Chapter IV · The Grateful Dead and The Poison Maiden.

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 identity and disappears.

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 God 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 substitutes 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 God himself appears in the rôle 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.

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.

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 shore. 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.

Here the grateful dead appears with perfect clearness, as he did not in Russian III. The course of events by which the lady is won does not differ materially from that of Russian II. Presumably III. would follow the same procedure, had we an adequate summary. III. and IV. are like I., and different from II., in omitting all mention of any division of property or of the woman between hero and assistant. The division for the sake of cleansing in IV. is, however, actual.

Not without contamination from another source, Russian V. and VI. still belong to the class containing variants with The Poison Maiden. In Russian V. the only son of a rich man went out into the world to seek his fortune. On the road he gave a large sum of money for two horses. Later he stopped at an inn, where the widow of the landlord was weeping because she had no money to pay the debts of her husband, who was cursed by all the people, though he had been dead two years. The hero gave all his money to save the memory of the dead man, and proceeded. Soon he met two unsatisfied creditors, who still cursed the dead landlord, and to them he gave his two horses. Not long afterward he was joined by a man, who accompanied him on condition of receiving half of what they might win together. They came to a place where a lord offered a thousand rubles to anyone who would watch his daughter’s corpse over night in a chapel. The hero undertook the adventure, and received payment in advance. At dark his companion came to him, and gave him a cross as protection. At midnight the lady came out of her coffin, but could not find the man because he held the cross. The same adventure was repeated the next night. On the third night the hero, according to his companion’s advice, got into the coffin when the vampire rose, and would not get out for all her entreaties, being protected by the cross. So in the morning both were found alive, and were betrothed. Then came the companion, cut the maiden into halves, took out her entrails, and put her together again, when she became very beautiful. Next day he called the hero aside, explained his identity with the dead landlord, and disappeared.

Russian VI. differs from the above in several points, but is closely allied to it. There were two brothers, one good and the other stingy. The former expended in benevolence all his wealth, save a hundred rubles, while the latter grew richer and richer. A poor man borrowed a hundred rubles from the miser, calling St. George as witness that he would pay; but he died in debt. The rich brother came to the widow, and said that he would get his money from St. George if not from the dead man. He pulled down an image of the saint from the wall, dug up the corpse, and spat upon them both. At this juncture the good brother came by, and gave his last hundred rubles to put the matter right. He then went to a large city, where the king’s daughter had eaten all the deacons who watched with her dead body. So when volunteers were called for to stay with her, the hero offered to undertake the task at the advice of an old man, who promised to pray for his safety on condition of receiving half his winnings. He received payment in advance from the king, and divided with the old man, by whom he was given a sanctified coal, a taper, a cross, and a scapulary, together with advice how to act. So he entered the chapel, lighted his taper, closed his eyes, made the sign of the cross, and enclosed himself in a circle marked with the coal near the head of the bier. At cockcrow the vampire came out all blue and grinning; but, though she yelled horribly, she could not touch the man in the circle, who put the cross in the coffin. At the second cockcrow she tried to get into the coffin, and unavailingly begged him to take out the cross. At the third cockcrow he put the scapulary on her, whereupon she rose and thanked him, promising to be his wife and servant. So in the morning the hero married her and received the kingdom from her father. To their chamber that night came the old man, and recalled the agreement to divide. He cut the lady into halves, minced her flesh on the table, and blew on the bits, whereupon she came together more beautiful than ever. The helper then threw off his gaberdine, and showed himself to be St. George.

Servian III. has a more romantic character. The daughter of an emperor had been married thirteen times, but each of her bridegrooms had died on the wedding night. A certain prince, who had fallen in love with her through a dream, set out for her castle. On the way he paid the debts of a poor man, whose corpse was held by creditors, and buried him. Soon after, he was met by a man who became his servant, and won a castle for him by a wonderful adventure. After the wedding this man killed the snakes that came out of the bride, and also caused her to disgorge three snake eggs by threatening her with his drawn sword. He then disappeared.

This variant shows traces of foreign substance in the dream and the winning of the castle by the unrevealed companion. Possibly the latter trait unites it with the combined type of which The Water of Life is one of the elements. It will be noticed that the division of the property and of the woman is not brought into question, though the sword is used somewhat incongruously for the removal of the last traces of the heroine’s snaky infestation. Thus, by an evident change in structure, the identity of the hero’s companion is never explained.

The burial of the dead has here been ousted by a good deed which the hero does to a gold-fish. That the trait is foreign to the type, however, seems clear. From the time when the companion appears to the hero, the story follows the normal course until the very end, when the man unexpectedly leaps into the sea. The thankful dead has been replaced by the thankful beast, but the tale really belongs to the present category, since otherwise it has all the characteristics of the type. Thus the division of the woman is almost precisely similar to that of Armenian and Gypsy—that is, the sword is raised, and the woman disgorges the serpent with a scream. That it comes out piecemeal may be a faulty recollection of the actual division. As so often, it is not stated that the companion made a share of the gains a condition of his help.

Bulgarian is in some respects very primitive, though fragmentary. A father sends his son out into the world to gain experience. The youth is joined by an archangel, who promises him assistance on condition that he will pay their joint expenses and will be obedient. The companion kills a negro and a serpent, and goes with the hero into their den, where the adventurers find, but leave, great treasure. They come to a city where the king’s daughter has been thrice married, each time only to have her bridegroom die on the wedding night. Now she is to be given to any man who can live with her one night; and many wooers have died in the attempt. The youth offers himself as a suitor, and is saved by the archangel, who draws a serpent out of the woman. Later he helps the hero to get the wealth previously found in the cave, and demands the division of everything, even the wife. When he cuts her in two, many little snakes fall out of her body. He then unites her, and gives the hero all the riches they have obtained.

Esthonian II. has altogether lost the essential features of our theme; and it has besides put in several traits from a märchen, which, as we shall soon see, is joined to ours with considerable frequency. The inclusion of this variant here is justified only by some vague traces indicating that the extraneous parts of the narrative have replaced others which, if preserved, would make it an ordinary representative of The Grateful Dead.

A certain couple had a weak-minded son, who could not learn. Wishing to get rid of him, the father took the boy into a forest and gave him gladly to an old man whom he chanced to meet. From the man the youth received books in foreign tongues, which he learned to read in a day. He then wandered till he came to a city, where lived a princess who was in the power of devils and went to church with them every night. The hero watched in the church for three nights, with three, six, and twelve candles, successively. Thus on the third night he freed the princess and married her, receiving half the kingdom. He then sought the old man, who told him to cut the woman in halves and divide her. The old man halved her himself, when there sprang out a serpent, a toad, and a lizard. After this he gave her back to her husband.

No new material is here introduced; but the handling is considerably changed, and the narrative abridged. The woman in the case is three-horned instead of possessed by snakes, nor is there any hint of harm to the bridegroom. A reminiscence of the division of the woman, though not of the dowry, appears in the beating which the ghostly companion gives her, whereby she is freed from her horns and made very beautiful. The variant appears to be weakened by frequent retelling.

Rumanian I. is more striking, since it has undergone both revision and addition. The only daughter of an emperor wears out twelve pairs of slippers every night, until her father offers her hand and the heirship of the kingdom to any man who can explain this extraordinary and costly habit. Many men of high birth and low make the attempt unsuccessfully. Meanwhile, a certain peasant, whose servant had died when his year of service was but half ended, had placed the body in a chest under the roof in revenge for his disappointment. The new servant had discovered this, and had given the corpse the rites due the dead, as far as permitted by his master. When he departs at the end of his year of service, the dead man comes from the earth, thanks him, and proposes that they swear on the cross to be brothers. So they do, and go on together till they come to an iron wood. The vampire breaks off a twig, and casts it to the earth in the place where the emperor’s daughter comes at night with the sons of the dragon. When she appears, she sees the broken twig, and is afraid. So she goes to the copper wood, where she sees another twig broken by the vampire, and hastens on to the place where the sons of the dragon dwell. It is in going so far that she wears out her slippers. When she comes to the place, and is about to sit down at table, she drops her handkerchief. The vampire, who has followed her from the copper wood in the form of a cat, takes it away, as he does also the spoon that falls from her hand and the ring that falls from her finger. He goes back to the copper wood with them, and explains everything to his friend. The latter takes them to the emperor and wins the lady.

Irish II. differs little except in details from the above. The king of Ireland’s son sets forth to find a woman with hair as black as the raven, skin as white as snow, and cheeks as red as blood. Ten pounds of the twenty which he takes with him he pays to release the corpse of a man on which writs are laid. He meets a short green man, who goes with him for his wife’s first kiss; and he comes upon a gunner, a man listening to the growing grass, a swift runner, a man blowing a windmill with one nostril, and a strong man, all of whom accompany him for the promise of a house and garden apiece. After various adventures in the castles of giants, they arrive in the east, where the prince’s lady dwells. She says that her suitor must loose her geasa from her before she can marry him. With the help of the short green man he gives her the scissors, the comb, and the King of Porson’s head, which she requires. He is then told to get three bottles of healing water from the well of the western world. The runner sets out for them, and is stopped and put to sleep by an old hag on the way back; but the earman hears him snoring, the gunman sees him and wakes him up, and the windman keeps the hag back till he returns. Finally the strong man crushes three miles of steel needles so that the prince can walk over them. Thus the bride is won. The short green man claims the first kiss, and finds her full of serpents, which he picks out of her. He then tells the youth that he is the man who was in the coffin, and disappears with his fellows.

Very different from the Irish tales is Breton I., since under the influence of a tendency very common in Brittany, the narrative has become a Mary legend and has lost its clearness of outline in the process. Yet it really belongs to this group, replacing by a dragon-fight and a rescue of the hero from the villain the cleansing of the bride. At least, I am led to the belief that such is the case by the fact that the story fits into no other category. Nor is it surprising that the position of the tale should be obscure in view of the grotesque transformation which it has undergone.

A youth named Mao pays all his money to have the body of a beggar interred. The spirit of the dead man helps him win the daughter of a rich man after killing a dragon in the stables. The lady’s treacherous cousin tries to burn him alive in an old mill, whence he is saved by the ghost. He forgives the man, and is tricked into promising him half of all his possessions in order to save his wife. When a son is born, the villain demands its division. At the hero’s appeal, the Virgin comes with the ghost and takes Mao and his family to heaven, while the cousin is sent to hell.

Norwegian II. and Danish III. stand together, since the relation of the latter (Andersen’s Reisekammeraten) to the former is simply that of a literary redaction to its original. A brief analysis of each is, however, necessary.

In Norwegian II. a young peasant on account of a dream sets forth to win the hand of a princess. On his way he gives most of his money to bury a dishonest tapster, who has been executed and left frozen in a block of ice outside a church for passers-by to spit upon. As he proceeds, the youth is joined by the ghost of the tapster, who accompanies him. They go to a hill, where they get a magic sword from one witch, a golden ball of yarn from another, and a magical hat from a third. Of the yarn they make a bridge, and so come to the princess’s castle. The hero is told to keep her scissors overnight and loses them; but the companion rides behind the princess on her goat in the hat of invisibility, when she goes to her troll lover, and so rescues them. The hero is told to keep a golden ball overnight, and the same adventure is repeated. The hero is then told to bring what the princess is thinking of. The companion rides again with the princess and beats her with his sword, gets the troll’s head for his master, and so enables him to win the lady. On the wedding night the hero flogs his wife at the advice of the companion, only just in time to save himself, indeed, as she is about to kill him with a butcher-knife. He dips her into a tub of whey, whence she comes out black as a raven, but after a rubbing with buttermilk and new milk she becomes very beautiful. The companion discovers his identity and disappears.

In Danish III. poor John, whose father has died, dreams of a beautiful princess, and sets forth to find her. He does various kind deeds by the way, and one night takes refuge from the storm in a church. There he sees two evil men dragging a corpse from its coffin, and pays his all that it may be buried. He is joined by the ghost of the dead man, who accompanies him. They get three rods from an old woman, who is healed by the comrade’s salve, and they come to a city, where they get a sword from a showman, whose puppets are made alive by the salve. They come to a mountain, where the companion cuts off the wings of a great white swan and carries them along. They come at length to the city of the beautiful princess, who is a witch. Anyone can marry her who guesses three things, but every man who has tried has failed and been killed. John tells the king that he will try to win her, and is told to come the next day. In the night the comrade puts on the wings of the swan, takes the largest of the rods, and follows the princess when she flies out to the palace of her wizard lover. There he hears that she is to think of her shoe when her suitor comes in the morning. All the way to the mountain and back the comrade beats her so that the blood flows. The next morning he tells John to guess her shoe when asked what she has thought of. Everyone save the princess rejoices when the youth guesses right. The next night the companion beats the princess with two rods as she flies, and learns that she is to think of her glove. Again everyone is pleased with John’s answer. The third night the companion takes all three rods and the sword. He cuts off the wizard’s head when he learns that the princess is to think of that, and he gives it to John, wrapped in a handkerchief. John produces this when asked by the princess what she has thought about, and so he wins her. That night, at the bidding of the companion, he dips her three times in a tub of water, into which have been shaken three swan’s feathers and some drops from a flask. The first time she becomes a black swan, the second a white swan, and the third a more beautiful princess than ever. The next day the comrade explains his identity and disappears.

Simrock X. is not unlike the two variants just cited. A king’s son wastes his property, and is sent out to shift for himself. He pays the debts of a naked corpse, and has only enough money left to pay his reckoning at his inn. So he takes the body to a wood, and buries it there. As he goes his way, he is met by a man, who becomes his follower and secures three rods, a sword, and a pair of wings from a dead raven. They come to a castle, where to win the king’s daughter the prince has to guess her thoughts for three days in succession. The companion flies with her each night when she goes to her wizard for counsel, and learns that the prince must say “bread,” “the princess’s jewels,” and “the wizard’s head” in turn. On the last night he cuts off the wizard’s head and brings it to his master, who displays it at court and so breaks the spell. When the couple are married, the companion explains that he is the spirit of the dead man, and disappears.

This variant obviously belongs to the same type as those preceding. As in Irish I. and II. the hero is a prince instead of a youth of low birth; but there is no general uniformity in this trait. The agreement of division and the violent dispossession of the heroine have disappeared. Indeed, so far has The Water of Life supplanted the other motives that the position of the tale is only evident when it is placed side by side with other versions of the same class. When so considered, however, the peculiar features of the succession of feats by which the bride is won appear very prominently, and establish the type.

Harz I. stands closer to Norwegian II. than the preceding. A youth pays his all for the burial of a poor man, whose ghost joins him. They go to a city, where a bespelled princess kills all her suitors who cannot answer a riddle. The companion spirit tells the youth to save her, explaining his own identity. He gives wings and an iron rod to the hero, who flies with the princess to a mountain spirit, and hears that he must guess that she is thinking of her father’s white horse. The next night the youth follows her with two rods and is thus enabled to guess that she is thinking of her father’s sword. The third night he follows her with two rods and a sword, with which he cuts off the monster’s head. This he shows her in the morning when asked the usual question, and so he breaks the spell. On the wedding night he dips her thrice in water. The first time she comes from the bath a raven, the second time a dove, and the third time in her own shape, but purified.

The burial is here retained, but the agreement is entirely lost. Though the variant follows Norwegian II. in general, even to such details as the preliminary beating of the lady, and the bath of final purification, the important trait of flogging the bride, by which the hero is saved on the wedding night, has altogether disappeared. Like Simrock X., the tale has obscured the first of the two secondary themes for the benefit of the second. Its position seems sure, however, as a member of the little group now being considered.

This variant, even in what is probably a mutilated state, is strikingly similar to Irish I. in such details as the means used to follow the lady, and the tasks imposed upon the suitor. Indeed, the fact that the adventures take place in Wales might lead one to suppose that the story in this form was Celtic, were not the knowledge of it so persistent in England also. Several features are obscured, at least in the form from which I cite. Though the burial of the dead is given clearly enough, and the fact that the lady is possessed is insisted on, the prince is kind to an old woman as well as to a dead man, and Jack is certainly not understood to be a ghost. All mention of an agreement between the companions, and of the means taken to free the heroine from her possession by dividing her or flogging her, has likewise disappeared. However, the correspondence both in outline and in detail with Irish I. is sufficient to establish the position of the variant.

In the Old Wives’ Tale the theme of The Grateful Dead is imbedded in such a mass of folk-lore and folk-tales that it is quite impossible to restore adequately the narrative as Peele found it. He treated the story as a literary artist, of course, modifying and adding details to suit the scheme of his play. The outline of the story, as Peele gives it, is as follows: A king, or a lord, or a duke, has a daughter as white as snow and as red as blood, who is carried off by a conjurer in the form of a dragon. Her two brothers set forth to seek her, and by a cross meet an old man named Erestus, who calls himself the White Bear of England’s Wood. He, they learn, has been enchanted by the conjurer, and is a man by day and a bear by night. He tells them of his own troubles, and gives them good advice. Later he is met by the wandering knight Eumenides, who likewise is seeking the lady Delia and is counselled:

“Bestowe thy almes, give more than all,

Till dead men’s bones come at thy call.”

Eumenides pays all his money except three farthings to bury the body of Jack, while the conjurer compels Delia to goad her brothers at the work to which he has set them. Eumenides is overtaken by the ghost of Jack, who becomes his servant, or “copartner,” provides him with money, and slays the conjurer while invisible, thus breaking the spell of all the enchanted persons. Jack then demands his half of Delia, refuses to take her whole, and, when Eumenides prepares to cut her in twain, explains that he has asked this only as a trial of constancy. He quickly disappears.

It yet remains to consider the relations of the two sets of variants discussed in this chapter to The Poison Maiden and to one another. The group is peculiar in that all the members of it are folk-tales, save three: Tobit, Danish III. and Old Wives’ Tale. The two latter are, however, immediately derived from popular narratives of an easily discernible type. Thus Tobit is an anomaly from almost any point of view, obscure in its origin and possessed of only trivial influence upon the other tales belonging to the same group. Of the twenty-six variants, fifteen have The Grateful Dead + The Poison Maiden simply, while the other eleven add thereto more or less distinct elements of The Water of Life.

In the following versions the hero is saved on the wedding night, or the bride is purified by some means: Tobit, Armenian, Gypsy, Siberian, Russian I., Russian II., Russian III., Russian IV., Russian V., Russian VI., Servian II., Servian III., Servian IV., Bulgarian, Esthonian II., Irish I., Irish II., Danish III., Norwegian II., and Harz I. Not all the stories which I have placed in the group, it will be observed, have this feature; but, out of all the variants of The Grateful Dead enumerated in the bibliographical list, not one has it except members of the group. Now this purification of the bride, by means of which the hero is saved, is precisely the element of The Poison Maiden which is most essential. There can be no doubt, therefore, that this theme actually united with a more primitive form of The Grateful Dead to form the compound discussed in this chapter. The combination must have been made very early and in Asia, as Tobit and Armenian bear witness. It will be noted that all the variants, save Finnish, which have the simple compound, retain the rescue of the bridegroom, while only half of those where a subsidiary motive has been introduced have the like. Apparently the intrusion of new matter of a very romantic sort tended to obscure the original climax of the combined type.