daughter’s plaid there is clearly the Highland version of the princess’s chemise in the Gypsy story. Campbell, too, is sore put to it how the Rhampsinitus story can have found its way to Dumbartonshire (i. 352), or a tale from Boccaccio to Islay (ii. 14), or one from Straparola to Barra (ii. 238). But all three stories are known to the Gypsies; there, then, is a solution of Campbell’s perplexities. So that if Campbell’s stories and the Welsh-Gypsy stories had stood alone, I should, I believe, have urged that alternative notion. But they do not, for in several cases the Welsh-Gypsy stories resemble Irish Gaelic versions a great deal more closely than they do the Scottish ones. Thus, in Mr. Curtin’s Myths and Folklore of Ireland33 (1890) is ‘The Son of the King of Erin and the Giant of Loch Lein,’ pp. 32–49, a variant of Campbell’s ‘Battle of the Birds’; the following brief abstract of it will show how exactly it tallies with our ‘Green Man of Noman’s Land’ (No. 62):—Prince plays cards with giant, and wins two estates. Plays again, and wins golden-horned cattle. Plays again, and loses his head, so has to give himself up to giant in a year and a day. On his way to giant’s he lodges with three old women, sisters, each of whom gives him a ball of thread for guide. Near the giant’s castle he comes on a lake, in which giant’s three daughters are bathing. He seizes the clothes of the youngest one, and to get them back she promises to save him from danger. The giant sets him tasks—to clean stable, to thatch stable with birds’ feathers (no two alike), and to bring down crow’s one egg from a tree covered with glass, nine hundred feet high. The youngest daughter helps him in all three tasks, for the third task making him strip the flesh from her bones, and use the bones as steps for climbing. Coming down, he misses the last bone, and she loses her little toe. The prince goes home, and is to be married to the daughter of the King of Lochlin [Denmark], but the giant and his daughter are invited to the wedding. Then, as in Campbell’s tale, the giant’s daughter ‘threw two grains of wheat in the air, and there came down on the table two pigeons. The cock pigeon pecked at the hen and pushed her off the table. Then the hen called out to him in a human voice, “You wouldn’t do that to me the day I cleaned the stable for you.” ’ So, too, the hen reminds the cock of the second and third tasks34; and, awakened at last to remembrance, the prince weds the giant’s daughter.